#and 6 days before the appraisal!

[dropsnectar]

Pollen and Potions: Bee-men x afab!reader

PART TWO

Some fluff and a little spice. Don't know if ill do the smut in part three or four, we will see how things develop. Either way it gets hot so! You were warned!

You woke up the next morning with a huge headache. Not a great start to a day where you were scheduled to do large batches of magic.

You swore as you got up, swore as you made your coffee, swore as you did some last minute rereading of the soil testing spell you already knew by heart.

You tried to nap, but couldn't get your sore muscles to relax, so Lyith found you in quite a disgruntled mood. He frowned.

“We can do this tomorrow if you are not feeling well. You smell like you are about to throw a fit.”

You shook your head and took a long, cleansing breath.

“I'm really fine. Im excited about meeting your friend though. Its not everyday you meet a Bee-man.” You cracked a small smile.

Lyith gave you one last appraising look before sighing and beckoning you out of the house. Once you were on the porch step he held out his arms. You stared at him, eyes raised.

“Uh, do you want another hug? For support or something?”

His nose flared and he seemed to be failing to keep a straight face.

“It'll be faster to fly you to the hive. Its a good five mile walk for you if we don't. And with so much to do, I doubt my friend is going to be patient with us.”

You blinked.

“Oh. Um. Okay.” Your heart tightened. You started to feel a little sick.

“If you are scared of heights, I will stay close to the ground. It is faster that way anyway.”

He reached forward and patted your head affectionately. “I don't have to dodge branches that way, so it is a… “win win”? That's how the saying goes, right?”

His hand stayed on your head and you had to admit it made you feel a little braver. His smile was so gentle, it sent a wave of calm through you. 

“Yeah I can do that.” You swallow and force the ends of your lips upwards. 

Lyith holds his arms out again, and you walk into them, letting him hoist you up, and take off. The sound of his wings were particularly loud now and you noticed it had a habit of spreading his lemony scent around. 

You quickly diverted your attention to the feeling of the wind stretching back your skin. Which only made you realize that Lyith had nuzzled his neck close to your own face. You had to admit that the warmth felt nice against the cold spring air. It may have been Lyiths own way of making sure you didn't freeze too much. Your mind lingered on his touch, which was acting like a scarf, in the face of rollercoaster-like winds. Your stomach turned.

It was only 6 minutes until Lyith dropped you off in a small glade. The clearings floor was covered in grasses and large orange flowers. The flowers themselves were funnel shaped with purple star like splotches in the middle. The air was fragrant. 

Lyith grabbed your arm gently. Out from the other side of the clearing came what could only be another bee-man. Lyiths face lit up and he floated upwards, making a few excitable jerking motions. The other Bee-men copied his motions and let out a lovely hum sound, which Lyith harmonized. The two both looked at you and Lyith started the introductions.

“This is the witch I was talking about. And this-” he gestured to the bee-man by giving them a clingy hug. “-is Rena. She is a scholar, and also looks after a quarter of these… gardens, is the term you use. She has given you permission to use magic in her garden.”

“Only if you show me you can help, that is. Witches are so rare these days. I have to measure your…” she seemed to be chewing the word, “Qual-it-ications?”

“Qualifications.” Corrected Lyith, adjust some Rena's long strawberry blond hair. She had the same big black eyes as Lyith, but her form was shorter. Sturdier. But just as fluffy. Unlike Lyith, she had a second pair of hands, which she had crossed over her chest. Her gaze was curious, but her nose was slightly wrinkled in concern.

“Lyith speaks human the best of us. You are lucky to have met such a good orator. Now. What is it that you exactly plan to do?” her voice was deep and textured, as she jutted out her jaw.

You paused for a moment and held up a hand. You rummaged through your bag and pulled out some twine and popsicle sticks.

Lyith bit his lip like he was trying not to smile. Rena laughed openly. “You wish to do an art project?”

“No. If we are going to do this right, we need to be careful. I want to do experiments. First, we section three groups of flowers far away from each other so as not to contaminate eachotger. We use the twine and sticks to section those area off. Then, we do one group for the quick-grow powder, one group for the fertility spell, and one group of both. We will then keep track of them, and you guys will see which one keeps the most magic. You guys can tell magic quality by taste right?”

Rena nodded back at you, her expression a bit surprised. You continue.

“Ideally, we would have four different glens of these same flowers to compare. I'm not sure if the magic will be affected by rainwater. But I feel like it's a solid idea. Whichever works better for nectar quality, is what I'll use in case of emergency. If the fertility spell works properly, I can then help you guys grow your fields. But we wanna make sure that my magic is compatible with the flowers and your guyses nectar. I don't wanna accidentally poison you guys or something.” You scratch the back of your head awkwardly.

Lyith smiled over at Rena, who was nodding as she seemed to be thinking.

“Tell you what, ill give you two glens. One for your powder, one for the fertility spell. At one end of the both the glens you can do both. Sound good?”

You smiled. “Fantastic.”

From their, the three of you got to work sectioning off the ends of the glade. Rena herself flew off and sectioned the other glade herself, while you tested the soil. After the third time of getting the same reading, you calculated your powder amount. It was very important to get the amounts right. If you got it wrong, they would get one huge flower, and a comatose witch all at once. 

You did your spell, and it seemed to work, a more potent smell sweeping through the clearing. You continued your work, taking your time to channel your power as not to stress yourself out and mess with results. You were flown to the other glen, and did your thing. 

When you were finished, one clearings wildflowers had grown their reach twice as far, and the other flowers had grown to be the size of a human head. But it was the combination spell that really seemed to excite Rena. The flower's hue had changed from mostly orange, to mostly purple, and the scent had shifted to something headier.

“These more closely resemble the flowers of old! And they smell perfectly nutritious!”

Lyith chirped in. “The real test is to see how they will age. We don't know how long the magic will last. If the soil will breed more.”

You smile. “Thats what the experiments for. We wait, and each week you tell me if the magic quality has gone down.” 

Admiring the flowers, Rena grabbed one and flew towards you. She put the flower in your hands, then motioned to you as if it was a teacup. “Drink.”

Experimentally you tipped the flower to your mouth. A hint of nectar trickled in. It was sweet, but unlike your normal honeysuckle, their seemed to be a kick to it. Your gaze went back to Rena. She gave you a knowing smile. “Thats what your magic tastes like. It will make such good honey. Thank you.”

With that she leapt forward and gave you a huge hug. She smelled citrusy too, but in a different way, almost tropical. Her hair tickled your neck and ears, as she purred in contentment. She stayed there for a minute longer, seemingly giving you a warm nuzzle before pulling away. It wasn't until she did so that you were able to register how tired and sore your body was. You were shivering. The cold was getting to you now.

Lyith noticed immediately and drew himself close to you. “Is it too cold? I knew we should have waited a day. You've overdone it.” He then threw his arms around you, and started rubbing your arms, your back. He was using the friction and closeness to bring you warmth. It was innocent, but your cheeks warmed just a little too quickly. 

Rena watched and grabbed onto your free arm. “You'll get manasick at this rate. I've got a shelter nearby. Its no hive, but the heat will do you some good.” It seemed that Rena had decided she liked you, because she kissed your cheek twice before motioning the three of you onward.

Lyiath took you up in his arms again, the pressure of his touch much more intense. 

Its just to maintain heat. You tried to convince yourself. 

You had spent a lot more time spellcasting then you thought, as you noticed the sun was starting to set behind the trees. You tried to get Lyiths attention, perhaps you should be heading home instead, but it was very hard to do as you guys were hurtling through the air at 20mph. 

You passed through a few more fields of flowers then made it to a small structure. It was an off-white, sort of oblong shed. It truly looked like some human sized animal cocoon. There was a ridge, which Rena pulled away using her glowing light magic. 

When you all went inside, you were glad to find the structure warm. Light radiated from the ceiling, as if their was a glowing cloud above. In the middle of the room was a yellow orb that radiated heat. There wasn't much else in the room except for… a beanbag chair? 

Rena saw you staring and gushed, “I saw it in a shop window on one of our grocery trips! You humans make the silliest things sometimes!! Look!!” She maneuvered you over and onto it with relative ease. The cushion was heaven to your aching limbs. That, coupled with the radiating heat from the orb, started to make you relax. Sleepy even.

Lyith and Rena took their seats on the floor next to you, seeming comfortable. The room was full of light that made their black eyes shine. Lyith, looked at you with concern, and started fussing over you, pulling your sleeves over your wrists and inching you closer to the orb. 

“You haven't eaten since lunch! Its already dusk.” he tutted, pulling your hair over onto one shoulder. He always had this habit of touching you whenever he could. It must be a Bee-man trait.

You looked over at Rena, who had decided to pass the time by examining your fingers; Then lacing them with hers. Her antennas were twitching about in an adorable way, meaning she must have been pleased. You let her touch you, happy for the companionship. If a human had touched you as much as Rena and Lyith did, you would be beyond flustered, but for some reason, the two of them made you feel safe. Comfortable. 

“I might have an old granola bar in my bag.” You volunteered groggily. Lyith took the bag from your lap and started going through it carefully. You spent that time marveling over just how cute he was. His fluff, more pronounced around the neck and chest, seemed even more fluffy after all the high speed flying. A part of you just wanted to go over and hug him like a big teddy bear. Affection filled your heart.

“No, I don't see anything.” He frowned, rearranging everything back into your bag.

Rena clasped your hand harder, you looked over and saw her smile at you.

“Oh thats fine, I still have some nectar I collected from earlier. Do you want some?” She batted her eyelashes.

Lyith quirked an eyebrow, before staring “ Rena-”

Without waiting for an answer, Rena moved forward and brought her lips to yours, locking in a tight kiss. Too shocked to move, you felt her tongue on yours, then a sudden rush of sweetness. It kept coming, filling your mouth until you were forced to swallow it down. You sputtered, whole body now hot.

“I-wah?” 

Lyith looked like he was trying to contain his laughter. “Rena doesn't spend much time with humans, please forgive her. But just know that sharing nectar this way is very normal for us.” Despite this, a glint of mischief started to twinkle in his eyes, a smirk on his lips.

“ Oooh um really?” You sputter.

He nodded. “You didn't get a lot to drink though. I took some nectar from your garden before I picked you up. Would you like to try it? The magic will refortify you.”

He bent over until he was eye level with you. His eyes went to your lips, then back up to your gaze. You swallowed quickly, opening your mouth to say… something? But Lyith took this as an invitation, pushing his lips to yours. His mouth tasted sweet even before the nectar came. And this somehow was better. Just like the nectar from the flower earlier, there was a small tartness, a bite.

Lyith held you close to himself, the pressure of his body pleasant. A warmth started to curl in your stomach as he pulled you even closer, tipping you back into Rena, who embraced you from behind as you drank. You somehow managed to swallow as he pushed your lips together even tighter, his tongue teasing yours as he fed you. 

You were not sure how long this went on. But you knew you were full, and you were dizzy when he finally pulled away, his eyes glassy. His gaze was heated as he stared you down. It was as if he might change his mind and eat you up himself. You gasped for breath, eyes fixed on him. The room was filled with purring noises from both of them. You could feel the vibrations through both of their chests. You swallowed thickly.

After what felt like an eternity, Lyith straightened himself up and his expression changed to one of laughter. He giggled then bumped his forehead against yours affectionately. Rena gave a little giggle herself then a hum behind you.

“If you're feeling better now, can we fly you home?” Lyith offered. You nodded dumbly, still shaking off the heavy atmosphere which had now turned light. You mumbled your goodbye to Rena, and explained you'd be back in a week to check on the progress of the flowers. She beamed and gave you another hug. Whatever reservations she had had about you in the beginning seemed to be gone now. You gave her one last wave before letting Lyith scoop you up again for the third time today. 

The ride home went by in a flash. The moon shone light onto your porch as he dropped you off. 

“I'll be back tomorrow for your garden.” He breathed, his face the same happy calm it usually was. His antennas twitched as you nodded at him. He leaned foreward and kissed your cheek.

“Get some rest. You did good today.” He didn't wait for an answer before he flew off into the night. 

You knew he had probably been referring to all the magic you had been working today, but a part of you hoped that maybe he had been referring to something else. You slapped your cheeks. 

“Hes a Bee-man.” You tried to remind yourself. You repeated it a few more times that night, as if it would help with your stupid warming cheeks, and pooling gut.

***

Part Three

Hi everybody! This part was a bit longer than the others but I hope you enjoy! So it turns out that bees do kiss! They share food and information this way through a process called trophallaxis. Hope that doesn't ruin the mood for you. Anywho, thanks for reading!

[deepestnightcolor]

☾ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴄʟᴏᴄᴋᴡᴏʀᴋ ☽

ᴀ/ɴ: My exams are over and I decided it was time for Alex being messed with and absolutely adore you all the same. So here you go, new smut.

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: Alex (SDV) x Fem!Reader

ᴡᴄ: 6120 words.

ᴍᴅɴɪ ✧ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: Slight exhibitionism (you are on the front porch of the house), cowgirl position, mentions of oral sex, petting, loads of drool, petnames, name calling, teasing, rough sex, hair pulling, spanking, marking up.

Alex’ routine was like clockwork. Every morning at 6AM, the man woke up, threw on some shorts and a loose black tank-top, before putting on his trainers and stretching his muscles thoroughly. At 6:15 AM, Alex left the house, shutting the door behind him quietly and stretching his spine once more before he started off with a light jog. His legs picked up the pace almost automatically the further he left his home behind, feet drumming on the ground to the beat of the music that blared through his headphones. At around 6:45 AM he had reached the top of the mountain, passing by the emo’s (as he affectionately called him) house and made his way back down, using the backwoods and usually crossing your farmland to get down to Marnie’s ranch, taking a right turn and finding his way home at 7:15 AM. So, every morning at 6:55AM, Alex passed your farmhouse with a fast-paced step and sweat covering his forehead. What he wasn’t really aware of: someone else in this town was like clockwork – you. And you did notice his routine.

It all started as something completely innocent, really. You wanted to know how long it would take Alex to actually notice you.  Whenever you knew Alex was approaching the farm, you did your best to step on to the porch and attempted to get his attention. What you didn’t expect was for it to be so hard. It was like the man was wearing blinders; he looked straight forward, breathing laboured as he tried to keep up his fast pace every day. His body was working hard, muscles flexing with each and every move, sweat trickling down his tanned skin, and cheeks tainted with a hint of red. He was so incredibly, unfairly hot. And it took him four whole days of you stepping on the front porch as he jogged past to finally catch glimpse of you out of the corner of his eyes. Immediately, a small smile lightened up his face and he lifted his hand in friendly acknowledgement as he strutted past. The next day, he seemed to look over as if to check if you were standing there, and of course you were. Standing there, elbows propped up on the railing of your stairs and looking at his body being pushed to its limits. Yet again Alex smiled at you, lifting his hand, this time around wiggling his fingers at you, but when he saw your eyes linger on his flexed biceps, the smile turned into a grin, and he had the sheer audacity to call you out on your staring by winking at you. And that was when you decided to start a little experiment. From that day on you brought a yoga mat with you whenever you entered your porch. At exactly 6:45, you would spread it out on the ground and sit down on it, beginning to stretch your legs and arms for your next moves. If your experiment failed, you could at least be proud of some gained fitness skills, you figured. Your yoga sessions started innocent enough as well – doing exercises like “The Tree” and giving Alex a bright smile when he passed the first time of you doing yoga. This man was friendly enough to hold up his thumbs, as if he approved your newfound hobby. Not that you needed it. But you wanted to get him used to seeing you do yoga at first, after all, you had a little theory – you were sure Alex was so focused on his run that it would take him ages for him to take of note the fact that you were messing with him.

You followed simple yoga instructions for the first few days, coaxing Alex into the new sight. Waving at him each morning with a sweet smile on your plump lips and returning the appraising nod that he had begun to give you. After day three, however, you finally decided to truly start messing with him. It started out subtly; first your shirt grew shorter by the day until the only thing covering your chest was a sports bra. Then your yoga pants slowly hiked up your strong legs, the long ones being replaced by some shorts you had ordered for this sole reason. It took you standing on the porch in your purple sports bra and some matching shorts that barely reached your mid-thighs to notice a change in Alex’ behaviour. It was faint; you wouldn’t have caught it if you hadn’t been watching him like a hawk. When he passed you doing your yoga pose, he gave his usual smile and wave, and you were about to be disappointed when you saw him do a double-take, his pace slowing ever so slightly. His green eyes ran over your body, face scrunching up momentarily as if he was thinking, yet he never stopped running. When he noticed you cocking your brow, he pointed up his thumb and gave an awkward smile before quickly turning around and returning to the speed he had been holding up before. It made you feel all giddy inside that your plan was seemingly working, the thoughtful look on his face had been one mixed with confusion; he had probably wondered if you had always been wearing so little.

Sure, this plan needed patience, loads of it, even. But the look on his face; the way he had slowed his pace just to shamelessly look at you, the way his breathing pattern had changed – all of it was rewarding to you. And it kept rewarding you the following days. Alex was still behaving the same when he passed you, waving or praising you working out with a silent gesture, but now you could feel his eyes lingering. Trailing down your body, taking in the tank top and the yoga pants you were wearing, and you saw confusion in his eyes whenever you caught them. Of course, you were a little brat. Playing with his head seemed so much fun to you, so you had decided to reverse back to your former attire, leaving him to wonder. Had he truly seen you break your routine by wearing such a skimpy outfit like you had just days before, or did he just imagine it? You decided to leave him alone to figure that one out, allowing his eyes to look you up and down each morning.

One morning you had worked up quite some sweat and lifted up your top to wipe some of it from your brows, revealing the purple sports bra that was hiding underneath. It wasn’t planned at all, but it was perfectly timed. Alex trotted past your porch like every morning, looking to his side to greet you silently, but instead of seeing you propped up in a yoga pose – which grew more confident each workout – he was met with exposed skin and a purple sports bra. The sight of it caught him by such surprise that he tripped over his own feet and stumbled, only barely catching himself. He cleared his throat awkwardly and gave you a shy grin, before quickly jogging down the dirt path again. All things considered; how could you not mess with this pretty little thing? You had tasted blood now, and it was time to take it up a notch, because as fun as this was, your patience was running absolutely thin.

It was a little risky. Okay, maybe it was very risky. But you wanted to know how close Alex was actually paying attention now that you had given him the sweet security of routine once more; wearing the same clothes every day, even doing the same poses every day. Giving him absolutely nothing to gawk at, except you stretching your body. The two of you were communicating silently now, asking how you were by using hand signals, nodding at each other’s gains and accomplishments. Though it was time for Alex’ hands to finally land on you.

His stamina had always been something that impressed you, but by Yoba, you had always adored Alex. The way he was working himself to exhaustion just to stand up straight with a smile. The way he checked up on you oh so casually every now and then, mentioning things that were rarely ever noticed. “Hey, farmer. I saw you ride around your horse yesterday. Did you get new breeches?” or “Yo, farmer. Saw you going to Gunther’s. Found a new book?”. You absolutely adored how he was talking to his dog; you found yourself happy when he sent you pictures of things he had been doing that day that he found interesting enough to share. However, you never really were able to get out of your comfort zone and actually tell him. All you knew to do was to show your interest in him, admittedly with quite bold actions. Actions that definitely didn’t match your shyness about using your words. But here you were, in the downward dog position, without any pants or panties to cover your bare ass or cunt. The only piece of clothing offering your body any sort of cover now was your sports bra hugging your tits nicely, keeping them from bouncing uncomfortably when you moved. While you held your pose, doubts started to flood your mind. What if today was the first day Alex wouldn’t come by? What if someone else came by before Alex? What if Alex didn’t even notice and you exposed your sweet cunt to the crisp morning air for absolutely nothing? Or even worse… What if he didn’t find you attractive at all, but weird as hell and would hurry to get away from you?

Maybe this was a stupid idea after all. You had played around with him this far and it had all worked well, maybe it was time to stop now? Untouched, but also unscathed. About to push yourself up to hurry inside and regret every life choice you have ever made, you suddenly heard steps coming towards you, and they were coming towards you quick. You lifted your head and saw Alex look over at you, making you smile at him carefully, almost shyly. Your face was red, if from the embarrassment you felt right now or from the downward position you were holding, you didn’t know. Alex smiled and nodded, jogging past happily, making your heart drop. In disbelief, you watched him jog down the path, and with his steady but fast speed, he soon was close to being out of sight. You couldn’t believe it. He had almost stumbled when he noticed a fucking bra, and now you were stretching out your receptive ass and pussy, and all you got was a smile? You sighed, red spots forming all over your cleavage and neck because of the shame, when you suddenly saw Alex’ silhouette come to an abrupt stop at the border of your farmland, even raising some dust. Blinking, you squinted your eyes to see what he was doing, but that wasn’t necessary. He turned around and suddenly sprinted towards you. Alex was fast – he always had been, but now he seemingly moved inhumanely fast. You couldn’t even blink before he was standing in front of you, having you look up at him with your mouth slightly agape. Alex’ chest was heaving and falling quickly, beads of sweat running down his forehead, tracing his cheeks and dripping down on his chest. His eyes were staring at you, your face, your back, your ass, and you swore you could see him drag his tongue over his lip before catching it between his set of pearly whites. “So that’s how you do yoga, huh?” He asked, setting his left foot on the step of your porch, but he hesitated. Letting his eyes drag over your body once more, the steady breathing pattern he usually adapted when running in complete disarray. “I read n-naked yoga is…uhm…quite beneficial,” you stammered, not able to keep your position and finally dropping to your knees, which caused Alex’ right eye to twitch, his muscular form now towering over you. “I see. And how long have you known that I pass by your farm around this time?” “…Four weeks?” Alex hummed, slowly stepping up on the porch. He was now directly in front of you. You could practically smell him; your nose would have brushed his pubic bone if you had leaned forward the tiniest bit. “Mhm…So…,” he began, quite obviously enjoying the position the two of you were in. Alex had always had a thing for a good size difference, and you looked so tiny beneath him. So easy to take… You swallowed thickly, your eyes slowly wandering down his body to take in how the black tank top clung to his muscular frame, down to his green basketball shorts, choking on your very own breath when you saw the bulge that was outlined by the soft fabric. Alex opened his mouth to add something to his started sentence, but his tongue betrayed him when he felt your lips press against his very obvious erection.

