#and immediately catch a fucking awful cough

[rainia]

i log onto this site for the first time in weeks just to look at some Ashey Winters fanart as one does, and that one post has gotten like 10k more notes wtfffff gurl rip my notifs hahahahah anyways I hope you’re all doing good on here,,I partied too close to the sun it would appear, turns out 4 parties in 10 days is too much for my weak lil self and I’ve spent the last few days sick in bed o7 on the mend but goddamn. Also I was gonna post about the pd epilogue because it was perfect in every way but yeee I was too sick to post hahaha in my past life i think I was a sickly victorian child who died of the mild cold or perhaps i was a hedgehog too sleepy and content for capitalism and its dastardly ways

[delusionalwh6re]

forget him

aged up!neteyam x fem metkayina!reader

summary: you are meant to be mates with one of your clan’s finest warriors. however, your heart belongs to another

warnings: 🔞 smut, p in v, riding, missionary, doggystyle, oral (m receiving), cheating?, squirting, slight daddy kink, mentions of argument, and neteyam being sexy as always

authore note: ngl i don’t even blame y/n.. like cmon now it’s neteyam, him over anyone any day!!!

i’m changing my aesthetic & writing style and i loveee it

it wasn’t supposed to happen. what started off as shy glances and little smiles progressively led to something more. you will never forget the day you met neteyam sully. the day his family came to your island seeking uturu. you couldn’t help the way your eyes took in his body. in awe of his stripes, that sharp jawline, his feline like nose that scrunched up slightly in discomfort, or even his thin tail that showed his emotions right through it.

his eyes caught onto you as well. immediately widening his eyes at your beauty. your curly hair that reached the middle of your back, your teal skin that complimented your environment so well, the thickness of your thighs following along with your wet body…

you were so breathtaking. neteyam’s breath got stuck in his throat causing him to let out a fake cough as he looked away from you. his eyes trailing onto his brother who was staring at another metkayina girl who happened to be next to you. he learned a couple of minutes later that her name was tsireya, the olo’eyktan’s daughter.

his eyes met his brother’s as they both non verbally decided that maybe this place wasn’t so bad after all…

as time went on, the two of you established a ‘friendship’. the two of you would have hangouts together with your friends tsireya, ao’nung, roxto, kiri and lo’ak. during these hangouts it was clear that there was some flirtation going on. whenever you guys weren’t with your group of friends the flirtation only escalated.

it got to a point where your soon to be mate raluq noticed the tension between you two. he confronted you about this and a big argument displayed. basically, raluq did not approve of your friendship with neteyam and specifically told you to stay away from him. you went off about how he’s being dramatic. he did not care about how you felt and demanded that you stopped being around neteyam.

of course you were quite stubborn and hated when people told you what to do like you were some child. especially from a man who wasn’t even your official husband. so you went behind his back and continued seeing neteyam. although it had to be in private because you wanted to avoid conflict with raluq, but it seemed like being alone from everyone else only made things better…

“shiiiit, just like that yawne” a breathless groan came from beneath you as you rode neteyam’s cock. your moans got higher and higher as each time you bounced back down on him his tip grazed right on your g-spot.

“oh! oh nete” you whimpered closing your eyes as you threw your head back in pure bliss. you’ve been riding him for a good ten minutes and it’s safe to safe you never wanted that feeling of pure ecstasy to ever stop.

your dainty hands placed onto his chest to support you as you rode him like there was no tomorrow. your eyes slowly opened once you felt him give your hips a squeeze as a warning.

“your little boyfriend must not fuck you this good hm?” he teased with a slight smirk at the way your jaw was practically reaching the floor as drool slowly left your mouth.

you huffed catching an attitude at just the mention of raluq. “shut up, technically you’re not even fucking me. i’m fucking you” following with an eye roll. you looked down to where your privates were connecting as you noticed the white ring forming at the base of his dick.

suddenly your back hit the mossy grass beneath your bodies as neteyam was now on top of you. you squealed once he pulled out his length only leaving his tip inside before plunging back into your warm cunt.

“NETEYAM!” you screamed before covering your mouth with your finned hand. his braids covered the sides of his face as he began fucking you senseless. your quiet whimpers and moans from before quickly became screams of pleasure.

“who’s not fucking you?” his head tilted as he looked down at you with a shit eating grin. “you’re such a dick” you turned your head avoiding his gaze “and you love it” he whispered in your ear.

you felt your pussy fluttering against him at the closeness between you two. sure he was literally rearranging your guts at the moment but there was also something about despite being sexual he was still actually intimate with you.

he tilted his hips in an angle that allowed you to feel everything. your breath got stuck in your throat letting your hand fly down to his stomach trying to stop him. his movements only slowing down the tiniest bit before looking down at you.

“move your fucking hand” he gave you a warning. you shook your head feeling him right against your cervix. it was like he was trying to fracture your lungs. you were caught out of a trance as you felt a harsh slap against your thigh causing you to whimper.

“what did i just tell you?” his hand gripped the thigh that he just slapped. you let out a whine as you slowly removed your hand in defeat causing neteyam to hum in satisfaction “smart choice”

you rolled your eyes at him before grinding your hips against his impatiently. all he did was look down at you with the cockiest look ever. “teyam please” you reached to hold onto him.

“please what?” he leaned over to be face to face with you. now the two of you were chest to chest and you were able to wrap your hands around his neck.

“please fuck me. please, i need you” you whispered to him while soothing his hair. he unexpectedly let out a purr at your actions before hiding his face in your chest to stop himself from just fucking you until your body molded into the ground.

that’s how bad he wanted you, no, how bad he needed you. he placed each of his forearms on the side of your head before placing a gentle kiss on your lips.

you deepened the kiss by gripping onto his braids to bring him even closer. yes, your people wore braids but it was just something about his. the colorful beads he wore and the way they danced with all of his movements, it was just something about neteyam.

he began picking his thrusting up again to give you slow but deep strokes. you quickly became a moaning mess under him “fuck! yes, right there. im sooo close”. hearing your words caused him to pick up the pace letting his sticky pelvis collide with yours.

“this pussy drives me crazy, it’s so so good” he moaned out closing his eyes. your hands flew to grip onto his shoulders as his dick began jackhammering you and you were starting to lose some balance “it’s yours! it’s all yours”

“yeah?” he placed your thighs all the way up to your chest making you let out a pleasure filled scream. “yes! i swear baby, oh i swear”

“you’re mine you hear me? not that bum ass excuse of a mate you’re supposed to be with, mine!” he spoke sternly holding onto the back of your thighs tightly letting all his emotions out straight into your pussy.

“my eywa” your jaw slacked as your eyes began moving to the back of your head. your lower half began to convulse under his powerful thrusts as your third orgasm was starting to approach.

without warning your orgasm gushed out of you once neteyam gave you one deep, hard, and final stroke. wrapping your legs around him as his thrusts became sloppy signaling he was close.

he let out a low growl before painting your walls white. his movements came to a stop as the both of your chests heaved up and down to catch a breath. once he caught his breath he leaned up to look back at you.

“i’m not done with you” his eyes looked you up and down seductively as all the respect for yourself officially left your body. before you could even mutter a word you were flipped onto your stomach.

a gasp left your mouth before biting your lip at how easily he manhandled you. you decided to tease him by using your tail to caress the inside of his inner thigh which you knew was one of his sensitive spots.

your teasing didn’t last long once a harsh slap was placed directly on your ass making you squeal. “tote that ass up for me baby” he gripped onto your hips. your face heated up before obeying his words. arching your back until your chest was touching the ground with your ass completely in the air. “like that daddy?” you looked back with a smirk while expanding your arms in front of you knowing it was one of his favorite positions.

“you know me so well huh?” his head tilting with a cheesy smile on his face at your advancements. you hummed while shaking your head with a smile on your face. “im all yours neteyam” you whispered rubbing your bare dripping cunt all over him encouraging him to destroy you right now.

before you knew it he was fucking himself back into you. your face planted into the ground as euphoria began to fulfill your entire body.

“you feel soooo good, neteyam!” your words came out as babbles of nonsense since you were completely drunk off of him. he chuckled watching you turn into a mess under him “i know my love, you love this dick don’t you?”

you moaned at his words trying to gain some composure “ngh- yes i love it so much” feeling your core tighten once again you decided to throw yourself back onto him so the both of you could cum together.

“holy shit” he whispered to himself now focusing on the recoil of your ass. moving your thick tail out of the way so he can watch his dick slide inside of you, letting out a moan at the sight.

“fuck! fuck, y/n” he began moaning while reaching out to wrap your curly hair around his forearm. “ouu! neteyam im gonna cum” you panted out of breath. the movements of his hips started to slow down as he began to circulate them. your moans were beginning to get stuck in your throat.

he leaned over you making sure to be right by your face “i love you mama, you hear me?”. all you could do was moan and hold onto this man like your life depended on it. “i love you too tey”

he kissed the shell of your ear “oh i know you do”. backing up to finish properly fucking you he gave you a few final thrusts leading the both of you to a very intense orgasm.

you began whining and gripping onto the grass in front of you for balance as you felt your body being fucked into oblivion. as your fourth orgasm was slowly but surely creeping up on you, it felt a bit different.

“baby, i don’t feel right” you whispered reaching to hold onto neteyam. he grabbed on your hand while using the other hand to hold onto your hip to keep his thrusts steady.

“what is it yawne?” he softly rubbed your flesh. “it burns, i feel like im gonna explode” you muttered in a concerned tone. you never felt like this before during the other times you and neteyam have had sex. which was a lot…

he smirked before grabbing your other hand. he interlocked your hands together behind your back holding them down with his. before you could even ask him what he was doing his free hand traveled below you to rub tight circles onto your clit.

you gasped “neteyam!”. the knot in your stomach got tighter and tighter. you felt like your body was set on fire. the pleasure that you received from the man you loved never failed to amaze you.

“almost there baby, you got it pretty girl. just let go i’m right behind you” he praised in a soothing tone that could put you to sleep. you didn’t know what was happening or how but at just his words your body was releasing something wet and really liquidity. you had squirted all over him.

“mhm shit. so so good baby. good job, you’re still doing so good for me” his thrusts got sloppy before he shot another load inside of you.

once he gently pulled out of you, you used the little bit of strength you had left to turn to look back at him. his eyes were already on yours and at the sight of your face he smiled. you smiled back before crawling closer to him eager for more skin to skin contact.

“hi” you whispered shyly making him chuckle at you “hi”. you smiled looking up and down at his gorgeous body. whew! eywa took her time with him. he was truly the most gorgeous man you ever saw.

slowly trailing your eyes down his chest, then to his v line, and finally to his cum covered cock. you licked your lips as a tiny smirk made its way to your face. you looked up at him tilting your head while placing a hand on his abdomen signaling what you want.

he bit his lower lip placing a hand in your hair to form it into a makeshift ponytail giving you all the conformation you needed. you began getting to work, sliding your tongue underneath his shaft to ease him up faster.

his breath shuddered causing his chest to puff. you smirked at the effect you seemed to have on him with just one simple movement. you licked his tip gently a few times before engulfing him into your mouth. although your throat was sore from all the screaming and moaning you were just doing, you didn’t let that stop you. you bobbed your head up and down softly knowing that’s all he would need being previously sensitive from several orgasms.

your finned hand reached up to gently grab his balls to massage them. his low whimpers quickly turned into moans as another orgasm started to approach him. “you’re so good at this fuck” his head was thrown back

you slurped all of your mixed juices off of him making sure all of it went down your throat as you prepared for another one of his loads. tears began filling your eyes at the lack of air but you were metkayina, you could hold that damn breath.

“baby, baby, im close” he gripped your hair tightly moving your head back and forth to his liking. after sucking him in with your cheeks, that was it. his creamy thick nut filled up your entire mouth. you quickly began swallowing. some of it made it down your throat while the rest dribbled down your chin, and it had to be one of the most attractive sights neteyam ever saw.

“wow” he panted breathlessly before sitting on the ground to gain composure. you giggled at him while wiping some cum onto your thumb. you held eye contact with him as you slowly placed your thumb in your mouth. swirling your tongue around it slowly before placing it directly on your tongue.

his eyes widened slightly with a smirk on his face “damn girl, you’re nasty”. the both of you went into a fit of laughter as reality began to set in, the two of you really had a special place in each other’s heart. he gestured for you to come over to him with his arms out. you happily obliged crawling over to him so the both of you could lay in peace.

“look at you, sucking me clean and shit” he teased wiping some of his cum off your body with a wet rag from your belongings. you playfully rolled your eyes while giggling as you watched him take care of you so lovingly.

“you must be hungry” he mumbled. you smirked admiring the way his muscles unintentionally flexed at the way he took care of you “not for food”. he shook his head at your words and laughing before suddenly stopping all his movements.

“what about raluq?” his gaze became cold as he stared at you with a blank face. you searched his eyes finding them full of seriousness, curiosity and a bit of jealousy. after the two of you just stared at each other in thought, you gently grabbed his tail. tugging on it to bring him closer so your lips was hovering over his as you whispered “forget him”

[lottiecrabie]

don’t fuck the line cooks. part two – matty healy

ever since that night in the walk-in, you can only think about the next time. hopefully if you push and prod him enough, you’ll get your way…

warnings: 18+, fingering, oral sex (m and f receiving), unprotected sex, masturbation, public sex, drug use, sex under the influence, degradation, choking, overstimulation, dom/sub dynamics, authority kink, problematic age gap problematic age gaping, sleazy man is even sleazier in this somehow

part two of two

18,294 words

You lick the salt off the back of your hand, shooting the cheap tequila, immediately wincing from the taste and worsening it with a bite of tart lime. You shake your head, hoping to flick acid off your tongue. 

“God,” you say for good measure. “I can’t seem to get used to this.”

Beside you, Veronica laughs, eating the lime off the rind. She gives you a green smile, features uncrinkled. She is used to this. “It’ll come with age.” 

You roll your eyes. “You’re only four years older than me.”

“Yeah, but you were severely stunted for the twenty-one first years of your life, so the difference is staggering.” 

“Ar-ar. You’re hilarious.” 

“I know.” She flicks the lime rind on the counter, a disheveled green skin rid of meat. She licks the leftover salt off her lips— with some of her bright red lipstick, too. She grabs your wrist next, shimmying her shoulders as she reels you from the bar. “C’mon. Let’s dance.” 

“My feet hurt,” you pout in mock-protest, but your limbs are loose from the booze and you’re easily whisked away to the dancefloor. 

The Darling is the nearest bar from the restaurant with the cheapest alcohol. It’s a dirty thing, drenched in obscurity and the occasional neon sign, smelling like sweat and cigarettes, and sticky to walk on. It plays the same songs over and over again— every night for the past decade, the same playlist booms from the speakers. You know the tunes by heart now, screaming the lyrics without a single title coming to mind. 

The Darling is where everyone crashes after shift drinks, itching for a bigger buzz and a dance. Your coworkers crowd the place, talking to the bartenders like old friends, familiarly finding the labyrinthine way to the toilets. (Find the bar, take a turn to your right, follow a dark corridor, beside the kitchen to the left.)

You’re sore and tired from a double, a neck vein nearly popped when a customer dared ask for—no, insist on a steak half rare-half medium on each side uncut. Dread filled you when you approached the kitchen, putting on a dazzling smile to transmit the ridiculous request. Sighs, and swears, and that shake of head that makes his curls bounce filled the room as he got to work, frustrated and pissed, but obedient still. 

Him. You spin on your feet, finding Matty still at the bar, sipping on a dark drink with George. You smile, eyes twinkling, detaching yourself from your friend as you sway towards him. You practically fall on his side— his hand catches you at your waist, near your hip, decidedly inappropriate, but instinctive. 

“Hullo,” you say in a poor imitation of their accents. George snorts. “Watcha drinking?” You ask Matty, scrunching your nose. 

He arches an eyebrow, sliding the glass towards you. “Have a taste.” You grab it without hesitating, knocking a mouthful and immediately regretting it. You cough, shaking your head. That’s straight liquor. Matty laughs, soothingly rubbing a hand on your back. “You okay?” 

“What is wrong with you?”

“Aw, princess,” he coos, taking a sip of his whiskey and not even twitching as the bitter taste washes his mouth. “You’ll like it when you’re older.” 

Again, you roll your eyes. Taking an easy dig at your age when he’s been between your thighs some nothing-days ago is hypocritical. The retort burns your tongue, but you bite it back for present company. Matty looks at you a little gleefully, like he knows, like it amuses him. 

You turn to George with a smile. “What about you? Are you drinking something sane?” 

He snorts. “Just a rum and coke, sweets. I’m afraid it’s not very special.” 

You reach for his drink anyway and he offers it gladly, metal rings around the cool glass. You tip it, smiling at the sweetness, licking it off your lips. “George, you have much better taste.” 

“Hey!”

“I know.”

“Order me a drink, will you?” You say, fluttering your eyelashes at him. As though you would even need the extra persuasion; he’s already shouting a drink at a bartender, putting it on Matty’s tab with a point of a thumb. 

Matty rolls his eyes beside you, his fingers digging into your waist in warning. Something low simmers between your legs. You smirk to yourself. You like the feel of that. 

“There you go,” George says, passing you the orange drink that’s been slapped on the counter. “A sweet drink for a sweet girl.” 

You smile gratefully at him, tasting it. It’s fruity and light; your lips stretch up. “Thanks, George.” 

“‘Course.” 

Ross crashes in your group, swinging an arm over George’s shoulder, clearly smashed. “Mate, they fixed the PacMan machine.” 

“No way. Is my score still on it?”

“DICKH3AD bright and red!” With a laugh, the two of them whisk away to the arcade game, off somewhere to the left, tucked between two tables. 

You’re alone with Matty now. A thrill resonates within you— it’s silly. It’s not like he’s gonna bend you over this bar and take you right this moment, in front of anyone. It’s not like he’s done anything of the sort since the walk-in fridge. Still, you spin to face him, arching an eyebrow, practically inviting him to. 

He sees the meaning tacked onto your eyelashes, clear as day, yet he does nothing but grin to himself, taking a sip of his awful whiskey on rocks. 

You huff, opting for another strategy. “Are you upset I asked George to order me a drink?” You try instead, hoping to prod and poke until he snaps again— finally. 

Matty smirks. “I’d have picked something lighter. Little girl like you can’t handle her liquor yet.” He pouts, “She’s just started drinking.” Your fingers grip around the glass, something hot and shameful dripping inside of you. 

“Why? Have plans for me I can’t be drunk for?” 

Matty leans back on his stool, properly looking at you. His gaze licks up your naked legs, your short skirt, your white top. Your heart beats twice as fast. Subconsciously, you straighten, needing to be taller, older, more mature. To satisfy, to excel. 

“If I said yes, would you not drink it?” His eyes flick to the orange glass between your clenched hands. It’s barely sipped, condensation running on your fingers. He meets your gaze next. There’s a game of chess, and you can’t seem to figure out what he wants. How to win. 

You want to win. You need to win. You feel it throbbing between your legs, that desperate urge. 

You drop the glass on the counter. It clinks on the wood, then settles, pretty and discarded. His turn. 

Matty smiles, satisfied. He stands from his stool, and a surge of excitement shoots up your spine. You don’t need the alcohol when you have him anyway.

Matty leans in, then pats your shoulder. “The boys are waiting for me.” He sidesteps you, then gets lost into the crowd. You watch him go, mouth parted in offense and disbelief. 

What a fucking dickhead. You make a low noise of annoyance, taking your glass and slurping half of it down in rebellion. You march to one of the empty booths, rage twisting your guts. 

You just want him to fuck you. It’s been five days. What is he waiting for? 

You slide into the sticky bench, ruminating in your anger as you chew on the plastic blue straw of your cocktail. 

“Hey,” Landon, a server, nods at you as he pulls into the opposite side of the booth. You nod back. “I can’t believe I’m about to say this, but I’m growing tired of The Darling’s playlist.” 

“Take two shots. It’ll be back.” 

“Sage advice.” He tips his chin towards your drink. “Are you taking revenge for turtles or has this straw personally wronged you?”

You sigh, letting go of the plastic, pushing the glass away from you. “It’s killed my family. Arson, you see? It was brutal.” 

“I would offer my condolences, but that would mean my boss is dead, and I’m not the biggest fan of his. Would a muted hooray be acceptable?” 

You huff, smirking at him. “Bold of you to tell the boss’ daughter.” 

“Well, I’m quite drunk.” 

You smile. “I’ll cheer to that.” You knock your empty glass to his beer mug. 

Landon gasps. “In the eyes,” he chastises. “Or it’s seven years of bad sex.” You laugh, opening your eyes comically wide to cheer him next. You’ve just broken the curse. You’re not about to be pulled back into mediocre hookups now. “Better,” he nods, finally taking a sip of his beer.

You haven’t talked to Landon much before, nothing other than pleasantries and the quick quips exchanged between two tables. You quickly find that he’s funny, pulling snorting laughs out of your tipsy mouth as he recounts some of his worst customer stories like grand, epic tales. He offers sips of his beer graciously, then buys you your own when the supply is diminishing. You don’t even like beer, but you accept the gift nonetheless, letting the awful taste fizz in your mouth and slacken your head. 

A hand over your mouth, you half-hide your laugh as it bursts out of you. “I can’t believe you would say that!” 

“And I got fired for it,” Landon argues, screaming a defense. 

“Well, obviously—”

“What’s the funny story?” Both of you jump in surprise at the intruder. Turning towards the voice, you find Matty sliding in the booth next to you. 

Already, he takes his place like he owns it, spreading through the leather seats. His legs part comfortably, his thigh sticks to yours, his arm hangs over the back of the booth, tickling your nape. He wraps a hand around your beer, pulling it towards him, taking a sip shamelessly. He sits like he owns you. 

You roll your eyes, taking back your mug, though you hold it between your hands and don’t drink it. Silence reigns around the table. Neither you or Landon feel particularly inclined to talk. 

“C’mon,” Matty pokes, looking back and forth between the two of you. “I want to know the funny story.” 

“It’s just about this customer at my old job who was an asshole,” Landon laughs easily to his credit. “Bet you heard a thousand like it before.” 

“Yeah,” Matty nods, “I bet I did.” There’s something dark in his eyes, in the intensity of his gaze on Landon, like there is some hidden insult he’s supposed to catch. 

Matty’s eyes fall on you next, flicking to the beer and then back to your daggering glare, cocking his head condescendingly. “I didn’t know you liked beer.” He says it like some genuine question, but you know he knows the answer. 

“It’s okay,” you say tightly. 

“Mmh, yeah,” Matty smirks. “I’m sure Landon could give you a lot of okay things.” Your smile crisps on your face. The fucking asshole. 

“Landon,” you practically shout, turning towards him in a desperate attempt to ignore Matty. “I heard you were applying for the position of lead server?” 

Matty snorts. “Did your daddy tell you that?” 

You grit your teeth, “As a matter of fact, yes.” You smile at Landon. “He wanted my opinion. I’ll tell him I think you’d be great.” 

“Thanks,” he smiles at you genuinely. “I promise I won’t call anyone a raging hormonal grade A wanker.” 

You laugh. “Oh, please do if I ever need it.” You shake your head, twisting the beer in your hands, but still avoiding the aftertaste that would linger in your mouth. “Yesterday, I had a woman who—”

Matty’s hand rests on your naked thigh, cold from the glass and a smoke outside, rough in sinfully familiar ways, spreading over your leg like this, too, he owns. You stifle a gasp. The words die in your mouth. 

“Who what?” Matty encourages you, frowning at you like he’s not perfectly aware of what he’s doing under the table. 

As though he’s trying to entirely rob the words out of your mouth, he trails his fingertips up and down your thigh, raising goosebumps on the skin. You throw him a glance with some furious demand to quit it, but there’s a deeper need for him to do just the opposite. 

You rake your throat, flipping back to Landon. “She came in already pissed and prissy, telling me she’s never gotten a good experience here. Why she bothers to come back is completely beyond me. I mean, you would think she would give up then, because—”

Matty’s hand dips to your inner thighs and your lips hang open, mind shortcircuiting. Without even thinking, you spread them for him, giving him further space. He smirks at that, at the resounding blush on your cheeks as you realize what you’ve done. 

He presses into the meat of your leg, one finger at a time, so you’re so aware of him you might get dizzy. His pinky slips under the hem of your skirt, inching close to inappropriate. 

“Um, anyway,” you laugh awkwardly, desperate to get through this story. Your face heats up, the knowledge of Matty’s teasing under the table — in front of Landon — burning at your mind. Matty chuckles beside you. You rake your throat. “I try to do my best, you know— smile so fucking wide I could rip my cheeks— but she’s just asking me stupid question after stupid question like this is an interrogatory or something.”

Your eyes flicker between Landon and Matty, moving from amused eyes to a condescending nod, urging you on as a warm hand slips further and further up your thigh. Pleasure wakes up in your belly— just a little, just the idea of what it could be. God, you need him, and the worst is that he knows, staring at you so fucking cocky and proud. 

You stutter, “And— And she speaks to me like I’m the dumb one in this interaction! I mean, she’s asking me the size of our salad leaves because if they’re too big then I’ll have to cut them and yet—”

Matty’s finger meets the apex of your thighs. You jump, hips rolling into his hand, hand flying to your mouth to cover a moan you just barely avoid letting out. You need this story over. 

Matty seems to predict your plan to wrap it up, wasting no time to linger and tease and brush, instead rubbing his fingers up and down, pressing into your soaked underwear. You clamp around his hand, biting your lip. 

“So she pulled me every which way during my whole shift and—” He finds your clit easily, pressing on it through the cloth, making lazy circles that have your legs shaking under the table nonetheless. Pleasure rushes up them, burning with memory and apprehension. 

Your voice trembles as you continue, “—and I had to scream in the fridge so I wouldn’t lunge at her from the table—” You make the mistake of looking Matty’s way and he grins at you knowingly, the crow’s feet by his eyes denting as he licks mischief off his lips. His fingers push your underwear aside. 

You grip his wrist under the table, but he gathers a pool of your arousal still, as though to point out how much this little game is actually affecting you, no matter your useless protests. Your breath hitches. He pinches your bud meanly. Your head spins and spins deliriously. 

You focus on Landon, rushing out. “And then she tipped me 2%.” You grin at him cartoonishly big and fake, practically screaming, “Your turn!” 

“I think I remember that,” Matty cuts in before Landon can say anything. He teases your entrance and a jolt of ecstasy zaps through you. He smirks, “You screaming in the walk-in.” You glare at him, remembering being so wet and tired in the fridge you thought you might liquify and melt on the floor, holding onto his back for dear life as he thrusted inside of you, over and over, finding that perfect spot that had you screaming. 

You’re red and hot and fuck it. You stand up, his hand falling out of your skirt. “Actually, I need a smoke.”

Matty stands up beside you. “I have a pack.” You’re off before Landon can add anything, lost to the swallowing crowd of drunk service workers. 

You make a beeline for the bar. Matty catches up to you easily, knocking against your side, clearly so fucking pleased with himself. If you weren’t so turned on you think you could actually catch fire, you might tell him to fuck off. 

You turn to the right into a dark corridor. “He wasn’t flirting with me,” you say through gritted teeth because you would like to at least establish that. 

Matty snorts. “Don’t be naive. He fucking wanted you.” 

“It’s not because I have a conversation with a guy that we’re automatically about to get it on.” 

He scoffs. “I know guys, and I know that guy would have gotten it on with you right there on the fucking table if you had asked.” You roll your eyes, which only seems to piss him off. “And what were you doing giggling at him?” 

“Am I not allowed to laugh?” 

“Landon isn’t that fucking funny. The guy barely has enough wit to sustain a conversation.” 

“You don’t even know him,” you protest with a disbelieved laugh. Kitchen. To the left. 

“I’ve worked with the bloke for three years. If he’s told a joke in that time, I’ve yet to be around to hear it.” 

You push the bathroom door, giving him a prissy look behind your shoulder. “Well, you’re missing out. Maybe you should talk to people other than waitresses half your age—” The bathroom door slams behind the both of you. Matty grabs both your cheeks and crashes his mouth against your lips. He shuts you up with a heated tongue and sure, callused fingers on your skin, and it works. 

You part your mouth instinctively, kissing him back with fervor and unbridled need. Adrenaline shoots up your spine, alongside childish glee, the thrilled knowledge that this is finally happening. The argument is a faraway concept you don’t care about. 

Your hands dig into his back, clutching on the flimsy material of his washed-out white shirt, wishing to rip it off of him. He groans into your mouth, tilting his head and kissing you harder. 

Matty pushes you against the door, fixing you in place with a hand on your hip and another palming roughly at your breast. You moan in his mouth, lick into his with devotion. Your fingers hide in the mess of his curls, tugging. Hoping it makes him a little crazy— the instinct to poke and prod and tug for something still boiling inside of you. 

And it works. His fingertips dig into your hip, pressing meanly into the bone, and he shivers. He kisses you with abandon, stealing each breath from your mouth until you’re drunk on the lack of oxygen and him. He tastes like whiskey and cigarettes, and you kiss and kiss and kiss until your mind swirls lazily in your skull. 

He bites your lip, tugging it and releasing it with a smirk. You whine, so fucking wet it drips down your thighs, titling your hips in hope of finding some friction. You tremble between his arms and you know, desperately, deliciously, annoyingly, that he has you right where he wants. 

“Please,” you whisper in the dark of the bathroom, already pleading your case like you know you’ll have to. Matty licks his lips, digging under the risen hem of your skirt. “Please, please, please, Matty,” you rush immediately again, rolling your hips against nothing. 

“What do you want?” 

“You.” You take his wrist, puppeteering his hand up and up until it finds the wet patch of your underwear. You bite your lip, a gasp seconds away from spilling. “Your fingers.”

“Mine, huh?” He says, and indulgently slips your underwear aside. This time, nothing stops the resulting breathy moan. “Those fingers?” He brushes up your entrance, finding your clit and rubbing gently at it. 

You roll your eyes, letting your last hand fall to his shoulder and clutching it for support. “Yes.” As though satisfied with your answer, he rewards you with speed, circling and swiping at you until your face breaks open with a silent moan. Pleasure blooms in your belly. Finally. Every aching muscle in you sings in unabashed thrill. “Fuck, Matty.” 

He dips into your neck, kissing and licking at the delicate curve, climbing up your jaw. He’s unrelenting between your thighs and you simply grip his wrist, letting yourself be washed with euphoria. Those calluses might kill you one day.

“You’re so fucking desperate for me,” he says, and though the words are harsh, the tone is reverent. He looks down at you, at your body bending and parting just for him, at your pleading stare, at your red, panting mouth. Devours the sight. “Got you so fucking ready just from touching you under the table. Did you like it, princess? Liked being bad? Liked getting fingered in front of your little buddy?” 

You nod furiously. Pleasure loosens your head enough to lose the inherent need to be a rule-abiding, prim, moral girl. Yes to taboo, yes to indency, yes to anything if it’s him. 

“Bet he’d be so upset if he saw you now. Should we go get him? Give him a show?” Faintly, you shake your head, embarrassment and ecstasy spinning your mind. You moan into his neck, desperate. Your hips grind against his hand for more. 

He presses into your clit, making your eyes roll with a gasp. “He’d love to see you like this. Fucked out when I’ve barely even touched you. Making the prettiest sounds ever. God, I could fucking hear them all day. All desperate and whiney, like you can’t get enough of me.” He rubs at you twice as fast just to hear you whimper, muffled by a bite of his shoulder. His name drowns in the fibers, shirt wet by a slack mouth. 

“I can’t,” you admit, shaking in his arms.  

“Fucked the old, dirty man at work and now you can’t fucking live without his cock, right? What would they all think if they saw you, cockdrunk and fucking begging for it?” 

“Yes! Just— Fuck, just do something, sir.” 

“So fucking wet for me,” he coos, all proud and pleased. You grin, letting go of his shoulder to press kisses up his neck. He shudders. “We should show them, right? At least let them hear it.” Two of his fingers dip to your entrance and enter, slowly, letting the pornographic, squelching sound resonate through the quiet room. “There you go.”  

You’re too blissed out to care how it sounds, too busy getting used to the delicious stretch of his digits to fully notice how each thrust makes sopping, wet noises. You shiver, gripping his shoulder, biting wherever you can get your teeth into. Matty groans in your ear and you grin, happy. 

“No one can fuck you like this,” Matty whispers, and indulgently speeds up his movement, curling into you as a reminder. 

Euphoria coils in your belly, familiarly burning and tightening the strings of your body. You shake your head. “No one,” you agree, religious. 

“No one can get you off.”

Again, you grip his shoulders, promising, “No one.” And it’s true. Even your own hand has been a poor replacement to the art he can draw on your skin, making your body sing like his favorite instrument. His thumb rolls at you in tandem, a fast, harsh tempo. “Fucking hell,” you cry and scrunch your face. 

He smirks, whispering, “No one can see you like this.”

“No one, Matty. Only you.”

Matty kisses your cheek, a serpent smile on his lips. He coos in the shell of your ear, “Then why were you flirting with him?” He doesn’t want you to mistake his sweet tone: he pulls out of you. 

Your eyes flash open, fear gripping your guts. Your cunt already misses him, throbbing around nothing. The taste of pleasure lingers on your teeth, just out of reach. 

“I wasn’t,” you try to plead, but Matty’s already stepping away from you. Your arms fall to your side. Matty nods, but it doesn’t reassure anything in you, now hyperaware of the dangerous gleam in his eyes. “I swear, Matty. I didn’t— He just made me laugh.” You shake your head, chuckling, “Who fucking cares about Landon Williams?” 

Your hand reaches out, grabbing his and drawing it back under your raised skirt. You brush it against your soaked underwear, biting your lip as it makes contact. You whisper, “He doesn’t do this to me.”

Matty is unimpressed. “Of fucking course not.” He bites, pulling away. You pout, displeased, too empty to think. He crosses his arms before you get any other ideas. “Did you finish that drink, princess?” Your cheeks heat up and you look down, caught. He snorts meanly. “Say it.” 

“Yes, but—” 

He cuts you off, furrowing his eyebrows in a comical pout, as though speaking to a little child. “Where did my good little girl go? So fucking eager to please. Brought up with manners and all, right?” 

He takes a step, tilting your chin up with a strong thumb. You part your lips, readied and offered, pleading. “You taste like beer,” he whispers, and then offers a solution: two wet fingers, just out of reach. The message clicks. You don’t hesitate.

You get on your tiptoes, sticking your neck out to catch the digits and suck them between your lips. You roll your tongue around them, moaning with a full mouth, letting the tangy taste of you linger. You release him with a pop, grinning up at him proudly.

You keep it wide open, waiting, and he smirks at you. Knowing exactly what you’re asking for, he bends and spits in your mouth. Sick pleasure fills your mind and you moan, swallowing it, barely catching your breath that he’s muttering, “You’re so fucking dirty,” and falling on your lips. 

You kiss him back eagerly, trying to keep up with his angry, furious pace. You’re wound up so tight you might burst from any touch: just a brush, just a flick, just a thrust and you’d be screaming his name, falling apart on his callused hand. 

“Matty,” you beg between two kisses. You throb around nothing. 

“Taste much better, sweetheart,” he breathes.

He presses a kiss on your lips, then pulls away from you again. You’re whining before he’s even had time to unwrap you from his arms, release your tits from his palms. You frown at him. You’ve done everything he asked. 

“Let this be a lesson, princess.”

“Are you fucking serious?” You cross your arms, fuming. He’s really gonna leave now? Matty seems a bit too happy at your reaction, watching you like his favorite entertainment. 

He smiles, stroking your hair. “How else are you supposed to learn?” He pouts. “If I can’t have my good girl, I’ll make her.” He brushes the saliva and gloss off your lower lip, then opens the bathroom door. 

It falls close with a slam. You stare at the graffitied, dirty mirror and think you might murder someone.

—

Matty is sizzling some meat, twisting salt and pepper above it. The kitchen staff runs around him— they’re late, falling behind because of a missing aioli sauce. 

You wait for your plate and dagger him with a glare. You’re still sticky and unsatisfied from yesterday; you spent until the early hours of the day rubbing between your thighs, desperately trying to satisfy some itch. 

Matty’s eyes rise up as though feeling the handmark of your stare on him. They lock with yours, take in your displeased, furious look, and he smirks. Winks at you. You grab the hot plate sliding across from you with a huff. 

Walking away with a balancing tray, you secretly wish for him to tug you into the nearest bathroom until the whole restaurant knows his name. He doesn’t, of course, and you find your hungry guests with the fakest, biggest smile of all. 

—

The restaurant is eerily calm before the dinner rush, a few seated tables scattered across sections: rushed parents and elderly folks slurping soup. You have just enough of a break to chug the bottle of water you keep at the host stand, pestering Adam as you finally have a minute to quench your thirst. 

Veronica finds you at the stand, leaning both elbows on the wood as she smiles sickly sweet at you. Your eyes narrow in apprehension. “I just got asked something interesting.” You arch an eyebrow. “Landon wants to know if you and Matty are a thing. Said Matty practically pissed all over you two days ago.” 

Your lips don’t even twitch. “Okay.” 

Veronica gives you an expectant look. “Well?” 

Beside you, Adam turns to his computer and decidedly chooses to ignore this. “I am not part of this conversation,” he declares. 

You roll your eyes. “We’re not a thing.”

Veronica laughs. “Oh, come on. No one here is blind. You guys eyefuck so much sometimes we feel like we’re intruding just by picking up a plate.” Admittedly, your cheeks heat up slightly at that. You didn’t think you were that obvious.

She sighs, giving you a serious look. “Just be careful. I don’t think you know what you’re getting yourself into. He’s not like the little goody-goody boyfriends you’ve had. He’ll eat you alive.”

You flutter your eyelashes, faux doe-eyed. “Promise?”

“Reservations, tables, tables. Mmh, chairs.”

You give her a look, entirely ignoring Adam’s interjection. “I’m young, Vee, but I’m not stupid. I’m telling you there’s nothing going on. We’re just having sex.” You click your tongue. “And even then, we’ve only done it, like, once. Once and a half at most.” 

“And a half?” Adam pipes up, then seems to remember who you’re talking about. He raises one hand, shaking his head, defeated. “I don’t even want to know.” He practically bends over the stand to see the computer, as though if he just got close enough to the screen, he could be sucked into its world. 

“I’m leaving for college in less than two months,” you continue. “I’m not trying to date him, or whatever other tragic ways you think he’s gonna break my heart.” You smirk, shrugging, “I just find the gray hair hot.” Veronica snorts at that. 

Still, there’s something relieved in her eyes. Maybe even proud. She smiles at you, then turns to Adam. “And what does Matty have to say about it?”

“No comments.” 

She gasps, facing you with an excited grin. “That means he’s talked about you!” You bite your lip. Could he have? What did he say? 

Veronica is already on it. She pokes Adam’s arm, forcing him to look up at her. “What has he said? C’mon.” She gives him a solemn look, holding her heart. “This is a safe space.”

“That it’s none of my business,” Adam deadpans. “And neither is it yours, brat.”

Before Veronica can add anything, a family of four enter the door, wiping off their sweaty, red foreheads. They laugh as they approach the stand, mentioning the weather. Adam practically jumps to greet them, begging them to follow him. 