He swore he had never felt this strained in his life before; every single muscle in his body was pulling towards you, burning for you. He had always found you so pretty, never understanding Hayley’s rants about you liking to be dirty. Quite the opposite; he found it astounding that you were able to push yourself so far each and every day, to really take matters into your own hand. Just like you were doing now. And by Yoba, he could have dropped onto the ground and worshipped you for it -  He had to steady himself on the railing, the feeling of your lips kissing up and down his clothed shaft pushing him so far towards the edge that he had to focus on not cumming on the spot. That would be terribly embarrassing now, right? Your lips bullied pre out of him without even really trying; and if you had told him to walk now, he was pretty sure he wouldn’t even have known how to do that. “Fuck,” he breathed, his hand reaching out, but stopping short of your head, “can I?” You let out a groan against his clothed shaft, batting your lashes at him. “Alex, I am sitting in front of you almost completely naked, kissing your cock. What do you think?” Immediately after you had formed the sentence, you felt embarrassed and shy. You cleared your throat and shifted around your yoga mat carefully, rubbing your neck that was covered in red. “I mean… Only if you want to.” A dry chuckle sounded in your ears, and it sounded almost as if he was ridiculing you and your small form beneath him, but when you felt his fingers carefully push strands of hair out of your face before wandering down your chin to lift your head, you knew Alex was mirroring the lust you were feeling in this very moment. “Well, it would only be fair if I didn’t wear any pants either then, right?” His thumbs hooked under the waistband of his shorts before he began to pull them down slowly. Your eyes were glued to his crotch, your mouth completely dry. You could feel yourself beginning to leak, slick wet dribbling from your lips just from looking at him. Alex slowly began revealing his happy trail and V-Line, both pointing to what you were so desperately craving. But he was moving so, so slow. Exposing his skin centimetre by centimetre, driving you absolutely crazy. You tried to reach out your hands, but a larger one wrapped around your wrists, holding them in place. “Ah-Ah,” he cooed, but the tremble in his voice gave him away. Still, you were firmly held in place, only able to watch and wait. A soft whimper left you involuntarily when you finally could make out parts of his cock, the moan that you rasped low as you saw it slap against his stomach. It was so pretty; thick and long with a reddening tip, which was already slicked up by pre-cum. Veins were running along the shaft, pulsating slightly with need – need for you. You swore you could have cried for him. You had dreamed of him fucking you since the day you had first seen him jog past, your slight crush turning into full blown lust mixed with affection. Touching yourself inappropriately under the covers while imagining it to be Alex, desperately humping pillows as moans of his names left your lips, sucking on your dildo before fucking yourself with it, hoping Alex would feel like your favourite toy.

This, however – this was much better than your mind could have ever imagined and it made both your mouth and your pussy drool. “Can’t speak anymore?” Alex asked, almost cockily as he gripped the base of his shaft, slowly letting his fist move up, thumb rubbing over the tip to further coat it with pre. A shivering breath left him and seemingly went straight to your cunt. Alex looked down at you with awe; you looked so perfectly sweet still, even though even though your body language painted a different picture. He was pretty sure he would be able to ruin you, and Yoba, how he wanted to. How often had he moaned your name into his pillow while fisting his dick mercilessly? How often had he imagined you sucking him off? How often had he seen you cockwarm him while he was bench pressing? And now, now you were sitting in front of him. All cute and innocent, half naked for him already and thirsting for his dick. An absolute meal if anyone were to ask him.

 “Want a real taste now?” He murmured, hand letting go of your wrists and tracing his finger through your hair once more, bunching it up carefully. He didn’t even have to guide you; your mouth was pressed against his cock quicker than he could have ordered anyway. You desperately pressed your tongue against him, licking from the base to the tip, swirling your tongue around him and sucking up whatever drop of pre-cum he had to offer. Alex’ head lulled back, his hand reaching out to steady himself on the railing again. Holy shit, he could have never imagined something this good. Your pretty, plush lips ghosting over his sensitive skin, your warm tongue darting out to kitten lick him, and by Yoba, the way you suckled on his tip and pulled your head back. His knees buckled, your hands finding their place on his muscular thighs being of no real help. Alex looked down at you, and the view he got sent shocks straight to both his heart and dick. You sat on your knees, hands holding on his thighs as if you desperately needed the support, your lips wrapped around the tip of his penis and your eyes closed as you began to move your head over his shaft. Slowly at first, but soon picking up the pace, hollowing in your cheeks to create a smug fit. A look of utmost joy and need was sprawled across your face, and your hips rutted back and forth as if you were riding him already. When the brunet looked closely, he could see droplets of wetness on the surface of the yoga mat; and that was too much for him. He wanted this. He wanted you; and even though your mouth felt heavenly already, and the thought of being met with the cold air on the wet of his dick already killed him, but still. He used his gentle grip on your hair to pull you away from his throbbing cock, the tip now bright red and his balls tightening towards his body. You had him wrapped around your finger already, and he was pretty sure that you hadn’t even gotten started yet. Alex was sure he wouldn’t ever be able to enjoy something as much as he enjoyed you if he crossed this line now, but he needed you. His whole body would evaporate if he couldn’t have you now.

Your lips disconnected from his cock with a small ‘pop’, a string of saliva mixed with his fluids still connecting the two of you. But by now he needed more. Alex dropped on his knees in front of you, looking into your eyes before he gripped your face with both of his big hands, pulling you into a deep kiss. Your lips connected with a smacking sound, and both of you had to moan, trying to release some of the pent-up tension in some way, any way. His hands began to move from your face as his tongue sneaked into your mouth, tangling his with yours, licking over it, savouring the taste of you mixed with his own. Your hearts were pounding in your chests, and each of you were sure the other could hear it, but none of you found the strength to care. Alex’ fingers began wandering, down your neck, to your breasts. He squeezed them through the fabric of your tight bra, but that only soothed him for a moment. One hand travelled to your back, unclasping the bra with surprisingly skilled fingers, allowing your tits to finally bounce free. You had to pull away for a second to gasp for air, an opportunity well used by Alex. He kissed your neck, nipping and sucking at the skin, leaving marks and spots as a proof that this was happening – maybe so you couldn’t mess with his head later on, maybe because he just craved you to have them. You didn’t know. You enjoyed. Small moans and gasps left you, your hips grinding back and forth yet again to try and gain desperately needed fiction while Alex teased your collar bones. “Look at these pretty, pretty tits. Fuck, how could you ever hide them from me?” He cupped them with his hands, thumbs rolling over the perky buds, pulling them back and flicking them. “Look at how nice they look in my hands, princess. Absolutely perfect. Just like you,” he whispered, pressing another wet kiss to your lips and then bowing his head as if to worship you and only you. He swallowed thickly, his tongue darting out just like yours had done before, licking a fat stripe over your left nipple. Your head lulled back as you felt the warmth of his mouth around it, your legs quivering momentarily. If Alex felt this good teasing you, you couldn’t imagine how good he felt inside of you. “So pretty,” Alex breathed again, eyes flicking up to your face and then to your ever grinding hips.

A cocky smile appeared on his lips, the hand that had cupped your breasts leaving it and slowly dancing down your stomach. Ghosts of his fingertips lingered on your skin as he made his way downward, mouth finding your other nipple. His tongue flicked it, pressed down on it and then he suckled on it, making the world fade in front of your very eyes, the only thing you could focus on being Alex. You felt all hot and warm, heat mixing with white, need mixing with despair and fulfillment at the same time. Then you felt a lightning bolt go through you as Alex’ finger had found your pretty little clit. His thumb pressed down, while his index finger wandered to your dripping hole, collecting wetness before letting it trace through your folds again, coating your clit. “So wet for me already, huh, baby? Do you need me that badly?” He whispered against your breast, carefully gripping it between his teeth, having you whimper loudly. Your upper body was covered in marks and saliva now, and you hadn’t ever felt prettier than you did now, with Alex seemingly all over you and teasing you about how wet you were for him already in hushed tones. You swallowed thickly, trying to answer him, however, the feeling of Alex’ thumb picking up the pace against the bundle of nerves didn’t allow for anything else than you swallowing your spit again. Your head was tilted back, your legs twitching involuntarily. His lips were pressed against your throat now, tongue licking up to your chin while one hand massaged your breast, the other still relentlessly bullying your clit. He rubbed your clit fast to build up more arousal, just to slow down again to leave you with a lingering feeling of pent-up arousal. His index finger kept sliding down to your hole, dipping in just ever so slightly, but never entering you fully, teasing you just how you had teased him. But by Yoba, Alex was suffering. Not plunging himself inside of you was torture; like pushing a boulder up a steep mountain. The way your sweet little pussy felt against his fingertips made his heart pound harder than he had deemed humanly possible, and his cock was still drooling for you.  And the sounds you were giving him. Oh, the sounds. He was sure they were bis favourite song now, that he would never hear anything so beautiful again. However, the way you said his name when he began to pick up his pace on you’re the puffy bundle of nerves beneath his finger tip proved him wrong. His cock twitched dangerously, his balls tightening yet again. He could have come untouched by the sole sound of you moaning his name in a lewd position like this; with your head completely tilted back, legs spread for him to have better access to your cunt. He wanted to cry, to cry and laugh. But more importantly, he wanted to have you. In every possible way.

He had to stop for a moment, just to hold onto you, feel the silk of your skin against his, but before he knew it, he had pulled you on his lap, his body acting on his own. Your wetness was pressing against his thigh now, your tits against his pecs. Yet again his dick twitched violently, only now you could feel it. “Can I ride you?” “Ca you ride me?” You looked at each other, laughing about the fact that the two of you had had the same idea at the same time.  Alex leaned back against the railing, adjusting his thighs to help you settle comfortably. Your hands reached out almost carefully to touch his shoulders, steadying yourself as you lifted your hips. The male gripped the base of his shaft, sucking in a sharp breath when he felt your wet entrance against him. You moaned quietly, licking your lips. This was going to be so good, and you knew it. You allowed your hips to press down slowly, only to hear Alex ramble. “Hold on, hold on, hold on.” You looked at him with wide, begging eyes, confusion rippling through you. Had you done something wrong? Alex had his neck craned back, staring at the sky. He tried to hold back the tears that had started to well up in his eyes and threatened to spill from this feeling added to the pile that had already been growing in his stomach, his fingertips roughly pressing into your side, sure to leave marks come the next morning. He was fighting; fighting with every ounce of his being not to fill you up with only his tip inside of you. But your walls sucked him off so well already and having felt you against him now – he was intoxicated. Drunk on you. “Alex?” You asked, shifting as if you were about to get off, causing another hiss to strain from him. Whatever bit of self-control Alex had carried within him up to this point – it was gone. Forced into defeat and ripped to shreds. His green eyes found yours, glazed over and yet so full of affection. “Ale-eeeeex,” you gasped, feeling him slowly buck his hips upwards, entering your cunt carefully. His jaw clenched, using your hips as leverage to pull you down and flush again him. Both of your mouths hung open upon feeling each other for the first time. Alex could have sworn that an angel was sitting on his lap, but he quickly changed his mind; no angel could feel, no be, as heavenly as you. Your walls clenched around him, just to relax and clench around him again. It was as if you were trying to milk him already, and he was pretty sure you could make him cum by just cockwarming him like this, which was deeply embarrassing in itself, but he couldn’t have cared less.

Yet he wouldn’t reach his peak just from being cockwarmed because you needed more. This felt too good as to not want more, you decided. You slowly lifted your hips before allowing yourself to slide down again. “Alex,” you whimpered, your eyes squeezed shut tightly. You certainly were no virgin, nor were you inexperienced, but never had you felt like this. It was like Alex’ cock was a perfect fit that also could tear you apart any second. You were certain you could never let his dick slip out of you again, or you would forever feel empty. “Alex, fuck, never…had…dick this good,” you moaned, your hands running through his chestnut brown hair, pulling on some ends that you could catch while strands slipped through your fingers. Alex, meanwhile, was completely fucked out. He was absolutely pussy-drunk. Your walls were clenching him in all the right places, and the way your cunt squelched in protest whenever you lifted your hips made his heart pound. He couldn’t take his eyes away from where your bodies connected, scared he would wake up and figure out this was all a dream if he did. Moans and hisses left his lips, which he in no way tried to mask. He didn’t give a damn if anyone was to come by and hear him having you ride him like the absolute goddess you were. Besides, even if he did attempt to stay quiet, you moaned loud enough for the two of you. When he felt your tugging on his hair, his eyes briefly flicked up to you. You grinned down at him breathlessly, your eyes glazed over and beads of sweat caught in your brows. Face all pretty and innocent, but carrying such a perverted, dirty fuck-drunken smile. He couldn’t take it anymore. He just couldn’t. You gasped when you felt Alex shift beneath you, the man planting both of his feet flat on the ground, using his grip on your hips to pull you down against him. Your eyes rolled back in your head, the new angle making him push even deeper than before, yet Alex had only been getting started. He adjusted his hips, making sure to keep you flush against him before he pistoned his hips upwards. “Fuck wha-“ You cried out, but were unable to finish the sentence, Alex’ cock fucking into you taking up all your attention and concentration. You weren’t even able to close your mouth anymore as the man beneath you fucked into you as if you were his – his little toy, his little perfect lover, his.

With each smack of skin against skin he marked you as his and his alone, and you proved him right by moaning out his name in the air, letting everyone know who was fucking you right. The brunet used your hips for his advantage, rocking you back and forth a little while bullying his length inside of you, his whole body trembling with the orgasm that was approaching him. He couldn’t help himself, really. How should he? You were taking his cock like an absolute fucking goddess, and your tits were bouncing in his face so nicely. One of his hands gripped your ass, digging his nails into it and straining a moan from your swollen lips. He wanted to mark you more, make everyone know you are his by just looking at you. He opened his hand, holding the palm of it flat beneath your ass, smacking it whenever he pulled you down. The moans you gave him urged him on, giving him the confidence to give your ass a few good smacks, the shape of his hand slowly swelling on the pale skin. The gushes of wet were a testimonial to how much you loved this, and he did, too. Yet still, he couldn’t get enough. Especially not of the look that was painted on your face. You still hadn’t managed to close your mouth; drool was dribbling down from the corner of it and dripped down, mixing with the sweat that covered your chest. You looked completely fucked out, as if you were chanting his name in without using your voice. “You like this, my little slut? Huh? I l-love it.” Love was an understatement for this. He lived this. He wanted this engraved in his brain, he wanted this to haunt him like a ghost. One of his hands left your hip and found its way to where your bodies became one, pressing the pad of his thumb against your clit again to rub quick circles into it. The clenching and spasming of your cunt told him everything that you weren’t able to speak out anymore. The squelching sounds that you made whenever his hips fucked into you even more so, his body aching for the sweet release both of you were chasing.

“You gonna cum for me, ye-yes, baby? ‘m gonna cum, too. Gonna take my load like a good girl, m’yes? Gotta make you mine,” He panted the knot in his stomach only growing tighter. The faint nod you gave him, was enough to spur him on once more. He was an athlete, after all. Always pushing his limits just a little further, and today, he was going to do the same with you. He fucked up into you with fast, deep movements, his thumb rubbing your clit even after you tried to struggle away, a shaky, high-pitched gasp of his name leaving you. Your toes curled and your cunt spasmed yet again, clenching around him as if to ensure that he’d never leave. And Alex tried, he really tried to fuck you through your orgasm before he finally reached his own, but with the look you gave him with those tear filled eyes that basically begged him to fill you up, he couldn’t. His nails dug into your hips, his own toes curling as his hips snapped upwards once more, he held you down hard as the knot finally exploded, hot white washing over him, as spurts of his semen were released in you. For a moment, he wasn’t sure if he had gone blind, but still, his hips thrusted a few more times before stuttering and then finally halting completely. Slowly, he could make out some stars, then he saw your features again. You looked absolutely ruined. Tears had left streaks on your face, your lower lip was trembling and wet with spit, and every single feature betrayed you by telling about the orgasm that you had just had. Alex was still panting himself, unable to feel anything but his dick buried inside of your clenching pussy and the wetness that drenched his crotch. You slowly dropped your head against his chest, which the brunette cradled almost immediately, raking his slender fingers through your hair. The two of you sat in silence for a while, listening to your heavy breathing and your pounding hearts. You couldn’t bring yourself to get off of him just yet, you didn’t want to lose this feeling right away. Your lover beneath you seemed to feel similarly, his strong arms holding you close, hips still pressing upwards ever so slightly as if to keep his cum deep inside of you.

“Fuck,” he whispered after a while, eyes falling close. “Mh?” you murmured, your own eyes quite heavy. “That was amazing. Are you sure you are no goddess?” “Mhmmmm…” You snuggled closer to him, too weak to lift up your arms to hug him back. “But I’ve got another question.” “Mhm?” You murmured, finding the strength within yourself to look up at him. “This wasn’t a plan to get me to fuck you, was it?” You rolled your eyes at him with a chuckle, resting your head back against the chest that made you feel so secure. “No, it was a plan to get you to fuck and date me.” There was silence for a moment, making your heart skip a beat. Was that too blunt? Maybe this was a one-time thing for Alex. However, a soft kiss pressed to your head soothed your nerves. “Then it worked.”

[phantom-0-writer]

excerpt from my fic (bio wayne danny)

“Sorry, am I interrupting?” Dick asked teasingly, slipping in next to Bruce. 

“I was just telling Danny how having a space station as a base of operation is a tactical call.” Bruce said, pointedly. 

“As if. It wasn’t a good idea when the JL was just the main seven, but after their expansion project, it’s a liability if not a straight out disadvantage.” Danny scoffed, rolling his eyes.

“How is it a liability?” Dick asked intrigued. 

“Whenever there’s a huge invasion or something, where do you think the evil aliens are going to attack first? The huge space satellite with at least a handful of heroes on it at all times, with state-of-the-art weapons and tech, full of information about literally everything worth having information on probably has no external defenses because no one would think to sneak into a space station, seems like a pretty good start.” Danny explained, Dick watched Bruce appraise his information. “I bet I could get in if I figured out how to get to space.” 

Bruce raised an amused brow at him, “You think you could break into the Watchtower?” 

“Easy.” Danny proclaimed, sporting a wicked grin. 

Before Dick could say anything, someone came up to their table. “Danny!” The boy, Dick recognized as Tucker, said with an exaggerated fake surprise, “What a surprise seeing you here. At the Nasty Burger. Around 6 o’clock. Today.” 

“Tucker? Why- What are you doing here?” Danny asked surprised. 

“I was just passing by,” Tucker said, shrugging dramatically. Danny gave him an accusing and disbelieving look. “My, my who are these people here with you, Danny?” Tucker asked, sliding into the seat next to Danny. 

“Tucker, you know who they are,” Danny said exasperated. 

But it seemed like they had more guests. “Danny! Wow, I wasn’t expecting you here. Small world, huh?” Sam (?) walked over preppi-ly which didn’t match her grunge aesthetic. Her hands hooked with Val’s as they walked together. 

“Small world,” Val repeated with a fake smile. The two of them sat down next to Danny and Tucker. 

Danny put his head in his hands, “I should’ve known.”

“You should’ve.” Sam nodded. 

“But you didn’t.” Val chastised jokingly. 

Next another boy comes dashing into the restaurant wearing a basketball jersey. 

“You’re late,” Val says, admonishingly. Tucker and Sam shake their heads, and Danny sighs in exasperation. 

“I literally ran here.” Wes said in between huffs of air, slumping in next to Val. 

The group of teens who had been teasing each other, in a very strange synchronous action, turn their heads to look at Bruce and Dick. Dick was really regretting watching Anabell last night. 

“I think we’ll need more food,” Bruce comments lightly. 

---

“So, dick.” Sam started, munching on a fry. “Tell us about yourself.” 

“Like what?” Dick asked

Valerie (“Do not call me Val.”) answered, “What do you do?”