“I’m sitting them in your section. That’ll give you something useful to do,” Adam hisses at Veronica, and she pokes her tongue out at him. 

She waits until he’s just out of earshot to trail, “Now that he’s gone…” She faces you with a smirk, rounding the stand and joining you. She gives you a teasing look, biting back a grin. “How was the sex?” You can’t stop the smile shining on your face. It breaks your cheeks. She gasps. “Oh, I knew it. Julia said he was the best sex of her life, too.” 

“She didn’t lie,” you admit, flushed. You cock your head. “You haven’t slept with him?” You’re almost surprised. For all her don’t fuck the line cooks warnings, you had assumed she must have been burned before. 

“Nah,” she shakes her head. She trails, teasing, “I was too busy with Ross.” 

“Hypocrite!”

“I never said anything about bartenders!” But before you can tease her more, Adam calls her name and Veronica’s off with a spin and four menus, blowing you a kiss.

—

It’s dark outside. The street lamps slope over cars, bathing the street in semi-obscurity. You cross your arms, some pretend at a shield. The crew has long left for The Darling while you finished up your closing duties. You wiped your forehead and found yourself too tired to handle another boozy, dancy night, to wake up the next day still a little drunk and off-kilter for a grueling Saturday shift. 

Something catches the corner of your eye. Your head turns, squinting to be sure you’re not mistaken. No, it really is Matty’s car parked in the alleyway. You’d recognize the dirty, beat-up thing anywhere for all the rides it has given you—not in the sense you would like. At least you can ask for one now, avoid the stressful walk home, clenched and quick, holding keys between your fingers. 

You dip into the dark alleyway, walking the cigarette butts-lined path. The car is smoky, a gray curtain to the outside world. You frown, knocking on the window of his backseat. Matty opens the door, bloodshot eyes staring at you, eyebrow arching. He holds a joint in one hand and the door’s handle in the other. The earthy smell attacks your nostrils; you scrunch your nose. 

“Don’t let the smoke out,” Matty chastises, sliding away to leave a spot beside him. 

Your brain throbs in your head. Flashes of grand preachy speeches given to friends as they passed bongs at parties come back to you. Embarrassingly, you flush and step into the car, closing the door behind you. 

Matty grins at you, pleased, taking a hit of his joint and blowing the smoke into the car. The air is heavy and thick, pressing against your skin. This is such a bad idea. 

“What are you still doing here?” You ask. He pointedly looks at the joint as though obvious. You roll your eyes. “You could do that at home.”

He shrugs, “Didn’t want to.”

“Are you gonna drive?” 

“Was planning to, yeah.” Your lips part for a scathing, moralizing reply, but he cuts you off, repeating in that same tone of yours, “Are you gonna give me a sermon?” 

You scowl. “Was planning to, yeah.” Matty chuckles. He knows you far too well already. 

“I’d leave if I were you, princess. This car’s becoming a hotbox.” 

You should, of course. Weed has carcinogens, and causes lung damages, and slows development, and wrecks the body’s natural nutrient reserve, and all the other priggish arguments you’ve known and repeated by heart. 

But Matty has a loose grin you find a little adorable. Gray-streaked hair flops as he leans his head on the backseat, lips drooping with the weight of the joint. The shape of them is addictive, a perfect O as he blows smoke out, just like he would on the inside of your thighs to get you to jump and squirm for him. 

Your breath is heavy. You feel stuck to the leather seats, skin gluing you in place to watch and rewatch the show he gives you. 

And, really, you’re a little curious about what weed is. Your friends have all indulged at some time or the other; your dormmate used to crack a window, light a candle, and infest the room with the earthy smell as if it would cover any of it up; even your mom would laugh and wave smoke away when you caught her off the clock with her coworkers back in LA. 

Matty laughs, languid and slack and, fuck, it’s such a pretty sound. “You don’t want to, do you?” He teases. Your cheeks heat up. “It’s okay, princess. Don’t even need to smoke it. Just breathe the air and save your pretty pink lungs. You can even do your little speech to me if it’ll make you feel better.” 

“Don’t condescend me,” you say, as though there’s not something sick in you that enjoys when he does it. Matty raises two arms in a show of innocence, cheeky as they fall down. He knows you like it, too. 

“My apologies, darling.” In complete contradiction, he spreads his knees and looks down at his lap, telling you, “Come sit on my knee.” And in complete contradiction to your warning, you do just what he asks. 

You don’t even think about it; you’re scooping yourself up and dropping on his knee, biting your lip as you settle over his tough jeans. His hand loosely holds your hip, looking at you pleased. 

Now that you’re on his lap, close enough to count his eyelashes, to lick the smoke off his lips, you feel yourself growing needy. The memory of a stolen orgasm in a dark bathroom comes back to you in hot flashes. You have to think about stilling your hips to stop you from grinding on his knee. 

“Are you serious about this?” He asks, arching an eyebrow. You’re not sure what he’s referring to, but the answer’s the same anyway;

“Yes.” 

He taps your hip. “Open your mouth, princess.” You’re flushing as you do so, imagining him spitting in it, slipping two fingers and making you slobber your sermon around them. Instead, he takes a hit of his joint and blows it into your mouth. You inhale as he’s taught you. “Good,” he grins. “You remember how.” 

“It’s not rocket science,” you bite, deadpan. 

“You’re right. Smart girl like you. This is nothing at all.” It hits true, strumming the right chords inside of you. You shift on his knee, holding back the shameful groan that threatens to spill out at the friction. It’s really not fair that he makes you sit here, close enough to kiss and rub and grind until you’re dripping on his lap, and not do it. 

Maybe you’re starting to feel something. Your body is light and slack, a pleasant buzz resonating through you. You feel relaxed, more than you have in years, always strung high, clenched and straight-backed. A giggle threatens out of you. 

Maybe it’s why you say, “I think you should fuck me.” Though, really, it’s all just an excuse for the fact that it’s all you’ve thought about for the past week, ever since that night in the walk-in fridge. You should do it again. Right now. Please. Over and over, like the beating drums of an earworm song. 

Matty smiles, indulgent. “Is that so?” You nod frantically. His fingers dig into your hip. He takes another hit, ever casual. “D’you think you deserve to?” 

“Yes.” 

“How so?”

“I—” You huff. Well, yes, maybe you haven’t really been anything but a brat recently, wearing low-cut tops and winking at other line cooks in hopes of riling him up. But it’s really his fault for getting you so fucking ready you’re begging for him, then walking off. You pout at him. “Please.”

“Ah-ah,” he says, tugging on your lip with his thumb, smearing your lipgloss. “None of that.” Being cute won’t seem to work this time. 

“I’ll earn it,” you say desperately. 

“How?”

Your mind scrambles. An idea sparks in your mind. You rise from his knee, then you get on yours in the cramped spot of the backseat. 

You look up at him, blinking innocently, hand traveling up his thigh. Matty takes the joint to his lips, but you can see from the way his chest rises and falls in quick succession that he’s worked up. Good. You fucking have him. 

You might be inexperienced, an unknower of pleasure, but if there’s one thing you can do, it’s a fucking blowjob. 

“Go on, then,” Matty says, choked. “Earn it.”

“Yes, sir.”

Your greedy hands finally find his waistband. You undo the button, fingers frantic as they work his jeans down enough to reveal his half-hard cock. You lick your lips, staring up at him while you wrap around his length. 

He hisses, bucking into your fist. His dark eyes are locked in yours, barely willing to move away from your face to take a good look at the little show your hand is giving him. It’s like he wants to see you, pupils wide and lips swollen, so fucking turned on and ready just to suck his cock. 

You slide up, swiping your hand up to his tip, collecting the precum and spreading it down. It’s a slow pace, meant to tease, to beguile him. Get him so ready for you he’s begging for once. 

You repeat the motion over and over, never in any kind of repeated rhythm for him to really get used to anything. His cock hardens in your hand until it’s standing proud and ready. Matty breathes heavily, letting a low sound out every time you brush his tip. You smirk every time, teasing your nails on his sensitive skin. 

“Stop teasing,” Matty warns. His hips fuck into your fist every time you slide down, silently begging for more. 

You cock your head, blinking up at him innocently. “Where are your manners?” 

“Careful,” he says with a dangerous tone. His eyes gleam. “You don’t want me to teach you another lesson.” 

You giggle. You dip your head down, kissing his tip. A moan spills out of him and you flash your teeth at him. You lower a little, pressing another kiss, then again, and again, until his whole cock is covered in tacky lipgloss. 

Your tongue sticks out to lick a stripe up his length, rounding his tip. Just when he’s ready to feel your warm mouth embrace him, you give him another sweet kiss. He curses under his breath. “You think you’re funny.” 

You lick mischief off your lips, staring up at him with a cheeky grin. “Say please.” 

His hand free of the joint rakes through your hair, grabbing a handful of it and tugging until you look up at him. Pleasure sparks from your head to your toes, reveling in the sensation. He sees right through you. 

He lets go of your hair, soothing the sting as he travels down your temple, your cheek, your chin, pushing a thumb between your lips and parting them. Thrill gathers in your belly. Your mouth hangs wide open, breathing harshly. “Do it or I will.” 

It’s his turn to be cocky, spotting how you shift on your knees at the graphic images he puts in your head. His hands in your hair, sure and strong as he fucks up into your— No. You want to show him what you can do, prove you’re not just some lost little girl. 

You laugh, sucking around his thumb then releasing it. Saliva coats it, and it dries on your cheek as he caresses it. “You’re no fun,” you tease, pouting. 

“Shouldn’t fuck a crass man if you wanted pleases and thank yous,” he retorts. “But then, you wouldn’t enjoy it, would you? Need to be railed dirty to get off, right?” 

Instead of answering— too proud to give him the yes he’s right to expect, you suck his tip into your mouth. He makes a low whine, patting your hair, swearing under his breath as you roll your tongue around him. “That’s a good girl,” he coos. “Take me in now.” 

There’s the instinct in you to do just the opposite, the born and bred need to be difficult, but you give in anyway, a bigger want to be extra good for him. You push him past your lips, lowering until he hits your throat. “Fuck,” he chokes. You smile around him, then bob your head. 

You set a steady pace, stroking what you can’t fit with your fist. The car fills with wet, gagging noise and those puffy breaths he takes. Your tongue sticks out, licking his length as it passes him, making him shiver under you. 

“Give me your hand,” he demands. You offer it without thinking, reaching up towards him palm-out. 

He takes your wrist and spits on your hand. Saliva drips on your palm as he lowers it back to his cock. He wraps your fingers around him, pumping himself once, then twice, then releasing you. You keep going to the same pace he set, cursing around his length, somehow more turned on now. 

Your hand works in tandem with your mouth. You leave his cock just long enough to spit on it yourself, spreading the saliva until he’s wet and messy, then bringing him back between your swollen lips. Precum and drool sticks to your chin, but you bob with a mission, uncaring of the sopping sounds that come out of your mouth. 

“Ah,” he groans. His head falls back on the seat, spreading his thighs as if to give you more space. You quicken your moves in response, trying to coax more pretty sounds of him. “Shit. Fucking hell,” he laughs. 

His eyes roll back, and he takes a hit of his dwindling joint. You stare at his lips as he does so, still as sickly fascinated by him smoking as you’ve always been. The car drenches in smoke, an added mix to the condensation dripping on the windows. 

Matty’s face pulls down to look at you, right as you swallow him up with an especially deep trust. He makes a whine, caresses your hair. Sees the way your eyes are dark and aroused for him, obsessed. “D’you want another hit?” He asks, cheeky. 

You release his cock, out of breath. “Yes.” Your hand continues to jerk him as you smile at him. 

“Magic word?”

You scoff. “Coming from you?” 

He laughs. “C’mon. How many tutors taught you all those good girl manners? Can’t destroy all that hard work. I don’t want to corrupt you too much.” Your eyes narrow at him. Your thumb swipes on his tip, stroking him quickly. He jumps at that, moaning. Matty shakes his head, hair flopping with it. “Minx.”

“Please,” you say, because you know it’s a lost battle to do anything but. You brush his tip on your lips, kitten-licking him, like some added argument. He smiles proudly. 

“Of course, princess.” The joint comes to you, end faced towards you, just enough out of reach that you have to kneel up to wrap your lips around it. You take a drag, tipping your head back as you blow it out. 

Your body feels hazy, tingling pleasantly throughout. There’s a loose smile on your lips as you bend down to swallow him back in your mouth. Euphoria twists in your mind, pulling at the strings of you, and you double in efforts eagerly, happily. 

You bob quicker, deeper, moaning around his length. You breathe through your nose, trying not to gag every time he hits the back of your throat. It’s all worth it for the swears he mutters under his breath, low groans filling the car. Every fucked-out praise shoots you straight to the core. You’re dripping on the floor, wet and empty and begging for him. 

“My perfect girl,” he praises, a whiny, worshiping sound. “So pretty on her knees for me. Fucking drooling everywhere.” You laugh at that, feeling saliva drip down your cheeks. “You were made for my cock, weren’t you? Made for me.” 

You try to agree, but it’s a slobbering mess around his dick. The vibrations are enough; his eyes roll back into his skull, his hips jump. You choke on his length, releasing him with a cough, then diving back to work. 

“Can’t fucking get enough of me,” he says. His hand caresses your hair, a soothing motion. “D’you want more?” 

You nod around him. He smiles, gripping a hand in your hair. The sting gives you the same reaction as before; you moan around him, toes tingling. He pushes your mouth deeper around him. This time, you expect it; breathing through your nose, you welcome him in your throat. 

“There you go,” he whines. He can’t stop looking at you, at the mess of your mouth. “So fucking filthy.” Again, he presses you down. A moan spills out of him. You grip his knee with your free hand. 

Matty controls your head, pushing it deeper and deeper around his cock, making the most fucked-out noises from the feel of it. You pump him with your hand every time he pulls you up to his tip, stroking back to the base as he lowers you down. He does it quicker and quicker, setting a fast pace. Again, you shift on your knees, trying to soothe away that burning need between your thighs. 

Matty spots it immediately. “Are you wet?” He taunts, though it’s a little ridiculous when he’s out of breath and on the edge of a moan. You nod around him, a little whine coming out, and he smirks. “Soaked ‘cause you’re sucking my dick, huh? If I knew it got you going like this, I would have had your mouth around me every single fucking day, darling.” And it’s not like you would have objected, considering you’re the one who’s been practically chasing him for the past week. 

“Dirty girl. They all think you’re so innocent, but I know.” He smirks. “Bet your father would love to know what I’m doing to his precious girl.” Need and shame burn inside of you, and you can’t figure out which one makes you flush and your mind spin. Cockiness drips from his tongue as he trails, “‘S not my fault his daughter loves my cock, right?” You don’t know whether to nod or shake your head, instead moaning around him. 

Matty reaches the joint out, telling you, “Hold that.” You frown. It’s unlit by now, useless, and he could certainly throw it anywhere in the backseat to fish it out later. It’s not like his car is clean; trash litters it, cigarette burns scar the leather, and the smell of weed is permanent. Still, you don’t question it, unwrapping your hand from his cock to take the joint. 

It becomes apparent, then, why he asked you. Raking two hands through your hair, he keeps your head in place as his hips fuck up into you. With your hand gone and occupied, he thrusts deeper into your mouth. You gag around him, and he releases you just enough to catch your breath, before pumping past your lips again. 

He groans at every stroke, burying your nose in the faint hair scattering up his belly. Pleasure blooms on his face. He’s so pretty, so vulnerable and fucked out, face wrinkling and lips panting. 

His head falls down to look at you again. He makes a whine from the back of his throat. “Fuck, you’ve got spit everywhere.” It’s true, chin wet as slurping sounds resonate on the steamy windows. 

If your ex-boyfriend had even tried to lose a hand in your hair and push your head down, you’d have bit him with a vengeance. But kneeling like this with Matty using you only brings a sick pleasure out of you. You feel your core throb, thighs sticky with need. You don’t know what he’s doing to you, don’t understand how he manages to ruin you so thoroughly. 

Your nails dig into his knee, the other hand pinching the joint. Your eyes water at every thrust until tears roll down your eyes, mixing with the wet of your cheeks and chin. 

Matty awes, sickly amused as he sings, “Are you crying?” You feel suddenly embarrassed, attempting to shake your head, deny the proofs streaming down your cheeks. “Is Daddy’s dick too big for you?” The nickname strikes through the daze, shock and arousal coursing through your veins. 

Matty doesn’t even realize what he’s said, too gone to mind any words. A string of curses  comes next as he bobs your head. Still, it’s all you can think about, playing back the word in that filthy head of yours. 

“You’re doing so well, baby,” he promises. “Just a little bit more.” His hand strokes your cheek, wiping at the runaway tears. “Gonna make me come so hard. D’you want my cum?” You nod vaguely. He grins at that. “Yeah? Wanna fucking swallow it?” You hum around him, excited. He moans, “Fuck. You’re such a slut.” 

Again, there should be outrage, should be a dramatic tear off his dick as you tell him off, but he says it in such a reverent way, like a compliment, a praise, and you find yourself whining around him instead. Your cunt throbs, empty and lonely, and maybe you are a slut after all. You’ve been nothing but a needy, begging mess for him anyway. If it gives you this much pleasure in exchange, is there really something wrong with it? 

Matty senses the way you preen under the name. He smirks, fucking up faster, chasing an end. “My little slut. So perfect, made for me. Would spend her days on her knees, wouldn’t she? Till she’s all bruised and fucked out.” His thrusts grow erratic. “I’d take care of you, princess. I’d put you in the best bed and I’d pump you full of my cum until you’re dripping with it. You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Like being my little fucktoy?” A yes comes out garbled out of your mouth. “All those smarts, gone for a dirty man like me. Fucking ironic, isn’t it?” 

You hollow your cheeks, run your tongue, hope to finish him. Hear his pretty cries, see his scrunched, coming face, taste his cum. Let it be your turn. 

You take back charge as Matty gets too hazy to make sense of anything, much less the furious tempo he’s set. You bob up and down with abandon, slobbering everywhere. His hips stutter, meeting you halfway. His cock twitches in your mouth. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Matty cries. His fingers dig into your hair, pulling vengefully. “Shit, princess, I’m—” With a scream, he comes on your tongue. 

His body shivers as the tangy taste of white ropes spill down your throat. You swallow everything, watching his face as it grows peaceful. A slack, happy smile shines on his lips. He strokes your hair, as if an apology. 

Only when he softens do you pull out of him, saliva stringing from his tip to your lip. You lick it off, chuckling. Show off your empty mouth. His cum is all gone. 

“Good girl,” Matty praises, out of breath. He tucks his cock back in his jeans. “What do we say now?” 

“Thank you.” 

He hums. “I think you deserve a reward for doing so well for me.” You grin at him, childishly excited. He laughs, taking both your hands and raising you off your knees. “You want that, don’t you?” You bite your lip.

As soon as you’re up, he digs under your skirt, pulling off your underwear. You gasp as the air hits your bare skin. He rubs a thumb on the wet patch of the pink fabric, arching an eyebrow for you. “So fucking ready for me just from sucking my cock.” 

“Not just from sucking your cock,” you say. “I’ve been ready for you all week.”

“Is that so?” Matty flips you around, sitting you square on his lap, your back against his chest. This close, you can smell the sweat and weed on him. Each leg hangs from the sides of his knees. He parts them, spreading you wide, putting you on display. 

There’s the knowledge that anyone could see you tugging at the back of your mind. No matter the smoke, and the fogged up windows, and the dark of the night, it’s still a public alleyway. They could walk in on you, cunt out, wet and throbbing. It’s nasty, and it’s hot, and now you’re grinding against nothing, hoping for friction. 

Thankfully, Matty indulges you, wrapping his arm around your waist and teasing two fingers over your swollen clit. You jump, already oversensitive, moaning at the little contact. He rubs in slow circles. 

“I could have had you any time, then?” He whispers in your ear. “Could have pulled you in the dry storage and had my dirty way with you?” 

“Yes.” 

His touch becomes faster, pressing harder, zeroing in on your bud with a middle finger. You scrunch your face, already so close. A little pout comes on your face. You don’t want to finish without his fingers inside of you, not when you’ve been this eager for them. Your pussy clenches around nothing, unsatisfied. 

“Any day, any time, anywhere?” His hand ghosts at your entrance, gathering a pool of your dripping juices. 

“Yes,” you repeat, almost frustrated he doesn’t get it. You need him all the time. He seems satisfied by your answer, dipping two fingers inside your cunt. 

You gasp, wrinkling your face with the overwhelming euphoria that spreads through you. The stretch is delicious. You’re already rolling your hips into his fingers, begging for more. 

He bites at your earlobe, licking down your neck. Husky and gravely, he teases, “You would scream my name so the whole restaurant knows whose cock is fucking you this good? So they know that little princess likes to get railed filthy by an old, sleazy man?” As though to demonstrate, he pumps his fingers quicker into you. Sopping sounds resonate with your answering whines. 

It’s a silly question. As if you haven’t had that exact fantasy before, playing over and over as guests criticize your every move. You insist, “Yes, Daddy.”

Matty’s fingers freeze inside of you. His heart races, the rhythm drumming on your back. Your eyes snap open, scared you’ve done something wrong. He’s the one who— A flush spreads up your cheeks. You’re so disgusting, using that nickname while he— 

“Say it again.” He’s choked and out of breath. Turned on. You smirk, victorious. 

You grip his wrist and make him pump inside of you again. You let your head fall on his shoulder, moaning, “Daddy, please, make me come.” 

“Fuck.” It’s all the incentive he needs, apparently, because now he’s thrusting and curling inside of you, finding that magical spot each time. The heel of his hand rubs at your clit, making jolts of pleasure spark through you. His other hand snakes around your chest and paws at your breast, digging under your shirt to rub the nipple. 

Every sensation works perfectly together to get you buzzing with ecstasy. You feel drunk— or high— mind swirling inside your head until all you know is his name. Your core tightens, toes curling and uncurling. 

“Come on my fingers,” he demands, voice low and hoarse. “Fucking drench Daddy’s hand. I wanna taste you.”

There’s something so desperate in his voice that makes you even needier. You throb around his digits, eyebrows furrowing, strings thinning. He pinches your nipple. You open your mouth with a silent cry, shaking all over. 

“That’s it,” he coos. “I got you, baby. You’re right there.” You nod frantically. “Just come for me. Come. Come—” Just like he demands, your body breaks and you shatter on his fingers. 

Euphoria spreads through you, that overwhelming sense of relief. His name burns your tongue, over and over, a plea and a reverence and a worship. He continues to slide in and out of you, slowly, tenderly, until you’re done shaking and throbbing. 

Your body hums pleasantly, bone-deep happy. You practically melt on his body, each limb letting go and settling into him. You sigh, satisfied. Finally haunts your head. Yet, you’re already looking out for next time. 

Matty pulls out of you. He brings his wet fingers to his mouth; you hear the pornographic moan he makes as he cleans them. You flush, too tired to make a chastising comment. 

“Best meal in town,” he says, cheeky. You half-slap him, half-giggle. 

His hand falls from your breasts, but wraps around your waist instead, pulling you even closer, trapping you in the heat of his arms. He kisses your cheek. “We can stay like this for a little while. I’ll drive you home after.” 

You crack an eye open. “Are you high?”

He scoffs. “No.” He grins against your cheek, teasing, “You’ve sobered me up.”

Being cute does not distract you. You hum, unconvinced. “What’s the alphabet backwards?”

“Are you fucking kidding—” He blows air from his nose. Resigned, he recites, “Z, Y, X—”

—

It’s fifteen past ten and the house is empty. Groceries linger on the kitchen island and you could, theoretically, put them all together yourself. Though it’s just not quite the same when you have to do the work under the orange light of the kitchen hood, alone except for some sad blues and a bottle of white and the sizzling sound of the pan. 

In your hand, an apologetic text flashes at you. You bite on a humus dipped carrot, bitter. You understand, you say, and pretend you believe him when he swears he’ll make it up to you. You take a long sip of your wine glass. 

You stare at the lonely apartment. An idea tickles the back of your mind. It would be a waste of wine, and space, and freedom if you dutifully went to bed now. Your hand lingers on his contact, then press on the picture of Matty’s frown, cigarette hanging between his lips. 

I have my place all to myself. Do you wanna come? You hit send before you overthink it. A rush of anxiety swipes through you. 

He’s quick to answer. depends. do i get to cum anywhere? You roll your eyes. He’s truly insufferable sometimes. 

Invitation retracted. 

i’m on my way

You can’t control the pleased grin on your face, but there’s no one to see it anyway. You can indulge a little in the childish thrill that blooms inside your stomach. You feel sunshine from the inside-out. 

He’s ringing your doorbell the next time you hear of him. By then you’re already a little flushed with wine, practically running to the door to buzz him in. 

A knock resonates just a few minutes later. You swing the door wide open. “Hi.” Again, you can’t seem to control your giddy smile. 

“You shouldn’t open the door just like that. I could’ve been a bad man.” 

“You are.” Matty snorts. You move out of the doorframe, gesturing for him to step inside. 

He walks your flat with confidence, though he hasn't been here since that fatal night and, even then, it had been a quick in and out thing. He lingers a little to take in the set-up. The open floor plan, the L leather couch, the massive dining table and the kitchen island that hasn’t seen any action in months. It’s a shame for a family of chefs how little you use it. 

It’s the first time you’ve seen him outside of a work setting, either a grueling shift or the drunk aftermath. He’s cleaner; white shirt rid of stains, jeans unburdened by an apron. He still sports a stumble, ever lazy to shave it off, but his hair sprouts in soft curls from his head. There’s a lack of gloomy energy, like what you thought was a permanent tired look was, in fact, reserved for the restaurant. He looks good is what you mean.

Matty stares you up and down shamelessly, taking in your off-duty outfit as well. A collared shirt buttoned conservatively, tucked into a black skirt, leather heeled loafers and white socks at your feet. Your hands shine with silver rings. You are, admittedly, much cleaner than him. Matty seems to dig your preppy look anyway, licking a gaze up and down your legs, rubbing his smirk away with two of his fingers. 

You side-step him, making your way to the kitchen. Matty follows behind you, taking the time to gaze at the paintings dotting your walls. Pretentious things your father bought because he was told by other people they were masterpieces, they were technical, they were touching. You get to the cabinets, searching for a matching wine glass.  

“Why’d you invite me?” Matty asks, seemingly an afterthought. He peers at your half-empty glass, raising it to examine the wine. 

“I was supposed to have dinner with my dad, but he’s too busy today after all.” You turn to Matty with a glass in hand. “There’s some sort of important event with investors that just came up. He couldn’t untangle himself,” you press. You don’t know why you feel the need to rehash your father’s excuses, as though you had to defend him to Matty. It’s silly; he doesn’t even care, instead bringing your wine glass to his nose and giving it a swirl.

“It’s a Chenin Blanc.” You say as you uncork the bottle, pouring him his own glass. You slide it his way, tsking regretfully, “It was gonna pair beautifully with the seared scallops.” There’s a tinge of bitterness in your voice, and you try your best to smooth it. You can’t sound annoyed. 

“Served with what?” 

“Baby spinach and spiced pomegranate glaze.” 

“Damn,” Matty shakes his head. “That does sound good.” He takes a seat at the dining table, shamelessly making himself at home. He cocks his head, bringing the glass to his lips. “So, what? You invited me to cook it for you instead?”

Your lips twitch. “I’ve already eaten actually.” A mismatch of carrots, humus, swiss cheese and chocolate-covered blueberries eaten standing up at the kitchen island, but a meal nonetheless. 

Matty hums. He leans back on his chair, smirking to himself. “You know, I feel a bit peckish myself.” 

Your arch an eyebrow, playful as you drawl, “Is that so?” The cheeky, knowing look on his face wakes the heat in your belly. You clench your thigh; he spots it, amused. “There’s food in the fridge.” 

“A miracle! She has more than kraft dinner.”

“I didn’t specify which food. Maybe mac’n’cheese is all that’s waiting for you.”

Matty smiles. “I think I’m craving something else.” His hand reaches out, grabbing yours until you stumble into him. 

You grip his shoulders to balance yourself, both legs siding one of his knees. He looks at you with those dark, dangerous eyes that announce nothing but trouble. You tower over him, see him blinking his spiderleg eyelashes up at you. His lips part, pretty and red. A rush of excitement shoots through you. Your breath hitches. 

“Wow,” you say, mocking. “You just got here and you’re already trying to bend me over the table. Didn’t even ask me about my day.” 

“Oh, sorry,” he says, faux-apologetic. His hands dig into your thighs, picking you up and hoisting you on the table. You sit before him, blush as he spreads your legs out for him. With a cheeky, shit-eating grin, he looks up at you and says, “How was your day, princess?”

You up your nose, ignoring his bait. “It was good. I—” His hands rise up your thighs, brushing against your silky smooth skin. You can’t stop the shivers. “Fuck, I went to the library and—” 

He bends down, peppering sweet kisses where his fingertips had been. Your breath hitches at the ghosting touch, teasing and tickling and lighting you up. He looks up at you, face nearing where you need him most. “Mmh, and what?” 

“Just— shit.” He spreads your legs further apart, giving him ample access to bite and suck at your thigh, which he does with worshiping abandon. He soothes away the hurt with a tongue. You pant, moaning lowly, “I started early on my first week readings for—”

Matty snorts. “Nerd.”

“It’s actually really essential to—” He slips your underwear aside, finding your clit and thumbing a lazy circle on it. “Ah, fucking hell, Matty!” 

He smiles, so fucking proud. His finger speeds up. “What book did you read?” 

“Well, the textbook. It was— It’s about—” Words escape your mouth when his tongue is burning your skin, getting closer and closer to where his thumb is hard at work. Euphoria shakes in your stomach. You bite your lip, gripping the edge of the table. 

“Yes?” He blinks up at you, condescendingly begging, “Please, educate a poor, simple plebeian.”

You bite your cheek, teasing, “I don’t know if I can. He’s really only good at fucking.”

Matty rolls his eyes. “You’re missing the other reason I’m good with my hands.”

And he makes it easy to forget all about his cooking skills when he dips two fingers inside your wet entrance, pumping you slowly on the dinner table. God-given hands, made to bring you to the very edge and back. You curse, gripping the wood under your palms even harder. 

“I’m waiting.”

You huff. “It’s microeconomics. It’s comparing comparative averages and absolute advantages of high.” 

He grins. “Well, which one wins?”

“Comparative. It’s always better as you lose because the opportunity cost is smaller and— Oh, fuck—” Your legs tremble, your face scrunching as he hits the sinful spot inside of you that has you singing. You pant to catch your breath, groaning, “It’s better when you— Matty—”

“My smart girl,” Matty praises, curling his fingers inside of you just so. “You learned all of this already. Don’t even need to study that you’re fucking moaning it for me.” He plants a kiss on the top of your thigh. “It’s better when…”

Your mind is languid, euphoria pumping inside of you with the rhythm of his hand. You try to blink to conscience, peering down at him. “It’s better when the opportunity cost—” He makes rapid swipes at your clit and pleasure jolts through you. You shake your head. “You know what? You don’t need to know all this. You can just be dumb and pretty and warm my bed all day. Be my trophy husband.”

He snickers. “Yeah? Gonna make me your little housewife?” 

You grin, volleying back, “Keep you cooking and fucking all day while I earn the big bucks, babe.” One hand rises up to his hair, digging into the mess of it. You smirk. “But you’d have to be very good for me. Keep me satisfied at all times.” 

“Oh, don’t worry.” His fingers quicken, thrusting in and out of you until you’re whining for him. “I’d fill you up every night and leave you sticky and happy.” The wet sounds of your cunt fill the kitchen. You don’t doubt him for one second. 

Your breath leaves in puffs out of your mouth. You tilt your head back, moaning for the ceiling, eyes wrinkled shut. Your hand tugs at his hair, rejoicing in his pathetic little groans. You fall back, smiling mischievously at him. “I thought you were hungry.”

His eyes flash. “Fucking famished.” He bends down and licks your cunt. 

You jump, rolling your hips into his face, chasing those delicious reverbs. He licks at your clit with a pointed tongue, pressing into the sensitive bundle of nerves until honey ecstasy is spreading through your veins. 

One hand fucks into you with calculated efficiency; hard and fast, just like you like it. The other holds your red underwear aside, fingers pressing into the meat of your thigh, leaving fingertip prints to remember him by. 

“Matty!” Pleasure boils inside of you. You’ve missed his tongue, missed the way he tastes at you: starved, diligent, fucking slurping the last drop. You cry his name over and over, a sweet chant that encourages him on. 

Thank fuck for his hands. They slide wetly inside of you, searching for hot ecstasy and pulling it out of you in drowning moans. You tug at his hair, grip the table, try to attach yourself to something as you;

“Matty, I’m—” He knows, of course, because you’re throbbing around his fingers. He circles your clit with his tongue, swiping at it, adding enough sinful pleasure that you feel your orgasm grow and grow. It expands in your belly, threatens your limbs; “I’m gonna—”

You come with a scream, falling apart on his tongue. He doesn’t slow yet. His mouth is hard at work, his fingers pumping into you still. He chases your orgasm until the end, until you’re shaking and whimpering from the intensity. You push his head, and only then does he release you, smiling up at you with sticky cheeks. 

“Good?”

You brush his curls back, smiling happily. “You might earn yourself a weekly allocation if you keep it up, babe.” 

“I’m the luckiest trophy husband in the world.” 

You twist one of his curls around his finger, so light and elated that you feel no shyness or shame to say, “D’you want to see my room?” 

He half-grins. “Yeah.” 

You jump from the table, grabbing his hand. He lingers by the table just long enough to shoot back half of his wine glass in one gulp, slamming it down on the table with a satisfied sigh. It stands there with a stain of your slick in the shape of his lips. 

You deadpan him. “Good wine shouldn’t be wasted,” he defends. 

“I don’t even think you let it stay on your tongue long enough to taste it.” 

You regret your choice of words as soon as you say them. Cursing, you already expect the joke when he quips, “Didn’t want to disrupt the other taste that’s in my mouth right now, you see?” 

You roll your eyes. “It’s down the hallway,” you say, and tug at his hand until he follows. 

You push the door into your childhood bedroom. It’s a clean, organized place, but it maintains its youthful element, like a time capsule. Matty steps in, intrigued. It’s the first time he’s ever been and he paces it with curiosity. 

The shelves are decorated with childhood trophies; debate, math, punctuality. Even a participation medal from fifth grade soccer hangs on the corner. Thick, leather books mix with colorful cracked spines of YA literature on the bookshelf, along with fake plants and gaudy trinkets. The walls host picture frames of dental braced friends smiling wide. You have awful bangs in some of them and you stick your tongue out at the flash. On the bed, Mr Snuffles — a leopard plushie — lays like a king. 

You flush. You hadn’t realized how childish your bedroom at home still was. You’ve got an uncomfortable need to tear it all down and build it back as a refined, clean look..

“Cute,” he says, and you want to bury straight into the ground. He taps a picture of prom where you hold the arm of a visibly nervous teenage boy. “Was that your little boyfriend who couldn’t make you come?”

“No, that was my friend. I wasn’t interested in dating back then. I was a very serious girl.” 

He chuckles, turning back to you. He jokes, “Hard to believe now.” You shake your head, pretending to be bothered. He eyes the photograph once more. “You look pretty.” 

“Thanks.” It comes squeaked out of your lips. You really didn’t expect the compliment. 

He continues to inspect until you grow tired of it. You huff, deciding to go on the offensive until he takes a hint. “You know, I’ve actually never had any guy here before.” 

Matty flips to you, grinning. “No?” 

“No.” Your fingers fly to your collar and slowly start unbuttoning the top one, a silent invitation. 

“Very, very serious girl.” Matty watches your fingers, devouring the skin you unveil for him. The cups of your red bra peek in view. His eyes grow dark, though he still doesn’t move to do it himself. 

“I was very studious.” 

You get to your very last button. The shirt parts, a cracked door vision into your needy body. Matty drawls, slow and nonchalant, unrushed, “Must’ve spent a lot of time with your hand between your legs, then, if no one’s been here before.”

You try not to grow embarrassed. You have spent a lot of time doing so, mostly in recent weeks. You push the shirt past your shoulders and it drops at your feet. Matty’s eyes immediately fall to your breasts, rising with panting breaths for him. 

“Maybe,” you whisper shyly. You bend down to slip off your shoes, sliding your socks off your feet. 

“Thought about me a lot during it?” He asks, cocky. 

You straighten up again. You dig in your cheek, feeling both of them heat. “Maybe.” You find the zipper at your side and draw it down slowly, teasingly. Your skirt falls limply around your hips and you shimmy it down your legs. 

It seems you’ve found yourself half-naked to a very much dressed Matty again. His gaze devours every inch of your skin, licking up your legs, biting your hips, teasing your navel. You grow wet between your thighs just from the promise in his eyes. 

Your hand reaches behind yourself to your bra, but Matty tuts. “That’s mine,” he says, and there’s an air of danger in his voice. Your arms fall back to your sides, burned. You stand a bit straighter for him, aching deep inside yourself. 

Matty takes long, slow steps towards you, letting the need boil and bubble inside of you. He stands before you, looking down into your eyes. Your lips part, your heart screams his name. He grazes two fingers along your waist, snaking to your back, and kisses you. 

You respond with an eager tongue, opening your lips up to him and kissing him back. He still tastes like you, like your slick that dried on his cheeks. You shiver at the thought. 

His hands find the small of your back, heavy and pressing into you, so fucking present you feel your mind twists on itself. You travel yours up his arms, finding his shoulders and sneaking into the hair at his nape. 

He tilts his head to change the angle and your legs clench. He draws out all your wanton needs with his skilled tongue, makes you putty and malleable. You’re ready for him, for anything. 

His fingers dance on your spine, climbing up each vertebrae until they catch on your bra band. Your breath hitches. He unhooks it. Matty stops kissing you to pull the bra off your arms. 

Your breasts lay in view, pebbled and peaked. He takes a good look at them, then bends down to catch a nipple into his mouth. “Fuck, Matty!” Your hands twist at his curls, tugging and patting as he sucks and nips your tits. 

He leaves bites on the underside, your sternum, kissing and licking down your stomach until he knees before you. You moan, still unused to the sight of him. Each hand hooks to a side of your underwear and he pulls it down and off your legs. You keep a stabilizing grip on his hair as you step out of it. 

Matty comes back up to you, breathing harshly. He kisses your lips one last time, then draws you on the bed. You’re laying on the purple sheets for him, naked and wet and flushed. Every body part is aware of him and looks it. 

Still, Matty takes a step back. “Show me what you do when you think of me.” You stare at him in shock. You’re naked for him, laying on your bed in godly offerance like a fucking daydream, and he wants you to finger yourself? 

Matty laughs. “Come on, princess,” he teases. “Show Daddy.” The nickname jolts you. Tiny, electrical shivers run down your spine and you bite your lip, brushing a hand down your stomach. 

You waste no time, too drunk on pleasure and want to bother teasing yourself. You part your legs and rub two fingers on your swollen clit, jumping at the sudden feeling. You bite your lip, cracking your eyes open to find Matty’s

His eyes watch you with obsession. You make a low whimper for him, circling your bundle of nerves, arching your back. A tantalizing show, hopefully enough to get him to touch you. You want him so deeply you’re shivering for him, hot and dripping all over. 