“I’m a cop in Bludhaven.” Dick was met with four pairs of dubious eyes. Danny sent him a small-lipped look of disappointment, he wasn’t sure whether it was for him or at him. Maybe Dick should look into getting a new day job.

“Write that down.” Sam gestured to Tucker.

“Already on it,” Tucker reported, scribbling something with a stylus. 

“You guys are taking this very seriously,” Bruce commented, smiling. 

“It is serious.” Tucker responded. 

“What if you guys are in some child trafficking ring?” Wes commented, 

“Why would they be-” Danny started, before Wes turned to him and very seriously said, 

“That’s exactly the question, Danny. Why would they?” Wes thoughtfully turned to look at Bruce warily. 

“Y’know let’s just dive into the important questions shall we?” Sam asked her preppy attitude from before gone, replaced by a hard glare at the two of them. It reminded Dick of Titus. “What’s your opinion on the basements?”

“Basements?” Bruce repeated, confused. 

“Well, you wouldn’t be the first eccentric billionaire to insist Danny be their son. And we’ve noticed a few patterns.” Tucker informed them as if they were talking about something completely normal and mundane. Though, Dick couldn’t really argue. Bruce was also an eccentric billionaire with a secret basement. 

“Well, we have a basement,” Dick said hesitantly. “Does that dock us points?” He asked Tucker, half-joking, half-concerned. 

“Tentative.” 

“So what do you do in your basement?” Wes asked, sipping on a milkshake. 

“Normal basement things.” Dick lied. 

“Such as…” Valarie implored, eyes suspicious. 

Dick hesitated thinking about what to say. Bruce hadn’t said anything either. But Danny took the time to tell his friends, “Guys I really don’t think that should be a problem. I mean, would someone like Vlad really go for the ‘let’s have dinner so my family can meet your family and we can get to know each other’ approach when the ‘let me drug and kidnap you and stick you in a cloning pod’ approach was right there.” 

His friends seemed to consider this before they all nodded and agreed. 

“Vlad Masters drugged and kidnaped you to put you in a cloning pod?” Bruce asked, concerned. 

“No,” Danny said, offhandedly, not bothering to elaborate. Someone should really look into that guy. 

“O-M-G, is that Paulina?” Wes said pointedly, a menacing grin on his face as he looked at Danny, who in turn looked alarmed.

“Aw, Danny you should go say ‘Hi’.” Tucker cooed, teasingly, Danny groaned, his ears flushing in embarrassment.

“Guys, stop.” Sam said finally, “We wouldn’t want another spoon incident.” A grin cracked on her face. Danny buried his face in his hands. 

Dick looked over to see who they were talking about. There were two girls, one was a blond girl with her arms hooked around Kwan from The Mall, and the other was a darker skinned girl wearing a pink crop top. Dick wasn’t sure who Paulina was, but it didn’t really matter, as he took his chance to tease his brother. “You have a crush on Paulina?” He asked teasingly. Bruce is smiling next to him. 

“No.” Danny denied it fervently. “I mean- I did. Like forever ago. But not anymore.”

“He’s since moved on to more attainable targets.” Tucker nodded. Received a smack from Sam and a spoon to the face from Valerie. “Ow. What? It’s true.” 

“Y’know what they say. Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer.” Wes added with a snicker. 

“Wes,” Danny groaned at the same time as Sam and Valarie hissed his name. 

“I sense a story.” Bruce commented, sipping his drink. 

“It all started when we were fresh little freshmen. Danny had his little crush on Paulina. I was just trying to get by, y’know. Not all of us have Wayne genes.” Tucker started pointedly. 

“What- we didn’t know about that till this week.” Danny pointed out. 

“Doesn’t mean it wasn’t there, dude.” Wes spoke up. Sam and Valerie stayed suspiciously quiet. Dick’s smirk only grew. 

“As I was saying, we’re just doing normal freshman things, when Sammy here,” Tucker points to Sam with his head, “starts crushing. Big time.”

“It was not that bad.” Sam points out. 

“It was, in fact, that bad.” Tucker said, looking at Bruce and Dick, “But at the same time Danny and Val have a little enemies-to-lovers thing and then they both start crushing on each other. And they dated for a while, but then they broke up cause Val had a lot on her plate at the time. Danny was all mopey and heartbroken. And then Sam swoops in like his little knight in glowing armor, then they start dating. And all the while I’m here single and alone.” Tucker shakes his head mournfully. 

“I was not all mopey and heartbroken.” Danny defends himself. 

“You so were dude.” Tucker says.

“Yeah.” Sam agrees. 

“But then Sam and Danny decide that they’re better off as friends because Danny kinda had a lot to deal with. And now we’re all best friends.”  Tucker concluded, cheerfully. 

“Apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, huh, Bruce.” Dick says slyly. Bruce huffs. 

“Then what about the spoon incident?” Bruce asked. 

“Oh, that was back when there were a lot of ghost attacks, and the school had my parents come in to run security. And this one time we were having lunch outside, and they just showed up out of nowhere. And I got kinda spooked and…” Danny’s voice trailed off into a mumble, and Dick couldn’t catch the last bit.

“Sorry, what was that?” 

“He said he swallowed a spoon.” Wes spoke up. 

“What?” Bruce asked, alarmed. “Are you okay?” 

“Oh yeah, I got it out.” Danny waved dismissively. 

“How?” Dick asked, confused.

“Uh, I just did.” He waved again. Before Dick could ask any more questions, someone else decided to show up.

“Oh good, I thought I missed you guys.” Another red-haired boy showed up. “Hi, I’m Adam, Wes’s brother.” Dick recognized the accent the boy had. He stuck out a hand for Dick to shake.

continue reading (ao3)

regular boy: daniel wayne - chap 9

[ohnococo]

Fight Night | CHAPTER 3 | MMA Fighter!Sukuna x Reader

“I’ve got a fight coming up, so I’ve got to stay clean for the tests over the next 6 months,” there’s a tinge of annoyance in his face, the closest to pouting you think a man like Sukuna can get, “so you’d better have fun tonight.” You don’t know what to say. You had fun every night with him, and while it had occurred to you that this was definitely not a permanent arrangement you’d thought you just wouldn’t hear from him again one day. You aren’t sure if you’d have preferred that to having an actual warning for this last hurrah, and being told about it as it’s happening. Having Sukuna’s eyes scanning your reaction during the few seconds you have to process it leaves an odd feeling in your stomach, something he’s quick to distract from as he goes back to kissing your neck, hands travelling further up your legs, pushing them apart gently. He has a last word on the matter, whispering into your ear as his palm meets your pussy and he hums happily at discovering you’d decided to forego panties.  “I know I will.”

Its your last night with Sukuna, and all you can do is make the most of it.

Warnings: drinking, drug use, public sex, rough sex, vaginal sex, hand jobs, spitting, creampie, fingering, exhibitionism, sex under the influence, fem bodied reader, fuck buddy situation, overstimulation, forced orgasm

Notes: I’m really happy with this chapter, I hope you guys support and enjoy!

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

Time had passed strangely in the two months since you met Ryomen ‘The King’ Sukuna. It felt like it had flown, like you’d only just met him, but at the same time you felt like it had taken a couple of years off your life. He went hard every single time, and so did you, but at the very least you would have some stories to tell.

You’re no longer unsure like you had been the first time you arrived at the VIP section unaccompanied by Uraume. You’re expected, so you say your name and the man steps aside quickly, welcoming you warmly as if you had the same name worth brown nosing like Sukuna did. It’s weird having a taste of his power just by proximity, but it explains the loyalty of the people around him even further. You don’t let it get to your head though, always acutely aware of the way you got here, always aware of how easy it would be for someone else to get here in your place.

Right now isn’t the time for those thoughts though, nor the time for thoughts of how Sukuna never communicated in the days between telling you where to be and when, nor the time for thoughts of how that fact gave you a little pit in your stomach.

No, now was the time to make some memories on Sukuna’s dime, and on his cock.

Walking into the lounge, he’s as handsome as ever, shirt rolled up and further exposing his already unconcealable tattoos. His hair is a much more saturated shade of that peachy hue that managed to seem intimidating on him despite the otherwise pretty nature of such a colour. His thickly muscled thighs seem to be straining much harder than usual against his slacks and when you catch his eye he stretches his legs out as he lies back in his chair. Familiar faces say hello to you as you pass and you nod back in lieu of more lengthy pleasantries as the call of his lap beckons you.

He stops you in your tracks with two raised fingers before you have a chance to take your spot. He looks you up and down, appraising you for a moment through heavy lids before licking his lips and smiling. “All that, for me?”

You roll your eyes, opting to sit on the arm of his chair instead of his legs since he was starting up with you already. He won’t have it though, grabbing you by the hips and sliding you onto his lap as he locks in on your neck, kissing along the exact spots his lips had been the last time you’d seen each other the previous weekend.

“All this for a drink.” you finally reply, leaning away from his kisses and towards the table in front of his chair where your drink was awaiting, having been ordered by Uraume as soon as they spotted you speaking with the bouncer.

You lick your lips after sipping the lethal but necessary combination of Red Bull and vodka, having finally admitted to Sukuna only last week that you didn’t actually care for the taste of the Dom Perignom he’d kept on ice for your arrival at the beginning of each night out after the first. When you’d told him you’d just asked for something expensive to piss him off a little he’d had a good laugh at that.

A smile finds its way to your lips when you recall the danger in his voice when he’d told you that you didn’t want to try too hard to piss him off. ’But,’ he’d said, ’my pockets are deep when it comes to having a good time.’

The ’for a price’ part of that went unsaid. Lucky for you the price was something you were more than willing to pay.

Your reminiscing is interrupted and you nearly spill your drink as he hooks an arm around your waist, pressing your side back into him to remove any distance you’d momentarily created. He’s wasting even less time than usual, already renewing the marks on your neck with lips and tongue and teeth. You take a slow sip, tangling your other hand in his hair and tugging lightly.

He steals your lips before you have a chance to take another drink, and something on his tongue is bitter, giving you a hint at what would be helping this night along. His kiss is hot, hands squeezing at your thighs, cock already hard underneath you, and when he pulls back there’s a dangerous look in his eyes.

“I’ve got a fight coming up, so I’ve got to stay clean for the tests over the next 6 months,” there’s a tinge of annoyance in his face, the closest to pouting you think a man like Sukuna can get, “so you’d better have fun tonight.”

You don’t know what to say. You had fun every night with him, and while it had occurred to you that this was definitely not a permanent arrangement you’d thought you just wouldn’t hear from him again one day. You aren’t sure if you’d have preferred that to having an actual warning for this last hurrah, and being told about it as it’s happening. Having Sukuna’s eyes scanning your reaction during the few seconds you have to process it leaves an odd feeling in your stomach, something he’s quick to distract from as he goes back to kissing your neck, hands travelling further up your legs, pushing them apart gently.

He has a last word on the matter, whispering into your ear as his palm meets your pussy and he hums happily at discovering you’d decided to forego panties.

“I know I will.”

A stop for food is a required occurrence on these nights. You were grateful for it, honestly, but shocked the first time Sukuna had shouted the name of a place to his entourage as you filtered from one club and into smaller groups to take separate cars to your destination. You had been beginning to think he wasn’t human with the way he tanked line after line and drink after drink. But you’d always find yourself reminded that he was indeed human as you pulled up to some dive or greasy burger place at some point in the evening.

Tonight is no different, with your odd crowd settled into the hard metal outdoor seating, eating your fast food. Strangers filter in and out of the door behind you, also soaking up the copious amounts of alcohol and drugs in their stomachs during the pit stop. The night air and lack of sweaty people pushing against you doesn’t feel like too much of an oddity though, with the rhythmic reggaeton blasting from someone’s car in the parking lot reminiscent of the vibe of the club you had just been at before.

Sukuna is pounding his second cheeseburger and complaining, as he always does, that it ’isn’t even real food’.

“Yeah, is that why you look like you’re about to lick the wrapper?” You ask, playing with the straw of your Sprite. This middle-of-the-night break was never enough to sober up, just enough to make it through the rest of it. On occasion you wouldn’t even stop long enough to sit somewhere, instead watching as Sukuna ate in the back of his hired car, acting like he’d been starved for months. You figured that it probably did taste especially decadent compared to whatever diet he was forced to adopt for training.

“If you have any suggestions of where I can get a clean meal at midnight without cooking it myself, I’m all ears?” He pulls your drink from your hands, finishing half of it with a hiss as if he hadn’t been putting far worse things in his body every night you’d been with him.

“Of course you don’t cook.”

He raises his brows at you, only slightly more perturbed than amused that you were implying there were things he couldn’t do. “I don’t need to cook, that’s what Uraume is for.”

Uraume blushes at being referred to in a way that could even be slightly construed as favourable and you’re shocked to find out that they had actually been his cook all this time. Why their duties also included waiting on Sukuna hand and foot you did not know.

“If you say so…” you turn your attention to your phone, checking messages, assuring friends you were both alive and conscious, waiting for the next round to begin as you get what might be your only moment of rest from Sukuna’s very much welcome but very much relentless onslaught.

As you respond to one person, then move to respond to the next, Sukuna glances down at your screen, obviously picking out the emojis listed above the preview of his last text to you. He sneers and gestures to your screen.

“What the fuck is that?”

“This?” You wave your thumb over his messages, and he points to the name you’d given him, drawing a shrug from you. “I mean, you’re ‘The King’ or whatever.”

“And the monster thing?”

“Yeah, that’s you.”

His brows raise higher, as he tilts his head forward and gives you a look as if he were silently reprimanding you for your choice of name for him. You have to laugh, as much as he bantered with you through the night, there were occasionally moments like this that would remind you he’d gone far too long having his boots licked. Particularly if a few emojis in place of his name seemed to bother him.

Then, something changes in that look. It has your hairs standing on end and your pussy stirring.

“You want me to show you how much of a monster I can be?”

He doesn’t need you to answer that as he stands, grabbing you by the wrist to pull you up with him. He starts dragging you into the restaurant, calling over his shoulder to the group as he does, “We’re leaving in 15.”

He pulls you through the bustling restaurant, past booths packed with people in various states of inebriation, some laughing, some singing, some making out. He drags you past the counter separating the hungry crowd from the overworked employees, rushing to stuff burgers into bags as numbers were shouted out. He guides you right into the bathroom, into a stall, and has your back pressed against the now shut and locked door before you know it.

You knew you were going to get it from the way he holds you captive by your upper arms, teeth clashing with yours as you open your mouth wide to accept his kiss. He’s moving fast, almost too fast for your body to catch up. It doesn’t need to though, as he only releases you long enough to undo his belt and pants and have his cock out and ready. Then you’re back in his grasp as he hoists you up and you’re held firmly by his hands on your ass as he lines himself up. You wrap your arms around his neck, trying to rock your hips into him despite the precarious position.

The head is slipping through your wetness, gathering slick as it catches at your entrance, but slides past where he wants it nestled again. The heat of it against your tender clit only gets you wetter, groaning and enjoying that alone until his eyes are snapping up from your pussy to lock with yours.

His glare tells you all you need to know, that you won’t be cumming on that cock without him, not right now. He pins you against the stall with his body, moving one hand from your ass to line himself up properly, rocking up to his toes to fill you without a care for stretching your tight pussy far too fast. He keeps you pressed there as his hips snap against yours, putting a hand on the top of the stall to fuck you harder. Your moans are high pitched, breathy, carried by the air being squeezed from you with each harsh thrust. Sukuna has his body pressed so firmly against you that you can barely get any air in and it’s all making your head spin, heat pooling in your stomach already.

The fluorescent lights are blinding, and as you look at Sukuna with his clenched teeth, curled lip, and intense stare you wonder if he always looked quite so crazed as he fucks you. Or if it had always been hidden in the dim lighting of all the clubs and cars you’d fucked in. Every so often his lids get heavy, and his glare slips as he watches your face while you unravel completely, and you wonder if he’s close, but then he’s snapping back into that scowl.

You tighten your arms and legs around him as he brings his other hand up to grip at the stall too, hanging on as he fucks you so hard your eyes are rolling back in your head. Then, he stops. Before you have time to process anything his voice is in your ear, in your head, pulling you from the depths.

“What’s my name?”

“What?”

His hips snap hard enough against yours that you’re left gasping for air. You can’t even respond and even when he returns to his previous punishing pace you feel like you’re going to fall apart any second.

“Say my fucking name.”

“S-sukuna.” He’s fucking you so hard your voice is shaking.

“All of it.”

“Ryomen Sukuna.”

“Louder.”

You want to be worried about getting kicked out of this place, but have to just trust the crowd outside this bathroom was too loud and too rowdy for you getting your guts rearranged to be noticed. Sukuna doesn’t appreciate the hesitation though, leaning back enough to put some space between your chests, forcing you to cling to him tighter as he uses your body weight to have you bouncing into his punishing thrusts even harder.

“Louder.”

“Ryomen Sukuna!” Your volume surprises even you as you’re now able to shout and moan with abandon with his weight no longer constricting your body.

It has his cock throbbing inside of you as you hold on tight, hands clawing at his back as he fucks you till you’re tensing around him, blinding heat ripping through you as you cream on his cock. Your senses are scrambled, ears ringing, eyes screwed shut, pussy pulsing so hard you’re barely aware of Sukuna pumping you full of his cum.

His thrusts slow as he presses you back against the stall door, hands settling back onto your ass to hold you tight. He’s back to giving you those slow, languid kisses you’d come to know so well - tongue deep in your mouth, teeth bared, nose sliding across yours as he presses his everything against you. He speaks low into your mouth as you start to clench on him again, this time in discomfort, arching and pushing at him so he’ll put you down before you teeter too far into overstimulation. He doesn’t release you though, instead increasing his thrusts even as you start to squirm and whine on his cock as the feeling is so intense it almost hurts.

“You won’t forget it.”

If he expects a response to that, he won’t get it. Your attempts to push off of him only help his long deep strokes as he fucks you through that intensity and straight into another orgasm that has you clawing at his back, shoving turned to pulling him closer, whines of discomfort turned to moans of pleasure. He was right, you didn’t need to tell him that, though. Not while you were cumming again, this time on his slowly softening cock.

He’s true to his word of taking 15 minutes as he lowers you down onto your shaky legs, and holds you upright against his side on the way back out to where the rest of your night awaits.

It’s not lost on you that you’re ending the night in the same club you’d first met Sukuna in. You wonder if it’s intentional. Then, you decide not to think about it, clenching around the fingers idly thrusting into you, stirring up the last dregs of cum that hadn’t yet slipped out. Sukuna is ordering the last drinks before the bar stops serving and the man working the VIP lounge pretends not to notice how you’re slouched against Sukuna, catching your breath after another rough fuck on the very same couch you’d had your first with him on. He finishes his order as he rubs his fingers along your walls as he so often loved to do while you twitch and pant and come back into your body.

Once the server leaves, he pulls his fingers out of you, settling his sticky hand on your waist instead. He wiggles his nose, sniffling and swallowing the drip in the back of his throat. It was late now, or early, and you’d decided you were on alcohol only for the last of it since the sun would be up soon and that only meant you’d be heading home. It meant you were slowing down, of course, but you knew it was time for that anyway. You sigh and let your head lull back, resting it half on Sukuna’s shoulder and half on the back of the couch as you watch him watching the room.

It was weird that you’d gotten so used to his face tattoos. It was weird that you’d gotten so used to anything about him, actually. The size and the strength. The swollen cartilage of his ears and scarring of his brows from years of fighting. The piercings, the hair… and the surprising softness of his lips, his thick straight lashes. It has you smiling, giving yourself a little mocking laugh at how you were actually looking at this giant monster of a man and thinking he looked pretty.

He looks at you, catching your smile, and smiles back. “I’ve fought men for laughing like that.”

You roll your eyes, both annoyed and glad that he had ruined that little private moment with yourself. “Well good thing I wasn’t laughing at you then, cornball.”

He loves doing that, reminding you of who or what he is, like you don’t know. Like you haven’t experienced his strength firsthand. Not like that though. No, his touches for you were hungry, aggressive even, but always with a little hidden reminder that you had won his favour. As the server returns with shots and bottles you allow yourself to think to yourself, just for a moment, that you’d like to keep that favour.

Only for a moment though, because you knew the score. Always had. You two had these nights out, and that was it. And now that they were gone, presumably so were you. You always got that same pit in your stomach when you found yourself wondering how many other people got these wild little months in between fights with him, or if you were even the only one during all of it. You were bouncing on his cock within an hour of meeting him, and you’d done worse since, so you had to assume the worst. You had to assume he probably wouldn’t be bothered to reach out to you once he was back to fucking around after his next fight.

Despite your attempts to bury them, those same thoughts flash in your mind again, once the club is closing and Sukuna’s hand is tightening on your thigh while you settle in for the drive home. You take a breath in, then release it, letting your worries go with it. You weren’t assuming the worst, you were being realistic. And you decide that the best thing you can do for yourself right now is get off on Ryomen ‘The King’ Sukuna one last time as a proper goodbye.