You’re efficient and quick; you know all the spots of yourself and press them just so. Pleasure is not something you draw out, pumping and rubbing until you develop carpal tunnel. You’re in and out, wiping your fingers clean on your thigh. 

It’s why you’re already dipping your digits inside yourself. You cry at the stretch, though never as delicious and fulfilling as his. Still, ecstasy runs through your body. 

“Matty,” you moan, and once again hope the breathy, needy shape of his name in your mouth is enough to get him to replace your hardworking fingers. 

“I’m right here, baby,” he says, transfixed by your hands, your mouth, your panting tits. You see his gaze and smirk, grabbing your breast and twisting the nipple. A low whine leaves you. “Fuck. Does that feel good?” 

You nod furiously. Your fingers slide quickly in and out of you. “Not as good as you, though,” you pout. 

Matty grins, cocky and a dick about it. “‘Course not.” 

Your eyes flutter shut. You let yourself be taken over by the euphoria swimming through you. Your mouth calls his name like it was him making you feel this way and not the three fingers fucking into you. In a way, it’s the fact that he’s here that draws this overwhelming pleasure out of you. It’s never been this intense with yourself. 

“What do you think of when you’re in your head?” He whispers, sounding affected by the spectacle you give him. 

You bite your lip, trembling. “You. You on your knees for me behind the bar. You bending me over the sink of the bathroom in the middle of two guests. You letting me suck your dick on the staircase of the alleyway. You fingering me at The Darling in front of Landon until I fucking come all over the booth.”

“All these nasty thoughts while you’re tucked tight in your little bed?” 

You nod. “I replay that night in the kitchen over, and over, and over. I know every little detail, everything you've done to me—” Behind your eyelids, graphic images of you pressed into the ground, giggling and coming, flash to you. It’s too much; you snap. Your eyes flash open. “Fuck me, Daddy. Please.”

“You need it?”

“I need it so, so bad.” Your wrist is tired between your legs. Still, you work, feeling the intensity build to an impossible degree. “Need you. It’s all I’ve been thinking about.”

“Shit,” he groans. You see the tent in his jeans and know he’s just as ready as you. “Don’t worry, princess. I’ll give it to you.” A grin shines on your face. You clench around your fingers in excitement. “Just as soon as you come for me.”

You pout. A whiny cry comes out of you. “It’s not the same without you.” 

“I know, baby,” he pouts, faux-broken over it as if he wasn’t the one putting you through this torture. “You’re doing so well for me. I wanna see you come now, though. Can you do that for me?”

Your stomach tightens and you know that you can, that you will. You’re still a little bitter, holding back as though in just a few seconds Matty was gonna get to his knees and finish you off yourself. 

“Your clit’s feeling a little neglected, isn’t it?” You moan, pressing into your bud like he silently demanded. Your legs kick at the sensation. You arch your back, crying to the ceiling. “That’s it. You’re so close.” You rub and fuck until you can taste the ecstasy. Goddammit. 

“You’re right there,” he says, and makes it true. You feel your orgasm threaten the edges of you. “Just a bit more. Come on, fuck yourself. Think of me, of my cock. That’s right, princess.” You scream, staring into his eyes. He devours each inch of you, so fucking eager. “You’re gonna come for me, aren’t you? Right now. Come for Daddy.” With a mewl, your climax crashes through you. 

Your body slackens, pleasure swooping through you in one grandiose wave. Relief washes you, and then the slight bitterness that it was all your own doing. Barely reeling from the orgasm and you’re already needing more. 

You don’t ride out the climax; Matty rips your fingers out of you and sucks them into his mouth. You sigh at the sight as he rolls his tongue around your digits. It’s sinful the way he moans, like the best fucking meal of his life. 

He releases them with a pop, then kisses your palm. “So good, babe. You did amazing.” He kisses your wrist. “You’re my little princess, aren’t you?”

“Yeah,” you pout. His lips trail up your arm, tickling your sensitive skin. You shiver, moaning as he brushes your shoulder and licks up your collarbone. 

“How do you want me? Since you’ve been thinking about it all the fucking time.” He kisses your neck. You moan, fluttering your eyelashes. 

“I wanna ride you,” you breathe out. 

Matty smirks against your skin. “Yeah? Gonna get yourself off on Daddy’s dick?”

You grin, nodding eagerly. “Gonna make you feel so good, too.” 

He smiles. “Alright then, baby.” He rolls onto his back, pulling you on top of him. You sit on his lap like a throne. “Make me feel good.”

You shake your head, pulling his shirt up his chest. “Get naked first. I wanna see you.” 

“She’s demanding.”

“It’s my fantasy.” Matty chuckles. Still, he tugs his shirt off his shoulders, throwing it beyond your bed. 

You had been so drunk on his cock the first time it happened, you hadn’t been able to really get a good look at him. This time, your eyes lap up every inch of his skin, especially the tattooed ones. You draw the outlines of them with the tip of your fingers. He shivers at the feeling as you dance on his hip, his happy trail, his chest. You press a hand there, holding yourself up. 

“Pants,” you order. You have a finely tuned demanding voice; you’ve led many school projects with an iron fist and an unarguable tone. Still, you know Matty only humors you when he obeys, kicking off his shoes, unbuttoning his pants and pushing them off. 

His cock slaps his stomach. It’s hard and leaking, and your mouth waters at the sight. You feel your sticky thighs beg for him. Cunt fluttering, you take him in your fist, jerking him slowly. Matty moans as his head falls back on the pillows. Oh, you will like that. Already, the power rushes to your head, loosening it drunkenly. 

You hoist yourself on your knees, then hesitate. Quickly, you grab your leopard plushie and turn him around until he faces the other way. 

Matty stares at you in disbelief. “Are you kidding me?” 

“Mr. Snuffles doesn’t need to see that!” You cry out, defensive. 

“I can’t believe I’m about to shag in a bed with a stuffed toy right there.”

You raise your eyebrows, cocky. “Don’t get it wrong. I’m shagging you.”

Matty’s hands travel up to your hips, spreading over the bones possessively. He smiles up at you. “Do it, then. Fuck me.” You smile, taking his cock and leading it to your dripping cunt. 

You line it up, then slowly slide down on his length. Loud, relieved moans leave your and Matty’s mouth. A shared song drumming up both your spines in harmony. You bottom out and think fucking finally. 

“Oh, God,” you breathe, eyes rolling back. You take a second there, immobile, reveling in the heavenly moment. The way he fills you up so perfectly, stretches you in the most delicious ways. Your cunt throbs around him, eager. 

He makes a low curse, digging his nails into your hips. You sense his becoming restless, the insistent way he presses into your skin, as though physically stopping himself from holding you in place and fucking up into him. Indulgently, you begin moving. 

You haven’t been on top very often. You always used to find yourself sore and tired and bored after a few minutes, begging to either roll onto your back or end it right there. This time, however, there’s a practically all-consuming need to succeed. You want to fuck him, to permanently engrave his brain with the memory of you. 

You come at it like schoolwork; focused, diligent, persistent. You attempt experimental thrusts at first, getting yourself used to how deep he hits you. It’s slow, tentative things; you try different angles, sliding in and out, frowning as you analyze the different ways pleasure blooms under your skin. 

Under you, Matty groans, puffing out breaths. “I can hear you thinking. Stop it.”

You arch an eyebrow. “It was ‘what a smart girl’ thirty minutes ago, but now it’s ‘turn off your brain’?”

“Exactly. Want you to be fucked stupid now.” 

You snort. “That’s not gonna happen.” 

He hums, smirking. “Don’t give me a challenge.” You roll your eyes. 

You settled on a rocking rhythm, something that hits all the perfect places inside of you. Your hair sticks to your nape, effort trembling your thighs already. You moan, roll your head back. “Like that?” You breathe out. Euphoria begins to prickle at your skin and your smile slackens your mouth. 

“Yeah, baby,” Matty nods. “Just—” His hold on your hips is strangling. His hands clench, begging you to give something mindnumbing. “Go faster.” 

You ignore his request, continuing that slow, teasing pace. You love feeling every inch of his cock as you buck on it, love to hear him grow desperate for you for a change. Every pathetic, quiet groan he makes resonates straight to your core. Head still rolled back to the ceiling, you rock stubbornly, smiling to yourself. 

A particularly artful stroke has your nails digging into his chest. He shivers under you. “Fuck, faster,” Matty pants.  

You smirk down at him, cheeky. “What’s the magic word, princess?” 

Matty rolls his eyes. “Don’t get bratty,” he says, then gives your ass a warning spank. You jump at the sting, bucking on his cock. Low heat simmers through you. You bite your lip, quickening your thrusts dutifully. Matty smirks at you, all-knowing. 

You speed up, falling back on his length again and again until the slapping sounds of your skins fill the room. You sense the resonating ecstasy pull at your stomach. You’re aware, unfortunately, that he’s right. It’s better, stronger. 

“That’s right,” he says, and you want to slap that shit-eating grin off his lips. “Fucking faster.” You obey like some deep-seated instinct, bouncing above him. 

A part of you wants to slow to a snail pace and teach him a lesson — get him reciting all those patience proverbs he’s so keen on — but a bigger part of you melts and drips at the ecstasy pulsing through you. Speedy, deep rolls have you shaking, moaning his name like a worship. You’re irrationally convinced you might die if you even try to slow down, like losing the pleasure he’s coaxing out of you right now would be a fatal crash. 

Again, he gives you that teasing, devilish stares that tells you he’s well aware of the burning heat he causes you. His lips stretch up into a smirk, and he parts them to talk some more. You slap a hand over his mouth instead. “Shut it,” you warn. He laughs under your palm, too happy at your reaction. 

His tongue sticks out, licking your hand childishly, and you release him. “You only like my mouth for one thing,” he says, pouting at you. 

“Don’t give me ideas.” 

“Want to sit on it again, huh?” He teases, cocking his head. “Maybe when you’re done fucking me.” He licks his teeth. “Though I doubt you’ll have the energy to sit up then. I’ll have to lay you down and clean you all up. Would you like that, baby?” 

“Anything that doesn’t involve you talking.”

Matty hums, and you sense the danger in his tone. You’ve pushed him just a bit too far, and the low thrum of thrill resonates in your stomach. You hold your breath, sick apprehension bringing you sinful pleasure. 

“You’ve got a mouth on you today,” he says. “Should’ve filled it up before I gave you what you wanted. Wouldn’t have so much to say if you were drooling and crying for my cock.” You wonder if that’s exactly what he’ll do; pull you off by your hips and onto your knees for a lesson. 

Instead, his hand pinches your nipple, then snakes up your chest, your collarbone, spreading over your throat. You clench around him, lust flashing in your eyes, and he smiles at you. “My little slut,” he coos. “You’d let me do anything.” 

You rock on him furiously, humping his lap to get rid of that building pressure in your core. Your mouth hangs open, pathetic whimpers spilling out every time your clit rubs on his pelvis. “Yes, Daddy,” you say in that sweet tone he knows is nothing but trouble. 

“Touch your clit,” he orders, and you’ve got a hand flying between your thighs, swiping on the bundle of nerves with abandon. You mewl in his lap, fucking and rubbing until you’re dripping on him. When you’re halfway through a moan, pussy clenching around his cock, Matty presses into your neck. 

The moan dies in your throat, mouth hanging open as a rush of adrenaline spreads through you. Your head swarms with silence, a sort of calmness buzzing and tingling under your face, and you feel every thrust of his cock he pumps up into you like a true hit of ecstasy. You whine, suspended in the moment. 

“My pretty girl,” he whispers. You roll your eyes. “My girl.”

His fingers release your throat and the sudden breath of air buzzes through you. The world sharpens; you sense his cock, his skin under your palms, his hand still around your neck— like he owns you. Your cunt tightens at the idea, something pretty stringing up your spine. Pleasure intensifies, practically breathing with you, until your brain rushes with endorphins.

“There she is. So good for me now,” he says and your lips stretch up with a proud grin. You’re lazy on your bones, letting him rock you on his cock without a care. “You wouldn’t do this for anyone, would you?” 

You shake your head fervently. “Only you.” 

“That’s right,” he nods. “Only me.” He sneaks a thumb to your clit, pushing away your slack hand and working at it himself. “No fucking guy can make you feel like this.” 

“I know,” you whine, and there’s the faint heartbreak of it tugging at the back of your mind. Nothing tangible, just the knowledge of what you’ll spend the rest of your life mourning and missing once he’s gone. Once you’re gone.

He lets go of your neck, dropping it to your waist, and you whine at the loss. It quickly turns into a moan as he uses both hands to guide you on his length properly. A quick, hard tempo sets, shaking your legs with growing pleasure. You feel him in the deepest part of you, hitting again and again that sweet spot as he puppeteers your freely given hips. 

“God, Matty.”

He smirks. “That was redundant.” You roll your eyes, half from pleasure and half from annoyance. He chuckles at that, happily giving a deep stroke that has you purring for him, as though to prove his point. 

You hold your weight up with a hand beside his head, drooping into the mattress. You tilt your hips, angling yourself perfectly for his drilling cock. Your face breaks open with a moan, but you shake your head. You force your eyes open to take in his face; sweaty and flushed and overwhelmed with pleasure and work. You lick your lips. Pleasure swirls in your belly, tightening and tightening until you have to believe you’ve driven yourself mad. 

“Daddy,” you whine for him. Your free hand flies back to your thighs, rubbing at your clit until your lungs catch on fire. “Make me come,” you plea. “I need you. I need—” You press into your bud, groaning at the rush of ecstasy. 

Matty laughs and the mean sound only drives you further into lust. You grip the sheets, trying to catch on fire. “Thought you were gonna shag me,” he mocks. “Thought you were gonna get off all on your own.” He tsks, bucking into you wildly, sounding out of breath as he adds, “But you need Daddy to make you come, don’t you?” 

You shake your head, as if the evidence wasn’t dripping all over his cock, spilling from your lips in incoherent slurs. “No?” He says, again just as merciless in his taunting. He halts inside of you and you cry, shaking your head. “Do it, then,” he laughs. 

He raises his hands up your waist, dancing on the ribs. He gropes your tits, circling the nipples. It becomes apparent to you that he’s not joking. You pout, finding your balance again and rising to your knees, falling back with thunderous force. Your legs shake; you’re exhausted and sore, whiny as you obey him. 

“That’s it, princess,” he praises. It’s enough to spark some motivation. You furrow your eyebrows, bouncing on his cock, puffing breaths falling from your lips. Sweat pearls on your forehead, but you continue, undeterred. “God, you’re so fucking filthy.”

You mewl, redoubling efforts. You find something close to those quick, harsh thrusts Matty was giving, just slightly poorer. You fuck mindlessly, not bothering to rub your clit on his pelvis or find that delicious spot inside of you. Pleasure fills your mind anyway. 

“Doing so well,” he moans. His fingers play with your nipples; your head pulls back, crying out. “Use my cock. Ride it ‘till you come all over it.” You whine, nodding fervently. “Need to feel you again,” he pants. “Need to feel that cunt as it fucking squeezes me.” 

Ecstasy swarms through you. You moan, digging your claws into your sheets. You squeeze around him, over and over, a clear-tell warning. His name and a string of curses come out of your lips broken. He pinches your nipple. 

“I’m gonna—”

“Ask,” he groans, a choking sound that rips out of him. 

“Can I—” Your body trembles, the taste of climax spreading under your skin. You scrunch your face. “Daddy, please, can I—” You finish it with a moan, losing your train of thought.

“Use your big girl words,” he taunts, climbing one hand up. Your breath catches as he nears your neck; a swirling hit of excitement so true it makes you lightheaded. Still, he doesn’t linger, instead cupping your jaw and sticking his thumb in your mouth. 

Your hips are artless and loose, sliding and rolling and thrusting without any reason. It’s wild, brutal strokes that have you drooling around his finger. 

“C’mon, princess. I wanna hear you.”

He doesn’t slip his thumb out. You speak around his digit, drooling and slurring, incoherent. “Pleashe, pleashe, pleashe, Daddy, let me come. I want to come. I’ve been so good, I’ve— fuck, I’ve needed it for so long. Just—” You cry, shaking your head. “You’re so fucking deep in me.”

You take his hand away from your jaw, feeling spit drip down your chin as you spread it over your belly instead. “Fucking love you inside of me. Where you belong,” you moan. 

“Fuck, yeah.” He pushes on your stomach, making you feel his cock sliding into you. Your mind rolls inside your skull, drunk. “Made for this cunt.”

“Made to make me come.” He nods again eagerly. Your hips stutter, exhausted. “Please, then,” you say, hopeful. “Pleasepleasepleasepleasepleaseplea—”

“Come for me, princess.”

“Ah—” You convulse, dropping on his chest, a scream drowning in his shoulder as your climax hits you in one drowning wave. Ecstasy sparks under your skill, overwhelming. 

Matty holds you in place with one soothing hand on your spine. Ruthlessly, he continues to fuck up into you, riding the end of your mindnumbing orgasm. “Fuck, I got you. Ride it out, princess. Ride it out on my cock. That’s it— Shit, I can fucking feel you.” 

Your fingertips buzz pleasantly, and there’s the distant shape of his words in your ear. You grin, loose and happy, heart filling up with his name. “D’you feel good?” He asks, kissing your cheek. You nod, humming. “Yeah? Came so hard for me?”

“Yeah.” You moan, his cock still thrusting inside of you slowly, waking you up again. Your legs shake. You tilt your hips slowly, ever so slightly rolling them. Matty grins against your cheek, kissing it again and again. 

He caresses your back, soothing away all those leftover shivers. “So fucking pretty when you come,” he promises. “The best girl. My best girl.” He grips your back, choking out, “Can you turn around for me?” 

You whine, tired, but still straighten up on his lap. You hoist up with great efforts, turning around with shaky knees. He coos some congratulations, hooking an arm around your belly and laying you back up on his chest. You practically melt on it, back against his stomach, head tucked in the crook of his neck. Each thigh hangs from his knees and he spreads you wide open for him again. 

“Don’t have to do anything, baby,” he breathes out, snaking a hand down your body to grab his still hard cock. “Let Daddy take care of you.” You groan, nodding in agreement. He likes himself up with your dripping entrance, then slides into you. 

He allows you a single slow thrust to get used to the stretch again, then wastes no time mercilessly ramming inside of you. You grip the arm around your waist, digging your nails into his tattoos, barely holding on from the brutal pace between your thighs. You mumble a strange mix of his name and the word Daddy, blurring out of you with all those pathetic sounds you shamelessly let out. 

You can tell he’s close too, chasing his pleasure with abandon, practically using you to get off. The knowledge makes burning heat spread through your lower belly. You throb around him, wanting him to come, to fill you up. Wanting him to feel as good as he makes you. 

Matty smirks against your cheek. “Oh, are you gonna come again?” His hips snap quickly, taunting. You stutter a response, biting down a scream. “What’s that? Can’t hear you when you mumble.”

“Shit,” is all you manage to say, already feeling pleasure grow inside of you again. He’s delighted to find this, grabbing a pebbled breast and playing with it. “I— Fucking, I’m—”

He hums, licking your neck. “Does Daddy’s cock make you forget how to speak?” You tremble in his arms, hot shame filling up your mind, a strange, sinful heat that has you yelling out absurdities. Matty’s relentless between your thighs, knowing exactly how to prove his point. 

His knees fall further on the bed, spreading your thighs wide open for him. He snakes a hand to your clit, rubbing at it with his palm. You jump in his arms, shaking your head. “Can’t—” It’s too much, too soon. You feel the edges of you unspool, unwind. 

“Can’t what?” He teases, merciless. “Can’t think? It’s okay, baby. Just lay there and take it. I’ll do the rest.” 

You practically buzz, incapable of taking in the pleasure that he’s already fucking and rubbing some more out of you. You choke, giving him some empty pleas, unsure of what exactly you’re even asking for.

“My dumb little slut,” he coos, kissing your cheek. “Fucked all stupid, as she should be.”

He dips his head in your neck, nipping and licking at the skin, peppering it with sweet love. It drowns your mind, makes it sticky and happy. You claw at his arm, desperate. 

Matty’s legs shake under you. You know he’s growing tired too, ready to burst anytime. The knowledge pokes at your mind, hot and eager. You grind on his palm. 

“Come in me,” you beg. You’ve completely relinquished the control of your tongue. “I’m on the pill now. Please.” Matty twitches inside of you. 

“Fuck,” he groans in your neck, choked. “That right? Got on the pill specifically for me?”

You did, searching up doctors and prescriptions, belly humming with the idea of him not pulling out this time. “Yes.”

His hand leaves your breast, climbing up to your neck. You throb around him, reveling in his presence around your throat, the silent mark that he owns you. “Needed me to fill you up that fucking bad? To have my cum dripping out of you.” 

“Yes,” you scream, wrinkling your face. 

“Gonna come for me first, though, right? Be my good little girl and come.” Though the words trigger something in you, you shake your head stubbornly. You’re almost afraid of letting go, as though the building euphoria inside of you could crush you to death, could blow your skin off your bones. It’s safer here, just on the edge of the fatal. 

His cock slams into you and his hand presses into your clit, driving you wilder and wilder. You choke a scream, feeling your limbs tighten in apprehension. You’re there, just there, and still you refuse. 

All the sensations are too much. You call his name, the only word you seem to know. Pressure presses against your skin, threatening to burst. You feel yourself begin to cry. 

Matty shushes you soothingly. “Oh, princess,” he says, kissing away your tears. “Shhh. It’s okay. I’m right there. I’ll catch you.” 

You pout, shaking your head, sobbing from pleasure. It’s a useless fight; Matty presses into the sides of your throat and suddenly the world catches on fire. You’re flying into orbit, imploding with ecstasy, screaming his name and all the curse words you know in worship. 

“Did so well,” Matty screams. “Fuck. Look at you coming all over my cock. What a good girl.” He releases your neck just when you come down from your high, shooting you up in another rush of pleasure. You moan, melting on him. “Gonna fill you up, now,” he warns. His words sound desperate, stretched thin. “Gonna come so deep inside of you, you’ll feel me for days. D’you want that?” 

“Yes!” 

His hips stutter. He twitches inside of you. “Say it— Shit.”

“Fill me up, Daddy!” 

“Ah, fucking hell—” He comes inside of you with a cry of your name, shaking under you. He groans, shaking, washed with pleasure. He continues fucking into you mindlessly, slower and slower, until he’s stopped, panting. His hold on you is murderous; it’s like he’s afraid you’ll slip away from him in his most vulnerable state. 

You watch him, observe his solemn face as he lingers in ecstasy, eyes shut and smile wide. Your chest warms, a grin teasing your own lips. Sweat and tears and drool dries on your face.

Matty softens inside of you. His cock slips out, cum spilling out of you. You moan at the feeling, getting on your elbows to watch the spectacle. Still laying down and catching his breath, Matty plunges two fingers inside of you, pushing his cum back in your cunt just so you can watch it fall again. You shiver, falling back on him with a sigh. 

“God,” he says. “I’m too old to fuck in twin beds.” You laugh in surprise and he snickers with you, his chest drumming against you. “You’re rich. Why don’t you have a king sized bed and feather pillows or some shit?” 

“I’m sensible,” you say, sticking your tongue out. You roll to your belly beside him, finally letting him take a full breath. He stretches on your mattress, taking up almost all the space. It’s a little ridiculous, this man in your childhood bed. 

You smirk, traveling down his chest and stopping near his soft cock. You lick the length, sucking him into your mouth to clean the mix of your wetness and his cum. He jumps, sitting up to push you anyway. “Fucking— Do you want to kill me?”

You laugh, falling back on the pillows, cheeky. “See? Not so easy.” 

“Well, you’re young and healthy. I expect more of you.” Matty opens his arm, inviting you to tuck your head in his shoulder. Your arm drapes over his chest, halfway across his tattoo. “When’s your dad gonna be back?” He yawns.

“I don’t know,” you admit. It’s always up in the air; often, you don’t know he even came back until you wake up to the strong smell of Ethiopian coffee and the ghost of him in the flat. You shrug, “You could always sneak out if he’s there in the morning.”

Matty rubs his face. “Ugh, I feel like a teenager.” 

You rest your chin on his shoulder, teasing, “Shouldn’t fuck such a young, innocent girl, then.”

He arches an eyebrow. “Innocent? You’ve seen the things you’ve done on my dick?”

“Shut up.” Quieter, you mumble, “I don’t think Mr. Snuffles’s ever gonna be able to unhear tonight.” His laughs rocks you, resonating against you. You grin on his skin. 

You nuzzle further into his warmth, exhaustion settling in your bones. His arm warms your waist, pulling you further into him. You know you need to clean yourself up soon, but you allow yourself a short moment to relish the shape of him. 

He tugs you out of sleep by piping up, voice sticky-tired, “If you want, I know the best fucking scallop place in town. We could go tomorrow.”

Halfway asleep, you say, “I’d like that.”

[cherrywhipped]

what goes down when you…

❤︎ get drunk with your tokyo rev s/o. ❤︎

!!!!!! VERY NSFW ❤︎ including: baji, chifuyu, kazutora, takemichi, mikey, draken, mitsuya, smiley, angry, rindou, ran, izana, kokonoi, inui, kakucho, sanzu, taiju, kisaki, hanma, shion, naoto, wakasa, shinichiro

a/n: just in time for valentines!!😀 had the weeknd’s cover of drunk in love on repeat, so I smashed a bunch of Tokyo Rev ideas I had into this prompt that weren't working as full fics. Some of these I ended up loving a lot (pt 2??*cough*shin) & some of them will probably just stay here. have a wonderful v day & stay safe! if u don’t have a date (like me) buy urself flowers and read these in the bath bc ur fav TR character wants to f*ck you rn <3

— — ❤︎ Baji Keisuke

“No listen! Apparently we weren’t even a couple despite all the times we fucked at the winery? And then it ended up catching on fire?? That’s like the last message, like we don’t even know how Aiden’s contest wine rank—” Baji smashed his lips against yours, ceasing your rambling immediately. “Babe, respectfully, I have no fucking idea what you’re talkin’ about.” He smiled and lowered his lips to your ear. “But, ya know, I could listen to your voice all damn day,” Baji planted a featherlight kiss near your earlobe as he whispered, “…’specially like hearing those moans of yours.” Something about liquor made your usually stoic boyfriend run his damn mouth. His topaz eyes twinkled as you stared at him in shock. You felt his heavy hand against your cheek and leaned into his comforting touch, his thumb brushing over your lips. “Keisuke,” you sighed. “You made me forget what I was saying.” You kissed his hand and lightly bit down on his thumb. “Good.” He sighed as you opened your mouth enough for him to slip his index finger in, another one following the first. You closed your lips around his knuckles and sucked him in, beckoning him further down your tongue until his fingertips tapped the back of your throat. He chuckled softly when you gagged. Baji pulled his hand away from your mouth and stuffed it down your pants to finger you. You could feel the heat radiating from his face as he kissed you firmly, teeth sinking into your lower lip.

— — ❤︎ Kazutora Hanemiya

KBOOM. Heavy rain drummed against the window. Thunder erupted outside your bedroom, followed by a loud crackle, leaving you and your boyfriend completely in the dark. “Aw, shit,” Kazutora huffed. “Well, s’good thing we made a blanket fort.” He giggled and patted around for his phone. You were watching Regular Show in your little cave and playing one of those drinking games where you had to take a shot every time Benson yelled or someone said “whoaaaa,” for example. When the power cut out, you were several episodes in and needless to say, both pretty drunk at this point. “Here, I’ll help,” you say sweetly, fumbling around the wad of sheets on the floor. “hEy, babyyy, watch it.” It took a moment for you to register what had transpired; it seems you pawed Kaz’s lap... and accidentally grabbed his dick. Drunk y/n suddenly had a great idea. “Ohh, I’m so sorry pretty boy, ’m still looking for it,” you feigned, crawling closer to his body and intentionally getting handsy with him. You flipped up his shirt and ran your fingers across the skin of his lower stomach. Your touch danced over the waistband of his sweats, teasing him mercilessly before fully cupping his hard-on. Tora whined. You could barely make out his head tipping back in the dark as you squeezed him. “Mmh, god… y/n, baby, ride me,” his tone made your heart pussy jump, it was a mix of desperate and demanding. Before you could move, he grabbed your ass, pulling at the flesh of your thighs and hips to get you to straddle him. You rolled over onto his lap, french kissing him feverishly. Kazutora sucked at your bottom lip as he pressed your body down to grind against his pelvis, rocking your hips forward and back slowly.

— — ❤︎ Matsuno Chifuyu

The refrigerator was overflowing with Jell-O shots for the party tonight. You and Chifuyu were so ready to impress your friends, having gone all out with a batch of rainbow ones AND a batch of chocolate pudding ‘dirt cup’ shots, complete with sour gummy worms on top….. only for it to get cancelled:( “I’m sure they’ll reschedule really soon, Fuyu. at least these should last a few days,” you comforted your love. “Yeah… no point in letting them go to waste, though. I’m tryin’ some—” Chifuyu made a b-line for the fridge and returned with handfuls of the mini containers. He plopped down next to you with an expression one could only describe as epiphanic. “Actually… Hold that thought, I’m gonna order pizza.” You snorted, “We having a party of our own?” Chifuyu put the shots down on the coffee table. “I mean, why not?? With a pizza box and all these cups we can play…” he paused for dramatic effect, “battle shots!” You giggled and nodded, “Battle ships with Jell-O shots and a pizza-box board, huh?” You smiled brightly. “Have I ever mentioned that I love you?” Chifuyu grinned playfully at your comment and hovered over you on the couch, nose inches away from yours. “Mm, no, never. I think I’d remember something so impo—” you leaned forward and pressed your lips to his before he could finish his sentence. ••••• “A5.” It was the last turn of the game. “Hit, and you sunk my battleship,” you sighed in defeat, utterly wasted after having Chifuyu wipe the floor with you this game. “Woo! I wiiinnn, what’s my prize?” Chifuyu beamed. You crawled over to him and laid your head in his lap, kissing his thighs playfully. “I’ve got an idea.” He shivered and bit his lip. A deep sigh left his chest, relaxing his body as he stroked your cheek. He gazed at you adoringly. “Oh? I think I like where this is going.”

— — ❤︎ Hanagaki Takemichi

You are seated next to Takemichi at his beautiful cousin’s wedding, looking on as the newly wed couple shares their first marital kiss. Michi squeezed your hand before contributing to the growing applause and cheers. He breathed a sigh of relief upon surviving the most stressful parts of the ceremony, and now everyone was just ready to let loose. “Whoa, check it oouuut!” He exclaimed, pointing towards the delicious spread of food and drinks decorating the room. Music blared as everyone helped themselves. Takemichi twirled you around the dance floor a few times, and now you were seated near the mini bar to get your drink on. You two had a toast to yourselves first (what better way to celebrate the romantic scene) and stared into each other’s eyes lovingly. The chemistry was almost the same as when you two had first started dating, the conversation flowing effortlessly all evening. One, two, four… you lost count of how many drinks you had at this point, and your boyfriend was looking pretty flushed himself. You stared at the just-married couple at the center of the dance floor. “They look so wonderful together... I bet,” you began boldly, “they are gonna have the wildest night after this,” you took a sip of your drink and smirked. “Y-Y/n!! That’s such a dirty thing to say,” Takemichi sputtered. “Baby. Don’t play coy like you haven’t said some of the filthiest shit I’ve ever heard.” Your eyes flicked over his flustered expression. You paused for just a moment before leaning in close to his ear. “Tell me you don’t want to act on all the love and romance in the air.” Your hand rested on his face close to the bottom of his jaw. Takemichi trembled, he was visibly caving under the pressure. You heard him swallow hard and nod slightly against your cheek, “I could kiss your lips until they bruise. You have no idea...” he whispered. “That’s more like it. We’ve never really explored having sex in a public place, have we? C’mon, I’ll prove my love to you now,” you kissed his cheek sincerely. “And I’ll let you prove you’re thinking some things far worse than I am,” you whispered and pulled him out of his seat.

— — ❤︎ Sano Manjiro

“SHIT!” Mikey cussed, his quarter bouncing off the table and narrowly missing the shot glass he aimed for. You both had a few shots of liquor in you and the aims were only getting worse. “HA! That one was double or nothing, take two, Mikey~.” You loved playing games with your boyfriend, even if he was the worst loser on the planet and would conjure up absolutely anything to ensure he won in the end. “Noo, wait! One more! If I make this one, you have to take all my shots. If I miss, I’ll take four.” He stared at you with unwavering intensity. “And how’s that fair at all??” You squinted back, lips curving into a pout. “Okay, okay. Fine, here. You get a chance to shoot when I make this shot. If you miss, both of us only take two shots, but if you make it, I’ll take five.” He tilted his head to the side and smiled sweetly. What absolute nonsense. You thought for a moment before replying, “You’re on, babe.” Mikey flashed you a grin, lining up his course on the table. It was a great attempt, you really thought he had it. Somehow though, his quarter skimmed the glass and bounced right back out. “FUCK-!! YOU SAW IT GO IN!” He screeched. “NO WAY, THAT’S STILL A MISS!” Your intensity matched his frantic screams, laughter erupting from you. “Baby! Youu have to take four shots nooow~,” you poked his stomach and arms playfully. “Nuh uh, technically I didn’t miss.” You stared at him in disbelief. “Mikey. The quarter is on the table. Take. The damn. Shots.” He sprinted away from you at full speed, darting towards the bedroom, “MAKE ME!!” You couldn’t believe how childish-... But you didn’t have time to waste and chased after him. You caught up to him and flung yourself at him, effectively body-slamming him onto the mattress. “Sano Manjiro I swear if you don’t take those fuckin-” his hands gently wrapped behind your head, thumbs grazing the side of your face as he captured your lips in a kiss. That asshole. You melted into him, fingers wandering up his neck to grab handfuls of his hair. He swept his hands down your body, palms landing on your ass, pulling you flush against his hips. Panting, you pulled away from his sensual kisses. “Mm, I’m not letting you off that easy.”

— — ❤︎ Ryuguji Ken

“…you do remember where we are, right?” Draken breathed in a low tone near your ear. Yeah, of course, a casual dinner party with his friends and some of his work buddies. So maybe one of his friends made excellent cocktails, and maybe you overindulged. And perhaps, as a consequence, the liquor had you feeling devious enough to try to feel up your boyfriend around a corner where nobody could see to get a reaction out of him. “Mhmm,” you answered confidently. His grip on your wrist tightened as he pushed his knee between your thighs, backing you against the wall. “And you do know what’ll be waiting for you if you keep acting up here, hm?” You whimpered, maybe a bit too excitedly for his taste. Draken tilted your chin up to meet his gaze with his free hand, his brow raised into an expression that read ‘don’t test me’. You blinked innocently and pouted. “I’m sorry daddy. Can I have a kiss?” Ken rolled his eyes at you before answering, “Tch, fine. Just one, then we are going back for a little while longer.” He leaned down to kiss you, his hand softly resting on your jaw and his other hand releasing your wrist to settle on your hip. Just as your lips met, you pulled him close by the collar of his shirt with one hand, the other sneaking its way to his belt, dipping below the buckle slowly in attempt to tease his cock. You felt his body briefly relax before pulling away from you, breaking the kiss in the act. “Mm, you shouldn’t have done that.” He huffed. Without warning, he belted, “Oi, Mitsuya! S’getting late, I’ve gotta get my s/o home. Tell whoever’s left I’m headin’ out.” Your eyes widened in shock that he just announced your exit… and now you had no escape from the punishment you earned yourself. “C’mon, baby, let’s get you home and into bed, ah?” He laced his fingers with yours and led you to the car with a knowing grin.

— — ❤︎ Mitsuya Takashi

“You are so fucking sexy.” Your incredible Mitsuya, the absolute perfect partner, had the filthiest mouth after a few glasses of wine. It was dinner at your place, just some pasta and wine, nothing crazy, but Takashi had it out for you tonight. He beckoned you over to where he was sitting, heavy kisses quickly escalating before you could wrap your brain around it all. “God, you smell good…” he squeezed at your flesh ferociously. “Turn around, wanna taste my dessert,” he breathed, shifting in his seat at the dinner table. “N-no, other way, baby. I want a face full of ass while I eat that pretty pussy,”  his voice was low, growl-like tone making your cunt pulse as you climbed on the table. “Taka--!” you attempted to call to him pitifully. He pushed your dress up and sunk his teeth into the fabric of your panties, pulling them down your leg teasingly. “Spread ‘em wider,” he demanded. “Mitsuya!!” He was being embarrassingly direct. You would’ve been humiliated if you didn’t find it so hot. You slid your knees further apart on the sleek wood, back curving into a pronounced arch to put as much of your pussy on display for him as you could in this position. “Mmm, just like that, good girl,” he purred. You jumped when his tongue swiped along your slick folds, the contact making your legs tingly. He kissed and licked at your cunt before sucking your clit in his mouth. You both moaned in unison. “So good,” he whined in a low tone. “Want more?” he gripped your thigh with one hand and teased your entrance with the other. “Yes, please, Taka,” you mewled softly. You leaned your hips into his touch, and he let out a deep, lascivious giggle in response. “Baby, you’re gonna have to beg a little better than that.” You wished you could see the wide grin you knew was on his face. “Come on. I know you’ve got it in you.” 

— — ❤︎ Kawata (Angry) Souya

Tonight, you ventured to a bar within walking distance of your boyfriend Souya’s apartment. The two of you had as many drinks as you wanted since nobody was driving, the area was relatively safe, and left with confidence knowing if anybody messed with y’all, Angry was more than capable of kicking their ass. Your arms wrap tightly around your boyfriend’s midsection, face pressed into the back of his shirt as he walked, dragging you forward with him each step. “Pleaseeee! Souya, pleeee-,” your incessant cries were cut short by your boyfriend stopping abruptly and whipping around to face you. You flinched at his furious expression, but the words that left his mouth were surprisingly… sweet. “Sure, princess. It’s on the way to the apartment.” Angry took your hand and led you towards the barren park. You playfully danced around him and cheered excitedly, insisting that he push you on the swing. “Fine, fine, but only if you’ll go down the slide with me.” Of course you agreed and the two of you played around for some time. It was now Souya’s last time going down the slide, so you waited at the bottom for him. He let out the most adorable ‘wheee!’ sound as he swirled around to the end of the slide. You saw him laying at the base, slightly breathless, messy blue hair sticking to his forehead from the sweat, and a subtle grin on his usual scowling face. Before you knew it, you hovered over Souya, a handful of his thick hair in your clutches as you leaned in to kiss him. He sighed warmly and pulled your body close, deepening the kiss. “Ready to go?” You asked cheerily. “Mm. Wanna shower with me when we get back?” You caught a glint of mischief in his eyes as he spoke. “Sure. C’mon,” you replied and pulled him to his feet. “Y/n,” he began, and you looked at him expectantly. “…never mind.” Soya shied away from his words. “You sure?” You asked gently, eyes shining in the moonlight. “Um… We should play around like that more often.” He laced his fingers with yours as he walked you back to the apartment. “I love you too, Souya.”