It’s a big ask of your body. You were always worn out by this point of the night, but Sukuna had gone all out this time, spending a little less time dancing and drinking and railing lines and more time railing you. It had made you realise that he might have been holding back just how insatiable he was before, something that was nearly incomprehensible with the way he’d leave you wincing every time you moved for days.

Still, you push past the soreness that had settled in already, and there’s barely any time between you climbing onto his lap like a needy little thing and him working his fingers back into your familiar heat. The hum of electricity over your skin has it feeling just as good as the first time and you can’t be bothered to worry about what the driver can see, not anymore. You’re straddling him, head pressed against the roof of the car, holding onto his shoulders to keep from sliding around as the driver makes his way back to your home.

“One more for the road, then?”

It was a bit late to ask now, with you panting into his mouth, trying to keep your tired body balanced on his legs. You don’t know how you’re still taking him after everything tonight, even just his thick fingers, but you know you won’t regret it tomorrow when you can barely move. You never do.

The thrum of pain is much duller than the throbbing of your clit as you ride his fingers, and he curls them just right to have you seeing stars. You rest your tired head on his shoulder, unrestrained moans joining the sloppy squelch of his fingers fucking your sore, stretched out hole. Just as you’re moments from being completely lost in another orgasm, you feel his other hand move from your hip and hear the familiar sound of his zipper. You can barely keep your eyes open as you look down at him releasing his cock, shaking your head hurriedly without lifting it from his shoulder.

“‘m too sore…” it’s more of a pathetic sounding whine than you’d like, but he was making you feel so good even with the sting of your abused pussy and you were well past the point of faking composure with him.

It only makes his cock throb in his grasp. “Then use your hands.”

That, you can manage. Though it’s not exactly easy for you to sit up with how much your body was screaming at you to just lie down and pass out already. You’re nothing if not persistent though, as you grip his cock with one hand. Then, assessing just how small your hand looks holding it, you decide to grip it with two. You’d become very familiar with it by now. Its girth, its bulging veins, the little silver piercings running up the shaft… but it was something else seeing it in the light of the rising sun. You aren’t dwelling on that for long as Sukuna tenses and has it throbbing in your hands.

“Spit on it.”

You purse your lips, gathering your spit in the front of your mouth, but before you do he clarifies his order.

“Nice and slow.”

You follow without a second thought, letting the spit slowly drip from your mouth where it lands on the angry red tip of his cock and slides down.

“Again.”

Something about Sukuna puts you in the mood for following orders, so you do just that, opening your mouth and letting it fall directly from your tongue. He groans, pressing his thumb to your tongue, sliding it over until you have more drool falling from your mouth, down your chin, and onto his cock below as you look into his hungry eyes.

“It’s a shame you’re too scared to suck my cock.”

Too scared. Were it earlier in the night, when you weren’t so worn out you’d take that as challenge enough to shut him up about it, but at this point all you can do is tread water. Instead you close your lips around his thumb, sucking that instead. His cock throbs again in your hands, reminding you to get to work as you start stroking him, swirling your fingers over the head each time your hands can reach.

His thumb pressing down on your tongue hard enough to pull your mouth back open is all the warning you get as your moans are loud and loose as he starts finger fucking your pussy again. You struggle to keep up, arms burning as you try to work him as hard and fast as he was working you. As heat builds in your stomach it only gets harder, but you persist even as you start to rock into his touch, eyes shut and mouth still open and drooling around his thumb and down his hand.

“S-sukunaaaa…” you don’t care how you sound, lisping out his name the best you can as your pussy flutters around his fingers.

Suddenly, he pulls his fingers out of you, gripping both of your hips tightly. You don’t even think about the pain of it at this point, you’d been adorned with those bruises from the first night you’d met him. You’re more focused on the loss of contact, your orgasm slipping away even as you continue pumping his cock.

He leans up, purring into your ear, “Gonna cum soon…”

There’s a question in there but you’re too fucked up to to decipher it so he presses you further.

“Sure you don’t want it?”

You whine outright, squirming on his lap, “I’m so sore.”

“Are you going to waste it then?”

His cock is throbbing in your hands, and your pussy is throbbing even as the cold air hits it, exacerbating the sting. Still, you want his cock, you want his cum, and you want one last orgasm with him splitting you open wide, so you lean forward, head pressed uncomfortably into the roof of the car, and slide yourself onto him. You don’t need the help anymore, but his hands are still locked onto your hips, guiding you, dealing you short thrusts upwards even as you try to slowly sink down.

When he’s buried deep your stomach clenches, letting out a shaky breath as you try to collect yourself enough to do more than rock your swollen heat on top of him. It feels like it’s going to drive you crazy with the way its warmth soothes the sting even as the girth worsens it. The stopping, starting, and turning of the car you’re in doesn't help anything, forcing you to counterbalance to have any hope of riding the length you’d never quite managed to grow accustomed to.

You’re exhausted, and if you’re being honest with yourself you were ready to crash about an hour ago. Lucky for you Sukuna’s strength and stamina are seemingly entirely unaffected by the drinks, the drugs, and the hours of dancing. He’s taking over easily, thrusting up into you and your heavy limbs are almost a help at this point, keeping you in place even when the power of his thrusts threatens to have you bouncing up towards the roof of the cramped car.

Once your breath is hitching and you’re almost hiccuping with each desperate inhale, he slides one hand up your back, pulling you up by the back of your neck so he can watch you unravel. You know that’s what he wants, to watch you mindlessly taking him, completely unaware of what you looked or sounded like in your desperate climb to orgasm, so you press your head back into the roof of the car. He lays his head back against the headrest, watching you, teeth bared in a pleased smile as you stick your tongue past your wet lips - begging him for a kiss in your own way since you were far past words.

He pulls you down, and the kiss is surprisingly light, surprisingly quick, the tip of his tongue only lightly brushing yours. Then his grip tightens on both your hip and your neck as he pushes into those harsh thrusts, hips snapping, teeth clenched as he looks up at you.

“Cum on my cock.”

His words are the last push over your peak before you’re digging your hands into his shoulders, moaning his name as you cum on top of him clenching and gasping and sighing. He doesn’t leave your pussy taking too many more hard thrusts than you can handle before he’s pulling you down onto him, giving you those final deep thrusts while buried to the hilt before he’s filling you.

You relax into him, head resting on his shoulder, jumping lightly when his cock twitches inside of you. Eventually, it softens, and you look out the window behind, recognizing where you are, and sliding off of him. You don’t speak for the last few short minutes of the drive home, because you don’t know what to say at this point. It feels like you might ruin something if you do, so you enjoy the silence, slumped into Sukuna’s side as you had been many times before.

Like any other time before, you arrive, the driver helps you out, and he makes sure you get to your front door.

You turn and look out at Sukuna, just as you had the first night he took you home. His window is down, his arm resting on the door, watching you standing there in the doorway. You don’t know what to do, or how to end the night exactly. That final fuck hadn’t felt final enough, so you just wave, as silly as it feels. Sukuna smiles, and you can tell from the way that his head tilts back that he’s done that little amused chuckle you’d earned from him so many times. He raises two fingers slightly, without lifting his hand from where it was.

You thank the driver, you close your door, you lock it.

And decide that’s enough.

-

CHAPTER 4

[sunvmars]

as sweet as cake || s.r. [6.1]

pairing: steve rogers x afab reader

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word count: 6k (im so sorry this is so long :')) summary: flashback from the photo of steve's birthday at the beach as mentioned in chapters two and three :) warnings: swearing, smut implications/mentions, smut (unprotected sex, appraisal, fingering & oral (f receiving)) it's really just filth, guys a/n: a sweet little filler chapter before actual chapter 6 comes out later although it could be read as a one-shot, technically.

The salty beach air fills your lungs as the night breeze tousles your hair. You lay in Steve's lap with your head resting on his broad chest as he admires you, the warm sand feeling like a soft blanket under you. A smile that matches his perfectly is etched on your face, both of you soaking in the moment.

His heartbeat was almost in tune with the soothing sound of the crashing waves. The rhythmic beating of his heart would typically put you to sleep- but in this case, Bucky was currently sitting across from you two holding your last piece of Steve's birthday cake.

You exchange a playful glance with Bucky; his eyes narrow at you and you stick your tongue out at him in retaliation. The cake had been the hottest commodity that day and the fight for the last piece had come down to this intimidating final round of rock, paper, scissors.

Tony, Nat, and Pepper walk by right as you're about to throw out your hands, but Tony stops to say, "I hope she beats you," with a smirk on his face. Bucky grumbles and shoots him a glare but you smile up at him instead.

"Thank you, Tony," you say.

"Always," Tony grins.

Steve laughs at the stark contrast in expressions between you and Bucky. Before Bucky can say anything, Tony snaps a picture of the three of you and scurries off to catch up to Pepper and Nat.

"And there he goes," you giggle, earning a chuckle from the blond behind you.

"Alright you two, on the count of three," Steve says, ever the referee, "One... two... three!" he counts out.

You and Bucky throw out your hands with one swift and synchronized movement to reveal your chosen moves. Bucky's paper covers your rock; he chuckles lowly as you groan.

A dramatic sigh escapes your lips and you look up at Steve with a frown. He smiles down at you, his fingers gently tugging mindlessly on the thin straps of your bikini bottoms.

"I lost," you say, faking a frown.

"Don't worry, I'm sure Buck was gonna share with you, sweetheart," he replies softly.

"Oh, was he?"

"Of course, baby." Steve leans down, his lips brushing your ear. "It's my birthday, and I say you can have a bite."

Bucky raises an eyebrow at the two of you. "Since when can you auction up somebody else's food, punk?" he asks, an obvious smirk in his voice.

"Like I said, it is my birthday, so that has to count for something, right?" Steve says with a shrug. "Plus, she's got on my favorite bikini- I'd give her whatever she asks for right now," he adds.

And he wasn't lying, the bikini is his favorite of yours. The hues mimicked that of a sunset and complimented your skin just right.

Bucky shakes his head in mock disbelief. "I guess I can't argue with that," he concedes, bringing a forkful of cake to your mouth.

You smile and take a bite from the fork, the chocolate flavor melting in your mouth. "Thanks, Buck."

"Can't say no to either of you anyways," Bucky grins.

You beam, "We know."

With the cake situation now, somewhat peacefully, resolved, you settle back into the comfort of Steve's arms. Bucky leans backwards to rest on his forearms in the sand, placing the now empty plate on the ground. The waves continue their gentle lullaby, the stars twinkle brightly, and the world feels perfect- whole, even.

Bucky breaks the silence, "So, Steve, do you feel old yet?"

Steve shoots him a playful glare, "Hey, you're right up there with me, Buck. Besides, she keeps me young," he states.

"Oh, really? Cause I think I see a grey hair right there," Bucky snickers, pointing up at Steve's hair.

"You weren't supposed to tell him, Buck," you say, joining in on the teasing.

"Well, if I do have any it's because of the two of you," Steve jokes back.

"I guess we'll just have to keep him feeling young then, won't we, doll?" Bucky grins as he winks at you. "As much as I enjoy the banter, I think I'm gonna go for a swim, either of you interested in coming?" Bucky asks as he rises to his feet.

The offer is tempting, but it dims in comparison to Steve's warm chest. It also dims in comparison to what you know is to come if you don't go swimming. You tilt your head up at Steve, exchanging a knowing glance with him.

You direct your attention back to Bucky and shake your head at him. "No, think I'm good right here, Buck. You go enjoy the water, though."

Steve nods in agreement with you. "We'll catch up with you later?"

Bucky offers a small smile. "Alright, you two enjoy your alone time then," he says before making his way towards the inviting waves.

Steve, once Bucky is far enough away, wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you closer to him. "Honey, have I mentioned how good you look in that?" he asks, fingers tugging at your bottoms again.

"Not nearly enough," you answer, looking up at him again.

"Well isn't that just a shame? Guess I'll have to make up for it then," he murmurs.

Steve's free hand cups your cheek then he leans down to capture your lips in a kiss. The taste of chocolate faintly lingers on your tongue as his lips work against yours. His hand makes its way from your cheek into your hair, fingers running themselves through the damp strands.

His eyes meet yours when he pulls away. "I love you."

"And I love you," you reply lovingly.

He starts to pepper slow kisses along your jaw to make his way down your neck. The sensation makes you shiver as a sigh of pleasure falls from your lips. His trail comes to a halt when he gets just below your ear.

"No one's in the beach house, you know," Steve says quietly, his voice husky in your ear. "You think we should take this inside, poppet?"

"I think that's a fantastic idea, Captain."

He doesn't allow for another second to pass before untangling his arms from around your waist. After rising to his feet, he offers out a hand to help you up; you accept with a smile. Both of you walk hand in hand to the beach house, the anticipation of being alone with you making Steve's steps a bit quicker than yours.

The inside of the beach house is only lit up by a few stray candles and the moonlight pouring in from the sunroof in the kitchen. The house was fairly huge and housed the entire team, so it was unreasonably dark downstairs.

A yelp escapes you when Steve lifts you effortlessly into his arms to carry you bridal style. He slides you onto the kitchen counter and then pulls you as close to the edge as possible without you falling off. He spreads your legs allowing room for him to stand in between them.

"Was gonna take you to the bedroom but I don't think I can wait that long," he says with a mischievous grin.

You giggle in response and he seizes the opportunity to take you in while he's got it. The moonlight casts its glow down on you as if it's illuminating you just for him. Your hair appears soft and silky under the delicate white light, eyes twinkling when you look up at him through your lashes. His heart hammers in his chest at the sight of you. The corners of his lips turn up when he leans down to rest his forehead against yours.

"Happy birthday, Steve," you whisper, your hand raising to rest on his cheek.

His eyes close as he leans into your touch. "Thank you, my darling girl," he murmurs. "You're the best birthday gift I could ask for."

Eagerly, he closes the gap between you two, and his mouth meets yours in a passionate kiss. Large hands trace along the curves of your body, his kisses becoming more hungry by the second. His tongue swipes at your bottom lip; you debate testing his patience but find yourself too needy and allow him entry.

Your tongues dance together in a slow rhythm as his hand slides up your back and to the clasp of your bikini top. Steve unhooks the top and slides it down your shoulders. He tosses the fabric beside you as his lips continue to work against yours. He kisses you once more, slowly, then tugs your bottom lip between his teeth gently. His mouth trails from your jawline to your neck to leave fleeting kisses, stopping a few times to softly nip at the flesh.

Your eyes close, head tilting back in relaxing pleasure while he moves lower down your chest. His breath fans over one of your hardened nipples before he takes it into his mouth. You sigh wantonly and allow your fingers to run through his hair. His warm tongue swirls around the sensitive peak, his hand coming up to squeeze your other breast.

The sensation makes you shiver, your back arches and you press your body closer to his as if begging for more- and he gives it to you. His fingers roll your nipple between them as he sucks on the other. You whine softly, hips bucking up into his chest. Your noises go straight to his throbbing, hardened cock; the vibrations from his low grunt force a whimper out of you.

Much to your dismay, he releases your nipple from his grasp and then from his mouth. His lips leave a trail of searing kisses down your abdomen until he reaches the top of your bikini bottoms. He hooks his fingers under the sides of your bikini bottoms and steps back to pull them down your legs.

He returns back to his spot between your legs, his hand traveling down to your inner thigh only for his digits to dance their way up to your heat. His eyes meet yours and you gasp quietly when he slowly drags his finger through your wetness.

"God, you're wet, honey. That all for me?" Steve teases as he continues the tantalizing motion.

When he dips the tip of his finger into your opening, teasing your entrance slowly, all you can muster up is a nod. He pulls the digit out and allows it to find your throbbing clit. Slowly, he circles the sensitive bundle of nerves as he leans in closer to brush his lips against yours briefly.

"I believe I asked you a question, and I want to hear an answer."

Your breath hitches in your throat when he applies more pressure on you. "I-it's all for you, Stevie- promise."

"That's my girl," he praises, his words sweeter than honey.

His touch withdraws but he lowers himself, almost instantly, to his knees in front of you. Though he's got heightened senses, he's not sure that explains why he can smell your dripping cunt only inches from his face. It's a good smell, an intoxicating one at that, and it's sickeningly sweet.

Steve sighs while pressing tender kisses up your inner thigh, his breath fanning your skin. "Been waiting for this all day," he breathes out.

He places a gentle kiss onto your aching bud before flattening his tongue on your wet cunt. His tongue drags upwards a few times, soft sighs falling from your mouth as he parts your slick folds slowly. You gasp at the sudden sensation and try to grind onto his face, begging for more, but he doesn't give in.

Strong hands make their way to hold your thighs in place so you can't move as easily. He ends the teasing by sucking harshly on your clit, releasing it with a 'pop.' His mouth sucks your clit back into his mouth softer than before while his tongue flicks out at the same time. Your hands tangle themselves into his hair as his mouth works on you. Your breath comes out in fast, quiet pants and you buck your hips onto his face again.

This time he allows you to do so- his large and slightly calloused hands tighten on your thighs to pull you closer to his face. He lets one hand slide up your body to cup your breast and pinch your nipple between his thumb and pointer finger. Then his tongue glides from your entrance to just below your clit and back again, stopping every few laps to draw small circles on your throbbing bud. Ever so attentive, he notices how your hand tugs on his hair a little harder when he teases your opening.

You frown, whining when he stops his motions and removes his mouth. Your whine is quickly replaced with a mewl when he spreads your warmth open to allow his tongue to slither into you. He's fucking his tongue in and out of you; he swirls it inside of you to lap up your arousal, not wanting to waste a drop of your slightly sweet slick as if he's absolutely starved.

Your grip on the counter tightens at every thrust of his tongue. You shiver, your body aching and yearning for release. Steve's cock throbs, aching to be inside of you with every moan, whine, or whimper that comes from your lips. No matter how badly he wants to palm himself through his shorts, he knows it'll provide no relief- his relief always and only comes after yours.

Your lower half scoots towards him again in need of more of him. "Steve," you whimper with a trembling voice.

His only response is a growl of approval that sends delicious vibrations to your core as his tongue works even harder in your cunt. Still tweaking your nipple with his fingers, he uses his other hand to rub circles on your swollen clit again.

As your moans grow louder and more strung together, Steve finds himself growing needier. His movements grow quicker, less in sync, and he brings you to the edge only to balance you there. With fingers tangled in his hair and nails scratching almost animalistically at his back, you whine as he sucks on your opening with his tongue still inside of you.

All it takes is a few precise licks upwards against your g-spot for you to let go. Your surroundings shatter into a kaleidoscope of pleasure as you cry out his name repeatedly like it's a prayer. Steve doesn't let up, though, and he continues his movements to make the most of your bliss. Your hand tugs hard in his hair, your body shuddering uncontrollably as he coaxes you through your orgasm.

Steve only stops when your whines of pleasure turn into those of discomfort. He pulls back from between your thighs to stand up and his lips and stubbled chin glisten with your juices. His chest heaves as the evident bulge in his swim shorts twitches. Of course, you're no expert, but the way his pants are straining against his cock even looks painful.

Your gaze locks with his and your breaths begin to slow back to normal. "Stevie," you mumble with a weak smile.

He smiles back at your drowsiness as he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. "You did so good for me, honey," he says gently before stepping back in between your legs. He leans in close to your face, eyes scanning over you for a moment. "God, how did I get someone as breathtaking as you?"

Steve's eyes fill with adoration upon hearing your giggle as he closes the distance between you, his lips meeting yours in a deep, loving kiss. The taste of your own arousal on his lips and tongue fuels the fire growing in your stomach again. His hands find your hips and pull you closer. A moan passes from your mouth and into his as his mouth moves in sync with yours.

"Fuck," he grunts, his voice low and husky as he murmurs against your lips, "I need to be inside of you- please tell me you want more."

"I do," you reply, your voice not coming out as more than a fervent whisper.

He steps back a little then reaches down and unties his shorts. The fabric falls to his ankles and exposes all of him to you. His perfectly sculpted body tenses for a second when his cock springs up and hits his abdomen.

"Wanna slide off that counter for me, poppet?"

The request confuses you, but you comply nonetheless. Your legs are still a little jelly-like from your previous orgasm as you slide off of the counter. You look up at him through your lashes and almost melt under his intense gaze.

"Sit," he instructs, nodding towards the bar stool beside you.

Again, you do as you're told. You take a seat on the edge of the stool with your legs spread just far enough to give Steve the perfect view of your bare, dripping cunt. His eyes focus on nothing but the view you've given him, his hard cock twitching at the sight. Piercing blue eyes snap up to meet yours again within seconds.

He steps closer to you until his chest is mere inches from yours. "Such a pretty little thing. You know exactly what you're doing, don't you?"

A smirk spreads on your lips. "No," you lie.

His eyebrow cocks up at you, his stare becoming more intense. He does not buy the feigned innocence, but that's what makes the fun, right? Fingers reach out to dance across your inner thigh as his lips curl into a smirk.

"You've always been a horrible liar, angel," he purrs.

Slowly, and teasingly, he slides the reddened tip of his cock through your wet warmth. Every stroke between your folds sends your mind into overdrive. You reach up to grab his upper arm, urging him to look at you.

"Need you, Stevie. Don't make me wait any longer please," you beg, locking eyes with him.