— — ❤︎ Kawata (Smiley) Nahoya

“Oh~? What’s this, eh?” The toy whirred in his hands as he tinkered with the buttons. “Nahoya!!” You screamed. Why was he digging through your stuff?? Even worse for you, it seems that earlier today while you rushed to pack a stay-the-night bag, the mini vibrator you kept hidden in a small pocket in your backpack was overlooked. “So, my girl’s a pervert, huh?” His trademark smirk appeared especially daunting now. You hid your face with your hands. “I—,” you began. Although you and Smiley had some heated moments, being the tease that he is, the two of you hadn’t exactly gone all the way together yet. Tonight was supposed to be the night, you even had some drinks with him to dampen the nerves, but the implications of finding a sex toy in your possession made the anticipation spike back up. “I just, I forgot it was in my backpack,” you winced. “Ohw, why’re ya all pinched up, pretty baby?” His tone softened ever so slightly, “Don’t cha want me to use it on you?” Your eyes widened and your brows raised slightly. “Would you..?” you sucked in a breath, “I think I’d like that…” Your body moved faster than your brain as you slowly crawled towards your boyfriend sitting on the floor. “Yeah? C’mere, then,” he cooed, coaxing you into his lap. His hands tangled in your hair and pulled it firmly enough to cause your mouth to pop open. He quickly brought your face close, stealing your lips and slipping his tongue inside you with a soft groan. You barely heard the sound of the vibrator before Nahoya traced it up your leg, snaking under your shirt and bra to tease your nipple. You moaned sweetly under his touch. He pecked your lips once more before pulling away and grinning. “Heh. This’ll be fun.”

— — ❤︎ Haitani Rindou

Shit-faced at a concert? Sounds about right. You and Rin had been dancing around the pit and waiting for the headliner to start for almost two. hours. He made you get there EARLY because he “didn’t wanna miss the openers.” Bruh. Nobody sane goes to a concert early. You needed some liquor or you were gonna lose your mind. You and Rin smoked beforehand, he had a drink or two already as well, now it was your turn. It wasn’t a super large venue bc Rin wanted to check out an up-and-coming rap artist, but the crowd was starting to swell, the energy buzzing in the air. “Rinnie, you up for a little bet?” You tugged at your boyfriend’s shirt and gave him your best doe eyes. “Mm. Wassup?” He leaned his ear down to your lips to listen to your pitch. “I bet the cost of our bar tab that I can out-drink you tonight.” He perked up almost instantly. “Ohh? You really think ya could, huh? That’s cute.” He smirked and you elbowed his arm. “I’m serious,” you pulled him close to you, lips almost touching. He leaned in the rest of the way to kiss you slowly. “Since you’re so confident, lemme add to the bet,” he started, his hand dropping to the small of your back, pulling you close and brushing his cheek against yours. “Whoever wins… gets to fuck the loser’s ass.” You took a step back and stared at him in disbelief. “Are you deadass right now? …You know you could lose, right? How high did you get Rin..?” He stared into your eyes intensely and half-laughed, “Nah, ‘m deadass serious. Guess I could, but I won’t lose. You’re already startin’ out behind, doll. Best get to drinkin’ if the bet’s on.” His confidence was almost enough to make you change your mind. almost. You sucked in a breath and hurried to the bar to order yourself two drinks.

— — ❤︎ Haitani Ran

“Ran baby!” you called, “What is this!?” You got up at noon and headed to the balcony right off the bedroom for some air, only to reveal a fantastic looking breakfast spread on the patio tables. It was complete with a drink dispenser full of a vibrant orange liquid that very much resembled a mimosa. “My love,” his model-esque figure sashayed down the hallway, then stepped out onto the balcony dramatically. “You know how we always sleep in and miss brunch? Well, today, I brought brunch to us.” He beamed as he gestured towards the table, a soft breeze rustling his hair and kicking up the end of his silky robe. What a strange boyfriend he was, but you couldn’t deny that he looked gorgeous in his own right. You let out firm giggle. “Ran! You didn’t have to do all this, what’s the occasion?” He leaned forward and grasped your chin tenderly. “Oh, I just love you, that’s all.” Before you could react, his lips were on yours, melting you completely. Your hand gingerly grasped his, meeting his eyes with nothing but pure, wholistic love. “How did I get so lucky? I love you very much, Ran. Thank you.” You brought his palm to your lips and kissed it softly. “So, now we’re gonna get drunk… and then you’ll give me the best head I’ve ever had in my life, right?” He smiled blankly. “RAN!!” You playfully whacked his chest. “As if I’d say anything other than yes.” You both moved to the table and enjoyed breakfast, downing mimosas like nobody’s business. “You better understand what you’re in for now, Haitani.” You warned. “‘M not stopping after the first, second, or even third time you cum.” Ran’s face contorted into one of amusement as he drunkenly giggled, “You better not, but after that, I’m taking you to bed, k?” As you crawled under the table on the balcony, a fleeting thought penetrated your mind, could anyone see you? The minute you got a taste of Ran’s cock, however, the thought vanished, and you didn’t have a care in the world.

— — ❤︎ Kurokawa Izana

“How can you just leave me standing, Alone in a world so cold,” Izana sang softly as he played his guitar in his apartment for you. “Maybe I’m just too demanding, Maybe I’m just like my father, too bold,” you sang along with him, admiring the sounds filling the room. Your boyfriend, however, suddenly ceased his playing, gentle laughter interrupting the song. “Baby, I know you don’t sing like that.” He set his guitar aside, giggles getting the best of him. “Zana, that’s so mean, do I really sound bad?” You felt your eyebrows raise in concern. So maybe you weren’t Prince, but you knew you weren’t the worst singer in the world… did you offend Izana’s ears enough for him to stop playing altogether and laugh? “Not at all, you’re just… so cute when you try to sing drunk. You focus so hard that your pretty face gets all scrunched up…” he leaned forward from his seat on the floor to grab your cheeks. He cracked up again upon seeing your face squished into an exaggerated fishy-lipped pout by his own hand. “Izana, you are so giggly tonight,” you teased. “I dunno, guess I’m just in a really good mood.” He smiled softly, hands coming up to wipe tiny tears from his lavender eyes. “Aww, is that your way of saying I make you happy?” You scooted closer to him and poked at his sides, tickling him slightly. He responded between broken laughs, “Hey, you make me very happy, y/n.” There was a sweet moment of silence before he retaliated. Izana moved on your figure, leisurely yet swiftly grabbing your wrists and pinning you to the floor. He hardly gave you a second to protest before he was kissing you delicately. He made you feel adored and desirable in ways you couldn’t have anticipated. You wrapped your legs around his back, the soft, sensual kisses sinking into dark, hungry ones. His grip on your wrist tightened as he pressed his body against you, the two of you desperate for closeness. He broke the kiss only long enough to say, “bed,” before pulling you to your feet and drunkenly guiding you to his room, your lips and bodies inseparable.

— — ❤︎ Kokonoi Hajime

“Where are you, little slut?” Koko’s voice echoed through the hotel penthouse. You held in your giggles as you hid in the gorgeous marble bathroom, hunkered down in the lavish bathtub. “If I don’t find you in the next 10 seconds, I’m gonna spank you till you cry. One...” You let out a cackle. “Kokooooo! My darling, take a bath with me,” your voice carried throughout the suite. You stood up and stripped down to your lingerie as you waited for him to enter the room, opting to sit seductively on the edge of the tub. “Sigh.” Koko stepped through the door, his face decorated lightly with vanilla icing. “You’re more trouble than you’re worth,” he rolled his eyes and sauntered towards the tub. “Tongue out,” he demanded. You did as you were told, delicately licking the icing from his cheek and side of his nose. You left tiny kisses on the affected areas as he complained. “First you finish off MY favorite wine, then you go and hit me with a cupcake.” He clicked his tongue and crossed his arms, sharp eyes boring into your forehead. “Baby, that was a total accident!” You stammered. “Awh, it was an accident~” his lips curled upwards as he mocked your tone. “Koko!! I didn’t know how close my hand was to your face, Hajime, I’m drunk! And I’m very sorry…. C’mon, let’s take a bath, pleaseee?” You tugged at his clothes gently. “Why d’ya wanna have a bath so bad right this second?” He took a step back, heavily lidded eyes fixed on the intricate red lingerie you wore. “Wanna fuck you in the bath, I guess. Seems romantic.” Kokonoi raised a brow, his cruel facade melting. “Mm. Guess it is Valentine’s Day,” he mused. “Tch, You’re damn lucky I love you so much, my spoiled brat. Alright, but first, go prance a little. Get me a drink so I can see the set from the back.” You hopped up excitedly. “Yay!! Yes sir!” You started to head back to the main area before Koko’s voice stopped you. “Hold on,” he paused, “do that again.” You tilted your head to the side. “Do what, this?” you jumped up and spun slightly, all your curves bouncing with you. “Mm. So good for me. Hurry back now,” he teased, unbuttoning his shirt and pulling out a big box of rose petals from the cabinet to put in the bath.

— — ❤︎ Inui Seishu

Hot tears welled in your eyes as you choked back a frustrated laugh. “4th time balls back, you’re fucking kidding me…” you face palmed. Inui stood at the opposite end of the table, arms folded and his gaze fixed on the last two red solo cups in front of you. He was absolutely destroying you at beer pong. Who would’ve thought he’d be so good? You were unbelievably flustered at losing so hard and having to drink so much, but his flawless performance was undeniably impressive… his cool and domineering appearance further flustering you. Inui lined up the shot, and just before the ping pong ball left his fingertips, you hollered, “MISS!!” He flinched and the ball skimmed the cup. You laughed triumphantly. “Tch! Y/n, you cheater.” He rolled his eyes and picked up the second ping pong ball. He shot quickly and it sunk in, leaving one last cup before your defeat. You had only managed to wipe out 3 of his cups:( but you weren’t giving up yet!! You heard somewhere the more drunk you are, the better you get at this game, right? You snatched up the balls and went straight in on your shot, fatally missing both. Inui snickered, a slight smile appearing on his face. “Nice try, y/n. I’ll go ahead and win for us so you can take a break from drinking,” his eyes flashed with a subtle fierceness, bouncing the ball off the table into a perfect shot. Before you could pick up the last cup and remove the ball to drink it, Inui walked over and grabbed the cup for himself. “I’ll take this one off your hands.” You tilted your head. “Why? You won, it’s my punishment,” you inquired. “Little give and take. Let’s just say I’ve got some better ideas of how to punish you than making you drink yourself sick.” After throwing back the cup, he wiped your now nonexistent tears away and kissed your eyelids softly. “So worked up over such a silly thing…” He slinked behind you and wrapped his arms around your waist, pelvis pressing into your back. He leaned down and brushed any clothes or hair aside to work a hickey onto your skin, kissing your neck and up your face, stopping right next to your ear. He bit the shell of it before whispering, “Wanna bend over for me, pretty?”

— — ❤︎ Kakucho

Let’s just say that you did NOT plan on getting drunk at lunch with your darling Kaku today. You skipped breakfast, sure, but what the hell was in that margarita? You were bewildered as to how one drink could possibly put you on your ass. You were dizzy just sitting in the booth across from Kaku. “Y/n, you didn’t answer my question. Sweetheart, you okay?” He smiled softly at you, eyebrows knitting together out of concern as he reached for your hand. “Uh huh,” you replied slowly. “Should’ve thought about drinking on an empty stomach,” you sighed and squeezed his fingers. The sudden flash in your mind of having his thick hands wrapped around your throat made pleasure pool in your stomach. …Were you ovulating? You must be. First you get drunk off of one drink, now you’re lewding your boyfriend at a restaurant midday. You paused. Before you could even correct your mistake, Kakucho looked at you knowingly. You slowly realized you were clenching his hand hard, and loosened your grip. “Oh, sorry, baby…” The corner of his mouth crept upward, and he raised a brow. “Y/n… why don’t you try texting me what’s going on,” he suggested with a knowing smile. “While you’re at it, I’ll make arrangements for someone to pick us up from here.” You gave him a bewildered stare. “Why not have a little fun, um… day... drinking?” He smiled sheepishly as you giggled. Kaku was willing to take one for the team if it made you feel more comfortable. Besides, it’s not like you had plans outside of each other for the rest of today. You pulled out your phone and began rapid-fire texting him every horny thought that came to mind. 📱[Y/N❤️‍🔥: take me to thebathroom and bend me over the sink :: do I think the server would notice if I sucked your dick under the table :: can i test it out? :: hmph. fine but i need u to choke me in the car, ok?] Needless to say, the look on his face was priceless. 

— — ❤︎ Sanzu Haruchiyo

The club. It was ridiculously dark in the room, you could hardly see flashes of Sanzu’s vibrant eyes and his wicked toothy grin in the pitiful blue and purple flashing lights. Somehow, the loud music contributed to your poor visibility and absolutely fueled the fire of lust and love you had for your boyfriend. All you could do is let yourself be consumed by him, fully taking in the feeling of his body against yours. Nobody could see you two making out on the dance floor, the two of you heavily intoxicated and tuned in to each other’s reactions: every touch and moan made your grip on reality slip. Haru backed you tight against the wall, his arms caging you in. Your spine arched deliciously into his chest. His breath hot on your neck, lips dangerously close to sinking into your skin, but he paused right there. He grabbed the side of your head firmly and pressed your cheek to his face, lips tickling your ear as he spoke over the music. “Could fuck you right here,” his voice is low, breathy, and dead serious. “Want to so bad, can I?” His free hand slips between your legs and up your dress… before you know it, his fingers are tapping against your panties, electricity jolting your cunt with each touch. “Uh huh, I don’t care, want you now, Haru,” you whined in his ear. A breathy laugh escaped him before kissing you roughly, his tongue swiping along your own. Sanzu pushed his hips firmly against yours, his feet lightly kicked at the inside of your ankles to make you spread your legs further apart. He aligned your body with his pelvis, effectively trapping you further against the wall. The kiss was broken to mark your neck as his hands hungrily grabbed one of your thighs and wrapped it around his waist, his lanky stature securing your position. You just knew your boyfriend was gonna fuck you so good, his demeanor borderline feral as he bared his pointy canines… it was like he wanted to stake his claim in front of everyone at the club--and you’d sure as hell let him.

— — ❤︎ Shiba Taiju [bar fight/violence WARNING]

There was no denying that your boyfriend was and probably always will be a little nuts, but you loved him for it. You are perched on a barstool, watching the madness unfold with blurry vision. The unfortunate sucker that flirted with you 3 minutes ago is getting his ass whooped by your beast of a boyfriend. You really tried to stop him, but Taiju made up his mind the second he saw that guy put his hands on you. Honestly, seeing him fight for you was as flattering as it was arousing--oops, you meant to think ‘terrifying’... probably. The stupid scumbag’s friend broke a beer bottle and threatened Taiju with it as you scrambled to your feet, backing towards the exit. To your relief, one swift swing of Taiju’s fist and the guy was out cold. Your boyfriend whipped around and stomped towards you, immediately throwing his arms around you protectively. “‘M taking us home.” He breathed, managing to escape the fight with only bruised knuckles and bloody eyebrow. God, he looked so hot. The two of you stumbled out the door. The moment you were out of sight from the people crowding the bar, you pulled him in a searing kiss. Your arms wrapped around his neck as you pressed your body against his. Taiju’s strong hands twitched on your waist. He wasn’t sure why, but he felt an intense yearning for you just then, the kiss ending all too quickly for him. “I’ll get us a ride,” you said softly. He blinked at you slowly, his wide amber eyes unreadable beneath his furrowed brow. “Mmh.” Was all he said. As you fiddled with your phone, Taiju’s head lowered to your neck, his forehead resting against your shoulder. He clutched the fabric of your clothes at your hips harshly, a ragged breath leaving his lips. “Give me your body.” His voice was barely a whisper. His lips met your neck passionately as his body enveloped yours. “Tai—,” you gasped when his teeth sunk into your skin. “Baby,” you moaned weakly, “our ride will be here in a minute, let’s get home and then,” you panted softly, “you can have whatever you wish.”

— — ❤︎ Kisaki Tetta

“Hi, my diamond. Enjoying the view?” You knew it was Kisaki by his euphonic tone before you felt his arms wrap around your waist. He pressed his body against your back and rested his chin on your shoulder, kissing your cheek before gazing out at the sea with you. “Yes! It’s beautiful, the water is so blue,” you exclaimed. It truly is one of the most beautiful views you’ve ever seen. Kisaki booked a vacation for the two of you: a cruise with a suite room so luxurious you would’ve mistaken it for a grand hotel room if not for the motion of the ship and sound of the waves. You’ve been his partner for years and somehow he outdoes himself every single anniversary. “Wanna have a drink with me?” He offered, planting another kiss to your face. “Sure!” You practically sang. Kisaki took your hand and led you from your private balcony to inside the suite. You almost fainted at the sight. Before you on the coffee table sat an ice bucket with pink champagne, strawberries, melted chocolate, whisky, soda, and a few of your favorite snack foods. “Happy anniversary, darling.” You immediately rushed to capture him in a giant hug, squeezing him tight and peppering kisses all along his face. “You really didn’t have to do all of this, my goodness. Thank you—thank you so much, Tetta. You really know how to make me feel special.” He smiled lovingly before you captured his lips in a heartfelt kiss. Kisaki poured you both a glass to start, you had a cute little toast, and then, you drank. It didn’t take long for the effects of the drinks to hit you. Between the high of the views, snack spread, and your handsome boyfriend... it’d be a fat lie to say you weren’t dying to get in his pants. “Tettaaa,” you whined. “Will you come cuddle me?” You asked climbing onto the bed. “Anything for you.” He said softly, his figure resting next to you on the mattress. One of the many things you loved about Kisaki was that he always dressed well. That, and his scent is intoxicating. You hummed and began unbuttoning his shirt. “Oh? I thought you wanted to cuddle?” Kisaki quirked a brow with a playful expression. “Maybe I just said that to get you into bed with me..?” You met his intense eyes and ran a hand along his chest, kissing him before he could respond. He pulled away gently, a slight snicker escaping him before adding, “Mm, well, I did say anything for you.”

— — ❤︎ Hanma Shuji

“wanna suck you off so bad, pleeeeaase baby your cock ‘s warm n you taste s’good, I want you in my mouth.” unbeknownst to you, the ‘whisper’ that left your lips could be heard by almost everyone in the room. Your friends gawked at you: some cackling, one mortified, others asking for someone else to repeat what you said because they missed it, and a few too stunned to speak. Hanma snorted at your comment, far too drunk, horny, and amused to be embarrassed. God he loved the shit you’d come up with when you drank together. “Yeah? ‘m going to smoke, wanna come?” His sharp golden eyes met yours, alluring grin beckoning you to join. “Mhmmmm,” you tugged at his arms as you stood up, pulling your boyfriend along with you. A few whistles and hollers rang out as you and Hanma stumbled out the door. Outside was surprisingly quiet. The distant sound of a few cars passing by was all you could hear. You walked down the stairs to the poorly-lit yard and backed him up against a large tree. The bark made indentions on your palms as you kissed Shuji with passion and desperation. You thought about asking for permission, but this time, you just wanted to go for it. He deepened the kiss hungrily, his tongue melting into your mouth. Hanma nipped at your bottom lip, trailed kisses down to your neck, and bit down roughly. He too was at a crossroads. Part of him wanted to throw you up against the tree and teach you a damn lesson, but a larger, needier part of him wanted to smoke… and watch you try to suck his dick while he did so. “God, won’t even give me a minute to breathe, let alone light a fuckin cigarette,” he slurred breathlessly. “Down, baby. Let me get this started and then you can have your way with me, hmm?♡.” He fished for his pack and lighter as you kissed down his body, your lips latching onto every inch of bare skin you could get, hands deliberately snaking under his clothes to feel as much of him as you could. “Fuckk, baby, you’re gonna ruin me…”

— — ❤︎ Shion Madarame

“GO GO GO GO—YEAAAAAHHHH ATTA BABYY!!!!” Shion belted as you chugged beer from a giant cooler. It was more liquid than you ever imagined could cram itself down your throat. You agreed to go to a frat party with him, of course, your sweet himbo boyfriend wanted to give the college partying lifestyle a shot. Liquor rushed to your stomach and your head at full speed, you swallowed your last gulp and hoped to goodness none of it would wind up coming back up. “HOLYYYY SHIT. Babe. You’re a goddamn legend.” As if he wasn’t already so whipped for you. “Yeah? s’all for you, daddy,” you slurred, feeling your knees buckle underneath you. Shion quickly moved to support your frame. “Oh fuck, baby, let’s get you layin’ down somewhere.” He helped you into the house and pulled you into an empty bedroom. “Here’s some water… y/n, you okay? I didn’t mean to come off as a dick-…ahh-” you pulled your boyfriend into a heated kiss on the bed. “I know, you didn’t. s’just beer, baby. I’m okay! I’ve taken more shots than beer I’ve had now before.” You smiled confidently. “…Huh? Wha-? Oh. I think I get it. You’re still drunk as fuck, doll. Wanna go home?” He peered into your eyes and cupped your face sweetly. “Uh-uh, lock the door. Come fuck me.” Shion’s face looked like he saw a ghost, or like his dreams were about to come true, or like a ghost appeared ready to make his dreams come true. “A-are you for real right now?” He asked, his voice wavering. You didn’t respond immediately, instead opting to pull him in to a sultry kiss, licking his tongue with your own, pulling away to bite on his bottom lip. “Oh, I’m for real.” You whispered, a handful of his hair clenched in your fist. Shion moaned breathily and hurried to go lock the bedroom door. 