His lips curl into a knowing grin. "Oh, my pretty girl. I'll give you what you want now, hm?" he coos before beginning to push himself inside you.

A low rumble sounds from his chest when your tightness pulls him in more than he'd wanted. He pauses momentarily then starts to sink deeper into you again; this time he moves much slower to savor the feeling. The antagonizing slowness at which he slides into you makes your breath catch in your throat; it only takes a few seconds for him to fill you completely though, his thick cock stretching you out.

He pauses, waiting for you to adjust, and peppers kisses on your face. You smile and scrunch your nose up at the sudden influx of kisses. His lips capture yours in a slow, gentle kiss. He stops to rest his forehead against yours, the tips of your noses touching.

"Can I move, sweet girl?"

You nod, head tipping back in pleasure as he starts to pull out. The tip of his cock almost slides out but he eases back into you before it does. Your fingers trace the defined lines on his abdomen and he shutters at the sensation. He repeats the process a few times, each time pushing just a bit deeper into you.

"Need more, Stevie," you whine.

"A little desperate t'night, huh?" he taunts with a chuckle, "Guess we should hurry up since it's getting late; anybody could walk in now."

"I don't care," you grunt, voice hitching when he slides back inside of you with ease.

"'Course you don't," he grins knowingly, "Bet you'd like that, wouldn't you?"

You give him a playful glare as he continues to tease you, "Steve, just stop teasing me already," you pant, your nails digging into his back.

He leans down and in closer to your face, his breath tickling the tip of your nose, "Okay, darling," he says as he places a kiss on your nose.

With that, he withdraws almost fully before driving back into you with an urgency that forces you to cry out in pleasure. You gasp and your hands clutch at his shoulders for support. His hips collide with yours harshly, and the bar stool creaks in protest against the intensity of his thrusts. The world narrows down to just the feeling of Steve inside you, filling you completely in the way only he can. Your grip on his shoulders tightens, your fingernails leaving crescent-shaped imprints on his skin.

"You're so fuckin tight and so- God, so perfect, angel," he grunts out, his hips rocking into you at an unreasonably fast pace. "I swear you were made just for me."

Your heart swells at his appraisal, yet you find yourself unable to conjure up any real words. Chills run through you as his hands roam your body, worshiping every curve and contour. Fingers brush along the skin of your thighs and ignite sparks of pleasure as you arch your back. Your moans mix with groans of his own to create a symphony of ecstasy that echoes throughout the moonlit kitchen.

Steve's pace doesn't falter, not even for a second, his relentless thrusts filling the room with the sound of skin slapping skin. His gaze lingers on you with an intensity that borders on primal, the love and desire in his eyes fueling the fire between your legs.

"Tell me who you belong to, baby," he growls demandingly, his thumb now tracing circles on your overly sensitive clit.

You're lost in a haze of pleasure, soft gasps escaping your parted lips. Your fingers scratch at Steve's back in response to his animalistic thrusts. The dual sensations of the tip of his cock brushing your g-spot and his thumb teasing your bud threaten to send you over the edge. If it weren't for the light slap he gives your clit, a reminder that he won't take 'no answer' for an answer, you would've forgotten he said anything.

"Y-you, Steve," you manage to stammer with a shaky voice, "I belong to you, 'm all yours."

Steve almost loses it then and there. His brows furrow, his head tips back a little, and a deep groan sounds from his chest. His free hand now holds onto your hip as he drives himself deeper inside you.

"Fuck, I love hearing you say it," Steve growls, his breath coming in ragged huffs, "You're all mine, every single inch of you."

He leans down to press his lips to yours in a feverish kiss, his tongue tangling with yours. Your whines and moans are muffled by his mouth as your body quivers at his powerful rhythm. Your breathless affirmations only aid in fueling Steve's unwavering passion, his thumb rubbing faster circles. The stool creaks under you at the intensity of his movements, and the pleasure builds like a wave that steadily crashes over you.

Steve's lips trail from your lips to your chin and then along your jawline. He makes his way down your neck, leaving rough kisses and the occasional nibble on your delicate skin.

"C'mon, say my name, angel. Let everyone know who the only one who can make you feel this good is," he urges as he continues to kiss your neck.

You don't hesitate when his pace somehow quickens, your voice dripping with need, "Steve! Oh, my God- make me feel s-so good."

His head pulls away from your neck, his icy blue eyes finding yours immediately, "That's right, nobody else can make you feel like this, can they, honey?"

Your voice quivers as you respond, "No one, Steve, only you."

A triumphant, cocky grin spreads across Steve's lips, "Always such a good girl for me," he praises.

Without another word, he adjusts his angle so his cock plunges deeper to hit that sweet spot head-on. Sparks of pleasure radiate through your body causing your hips to buck into his involuntarily. You can't help yourself, your body now writhing beneath his as you surrender to him.

His eyes never leave yours which does nothing but add to the intensity. You're teetering on the edge of release and you can see in the way he looks at you that he's right there with you.

"Steve... I'm- Oh, God," you gasp.

"I know," he groans, resting his forehead on yours, "You can let go with me. Come apart on my cock, angel."

And as if on cue, you do just that. You cry out his name again, the world around you blurring into static. Wave after wave of ecstasy, your body quivers uncontrollably as you reach your climax. Steve continues to thrust into you roughly with his own release not far behind; the feeling of his cock throbbing in you only intensifies your orgasm. Careful not to overwhelm you, his thumb pulls away from your clit.

"That's it, honey. Look so fuckin' pretty when you're clenching around me like that," he says, his voice husky and strained.

He leans in to kiss you deeply again and swallows your cries as his movements become erratic and somewhat sloppy. Your tight, needy cunt pulsating around him and pulling him in farther. With a carnal groan, he finds his release, his warm seed painting your insides. Soft pants fan against your lips while he whispers sweet praises to you, his thrusts coming almost to a standstill as he rides out his high. Your bodies are pressed tightly together by his arm looping around your waist, and your foreheads rest on each other's as you both catch your breath.

Steve gently pulls out of you, moving slowly so he doesn't hurt you. You wince a little at the sting of him leaving your warmth, already missing the sensation of his cock stretching you. His eyes meet yours to offer a silent apology for your soreness. He scoots over to the side, pulling a few paper towels off the roll and running them under the tap. Then he returns to his spot to lean down and clean you up, wiping up any trace of your shared passionate moment.

"Are you okay, sweetheart?" Steve questions, concern etched on his features when you shiver.

Your fingers reach out to brush his cheek, "I'm okay, just sensitive is all," you reassure him with a smile, "Thank you for taking such good care of me."

His lips curl into a soft smile as he continues his movements, "I'll always take good care of you, my sweet girl."

After he's finished, he cleans himself off and tosses the paper towels into the trash bin. Then he wipes down the counter with a cleaning wipe and tosses that too. He pulls his shorts back on before locating your bikini bottoms and top to help you put them on. His arms wrap around your waist to pull you into a hug. You snuggle into Steve's warm chest, your head resting on him as you listen to the familiar beating of his heart again. The tranquil crashing of the water outside the beach house provides a comforting background noise that could put you to sleep.

Steve presses a tender kiss to the top of your head, "I love you, sweetheart," he murmurs, his fingers tracing lazy circles on your back.

"I love you too, Stevie," you reply adoringly.

A brief moment of silence passes before he pulls away, his fingers tilting your chin so that you look up at him. "'M gonna marry you someday," he beams.

"I'll hold you to it," you joke, pressing your nose to his, "Do a few babies and a white picket fence by the beach come with it?"

Steve chuckles as he gives a peck to your lips, "That sounds perfect. But I'd give you whatever you want, darlin'- hell, I'd build the house myself if you asked me to," he says before pulling his face away from yours.

A warm smile stretches your lips, knowing he meant every word, "Well, I do like a man who's good with his hands and we've got time to plan it all out, don't we?"

Your joke earns a snicker from Steve, "All the time in the world, honey," he agrees with a contented sigh, his strong arms wrapping around you again.

The door of the beach house creaks open, but you're much too comfortable to care. Still, you turn your head to the side anyway. Bucky stands only a few feet away with his wet hair clinging to his forehead and a towel wrapped around his waist. He raises an eyebrow at the sight, taking in your messy hair and sleepy eyes along with Steve's bashful grin.

"Missed all the fun while I was out there, huh?" Bucky smirks, making his to the fridge behind Steve.

Steve responds with a smirk of his own, "Oh, you have no idea what you missed, Buck."

Bucky retrieves a bottle of water from the fridge, leaning against the kitchen island, "I can see that. You do look more radiant than usual, doll. What'd you do to her, Steve?" he says with a grin.

Steve leaves an arm slung lazily over your shoulders when he turns sideways to face the brunet fully, "Nothing special, y'know. Just did what I said I was going to: made a birthday wish with her and had a little...something..to eat," he replies, shrugging nonchalantly.

Bucky chokes a little on his water when he snorts at the implication, "Something to eat, huh?" he teases, "Well, don't let me be a bother, I'll just be here hydrating. I would offer you a bottle, but I'd say you already had enough 'hydration' for the day."

You and Steve exchange amused glances as you wrap your arms around his waist. Your head rests on his firm but comfortable chest while Bucky takes another sip of water, still grinning at the two of you.

These were the simple moments you loved, where it's just the three of you. You rather enjoyed seeing both of them together because it was refreshing to see how Steve relaxed when he was with only you and Bucky.

"You're right, I do think we've quenched our thirst quite well," you playfully reply, making Bucky nearly choke on his water again.

Bucky finally laughs, shaking his head at you as he tosses his empty bottle, "You're something else, you know that, doll?"

You chuckle, nestling closer to Steve, the post-orgasm bliss enveloping you, "I think it's safe to say I'm in good company then," you quip.

Bucky moves closer to the two of you, "Guess I can't argue with that, I'm not a great influence," he says, reaching out to ruffle your hair which earns a mock glare from Steve.

"Hey- get your own y/n, this one's all mine," Steve warns jokingly, his arm finding its place around your midsection again.

"Thought we shared everything, huh?" Bucky japes, grinning from ear to ear as he playfully jabs Steve's arm.

"Yeah, Stevie," you murmur, pinching his side, "Share."

"Sorry to say but I'm not sharing this one, Buck," Steve teases with a hint of possessiveness in his voice as he looks down at you, "And don't tell me you've fallen victim to his fake charm too, poppet."

"You know you'll always be my number one, Stevie. And you, Bucky, will always be my number one charismatic troublemaker," you beam, soaking in the warmth of what would become a sweet memory.

Bucky raises an eyebrow, "Well, aren't you just the sweetest tonight," he says, his tone laced with false indignation, "I suppose I can settle for being the charming troublemaker in this equation."

"I did not say charm-"

"It's what I heard," Bucky says with a smirk, cutting your sentence short.

You let out an exasperated sigh while shaking your head. Steve joins in, also shaking his head as he chuckles at the playful banter between you and his best friend. If it were all those years ago, Steve might've actually worried about you leaving him for Bucky. But it's not back then, and you're just so you, so he rarely worried about anything with you. And he liked it that way.

"I'm just playin' with you two. You know you're both like family to me, and you are a lucky guy, Steve," Bucky says, a heartfelt smile on his face.

"That I am," Steve agrees as his hand reaches up to caress your cheek, "I wouldn't trade this, or her, for anything."

Bucky lets out a contented sigh, "Think I'm gonna hit the shower and turn in for the night, it's getting a little late. Happy birthday again, punk."

"Thanks, Buck," Steve says warmly, "Have a good night."

You smile up at Bucky, "G'night, Buck."

Bucky nods at Steve, ruffling your hair once more, "Goodnight, doll. Don't let him keep you up too late," he says before heading towards the stairs.

When you hear the distant sound of the shower turning on, you turn your attention back to Steve. He looks down at you with a loving gaze as he rubs your side. Before you can speak, he removes his arm from your waist to scoop you up and set you on the counter again.

He's always preferred when you're at eye level with him so he can see your face up close; he can also keep you within reasonable kiss range- which was definitely the motive this time. His fingers trace your jawline as he leans in to kiss you tenderly. The taste of your juices still lingers on his lips, transferring to yours.

Steve pulls away slightly, "I truly am a lucky man, you know that, honey?" he states, recalling Bucky's statement from earlier in the night.

"And I'm the luckiest lady on the planet, Steve," you say, your voice filled with admiration.

"I love you, my sweet girl."

"I love you too, Stevie."

Your fingers softly trace the contours of his face, and he reciprocates the affection, his touch filled with fondness. His hand slides down to rest on your hip and he presses his lips to yours in yet another sweet, loving kiss.

"How about we get some rest?" he suggests after pulling away, "We've got a whole day ahead of us and I've got houses to start sketching, apparently."

You nod in agreement as you giggle and slide off the counter. Your hands lace with his, the two of you making your way to the bedroom. He takes his spot on the left side of the bed and waits for you to lay up next to him before pulling the blankets over you. His body provides a familiar warmth as he curls up behind you to hold you. Surrounded by the soothing sounds of the ocean and his comforting embrace, you begin to drift off.

Right as you're about to fall asleep, your phone, which was left on the nightstand beside you before you went to the beach for the day, dings three times. You reach over groggily and pull it into the bed with you. After unlocking it, you see on your lock screen that both messages are from Tony; one is an image and the other two are just regular texts.

The image is the one he took earlier of you, Steve, and Bucky. You save the picture, smiling warmly at it. Your smile fades to a grin when you read the texts.

Tone: "Would say hope you enjoyed yourself, but everyone out here already knows you did. P.s. clean everything anybody's ass touched, especially if it was his."

Tone: "Just kidding with ya, kid (not about the cleaning part-seriously). Tell the old man I said Happy Birthday again, love ya."

You giggle and write back a message saying, "we're not complete animals, geez. love you too, tone," before tucking your phone under your pillow and falling asleep. This day would be remembered fondly, and you were sure of it.

taglist!

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[vagabond-umlaut]

ramé

love.

a word everyone spells as l-o-v-e, except one certain young sorcerer – to whom it appears h-a-p-p-y, to whom it appears h-a-v-o-c – to whom it appears the shape of the letters of your name.

you, on the other hand, forget how to spell when the same word is before you – a fact which, your admirer reckons, would have been a major problem were he not he – that is, were he not the one and only 'gojo satoru'.

and thus begins, the plan.

and thus begins, the six steps to catch one's crush's eye — by the six eyes.

|1/6| overhaul your wardrobe.

▸ student!gojo satoru x student!reader; fem!reader; pining-since-childhood!gojo; oblivious-since-childhood!reader; height difference [satoru calls reader shortie – affectionately ofc]; cute banter; tooth-rotting fluff; suguru and shoko are helping yet foiling gojo's plans [poor boy]; the author loves shoko very much :]

▸ many thanks to @guccirosegold and @afortoru for listening patiently to my rants on this fic and giving lovely comments & suggestions! ilysm, andy & A 🥰🥰🥰

▸ find other parts of 'ramé' and other [stand-alone] fics set in the same universe as this work here! anyways, image, divider & characters ain't mine. pls don't plagiarize, translate or repost this. enjoy reading! ❤️

a low whistle leaves gojo as he appraises himself in the mirror.

snow white hair neatly trimmed with short bangs, sunglasses from gucci giving a peek of his transfixing blue gaze, a fitting tom ford white shirt paired with black slacks and designer shoes, and, to top it all off, a perfume by bleu de chanel he bought especially for today...

there's no way in hell you won't find him attractive today.

with a smug smirk, the first-year swings the door to his dorm wide open, ready to astound the two waiting outside with his insanely good looks - and pauses, boisterous shout dying within his throat.

"'toru!!" you exclaim as you jump off the balustrade you were seated on and rush to him, a wide grin splitting your face into half. "surprise, i caught an earlier train!"

in spite of the shock, the boy feels his lips lift in a smile.

it's been nearly a year since the last time the two of you were face-to-face; you're still as beautiful as you were then.

"hey shortie," the words leave him in a whisper as you wrap your arms around him - only for a pained 'ouch!' to escape him a second later. massaging his side where you pinched him, the boy watches you step back with a scowl. (faux, of course.)

"call me that one more time and no one can save you from my wrath."

"wrath?" chuckling, gojo bends a bit to be your eye-level. you narrow your eyes at him. "you think that can scare me? the gojo satoru?"

"it sure can," folding your arms across your chest, you throw him a smirk in the next instant. "if it makes me share all the mochi i bought with ieiri senpai and geto senpai, and not give you the tiniest bit of it."

eyes widening behind glasses, a gasp escapes him. "you wouldn't!"

"i would," you answer, the same smirk as before still on your lips.

gojo backs off.

you're nothing if not awfully determined to make your promises see the light of the day. if he continues pestering you, the young sorcerer knows he'll actually not get a single morsel of those delicious sweets.

"you know what," a familiar voice cuts in through his thoughts and the boy twists to find his best friend walking towards him. sending him a discreet wink (which he deems is 100% suspicious), suguru reaches your side and continues, "satoru here was really excited about you coming to meet him."

"oh, is it so?" your smirk gives way to an angelic smile. gojo wishes it was directed at him instead of that long-haired bastard.

"yeah," said bastard meanwhile agrees with an overeager nod. "shoko and i too were really excited to meet the girl our friend is so infa-"

a tense silence befalls the corridor when suguru abruptly stops in the middle of the sentence. gojo swears if you weren't standing there, in front of them, he would have murdered his friend in cold blood today.

"infa-?" you prompt, smile dropping a little as your confused gaze darts from one to the other. gojo forces a chuckle out.

"it's nothing, don't you worry," he tries to draw your attention away, when shoko swoops in, like the savior she is (gojo decides to buy her one month's supply of cigarettes) and inquires, "hey, you haven't seen satoru in months, right? any change you find in him?"

that seems to be the trick. a curious glint shines in your eyes as they travel up and down his figure - appreciatively for sure, the boy says to himself. you too seem to have a liking for expensive things, after all.

after two seconds of close inspection, you turn to shoko with a bright smile. gojo's soul goes soaring at the sight in the clear skies above.

"nope! he's the same old 'toru i've always known."

gojo's soul crashes down upon the earth, splintering at the impact.

his two classmates give him a look before shoko asks again, a mild disbelief to her tone, "you really don't find anything new about him? like, maybe he has grown taller? or maybe, more handsome?"

"anything else which you never even expected, maybe?" suguru pipes in from beside him. gojo shoots him a grateful look, all past offenses already forgiven and forgotten.

a beat passes before you shake your head. "nope. nothing about him is new. though, when you speak about unexpected..." you trail off with a contemplative look.

shoko encourages you, "when we speak about unexpected-"

"i never expected you to be so pretty," you finish the sentence for her with a small smile. gojo's jaw drops to the ground. okay, what the fu-

"oh," shooting him an amused smirk, shoko faces you. "and why is it so? why did you not expect me to be so pretty?"

"it's not my fault," you reply, sending him an accusatory glance as you continue, "when i asked 'toru if his new classmates are good-looking, he said they aren't. he said you all look really plain."

"do you find me plain or handsome?" suguru butts in, ignoring the blue-eyed glare boring holes into the side of his head.

"you're plain," the short reply comes in an instant from you - and even in the midst of his gloom for going unnoticed, gojo finds it within himself to smirk at his best friend's withered face.

in the meantime, you continue speaking to shoko, unperturbed.

"yeah, so imagine my surprise when i met you at the torii gates earlier today. with such a stylish bobcut, cute face and flawless skin... i really thought you were a model, ieiri-senpai."

you pause for a second - undoubtedly to catch your breath from that non-stop chatter; gojo knows your habits like his own by now - then ask the girl who's watching you with a pleased expression, an excited grin threatening to bloom on your face, "are you a model, senpai?"

said senpai lets out a chuckle in response.

and despite feeling dispirited (and very, very jealous of that shoko for hogging all your attention), the white-haired boy cracks a fond smile, watching you be so cheery.

yeah, you certainly are one very dense dumbass.

but, he too is gojo satoru - and he will get his feelings across to you.

▸ series: we're the summer to our winter rain

▸ masterlist

[the-whatcherof-89]

Ethoslab Ladders Aka Mr Clark Snappers.

CR 20 NG Medium Humanoid

XP 307,200 (if used as npc for encounter)Middle aged Human Rogue (Phantom Thief)10 Living Monolith 10

Neutral Good Medium humanoid

Init +8; Senses Perception +36

AC 40, touch 24, flat-footed 32 (+8 Dex, +5 Deflection, +5 Natural, +1 Insight, +6 Armor, +5 Shield) hp 135 (16d6+75)

Fort +17, Ref +22, Will +16

Speed 30 ft. Melee Adamantine shortsword +27/22/17 1D6+5 Ranged Crossbow +31/26/21 1D8+9

Racial Bonus feat (Fast learner), +1 Skill point per level.

Traits Pragmatic activator, Nervous.

Class features Refined education(Craft:Stone, Perception, Stealth, Spellcraft)+5, Broad education(Finesse rogue, Positioning attack, Improved feint, Minor magic, Major magic), Social sense+3, Advanced rogue talent: Shrine walk, Soul stone, Stone blood, Fortified flesh(DR 3/- 30%), Stability, Bombsight, Immune to disease, Attunement to stone, Summon sphinx, Ageless stone, Judgement of the monolith, Master Ka stone.

Spellcasting CL10 DC20 Crafter’s fortune 5/day Read magic/at will.

Str 10, Dex 26, Con 20, Int 30, Wis 18, Cha 14

Base Atk +14/9/4; CMB +13; CMD +31

Feats Shield proficiency, Rapid reload, Point blank shot, Precise shot, Snap shot, Rapid shot, Crossbow mastery, Master crafter, Endurance, Iron will.

Special His immortality gives him the +2 bonuses for old age but no penalties thanks to his immortality.

Skills Acrobatics +30, Appraise +18, Bluff +25, Climb +20, Craft(Stone) +33, Craft(Redstone)+33, Disguise +11, Disable +14, Escape artist +20, Handle animal +13, Heal +11, Intimidate +11, Knowledge (Arcana +30, Dungeon +18, Engineering +30, Nature +20, Geography +18, History +15, Local 15, Nobility +14, The planes+14, Religion +14), Linguistics +5, Perception +26, Perform(dance) +7, Profession(Engineer) +21, Ride +16, Sense motive +16, Sleight of hand +16, Spellcraft +35, Stealth +30, Survival +16, Swim +20, Use magic device +33.

Languages Common, Draconic, Elven, Dwarven, Sphinx, Giant, Sylvan, Undercommon, Alko.

Combat gear Cornerstone crossbow+5, 45 +4 Bolts, Adamantine defending shortsword+5, 2 Daggers of doubling, Returning trident+1, Amulet of natural armor+5, Ring of protection+5, Scholar’s ring, Dragon form armor(Black)+5, Animated fire resistance darkwood buckler+4, Belt of physical might+6 (Dex, Con), Headband of mental prowess+6 (Int, Wis, Bluff), Coat of resistance+4, Cloak of comfort, Shoes of the lighting leaper, Bracers of the falcon aim, Wands (Fly, Haste, Cure moderate wounds), Potions:Blur(1), Cure critical wounds(2), Manual of quickness of action+3(Used), Tome of clear thought+4(Used), Ioun stones: Dusty rose prism, Western star, Bag of holding type I, Small anvil with the phrase “You got Etho’ed” on the side, Rogue kit, 113GP.

Background Ethoslab also known simply as Etho hails from a far land of Hermits where he is renowned for his pioneering and discoveries in the field of redstone. Etho is a quirky, intelligent, adaptive individual that has some nervous moments popping out sometimes. Nevertheless, Etho’s knowledge of redstone and architecture is unparalleled and even his colleagues Mumbo and Grian recognized his talent. Etho being very old, sometimes struggles to find something new to do that would stimulate his mind even if that means pushing things to the extreme, sometimes. Regardless, his favorite thing is dropping anvils on unsuspecting hermits via very complex contraptions and he was about to drop one on his friend Scar but he was interrupted by an ethereal voice: “You want to see new horizons? I can help with that. Would you like to accept my challenge?” Etho was confused for a moment but then saw a chest that wasn’t there before. “If you are interested, open it. Never seen before horizons awaits you.” Etho was hesitant for a moment but he just could not resist. As soon as he opened the chest the world around him changed as so did his equipment. He stood in the middle of a jungle with new tools, knowledge and a map in hand. “Find me if you can. And if you succeed i will grant your deepest wish.” Etho looked around and spotted a Llama. “Well, would you  look at that.” And he smirked.

Image made using Heroforge.

[thegreatwicked]

50 NSFW Character Questions: Obi-Wan Kenobi

Alright! Here you go, you buncha smut hounds! JK, I was gonna do this anyway, lol. Have funsies.

Biggest turn-on? When you're in work mode and you've completely forgotten he's there, watching you, discreetly, of course. Your confidence in your abilities and the simple grace with which you execute the simplest of duties. The graceful way your hands hold your lightsaber, he knows what those hands are capable of and he often has to cough away a groan that's threatening to break free.

Biggest turn-off? Arrogance and deceit. Don't lie to him, ever. He'll know.

3. Quiest way to get horny? Clandestine touches that linger a bit too long, teasing him. A brush of your foot against his calf when you sit at the same table while crossing your legs, pretending you didn't notice. Lingering glances when you catch him staring at you followed by a quick appraisal of him, you know he's watching and he likes that. When sitting next to him and your hand brushes his knee then takes a little caressing detail on his thigh before pulling away. It looks so innocent and perhaps even an accident, doesn't it? He knows better, and it only makes him want you more.

4. Top 3 places to be touched?

Lower back, shoulders, thighs. Those Jedi robes are so thick and sometimes heavy, especially when wet. So when he's able to get them off and he tugs off his boots after a long day a sweet caress of your hands across his lower back where the aches tend to lodge does wonders for him. Most back pain is psychological and Obi-Wan carries much of his weight on his shoulders so a little gentle and circular pressure on the tight muscles on his shoulders will always put him in an agreeable mood. His thighs, it's a particular situation that finds this type of touch a possibility and it usually involves shim sitting on the bed or the floor meditating. It's the perfect opportunity to slink up behind him and run your hands along his muscular thighs and watch how the muscles tense and flex under your fingertips.

5. Do you like the idea of a threesome or a moresome?

He's no virgin and he surely had some escapades in his youth though those are tales he keeps to himself, certainly. He considers himself a one-woman/man partner. He likes to keep things intimate between the two of you. More than one partner sounds tiring these days.

6. Sex or masturbation?

He indulges in both though he's more likely to enjoy sex rather than masturbation not because he's denying himself pleasure but because he doesn't often think about it without you there to stir his passions. Still, there are moments late at night when you're on his mind and he's missing your touch, or times when the water in the refresher is the perfect temperature and the water gliding down his body reminds him of your lips on his skin...

7. Spit or swallow?

He knows not all women enjoy swallowing so he'll never expect you to. But if you want to see a side of Master Kenobi that few have ever seen, swallow every drop and lick your lips while looking him in the eye. Then ask him for more.

8. Rough or romantic sex?

He's a passionate and sensual lover so he loves taking his time, after all, you deserve no less, don't you? However, there are instances where he's a little more... needy for control. It's about as rare an instance as they come, but even a total solar eclipse comes around like clockwork.

9. Loud or quiet partners?

He's considerate of those who might be within earshot, and it's not about the volume, it's about the enthusiasm. Your quiet little whimpers affect him just as deeply as when you cry out his name. He's a fan of moments where you have to be quiet, keeping his thrusts slow and deep with his finger in your mouth to give you something to occupy yourself. All the while telling you,

"Shh, darling, that's right, we wouldn't want anyone to find us, now would we? That's a good girl."

10. How much foreplay?

Hours. The man will stretch this intimate act out for as long as he can because for him the art of seduction deserves no less. He loves it that you crave him so much that you're practically mauling him to take you.

11. How much teasing does he like?

He certainly likes a bit of teasing but it's never to be cruel. Only to heighten desire and sensation. As for him being teased, even if he begs you to end his torment, he secretly loves every second of it.

12. Hookups or only partners?

He's had a few hookups as a young Padawan, but those tapered off as he took on a Padawan of his own. Now he much prefers the comfort of a relationship with a partner who he knows and trusts, to know you so well that he knows your thoughts and desires before you even think it. All the better for him to please you.

13. How much kissing during sex?

The only thing that stops him from kissing you is the position you're in. If it were up to him, he'd never stop, that's what lips were made for.

14. Favorite place to have sex?

He has a penchant for wanting you when it's least convenient and he doesn't particularly care where that is. But he enjoys it mostly when it's someplace safe and secure like a private quarters. But if a senator's office happens to be vacant for a short time, the mood tends to strike him.

15. Would he have sex in public?

He would never put you in a position where either of your reputations could be sullied by such a sacred act but he would most certainly not turn down the opportunity.

16. Last place he had sex?

His quarters on the ship just before docking, darling, don't you remember? Must have done quite a number on you then...

17. Where would he most like to have sex?

He doesn't care but if he could, he would whisk you away to some quiet planet far from the chaos of Coruscant and the Temple, a place where only the noon sun would wake you and clothing would be optional, of course.

18. Spontaneous sex or does he need to be in the mood?

He has to mostly be in the mood because he is a Jedi Master after all, he does have to restrain himself and duties to attend to. However, when you tease him like you did this morning in that council meeting... Well... Spontaneity can be the harbinger of bliss.

19. Would he go for a hookup at a stranger's house?

When he was younger, probably. These days, no.

20. Biggest kink?

Sensory play. He loves cutting off your senses to heighten all others. Blindfolds, masks, dark rooms, each one isn't only an encounter, it's an opportunity. And he is a man of opportunity.

21. Is he ok with name-calling?

No, it takes real prodding to get him to call you anything worse than his naughty girl. He would never call you his little slut, or so he thinks...

22. Would he do BDSM?

Yes, it's an exercise in complete trust, control and respect.

23. Would he prefer to tie you up or be tied up?

He'll do both. He loves to have you at his mercy but surprisingly enough, he adores it when you take control and restrain him. He loves the feeling of letting go and being overwhelmed by pleasure by one who knows him so well. To know that you can touch him but he can't touch you, after a busy day as a Master on the High Council making decisions and ordering others around, he's perfectly content letting you call the shots.

24. Does he like orgasm denial?

He'll never deny you anything for long, he can't bear it. You were meant for him to touch as please and spoil. Even if he agrees to such a game, he'll be giving in faster than you. On the flip side, he wasn't sure what he thought of the idea at first until he learned to relish the exquisite pleasure of denial and the tsunami of ecstasy that awaited him once you gave in to his pleading.

25. Does he like overstimulation?

Yes, but his tolerance is low. After one he's a bit of a mess and it's a rare occasion when you can bring him to three in a row before he's begging to touch you instead. Pleading for the exquisite torment to end. And when it's his turn, he's unmerciful because he knows you love it when he takes control and you're powerless to stop the tide of pleasure that washes over you on his command. But he will always stop when you tell him to, that's what safewords are for, darling.

26. Does he like pain being involved?

No. Sex is for pleasure, not pain. You've both experienced far too much of that for it to have any place in your bed.

27. Does he like dirty talk?

Oh. Stars. They don't call him the Negotiator for nothing. He's a silver tongue in every sense of the word and he'll use the most eloquent and beautiful words to describe in excruciating detail all the things and ways he wants to ravage your body.

28. Does he own sex toys? How many?

While there are toys available across the galaxy, Obi-Wan prefers a more... blasphemous approach. After all, what greater toy is there than the invisible Force that binds all things and flows through all creatures that he can bend to his will just as readily and easily as you can? Yes, the occasional toy might make it into the sanctuary that is your bedroom but they're never a prominent feature for long.

29. What does he masturbate to?

Mostly memories of you. He's well aware such holos exist but while he's watched them, when he's alone his thoughts are consumed with you. Remembering all the ways you quiver when he touches you and the ferocity in which you shatter for him and how you beg for more.

30. Multiple rounds or will he settle for one orgasm?

Multiple rounds. He is a Jedi after all. Just don't expect to give him back-to-back orgasms, the poor man is a bit delicate in that regard.

31. Does he enjoy giving oral?

He enjoys it and treats it like a performance or a ritual. He relished every taste of you knowing he's the only one who will ever have the pleasure. Connecting with you in a way when you're at your most vulnerable, your most exposed, using his in-depth knowledge of your body to bring you as much pleasure as you can stand.

32. Does he prefer giving or receiving oral?

He's a giver but the poor man rarely allows himself to be spoiled, so sometimes you have to simply take charge. He sometimes seems to forget that pleasure is mutual and once he gives in, it never takes long, he's a mess of a man. Legs splayed wide, his hair a disheveled mess, chest heaving struggling to remember how to breathe, he can't bring himself to stop his hips thrusting upward and even though you're gagging on him he still insists on trying to get out an apology. A gentleman even at this moment. And he's not quiet about it, he's loud. Each moan is so unrestrained it's almost music, especially when he begins to stutter his words, signaling his impending orgasm. When it washes over him he's nearly boneless as if he forgot just how good it feels to be spoiled himself.

33. What makes him orgasm the fastest?

Not that he'll ever admit it, and not that it works for anyone else except for you, but calling him by his title of Master or specifically General seems to have quite an effect on him. When your eyes roll back in ecstasy and you beg him for more, to hurt you a little bit is what usually signals the end for him. It's close to darkness and it's tempting to fall over with you.

34. Does he like/do anal/pegging?

He'll try probably try anything once, if you want him to fuck your ass he'll do it because he wants you and desires your pleasure. And if he's being honest with himself, he's always wanted to have you completely like that. But he would never be the first to mention it or ask for it. As for pegging, it would be a slow and sensual process because it is at that moment about his pleasure and while he might be a bit reluctant to admit it, he wants someone to take control over him. Be gentle with your General here.

35. Favorite position?

Loves having you in his lap because he's thinking about how much he wants to have you riding him in his council chair. Loves having you on top because he can lay back and admire your beauty. He also likes the Lotus, because it goes well with meditation. He also loves the Lazy Dog because it makes it easier to whisper all those salacious things to you and you can't escape him.

36. Does he use protection?

What Jedi doesn't? He would be very careful.

37. Does he masturbate with clothes on?

And risk making a mess of his robes? Never. He likes being naked.

38. How does he prefer his partner's hair/grooming?

He prefers a kept appearance but ultimately he's not terribly particular.

39. What does he wear to bed?

If he's alone? Nothing. He likes the feeling of smooth sheets on his skin because it reminds him of your touch.

40. What does he like his partner to wear?

He's a simple man and he likes you in nothing at all. But he loves finding you in his shirt or just his robes.

41. Does he like his balls played with?

Quickest was to make a mess of Master Kenobi while giving in him a blow job. He loves it.

42. What is his sexuality?

As straight as my spine, but he's loyal to his lover. He is probably pansexual.

43. Does he have extreme or unusual kinks?

Nothing extreme but he has a bit of a taboo role play he likes and that's the classic Master/Padawan, but only with you, of course.

44. How often does he masturbate?

He tends to neglect his personal desires, so not often but when he finds himself in a rare moment of peace, and arousal, maybe several times in a single day. He's never counted.

45. Favorite toy?

You.

46. Does he like roleplay?

Yes, loves it. Conisders it a healthy and safe way to discover one's own darkness and know oneself. Loves the Master/Padawan thing, after he discovered Anakin and Padme's romance he realized he likes the idea of the Jedi and the Civil Servant, with emphasis on the servant.

47. Any festishes?

No.

48. Aftercare?

You could not ask for a better lover for aftercare. He will hold you till you stop shaking, draw warm water for a bath, and sink into it with you while washing your hair all the while telling you how beautiful you look and how amazing you are.

49. Does he ever go comando?

You know it. Jedi robes come standard, underwear? Not so much.

50. Phone sex?

Com conversations are usually not something that can be concealed but if he steps away from earshot he might tell you how much he's looking forward to having you alone again. And if a holo transmission happens to come through and he's alone in his quarters for the night, he'll take great pleasure in instructing you to do as he likes and he'll absolutely return the favor.

Alright! That's Obi-Wan, what did you guys think? Should I do more? Oh, should I do a Sith Obi-Wan???? Who else should I do? Maul? Hux? Quinlan Voss? Enjoy my dears.

@pickleprickle @hereticpriest @decembermidnight @burnthecheshirewitch @starvingbrokestudent @bad4amficideas @split-spectrum @imherefordeanandbones @rivnedell

[jokertrap-ran]

[Kuroshitsuji Collab] 6★ William T. Spears (MOON) Translation 最終話 生活リズムは乱れなく Final Chapter: Circadian Rhythm, Unaffected

"Whilst unable to find any clues for a way to return home…"

CV: 杉山 紀彰 (Sugiyama Noriaki)

*Yume100 Masterlist *Requested by A. Carina Spears~ *Spoiler free: Translations will remain under cut *Name will remain as my normal ( ラン )

Moon Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Final Chapter / Secret Story Normal / Sun + SS

The light of the setting sun paints the brick-paved streets of the city with a tastefully orange hue.

Our inquiries had borne no fruit. Hence, we were now walking the streets in an effort to find a new way to search for clues to return William home.

Man on the Street 1: Oh, hey! If it isn't the reaper guy!

The two men we passed by stopped to strike up a conversation with William.

Man on the Street 2: Did you manage to find any leads on how to get back to your original world?

William: No, not yet. Please do inform me if you have any information whatsoever. It will be of great help.

William: I have to hurry back, for there is a long list of souls waiting to be collected.

Man on the Street 1: Oooh, what funny jokes you tell!

The man roared with laughter, smacking William on the back in jest.

(He seems to have gained popularity while I was away…)

A small chuckle left my lips as I watched him quickly straighten out his slightly rumpled suit.

He instantly glared in my direction.

Ran: I'm glad to see that the investigation's progressing!

I tried to laugh it off, but that didn't seem to help his mood as he still looked as displeased as ever…

William: What little information we've managed to obtain pertains to this country's population, climate, terrain, water quality, the statistics of ore mined…

William: The number of tailors and optical stores, the local gathering place for strays, and… the easy-going personality of the locals here. That about sums it all up.

(Personally, I think that finding out all of that information in such a short time is quite an amazing feat…)

However, the lenses of William’s glasses glinted like the sharp edge of a blade as if contravening my thoughts.

William: That being said, none of the above can be considered as a step in the right direction. Understand?

I hurriedly straightened up in response.

Ran: Yes! I’ve also requested an audience with the king in hopes of broadening the scope of our search.

William fixed me with an appraising look.

Ran: We will surely be able to cover more ground if we manage to enlist the king;’s aid.

William: …Very well.

Although he still looked as stoic as ever, I could tell that the revelation left him slightly stunned.

I smiled, happy that we were still partners.

━━━━━━━∘◦ ✰ ◦∘━━━━━━━  

That night…

The King’s messenger had approached me, informing me that we’d been granted an audience with the King.

(Looks like the king wanted us to know about this as soon as possible…)

Overjoyed to finally be of help to William, I quickly dashed off to inform him.

Ran: William-san?

Knocking on his door, a moment of silence followed before a muffled voice sounded from the other side of the door.

William: …Come in.

I slowly opened the door. And then…

━━━━━━━∘◦ ✰ ◦∘━━━━━━━  

(Wha-?)

William: What brings you here at this hour of the night?

William was already lying in bed.

He had changed into a clean set of pajamas and his hair was no longer styled back. He wasn’t wearing his usual suit, and for some reason, it made my heart race.

Ran: S-Sorry! I didn't know that you were about to turn in for the day.

I quickly turned away, ready to close the door, but William continued speaking as if merely striking up a conversation.

William: Reapers require sleep. Were I to be disturbed, it would no doubt affect my work performance tomorrow.

Ran: Sorry… I just wanted to let you know that our request for an audience with the king got approved as soon as I could.

William: I see. Though, you could have just told me about this tomorrow.

Ran: Right…

I shrunk back at his admonishment.

William: It’s important to get off work on time and get the appropriate amount of sleep required to ensure maximum work efficiency.

William: This is a principle that I strictly adhere to, and under no cost will it be broken.

Ran: I… see?

William: You should get some rest as well. It would be an issue if you were to turn up late again.

I instantly straightened up. His words had hit a sore spot.

Still…

Ran: I won’t be late again, promise!

My answer rang loud and clear — a promise to him, and an oath to myself.

William: But of course. I look forward to working with you, partner.

Ran: …!

━━━━━━━∘◦ ✰ ◦∘━━━━━━━  

Having said so, he closed his eyes.

Ran: …Good night.

I bid him a quiet good night before closing the door behind me on the way out.

(He called me his partner…)

His words warmed my heart.

(I’ll give it my best tomorrow too!)

For some reason, this dreary-looking corridor now looked akin to a bright path to tomorrow despite how dimly-lit it was…

The END

[cinebration]

The Darkling’s Shadow (The Darkling x Reader) [Part 8]

You meet Baghra.

Prologue | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Epilogue

Tagged: @don-daygamerz​​, @weallhaveadestiny​​, @kaqua​​, @sinful-wxrld​​, @ashdab2611​​, @ultarviolence​​, @chodingcreature​​, @demonenotturno​​, @crowssixof​​, @mxacegrey​​, @dreamlandcreations​​, @s-r-reads​​, @byulsrecs​​, @peleksstuff​​, @seraferna​​, @imtherain​​, @vex-et-soleil​​, @rayrlupin​​, @peakyispunk​​, @itsyaspwr​​, @adajoemaya​​, @b1bbles, @rockintensse​​, @adharanotfound​​, @allinestarr​, @pumpk1n-writes​, @seronsalk​

Warnings: none

Gif Source: chailame

Your last trip to the Little Palace—in other words, your first time there—had been uneventful. Fitting for keftas and fed regularly, you had had little to do to occupy your time. Not even wandering the grounds had been much of an appeal.

Returning to it, as such, did not induce any particular feelings of excitement or attachment. As before, the Grisha gave you a wide berth and whispered behind your back, even more so now that your reputation had been firmly established and the Darkling was walking the gilt halls alongside you.

Afforded a different room than during your first visit, you found yourself situated close to the Darkling’s quarters, adjacent to the war room. The lavish decoration of the place meant little to you, but the plush thickness of the mattress was, you had to admit, worth coveting. Though you always slept well, you found that sleeping on such a mattress gave you a restful slumber you had never experienced before.

Though proclaiming the need for a brief respite, the Darkling spent the first day squaring away war duties and other minutiae at the palace. You capitalized on the opportunity to walk the grounds again, the palace much too noisy and crowded for your taste despite its expansive design. Having spent months alone but for your prisoners in the abandoned workspace, with nothing but the stars for company, you had grown accustomed to inhaling fresh air and feeling the crunch of grass underfoot.

On that first mid-morning, the Grisha were still cloistered inside the palace, leaving the grounds empty. You slipped out so that the Grisha weren’t tempted to gawk at you through the windows or create excuses to break the silence of the morning. Not that you didn’t appreciate their morbid fascination, but there were times when you felt that solitude was your only recourse.

Birds flitted from tree to tree, trilling their songs as you strode leisurely beneath the leafy canopies. Redolent with the smells of nature waking to the sun, the air was losing its crisp edge and thickening with humidity. Gnats hovered in small clouds, skimming the grass as one unit.

A slow, steady heartbeat drummed a mournful staccato some distance to your right. You stopped beneath the shade of a tree and turned, waiting for its owner to make their appearance.

An older woman with the weight of years written on her features, pale hair pulled away from her face in a bun, paused a few feet away, her dark robes flowing around her like the shadows around the Darkling. Her critical gaze swept over you.

“So,” she said, her voice cracking like a whip, “you are the Bonecrusher.”

You gave her a curt nod.

“The General’s monster in the shadows.”

Your eyebrow arched involuntarily. Both pleased and perturbed by the woman’s statement, you let yourself feel her bones across the distance between you.

“Older than the Darkling,” you noted aloud. “His mother, perhaps?”

A muscle in the woman’s face twitched, her eyes narrowing minutely. “I see you have won the Darkling’s confidence.”

“As I told your son, I know the age of your bones. There was no confidence to be had, for the truth was apparent to me the moment I was in proximity.” Sighing, you glanced down at your hands. “So tell me, mother of the Black Heretic, what is it you want from me? An appraisal? To question what my intentions are with your son?”

“Insolent child,” the woman snapped. “You presume to know us when you have not even lived one single lifetime.”

“Some lifetimes are more…informed and successful than others,” you countered. “Get on with it, woman.”

The older woman frowned, a deep furrow creasing her brow to craggy proportions. “I’m told you are drawn to power.”

“Are you offering me yours? It stands to reason you are an amplifier like your son.” You raked your gaze over her. “Perhaps a finger or toe bone?”

“You do not scare me, child.”

“Good, I wasn’t trying to be scary. You are ruining my morning walk. Out with it or leave me be.”

You met the woman’s hard stare without flinching, feigning boredom.

At last, she said, “You may be in my son’s favor now, but that will only remain until he finds himself a new toy to amuse himself with. Your power is all he desires, and he will do anything to exploit it. You are nothing but a tool to him, a vacuous tool who cannot understand the danger he presents.”

Both eyebrows arching, a wicked smile pulled on your lips. “The danger he presents. Tell me, are you informed of the latest advancements made on the front lines? In the war? Those were not the product of your son’s tactical genius but mine. Say what you will about his motives and intentions, his methods of ‘convincing’ me to do things. The facts are that I have to convince him. That he still thinks of me as an enemy, a potential spy come to steal his kingdom. I am not afraid of him, however ageless he may be. I am here because it has been preordained, and I will not leave until my mission is complete.”

The woman barked with laughter. “A fanatic! My gods, what has Aleksander drawn into his net now?” The laughter died abruptly, her face once again severe. “Child, even saints are capable of betrayal, and my son is no saint.”

Her conviction sent a tendril of unease slithering down your spine. Leveling your voice, you murmured, “I do not devote myself to a saint, ma’am. I know to whom I have pledged allegiance.”

She shook her head, rueful laughter twisting her mouth. “Oh no, you have no idea.”

Pivoting on her heel, she strode away in the opposition direction of the palace, leaving you in the shade of the tree.

In the distance, the Darkling strode across the plain, waving a hand in greeting as he approached.

“I know to whom I have pledged allegiance,” you repeated to yourself.

Your voice sounded hollow to your ears.

[stari-hun]

Reverse 1999 Yappin Masterlist

𓆙 Orange marks the best content

My other Masterlists ! Headcanons and Ships , Wilderness , Critters

Reverse 1999 Character Diagram - Full Game 1.8

Timeline of Events

Timeline of Insight 2

Character Bonds - General , Greenlake, Book 6 , Book 6 part 2

The Atlas : Overview and the Narrator's Omniscience

The Atlas : Book 6

Character Analysis

Sonetto - Insight 2 , One Day Sonetto Will Go Against Pavlov

Constantine - Before the Storm, The Happiest about the Storm, Constantine would've always ripped Verneider apart

General

Shitty Summaries - Book 3. , Book 5.

Reverse 1999 is an Existential Horror - Vereinsamt and Uncannt Valley Instinct ,

The Artificial Somnambulism and Modern Perspective

Scoups of Angst - Marcus , Verneider Vs Isokania , Vertin's Trauma from Book 3

Shamane's Character Story was good insight on how the ecosystem in Reverse 1999 works.

37 is the only cast member of Apeiron who truly suits the island, but it's also what makes her naive

Appraiser Arcanum - General (Getian, Pandora, Windsong, Marcus) , [Features of Bones]

Theories

Arcanists as a Community Don't Think of Sexuality or Gender

Character Stories are The Stories Arcanists WANT to Tell

The Player isn't Vertin

Pandora's Magic on Vertin

The Storm's Origin

Worldbuilding

The Foundation vs Manus Vindictae

The Foundation (+ School of Discipline and Laplace)

The Foundation is Brainwashing People

Zeno - Greenlake's View Versus Rayashki,

Arcane Traces last 15,000 - 17,000 years

Numbers System for Book 5

Economy Ramble

Events

Nightmare at Greenlake Relationship Chart

Blonney would be into Creepypasta

Kumar and Shamane : Doomed Family

Kaalaa Baunaa and Divination after Kumar's death

What if Vertin was in Mor Panhk?

Kumar is my favorite NPC and she should be yours too

Makower Overreacted Super Hard

Uluru Games : Ezra saw someone die in his character story??

Bessmert and Getian

Notes on Shuori ; Jiu Niangzi, Getian, and Jessica)

Farewell, Rayashki - Windsongs Vibe , General Vibe + Me being sad and upset

Ley Lines: A Strong Supporting Field

Evgeni is Anti Earth

Book 6 : Cause it needs its own tab

E Lucevan le Stelle Mini Summary

E Lucevan le Stelle Diagram - 1. , 2.

The Pacing of E Lucevan le Stelle : How the Isolde keeps herself off innocuous until she's ready to enter the stage

The Small Room - Isolde Character Story

Isokania - Outside Perspective on Isokania , Doomed from the Start

The Dittersdorf's - Theopil

Theopil , Theopil Continues to Haunt the Narrative

Isolde and Playwright

Heinrich and Diggers

Isolde - + Jessica , Character Bingo, Trista made the servants think she was crazy, Insight 2

[loosesodamarble]

Welcome to the Black Bird Masterlist

A masterlist for my series “Welcome to the Black Bird” where readers will get an introduction to the staff of the Black Bird Cafe.

For the base information, read this post here.

Part 0 - Before Opening Day

Part 1 - Lady Nero

Part 2 - Alexander the Bodyguard

Part 3 - Johnathan the Paragon

Part 4 - Wesley the Chilling

Part 5 - Marius the Austere

Part 6 - Aurelius the Devoted

Part 7 - A Butchery by Richard

Part 8 - Desmond the Enigma

Part 9 - Hector's Luck

Part 10 - Christian the Sinister

Part 11 - Luis's Special Brew

Part 12 - Elias the Blissful

Part 13 - Vincent’s Appraisal

Part 14 - Flynn the Bittersweet

Part 15 - Austin the Suave

Part 16 - Ivan’s Fantasy

Part 17 - Oscar the Golden

Part 18 - Gabriel’s Passion

Part 19 - Kyle’s Searching

Part 20 - Wolfgang’s Melancholy

Part 21 - Brandon’s Serenity

Part 22 - Zavier the Earnest

[odinsonslut]

Reformed pt. 1.

⊹ genre: fluff mostly

⊹ pairing: draco malfoy x female Hufflepuff reader

⊹ themes: slow-burn 

⊹ summary: reader returns 6 years after the war. To her dismay, draco is her new supervisor while she trains as an auror. He had also managed to integrate himself into all her closest friends’ lives, making him unavoidable. Also unavoidable is the building tension between the two.

⊹ warnings: mentions of death, the loss of close friends, nothing explicit.

⊹ word count: 1.9k

⊹ a/n:  eternally terrible at writing summaries, but this is a storyline I like way too much to leave as a standalone. It might be a two-part situation, maybe even a mini-series!! I don’t have solid plans for it yet; just trying to perfect building tension without moving too fast or being too overwhelming. 

-

It had been 6 years since the war, and since you didn’t complete your last year of study with your graduating class, you ended up going back to school after the war with a few of your classmates, being a small group of students, it gave you the opportunity to connect with Hermione and Ginny. You really hadn’t seen much of either of them before the war being a Hufflepuff with barely any classes paired with Gryffindor. 

The three of us found comfort in each other during the difficult period of readjusting to school life and feeling alone as Ron and Harry went on to be Aurors, and I was only able to keep in touch with Madeline, my best friend, who was in Ireland practising extensive herbology research to come up with more effective antidotes to those still recovering in St Mungo’s. The rest of the group just sort of dispersed. I’d have thought fighting alongside each other and experiencing shared trauma would have brought us even closer together, but the rest of them couldn’t stand any memory of Hogwarts or us as a whole, and I really couldn’t fault any of them for that. Losing our friends was difficult, and we couldn’t just be a group of fun-loving kids hotboxing in the astronomy tower’s store room anymore.

The girls took me in early on. Ginny and I bonded immediately over quidditch. As my team’s chaser for the past 3 years, my affinity for the sport nearly matched hers. We’d spend hours practising on the open field together, preparing her for the scouts attending the games this year. She was a shoo-in for the Holyhead Harpies, and while I’d have loved to pursue a similar career, I wasn’t nearly as talented as she was, despite her efforts to help me succeed alongside her. 

Hermione was pleased to learn that I shared her excitement for learning and punctuality. We’d spend entire nights discussing, sharing, and reading books together in my single-occupied dorm, and since we were N.E.W.T students, we shared most classes, making long nights of studying in the Gryffindor common room all the more convenient. We grew closer the more comfort we grew to find in each other. We’d bake together in the kitchens with the elves once in a while. We spent a great deal of time mapping intricate policies that could be implemented one day in favour of the house elves’ rights movement we aspired to achieve. The three of us would often spend nights in each others’ dorms playing exploding snap, some muggle games Hermione and I introduced to Ginny, doing our makeup, and just being the young, carefree girls we never really got to be. It was freeing to heal parts of me with them. We had been inseparable ever since

-

It had been four years since you graduated from Hogwarts. You achieved exceptional N.E.W.Ts results but were never able to keep a job for longer than 4 months. You’d finally set out to Germany, where you’d spent the last three years in the Aurorial Appraisal program once you finally discovered your passion, and since you fought in the battle of Hogwarts, you were accepted with little difficulty. Upon completing the program, Hermione, as the deputy head of the department of magical law enforcement, whom you’d kept in touch with over the years, managed to secure you a job at the Auror office. You were to be a trainee appointed to a practising Auror for the first 6 months of the job. 

Since the couple planned on moving in together but couldn’t quite afford the rent of an entire apartment on their own, Ron and Hermione invited me to move into the common room of the unit, to which I graciously accepted. 

After a week spent unpacking and finishing our apartment came my first day. Hermione and I travelled to the ministry together since we both avoid apparition outside of dire situations. We bid our goodbyes as I made my way to the Office whose Auror I’d be shadowing for the next six months. I knocked on the door twice and stepped back, expecting the door to open for me. I waited two minutes with no response. I knocked again and again, no response. I huffed in annoyance, pulling open the door for myself to be met with a slender man sitting at his desk, the newspaper open, shielding his face from me.

“Excuse me, sir. I’m here for the briefing and introduction to my supervisor. Didn’t you hear me knock?” You couldn’t help but include the last sentence to what would’ve otherwise been a perfectly suitable first impression. 

“I heard, just wondered how long you’d spend standing around wasting time before taking action”, replied a smooth, steady voice.

I scoffed. “Just thought I’d practice decent manners, but it looks like you’re out of touch with the concept enough not to recognise it.”

He chuckled softly in response, seemingly refreshed by my blunt responses. Finally setting the newspaper down, he extended his right hand towards me as he introduced himself. 

“Draco Malfoy, a pleasure”, he spoke with a friendly smile. I was shell-shocked. His gentle aura seemed so unfamiliar to me. His eyes seemed to convey friendliness. His cheeks were lightly contoured with smile lines, and all I could think about was how it was possible for a man like him to form them. The only thing that looked familiar to me was the way his nose scrunched when he smiled, as it contorted into the same position when he sneered, which is predominantly how he addressed me throughout our years at Hogwarts. 

“I remember”. I spoke harshly, allowing his hand to float awkwardly in the air as mine stayed glued to my sides, refusing to meet his palm.

He dropped his hand eventually, his eyes leaving mine to stare at the floor, hoping to think of something to alleviate the tension. My demeanour softened. Even the aversion of his eyes seemed like such a vulnerable display for someone like him whom, before this, I had only seen cling to his pride and perception. I softly told him how he should address me, and he nodded curtly in response, not wanting to say the wrong thing again.

My day was spent in the ministry itself. Draco took me through the theoretical aspects of training to begin with. Our conversation didn’t stray much from the work discussion after our initial friction at his conversational attempts. 

-

Hermione got back home 3 hours after I made it home due to the additional responsibility that came with her position, I deduced. 

I bombarded her before the door even shut behind her. 

“You will not believe whom I’m training under for the next 6 months”, I practically shouted at her.

She kicked me in my shin with her sharp heel. I immediately keeled over, ready to over-exaggerate the pain I was feeling, when I realised her reasoning. Malfoy walked in behind her, straining his signature awkward smile that really only seemed to make its appearance whenever I was around him. I returned the uncomfortable smile before turning to Hermione with a pointed look.

“I figured the two of you would have bonded today. Guess assigning you to each other with no warning didn’t turn out the way I had hoped,” She spoke apologetically. 

“Draco works directly under me, which is why I trusted him with you. We all get together every Monday for dinner. Tonight’s our’s since we’re breaking into the new kitchen; Malfoy makes a solid saffron-infused risotto.” She continued.

I could barely process any information when even more people walked into our now cramped entryway. Ginny ran into my arms as we both fell onto the floor, where we settled in a tight hug gushing over seeing each other. 

Draco shuffled into the kitchen with groceries and a fresh baguette in hand, the rest of them piled into the newly furnished living room, and Ginny and I settled on the floor, refusing to detangle from our now loose hug while we caught up.

-

“It’s so surreal to me like you guys actually hang out with Malfoy? Sure you don’t keep him around as a makeshift house elf?” I asked, motioning to the kitchen. 

Ginny and I had finally made our way to the living room to join the rest. After greeting Harry and the twins, I joined Hermione on the only beanbag she begrudgingly allowed Ron and me to tarnish her architecturally detailed living room with since it was a neutral tan. 

Hermione rolled her eyes. “He’s changed a lot as a person, and you better get used to being around him. You’re still due to be partners after your training program, you know.” 

I groaned immediately. “Why couldn’t I have been put under Harry or Ron?” I whined to Hermione 

“They’re already partnered with each other”, she consoled. “Plus, you two have a lot in common. His food’s even better than yours,” she joked.

I gasped and smacked her arm. “I know where you live, Hermione Granger”, I fake sneered at her. 

“You should join him in the kitchen”, Ginny spoke from the couch beside us “at least make an effort with the man before deciding you can’t stand him”.

-

“Though I’m sure this makes for a priceless view, you could make yourself useful. It is your kitchen.” He spoke, jolting me from my fixed position at the doorway.

“You haven’t left it long enough in the water,” I said as he lifted the saffron-infused water. 

“Take over for me then”, he smirked as he took a step back from the stove.

I was taken aback by his newfound confidence but refused to let it overpower mine, so I walked up to the stove directly in front of him, taking the wooden spatula from his hand on my way over. I lowered the heat and allowed the dish to simmer to deglaze the wine, entranced by the warmth of his breath down my neck, the heat of his body just millimetres away from touching mine.

“Are you actually going to do anything?” He whispered just above my ear, tickling the skin surrounding it, the feeling moving all the way down my spine.

I failed to respond to him. “Looks about done.” He poured the saffron mixture in and picked the spatula back out of my hand. He stirred the saffron in, not moving from his spot behind me.

He moved, and I immediately exhaled at the blow of cold air that came with his absence. I didn’t miss it for long before he was right back, just a hair strand away from me. He dipped a small teaspoon into the dish and put it up to my lips, I tilted my head up, looking at him questioningly.

His soft fingers took hold of my chin, moving it back down and tapping my lips “taste”, he said. My mouth immediately opened in response. I nearly moaned at the soft, rich, perfectly seasoned risotto. He chuckled a breathy laugh.

“I’ll plate these. Why don’t you tell everyone dinner’s ready” he instructed, once again detaching from his spot behind me.

I went to do just that when I was cut off mid-announcement. 

“What on earth did he do to you to leave you such a breathy mess?” asked George almost incredulously

“breathy and positively flushed” Fred chided

I heard Draco’s hearty laugh from the dinner table

I glared at the pair, ignoring Hermione’s inquisitive smile

-

End

[decarabiandivorce]

Am i the asshole for staying behind on an uncharted planet

I (23M) have been a new hire at this shipping company for around three months and it has been absolutely horrible. The company has us work outrageous hours and there is only one other employee. A month ago that employee (my mentor) went on a vacation and ever since then the president had me switch over from simply organizing packages to making full deliveries. On my first trip, I was attacked by a group of space bunnies and the company was sent into debt because of it. They told me the route was safe and secure, however, it was clearly not the case. The important cargo was destroyed and the remaining debt is now more than a hundred years' worth of salary. The company is going under and the president is even accusing ME of doing something. I have no clue what he is talking about and am very frightened by the experience.

Now then my mentor (38?M idk) comes back and talks about how he was hit by a meteor and crashed. It took him a whole month to recover his parts and just barely made it back. Before he could even see his family the company's appraisal AI scanned a memento he yoinked from the crash site and now the president thinks its a great idea to send two deliverymen to search for treasures to sell. Why do we even have an appraisal AI I don't even know. So now me and this captain i've know for about two months is being sent towards an uncharted planet.

Then we crash. There was a blizzard and I am sent flying into the snow. I am tired, hungry, and lay down on the ground as I contemplate my life. A long story short we reconvened and it turns out this planet is FULL of hostile life! Creatures as tall as me just waiting to eat us. Holy fuck. My mentor is taking this as a normal occurrence???? He spent a month on this planet??? The hell????

So after fighting off creature after creature-some as tall as space pups while others as tall as buildings, we somehow get enough pokos to pay back the COMPANY'S DEBT. We weren't even paid overtime and I think my mentor GOT A PROMOTION? We barely had enough supplies for one person so I started taking back some of the local creatures to eat. (DM me if you want some of my recipes!) . We wake up as soon as dawn breaks and this planet's day and night system are so unlike my own planet. By the time it's 10 PM its Nighttime! Dawn is around 6 AM!

My mentor has been relatively nice. He gets my silence and for that, I am grateful he doesn't have me talk a lot. Cons: He forgets about me really easily. Usually, he has me just follow him while we explore and at some points, I feel as if I could have just stayed at the ship and slept and would accomplish the same amount of work. It is aggravating to be woken up so early and told to just follow him around.

After another long expedition I am about 10 seconds away from passing out our ship's appraisal AI (who has been so snippy with both of us) blares out that we should return home now. The thing is, after so long of being on this planet I realized that I prefer this planet more than slaving away at that delivery service. The same service that would send me straight first toward a hive of space rabbits for my very first mission. So I lagged behind a bit.

In my lagging behind, my mentor starts up the ship and leaves. At first, I am shocked. He actually did that. Holy fuck he left me on this planet. Sure our suits were upgrades to filter out the oxygen just before we left and I could last for months if not years....it was still shocking to me. I could not help but watch the sky as he blasted away. Maybe this was a blessing in disguise!

I walked for a long time, resting in safe areas to conserve my stamina and eating the creatures I knew were edible. There was a lot of experimentation here and there and I missed the spices of back home. I just knew that a certain creature would taste way better if I added in a couple more condiments! (Remember! DM me for my recipes!)

While exploring one of the caves, a giant spiderlike foe kidnapped me and placed me on it's head. It was so cute! Like riding a weird dog.

It was nice being with the big spider. It gathered some ancient technologies that were perfect for my survival. None of the other creatures seemed to bother the two of us and it was nice to know that there was someone else on this planet that understood us. Still, I was tired and after what felt like days, my suit's forced sleep mode kicked in. I have no clue what happened afterward nor how many days I was asleep but the next thing I knew was that my mentor was right in front of me making sure I was okay.

He says that he came back for me with the help of our boss, but I could see the poko in the president's eyes as the ship went over finances with him.

They killed the spider to 'save' me. The spider went on full attack while I was asleep on it and the appraisal AI thinks I was in control of it despite being unconscious. At least the captain think's I didn't do it...

They then told me that there was no third seat on the ship and that I will be sleeping in the cargo hold until they got every single treasure on this planet. I am pretty sure that's a space OSHA violation but at this point, I have been in so many life-threatening dangers that I gave up counting. At least they don't expect me to help out because I am 'recovering'. They are content to let me stay by the ship and I have been using this time to perfect my recipes with the supplies they got from back home.

[loveinhawkins]

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 ao3

Eddie finds Wayne outside, round the back of the hotel. He’s sat on a little bench next to a trellis doing another damn crossword, the newspaper folded across his knees; and it’s almost funny, how he so easily seems to find peace and solitude during the impossible. But then Eddie remembers unplanned nights at the trailer from years ago, seeking refuge from raised voices and smashed bottles—and figures that Wayne’s always been good at carving out quiet moments amongst chaos.

Wayne looks up when Eddie sits down on the bench, too, appraises him thoughtfully.

“You’re looking better.”

“Well, damn, Wayne,” Eddie says, “was I ugly before or something?”

Wayne raises his eyes to the heavens, but he can’t hide the tiny smile tugging at his lips—and, God, Eddie thinks, he’s never taking this for granted again. Lately they’d gotten too used to passing like ships in the night—they had a vague plan to order takeout, watch T.V on one of Wayne’s rare days off, but then Chrissy…

“Steve doing good?” Wayne asks shrewdly, and Eddie nods, says that he’s heading to his house to pick up some of his stuff.

Wayne reaches into his back pocket, brings out his car keys and tosses them to Eddie. He jerks his thumb to the hotel parking lot.

“I’m parked near the front, just bring it back whenever you’re done.” He eyes Eddie, a little grave. “You just take care, all right? Don’t stop for no-one.”

Eddie nods again. Pushes back a tight knot of anxiety. “I won’t. Hey, uh… how long do we, you know,” he glances at the hotel building, “have here?”

Wayne follows his gaze. “Well, they’ve not asked me for my credit card yet,” he says, entirely straight-faced, and when Eddie just huffs a small laugh, he adds, “Government’s stepping in to re-house folks. Heard some of the trailers aren’t too damaged, so…”

Eddie puts two and two together. “People are moving back?”

“Some of ‘em,” Wayne confirms mildly. “The park still needs more work, reckon it’ll be months, at least, before it starts looking like—”

“I don’t think I can do it,” Eddie blurts out. “Go—go back, I mean.”

It’s painful to admit, that he wants to run from the one place that used to make him feel safe. But he can’t hide from it, how the horror is pervasive: how he thinks of Chrissy in the living room, and Steve’s missing tape in his bedroom, and him sinking to the ground in the trailer park, despairing, a lifeless Steve in his arms.

“All right,” Wayne says, like it’s simple.

Eddie bites his lip. “But. Wayne. It’s… it’s your home, too.”

Wayne sighs but not unkindly. He ruffles Eddie’s hair. “We’ll figure it out, Eddie,” and it sounds like he’s saying, You know full well that’s not really where ‘home’ is.

Eddie smiles. Blinks and looks away to wipe his nose with the back of his hand. When he stands up, he takes a peek at the crossword, tuts and says, “Come on, old man, you’re getting slow.”

“You’re a damn menace, that’s what you are.”

“Six across, four letters,” Eddie continues, sing-song, “All you need, to the Beatles.”

“I hadn’t got round to—”

Eddie twirls the car keys round his finger, does a stupid little spin as he leaves, just because he can. “Love!” he exclaims, hand on his heart, and Wayne chuckles.

-

He goes the extra mile in being cautious, takes backroads that he knows will be quiet, makes himself as small as possible in the driver’s seat. The town still feels ghostly, and the very occasional people he does drive by on the sidewalk don’t appear to really notice him, and he doesn’t quite know how to feel about it.

When he pulls up into Steve’s driveway, he glances in the rear-view mirror and sees another car crawling past—like it’s surveying rather than stopping. Then he realises that it’s Nancy who’s driving.

He sounds his horn as quietly as he can, and she starts, waves at him with a significant delay. She gets out, meets him at the front door.

“It’s empty, Jonathan took them all on a grocery store run,” Nancy says. Her voice is too level, like she’s putting all her effort into keeping it like that. “The spare key’s here.” She lifts up the door mat and bends down to pick up the key.

There’s mud all over her boots. Eddie only needs one look to know that it’s from the trailer park.

He kind of wants to hug her, honestly, but he doesn’t know yet what she really needs.

He lifts up the bag he’d brought. “Thought I’d do some laundry,” he says lightly, just to break the silence.

Nancy regards the bag with something like relief, and she takes it from him. “I can start a load,” she says, and then she opens the door and stops, right there in the hallway.

Eddie doesn’t blame her. With the house empty, their footsteps seem overly loud. There’s nothing to distract him from remembering the last time he was here, watching Steve’s forced normality. The clinking of bottles, back to the kids. His voice echoing eerily off the ceiling. You guys trust me, right?

Eddie gives himself a shake, heads for the stairs. “I’m just gonna—Steve wanted some clothes picked up, so…”

He trails off in invitation, looking over his shoulder.

But Nancy stays right where she is. She looks up to the top of the stairs then rapidly pales, a hand reaching out to steady herself against the wall. There’s a faint thump as she drops the bag onto the floor.

“Woah, woah.” Eddie hurries back, grabs her by the elbow. “You okay? You wanna sit down?”

Nancy shakes her head, screws her eyes shut for a moment. “No, I’m—I’m fine.”

“You sure?” Eddie says, uncertain.

She grips Eddie’s arm, breathes. Lets go and raises her head. “Yeah, I’m… I just need.” She picks up the bag again, straightens. “Just need to not—not think for a bit.”

Eddie releases his hold on her slowly, steps back when she doesn’t sway again.

“Yeah, I get that,” he says softly.

She reaches for a door to the left, before the kitchen. “Laundry room’s in here,” she says. Then, matter-of-fact, adds, “See you once you’ve got his things?”

Eddie nods but stays put. “Shout if you need me?”

Nancy softens. “Sure.”

-

In the end, Eddie’s almost glad that he heads to Steve’s bedroom alone, because he ends up freezing in the doorway for almost a full minute.

There’s more ghost-like memories in here. One of Steve’s drawers has been pulled fully out, left on the floor, and it’s like Eddie can hear Erica and Lucas scrabbling, throwing things out in their search for the tape.

Then he thinks of Dustin, his voice cracking; hearing him in the midst of asking, incredulous, “—not even going to look at me?”

Dustin’s furious, watery eyes flash through his mind, as does I hate you, and Steve turning his back, hiding as one tear falls down his cheek—

Enough.

Eddie takes a deep breath. Once he finally crosses the threshold, it’s easier—he does his best not to stop. He focuses on finding clothes that are loose and soft, easier for Steve to put on over a cast. It’s endearing, to see wrinkled t-shirts in the closet, placed close to hand, clearly worn and familiar and comforting.

He has to reach for the drawer on the floor anyway, picks a couple of sweaters in case Steve gets cold. And maybe it’s silly, but his hand lingers on the wooden surface as he does so, touching the impression of where Steve’s hand had been; as if he can somehow reach into the past and keep him safe.

He skims the bookshelf with interest, prompted by Steve’s suggestion. The majority of it is made up of old children’s books—twee collections of Winnie The Pooh and Beatrix Potter which make him smile. Then there’s a volume of poetry that catches his eye, simply because it’s been left crooked on the shelf, like Steve had recently been reading it, before distractedly putting it back.

Eddie picks it up, puts it on top of his little bundle of clothes and takes it with him.

- Nancy’s sitting on a beanbag in the laundry room, watching the washing machine whir, eyes unfocused. The beanbag is a garish red, at odds with the rest of the furniture in the house, marking it as a ‘Steve purchase.’

The washing machine beeps when it’s done; Eddie puts his clothes in the dryer, remembering Steve’s words and slamming the door shut. Nancy jumps in her seat.

“Sorry,” Eddie says.

She exhales. “It’s fine.”

It’s then that Eddie notices she’s taken her boots off; there’s dried blood on her socks. He recalls Wayne saying she looked like she’d been at the trailer park for hours; and he wonders just how far she has walked.

But before he can even tentatively ask, Nancy speaks first.

“I’m—it wasn’t you, I just. I can’t go in his room.” Her voice is thick. “You know, Barb… Barb’s parents, they kept her room ex-exactly like it…” She laughs sadly. “I couldn’t stop thinking that she’d just walk through the door.”

Eddie got an inkling that the disappearance of Barbara Holland was Upside Down related when Nancy came out of her Vecna trance, trembling in Steve’s arms. Before they’d scaled the rope, he’d overheard her whisper, tearful, “He showed me Barb.” Caught when Steve made a soft noise like he’d been punched: “Oh, Nance.”

Now Eddie watches Nancy glance upwards, blinking rapidly, and knows that Barb can never come home.

“I just couldn’t…” Nancy sucks in a sharp breath. “Couldn’t go in there, not when—when he’s not here, this place feels like a fucking museum.”

“He’s coming home,” Eddie says. “He’s gonna be okay.”

Nancy nods slowly. She curls further into the beanbag, wincing as she moves her feet.

They don’t speak for a short while, the dryer churning in the background. Eddie finds a handheld brush in a cupboard, picks up Nancy’s boots.

“Scooch,” he says gently, and they share the beanbag.

Little by little, Eddie scrubs the mud off Nancy’s boots. It’s dried and caked on in places, obviously fresh in others.

His uncle’s voice in his head again: I think she was waiting for something to happen, too.

“Hey, Wheeler?” Eddie says, almost a whisper. “You don’t need to, uh… keep checking, you know?”

Nancy doesn’t look at him.

He thinks of her freezing at the trailer park, clutching a coffee Wayne brought her, stuck waiting, and it breaks his heart.

“Don’t go back there,” he says.

She sighs like she can’t promise that.

Eddie gathers himself. “Fine, here’s the deal.” He waits until she turns to him, expectant. “If—if you need to… don’t go back there alone, okay?”

She blinks those eyes that have seen far too much. “How?”

“I’ll go with you,” Eddie vows.

She doesn’t say anything. But she leans into him, their shoulders pressed together, and that’s all the answer he needs.

-

“Why’d you bring so much?” Steve says with amusement when Eddie shows him the bundle of clothes.

“So you’ve got options! I don’t know how you style yourself, Harrington.”

“Whatever brings out my eyes,” Steve says, deadpan.

“I thought you said your hair was your ‘best feature.’”

“Thanks for the air quotes, man, appreciate it.” Steve actually bats his eyelids. Idiot, Eddie thinks fondly. “Why’re you limiting me to only one best feature?”

“Wow. Think all that hair just hides your big head.”

Steve flips him off—correctly this time. “Pot, meet kettle,” he echoes, and laughs when Eddie throws a sweater in his face.

-

Steve catches him reading the poetry book over dinner. “You can, like, doodle in it or whatever, if you want.” He shrugs. “I’m not precious with it.”

Eddie reaches for a pen, but only to add a tongue-in-cheek note for Steve to find on the title page, signs and dates it: When it was discovered by Eddie ‘The Freak’ Munson that Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington had hidden depths.

It’s an anthology, so Eddie flips through it out of order, settling on random pages on a whim. Then several markings in pencil catch his eye.

He pauses. He vaguely recognises this poem from English. Steve has underlined the very end.

I was much too far out all my life  And not waving but drowning.

Eddie stays on that page for a long time—thinks of Chrissy, how he’d only ever remembered her as smiling before she sat in front of him in the woods, picking the skin around her fingers.

Pictures Steve, his inexplicably tender smile in the RV. This bit really isn’t so bad, Eddie.

Steve clicks his fingers, burnt lasagne mid-way to his mouth. “Hey, where’d you go?”

Eddie starts, turns the page. “Oh, nowhere.”

He shuts the book.

[hottpinkpenguin]

The Way of Winter - Chapter 2

Joel Miller series Reader insert (gender neutral, future chapters will likely read as female) A/n: takes place at the end of episode 6 (spoilers if you haven't seen!). I took a few liberties with the location. Taglist: @missdragon-1 @this--is--music @caravelofthesun @ishouldclean Word count: 2,661 | Tags: slow burn | Warnings: none

“I thought you said you could save him!”

The girl’s shriek cut through the howl of the wind outside. You dabbed at the wound on Joel’s stomach with a rag soaked in vodka, trying to staunch the bleeding enough to see what you were stitching. 

“I said I could stitch him,” you corrected her calmly. “Now hold the light still.” 

The girl - she still hadn’t given you a name - held the kerosene lamp aloft over your shoulder next to Joel’s exposed stomach. You’d gathered his blood soaked shirt up around his armpits. His entire torso was stained with dried blood, his face so pale he looked almost corpse-like. He’d managed to stay semi-lucid for most of the ride home, but his condition had deteriorated fast within the last half hour. By the time you’d rode Rambo into the stable, Joel had been completely unconscious, his pulse faint and fluttering. It had taken all of your remaining strength to haul him in and splay him across your kitchen table. The cabin around you looked half-destroyed, dishware spread across the floor amidst dribbles of Joel’s blood.

“Isn’t that going to save him?” the girl asked, her voice rising in pitch.

“We’re about to find out,” you replied, threading the fishing line you’d soaked in alcohol through the end of a fishhook and knotting it. You were far from a doctor, although you’d stitched enough of your own wounds to know that these supplies would get the job done. With a deep breath in, you pinched the flesh near the ragged edges of Joel’s stab wound enough to pierce it with the fish hook. He moaned softly, his body tensing reactively to the pain, although he didn’t wake up fully. The light above your shoulder wavered slightly, and you heard a damp splat as the girl vomited on the floor next to your feet. You ignored her, pulling the fishing line through the wound until the knotted end snagged on his skin. You worked quickly, the fish hook weaving in and out of his skin as you knitted opposite sides of the wound together like a corset, stopping every fifteen or twenty seconds to dab away the blood. The sewing went faster as more of the wound closed up. You tied off the loose end, giving the wound an appraising look. It was crude, and would most certainly leave a scar, although the stitches seemed to be holding appropriately and the bleeding was visibly lessened. 

You let out a shaky exhale and wiped the sweat on your forehead with the back of your hand. 

“Is he going to be ok?” 

You turned to the girl. She looked ghostly in the harsh light of the kerosene lamp, her eyes wide as silver dollars as she waited for a reply. You felt exhaustion and the fading jitters of adrenaline wearing on you, your hands trembling slightly as you reached for the lamp, placing it down on the table next to Joel’s head.

“I don’t know,” you replied, standing and walking over to the potbelly stove in the center of the room. Earlier that day, you’d filled four massive tubs with water from the deep basin sink in the kitchen and let the cold water heat next to the ever-roaring stove that heated the cabin. On especially cold nights like this, you had to rely on the basins for your washing, drinking, and cooking water instead of using the sink and risk freezing the pipes. You plunged your hands into a basin of pleasantly lukewarm water, scrubbing Joel’s blood from your knuckles and from under your fingernails. 

Grabbing a clean, dry towel from the overhead clothes line that spanned the width of your cabin, you dunked it in the same basin, wringing it out before returning to the table where Joel lay on his back. He was still as pale as freshly driven snow, but his breathing seemed to have slowed and evened. You used the fresh, damp towel to sponge his torso clean, redunking it in the same now-bloodied water basin you’d washed your hands in. The girl watched you warily in the dim light. 

“How’d you learn to do that?” she asked quietly, nodding in the direction of your crude medical handiwork. 

“Necessity. Like I said, anyone who lives out here has to figure stuff like that out for themselves.” You unbuttoned Joel’s shirt and shimmied one of his arms out of it, then the next. You tossed the balled up shirt into the water basin, making a mental note to add salt to the water to help wash out the stains. 

“There’s a sweatshirt in the top drawer over by the bed,” you called over your shoulder. “Pull it out for me, would you?” You heard the dull sound of wood-on-wood as the girl opened the chest of drawers where you kept your meager collection of clothing. A few seconds later, she appeared next to you, the dark sweatshirt in her hands. You took it from her, and with her help slid Joel’s head through the neck opening and his arms through the sleeves. 

“Alright, we gotta move him.” She raised her eyebrows at you in surprise. 

“We can’t let him sleep here?” she asked, looking around the small cabin. 

“No. He needs to stay warm, I want to keep him close to the fire tonight. Besides, if he rolls over, this is a lot farther to fall than the cot. Just pull the cot over here, we can get him down onto that and then slide it over the floor.” 

The girl moved quickly, dragging the camping cot you used as a bed over from its usual corner of the cabin next to the kitchen table. She peeled back the four layers of blankets and sheets you slept with to the innermost layer, shedding the pillow from the head of the cot to the ground so as to give you both the broadest space possible to work with. The cot had a ground clearance of only a few inches, a drop of almost two and a half feet from the table where the unconscious and newly sewn Joel lay like a pile of bricks. Your arms were already screaming from the strain of trying to keep him in the saddle, and you knew that your young companion wouldn’t be able to lift a full-grown man’s weight. 

She noticed your eyes calculating the drop from the table to the cot. 

“We could tip him into it?” she offered. 

You exhaled slowly, considering the options. You couldn’t risk bending him at the waist and popping his stitches, otherwise it would be a relatively simple operation that could be done in stages. Even though you didn’t think tipping the table and letting him roll down into the cot was a great solution, it was about the best you could do. After a moment, you nodded. You moved the seating bench you’d used to stitch Joel up out of the way, replacing it with the cot. The girl circled to the opposite side of the table, her hands poised on the edge as if ready to push.

“You come over here, help keep him still and give him a soft landing.” She obliged, switching spots with you. 

“Ready?” you asked her. She nodded solemnly. You threw your weight against the edge of the kitchen table. You could feel every muscle up and down your back screaming in protest as the table slowly rose up on one side. Joel’s limp form began to slide slowly across the smooth, wood surface. The girl braced his descent with her hands, guiding him as gently as possible towards the cot. You continued to push against the table, willing your muscles to put one last push in before you let them rest. With a gentle thud, Joel rolled off the table and landed squarely in the center of the cot. You caught the table before it tipped over on top of him and guided it back down to the ground. Its surface was stained with blood and the floor around it was littered with bloody rags, your bait and tackle box, and a half-empty bottle of vodka. The place looked like a battlefield medic station, and you supposed in reality it wasn’t all that different. 

From the other side of the table, you watched as the girl gently situated Joel’s head on your pillow, pulling the covers back over his body. Her actions were tender and gentle. 

“You sure Joel isn’t your dad?” you asked. She shot you a withering glare. 

“He’s not,” she muttered sullenly. Once she was satisfied with the quality of his sleeping arrangements, you moved two of the water basins away from the edge of the stove and helped her drag the cot with him in it next to the cabin’s only heat source. When the cot was in its final position, the two of you sat back on the floor, panting with exhaustion. 

You motioned in the direction of the only chair you had in the cabin - an old fabric recliner you’d covered with multiple blankets to make up for its sagging cushions. 

“You can sleep there,” you offered. 

The girl’s eyes traveled gratefully to the chair back to you. 

“What about you?”

You motioned to the floor on the opposite side of the stove. There weren’t any other soft surfaces to find in the small, one-room cabin. 

“Who’s going to take watch?” she asked as she wearily stumbled in the direction of the chair. 

“Watch? What do you think we need to watch for out here exactly?” 

She looked at you with those dark, mistrustful eyes, and you got the distinct impression that those eyes had seen much more than her age implied. 

“For people.” There was a hollowness in her reply that made your skin crawl.

You stood and grabbed a few spare towels from the clothesline, folding them into a neat stack that you took over to the cleared space on the floor opposite the stove from Joel. You paused before laying down to add a few logs from the dried woodpile to the stove. When you finally did lay down on the floor, you could feel a shadow of the coming morning’s aches in your shoulders.

“I’ve lived here alone for six years,” you told the girl, sensing from the way her eyes bored holes in the side of your skull that she wasn’t going to let the matter drop so easily. “We don’t need a watch.” 

You let your eyes flutter close as you willed your wrenched-up muscles to relax. The girl didn’t answer you, but in a few breaths you heard the chair creak as her weight settled in it. Aside from the merry cackling of the fresh logs popping in the stove, you let the rhythm of two sets of breathing carry you off to a fitful sleep.

**read chapter 3 here let me know if you'd like to be tagged if you like this series, check out my Joel Miller masterlist for other works