— — ❤︎ Tachibana Naoto

It was so dark tonight. You could only see two things: a faint red hue from the stoplight flooding into the car, and Naoto’s lap. Going out to dinner, you’d both usually have one drink or so, but this time, you talked your boyfriend into being your DD and got a little sloshed. He didn’t mind, though. He loved your raw confidence when liquor was added to your system. He’d get you back safe and take some shots when he got home, no sweat… right? “Fuuuck, baby, slow down,” he rasped, words mixing with moans catching in his throat. “I-isn’t this kinda dangerous?? We are only 5 minutes awAy-aaHh~” Naoto whined as you freed his cock from his slacks. “Nope. Want it now,” you stated flatly, hardly missing a moment before focusing on swallowing his dick. Your lips glided smoothly down his shaft, nose recklessly smashing into Naoto’s lap, his tip jutting against the back of your throat. You set a rigorous pace, hellbent on milking him and tasting his cum as quickly as you could. The light flicked to green. He moaned pitifully and tried his best to focus on driving, easing his foot off the pedal. He could lose control to you, but he would not under any circumstances lose control of the car. “Y/n, fuck,” he grabbed a handful of your hair and pulled you back roughly. “Slow down. Just a little,” he begged, “…please.” You found Naoto’s feeble attempt to take some control back in this situation to be adorable. You love your boyfriend and you know he can take charge when he means it, but you also know when he’s enjoying being at the mercy of your power. You moaned in response and licked the tip of his cock slowly, stroking the base with your free hand. “Mmh, just wait until I get you home,” Naoto lamented breathlessly.

— — ❤︎ Wakasa Imaushi [rough WARNING]

“Shhhh, shh shh,” Wakasa shushed you softly from underneath your skirt. “Just wanna taste,” he whispered, breath tickling your thighs. Waka had been an absolute menace at the bar all night: kissing your neck, slipping his hands under your skirt, teasing your pussy as you sat on a barstool in a puddle of slick, devouring you with his bedroom eyes as you took another shot together. And to make matters worse, the more he drank, the more bold he became. As if he wasn’t already too much to handle sober. He was so fucking smooth, too, nobody suspected a thing. Waka pretended to be a nonchalant, good boyfriend, helping his wasted babygirl get to the bathroom safely. In reality, he was an animal ready to sink his teeth into you. He made a soaking, shaking mess of you, teasing you to the point of having jelly legs, and lured you to the bathroom so he could continue to torment his prey. “Waka, you’re so cruel,” you whined, tears pricking your eyes. “I don’t want you to tease me, I want you to fuck me, damn it,” you choked, trying to be firm and not to let any frustrated tears slip out. “Come again?” Imaushi pulled away from your legs to look you in the eyes. His stare was beyond intimidating, it was narrow and threatening. You blinked several times. “I said I wanted you to fuck me,” you replied cautiously. “Oh, baby, you should’ve said so sooner if that’s what you wanted.” He cooed, his voice sugary sweet, a little too sweet for your comfort. “But baby, you should be careful what you wish for.” In what seemed to an inebriated you as one swift motion, he stood up, snatched both your wrists in one hand, spun you around and pushed your chest against the bathroom counter. 

— — ❤︎ Sano Shinichiro

“More,” you panted heavily. “’K, hurry up ‘n get this off,” Shinichiro slipped his hand underneath your cropped cardigan, half-yanking the sheer material to the side to plant a hickey on the top of your breast. You hastily untied the top and slipped it off your shoulders to give him a full view of your tits in your tight dress. Your hips circled his lap, desperately grinding against him. The windows of the car began to steam up as your body temperatures rose. The two of you went bar hopping and ended up too drunk to drive home. While you waited for a friend to pick you up, things got more than a little heated in the back seat. “Fuck...” his chest heaved against yours, dexterous hands gliding up your back to unzip your dress. As soon as the zipper was down, Shinichiro’s hands snaked under the bottom of the fabric, giving your ass a firm slap before hooking his fingers under your lace panties and sliding them down your thighs. “Mmh, such a perv, Shin,” you moaned, momentarily shifting to the side to get the lacy garment off one leg. “Yeah? I’m not the one desperate to get fucked-” “Shut up, you want it just as bad,” you rebutted, the both of you drunkenly giggling as you climbed back on top of him, engaging in another slutty kiss. Your hands began to undo his belt as his fingers tugged your dress and bra down to expose your chest. He bit your nipple teasingly, wandering touch disappearing under your dress to grope your thigh and play with your clit. “God, you are wet,” he groaned into your chest, long, slender fingers easily sliding into your warm cunt. “S-Shin-!” you whined, “-can’t get it... off,” you huffed between moans and tugged at his pants helplessly. “Hang on. Busy.” He purred near your ear, lips latching onto your neck while he pressed deeper inside you. 

[unfinishedslurs]

bodyswap (steddie)

So, they beat Vecna. Nancy shoots him full of lead, El tears him apart from the inside, and Steve and Robin burn this version of the Creel House down with him in it. It’s over. It’s finally, finally over.

Steve ignores the reopened wounds in his side, racing to get back to Dustin and Eddie before the gates close forever. The ground rumbles again and all three of them stumble, Robin taking his hand and yanking him along when he falters. 

“You can pass out when we get topside!” She screams at him, and he tries to give her a thumbs up before he wraps that hand around his bleeding torso.

They get to the trailer park, but Dustin and Eddie aren’t where they’re supposed to be. Steve almost rips Robin’s arm out of her socket when he turns around and runs. 

“Dustin,” he bellows. There are dead demobats everywhere, and the mass of them on the ground thickens in a particular direction. He heads that way with a sinking feeling in his gut. “Dustin! We need to fucking move!”

“Steve!” He hears Dustin wail, and all self preservation leaves him as he bolts, landing heavily on his knees at Dustin’s side and immediately checking him over for injuries.

“Are you okay?” He gasps, holding his tearstained face in his hands. “Where are you hurt? Show me.”

Dustin shakes his head, crying harder, and that’s when Steve notices the limp body right in front of him. 

Eddie coughs up blood. “Wow, Harrington,” he grins, “nice to see that you care.”

“Shit, shit, shit.” It’s bad. Steve goes into preservation mode, stripping off his jacket and shirt and using them to press down on the many, many bites littering Eddie’s body. He senses Robin and Nancy catch up behind him, and hears Nancy gasp.

“What do you need?” She asks, dropping down on Eddie’s other side.

“Robin and Dustin need to find a new way to get through the portal,” he says, looking over at them. “I can’t carry him and use the rope.”

“Rope’s gone, anyway,” Dustin mutters. “He cut it.”

“You cut the rope?”

Eddie shrugs as much as he can. “Seemed..” he coughs again, red and wet, “…like a good idea…at the time.”

“Stupid,” Dustin corrects angrily. “It was really fucking stupid.”

“We don’t have time for this,” Nancy says frantically. Robin nods, and takes Dustin away swiftly. Steve files Dustin’s limp in the back of his mind for later. “What do I need to do?”

“Help me keep him from bleeding out,” Steve says as he gathers Eddie into his arms. Eddie turns and nuzzles his face into Steve’s chest. It’s weird, but at least he’s alive to do it. “I might need help walking, too.”

“Right.” She examines him worriedly. “On three?”

He heaves Eddie up on the count of three, and Eddie whines, long and pained. “Sorry,” Steve gasps, the wounds on his side tearing. “Sorry.”

“S’kay,” Eddie mumbles, closing his eyes. He doesn’t open them again, and Steve jostles him.

“Hey, no passing out on me, got it? Keep those eyes open for me.”

The last thing he can remember is feeling Eddie’s blood mixing into his, their open wounds pressed together. Then he blacks out.

He wakes up in a hospital bed.

Dustin is beaming at him, teary and happy like Steve’s never seen him before. Not even when he agreed to play one campaign with the scoops troop, and admitted at the end that Dungeons and Dragons wasn’t that bad. Too much math and writing and thinking for him, it made his head hurt, but not, like, awful. 

Steve thinks he’d wake up in a million hospital beds if it meant Dustin always smiled like this. 

“—Robin’s with Steve, we’ve been taking shifts. Well, the rest of us have. She hasn’t actually left his side. He’s woken up a couple of times, like you, but you both fall right back asleep after,” Dustin’s saying, and Steve blinks, foggy. 

“…Steve?”

“Yeah, he collapsed after he carried you out. Went septic, because he didn’t take care of himself again like an idiot and his bites got infected.”

“Wait,” Steve says. “Is there another Steve? Were you hiding another Steve behind my back? Where’s Eddie?”

Dustin stares at him. “You are Eddie.”

“S’not funny, Henderson. I just woke up from a fuckin’ coma, I don’t need this shit right now.”

“Did the bats eat your brains?” He demands. “Shit, do you have brain damage? What’s wrong with you?”

Steve pouts. “That’s not funny, you know I do.” Dustin’s seen him through his fair share of migraines, knows more about what to do and what exactly causes them than Steve, probably. The perks of getting your ass kicked in front of the smartest eighth graders on the planet.

“They gotcha on the good stuff, huh kid?” A man says from the other side of his bed. Steve whips around, only just realizing that this guy is also holding his hand. There’s multiple hand-holdings going on here, which he knows is normal for hospitals but doesn’t know why this random stranger is doing it. Does he know Dustin? Is this the other Steve?

“Who’re you?”

He looks hurt by this, which makes Steve feel like a monster. But his brain won’t work, he’s definitely high on some kind of painkillers, Dustin is being confusing, and he’s tired. 

“That’s your Uncle Wayne,” Dustin reminds him. 

“I don’t have an uncle,” Steve replies, frowning. His parents are both only children, as far as he’s aware, and they don’t have any friends that would call themselves his uncle. Still, the name sounds familiar. “Doesn’t Eddie have an Uncle Wayne?”

“What the hell are you going on about?” Uncle Wayne asks. 

“You’re Eddie,” Dustin insists, confused and somewhat panicked. Now he knows how Steve feels. 

“No I’m not.” Steve scowls, sick of whatever game he’s playing to fuck with Steve’s head. “I’m Steve.”

Dustin’s eyes widen, and Steve gets the sinking feeling that something is very, very wrong. 

The door slams open.

“Dustin!” Robin hollers, eyes wild. “Something is wrong with Dingus! That’s not my dingus!”

“Robbie!” He says excitedly, and tries to sit up. Which goes poorly for him. Ow. 

She looks at him, and a diamonds worth of emotions crosses her face at once. “…Steve?”

“Yes,” he cheers. At least someone knows who he is. 

“How did you know?” Dustin demands. 

“I’d know that drugged up puppy-dog look anywhere,” Robin replies, eyes still on Steve. “Plus, there’s a guy in Steve’s body trying to tell Nancy what kind of campaign he could make out of this.”

“My body?” Steve asks, horrified, just as that Wayne guy says, “Now hol’ up just one second—“

Robin pulls a compact mirror out of her pocket and approaches the bed with caution. 

Wayne is ushered out, still loudly demanding answers for what the hell is going on with his nephew. Steve wishes he had them. 

“Wait, wait, wait,” Robin says with a grin. “This is great.”

“Literally how,” Steve deadpans. 

“Well maybe not great for you, but I’m about to have the time of my life. Eddie, quick, say something nerdy.”

“What,” Eddie says flatly. It’s weird to see his expressions on Steve’s face. His face shouldn’t look like that, shouldn’t move like that. 

“C’mon,” she urges, “I wanna hear Steve’s voice talk about dnd, or your shitty music, or the moral majority.”

“Hey!” Steve objects. “We do talk about the moral majority.”

“Yeah, but we’re always serious about it. I wanna hear Munson give one of his tabletop speeches.”

Eddie looks baffled, which looks so different from the face Steve makes when he’s confused. It’s got the bare bones of it, but the finer details are off, trying to use a face that isn’t his. It’s creepy. Robin must agree, because she shudders a little. 

“You, Steve Harrington, talk about the moral majority?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Steve asks, offended, at the same time Robin says, “Oh, you should hear him. It’s incredible.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it,” Eddie answers, and Steve huffs, throwing his hands up as much as he can when he’s stuck in a hospital bed. Which means he basically just makes a little gesture and hopes it gets the message across. 

“I don’t see what’s so shocking about it! A bunch of assholes declared that my kids were in a cult. They were going to hunt you down. Why would I be on their side?”

“I dunno, Stevie,” Eddie says, eyes glinting. “I guess it’s just a shock to me that the straight, rich-boy jock would have something to say about it. What’re they teaching you in those churches?”

He can’t quite stop the grimace that flashes across his face, meeting Robin’s eyes almost on instinct. Eddie’s eyebrows jut up. 

“What’d I say?”

“I haven’t been to church in two years, man,” Steve admits, avoiding the other glaring assumption. “Once you have to save the lives of kids from monsters that shouldn’t exist, God doesn’t really seem that great.”

It was for the better, really, that Steve had given up. No amount of praying or bargaining made him forget how Jonathan Byers’s hand felt in his as they ran for their lives. It didn’t stop the monsters from coming back either. 

Still, he hadn’t really stopped believing until Robin came out to him. He looked at her, this scared, brave girl who spit in the face of their torturers, the girl who Steve was pretty sure was his best friend, and quietly came to terms with the fact that if she was going to hell, there was never a god to begin with. 

Robin had cried when he told her that. 

Eddie is staring at him, eyes wide and searching. It keeps tripping him up, how different his own face is when someone else is wearing it. 

“You’d think seeing hell would make anyone a believer,” he says, voice wry. “You keep surprising me.”

Steve fidgets, staring down at his legs. “It was just…it was always a lose-lose situation, you know? Either I stop going to church and go to hell, or I do what they want and end up there anyway. I can’t be what they want me to be, so why even try? There’s no point.”

When he looks up again, he meets Robin’s eyes first. She looks achingly fond, smiling at him as she gives his hand a squeeze. He gives a small smile back, and looks at Eddie. 

He’s wide-eyed, surprise coloring every inch of his face. Or, well, Steve’s face. “Yeah,” he whispers. “Yeah, that’s— that's exactly it.”

“Dude, does Jonathan scare you?”

“What?”

“Your body, like, goes haywire around him. He checked my—your—the injuries I’m currently sporting and I thought I was gonna die.”

Steve’s face heats up. “I’m not scared of Jonathan.”

“It’s ok, Steve, you can tell me the truth,” Eddie says, only a little bit of mockery in his tone. “I’ll protect you from Big Bad Byers.”

He closes his eyes in mortification. “I’m not scared,” he stresses, “of Jonathan Byers.”

“Really? Because I wasn’t joking about thinking I was dying. Your heart goes crazy around…him…” Eddie trails off, eyes widening as he clocks the blush spreading down Steve’s neck. 

Fuck Eddie’s pale skin, seriously. Steve’s tan enough that people barely notice, but Eddie seems like he spends a sunny day sitting in his room working on song lyrics or campaign notes. He wants his fucking body back. 

Shit, he’s in Eddie’s body, and Eddie just found out he’s queer. He’s a queer man in Eddie’s body. He’s going to think Steve’s some kind of perv, or using his dick, or…or…

“Byers?” Eddie finally says. “Of all the men in the world, Byers is the one you pick?”

Steve’s eyes pop open from where he’d squeezed them shut. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

[iamthecomet]

𝘔𝘶𝘴𝘩𝘺 𝘔𝘢𝘺 𝘋𝘢𝘺 𝘚𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘦𝘯: "𝘚𝘩𝘶𝘵 𝘶𝘱, 𝘐'𝘮 𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶."

Rating: G Pairing: Dewdrop/Aether Words: 853 Man I just can't resist an Aether sickfic.

Mushy May created by @forlorn-crows Divider by @ghuleh-recs

Whenever there’s some god awful bug going around the Abbey, it’s inevitable. Aether always gets it. Usually toward the end of the outbreak. Exhausted from running around helping everyone else. Pulling double shifts in the infirmary. Swearing up and down that ghouls can’t catch sicknesses from humans. He’s wrong, every single time. He lies to himself about it anyway. 

This one is pretty mild. A sore throat. A cough. His head feels like it wants to float away but also like it weighs a thousand pounds. He drags himself back to his room from the infirmary in denial. Limbs heavy. Exhaustion bone deep.  He’ll sleep it off. That’s all he needs. Twelve hours of sleep and he’ll be fine. 

When he wakes up he is not fine. His head is pounding. He can’t decide between if he’s hot or if he’s freezing. He lays in his bed, throws his arm over his eyes to block out even the idea of the sun and groans into the inside of his elbow. 

Aether swallows, it feels like knives. He lays there for what feels like hours, suspended in sickness, trying to decide what to do. How to fix this. He knows there is medicine in the bathroom. That it,combined with some of Mountain’s tea, will help. He knows all he has to do to relieve his suffering is stand up and take care of himself. He chides patients for it all the time–that all they have to do is drink lots of water and baby themselves for a few days. But Aether rarely has to realize how hard that is sometimes. He thinks, this is fair karma. He will never suggest that caring for oneself is easy ever again. 

Instead of getting up and getting water, or medicine, or even his phone to text someone and ask for those things, he rolls onto his side. Hopeful that he can just will himself back to sleep. That if he could just be unconscious everything would be ok again. 

It doesn’t work. He doesn’t sleep. He can’t. Every time he starts to drift off something hurts more. His nose runs. He coughs so hard his chest aches. 

It feels like days later that there’s a knock on the door. A quick rap, just before Aether hears the knob turn and the door open. 

“Aeth?” 

“Hey, Dew,” Aether mumbles into his pillow, voice hoarse. 

“You’re sick. I told you you were going to get sick.” 

Aether groans. He starts to tell Dew that he doesn’t need to be reprimanded right now, but he cuts himself off with a rattling cough he feels in his bones. 

“Did you take anything?” 

Aether shakes his head. “I’m fine.” 

Dew doesn’t answer, Aether hears him walk into Aether’s attached bathroom, he hears the medicine cabinet open. Dew drops something, swears. Aether can hear him mumbling to himself as he rumages. The water runs for a while, and then Dew’s at his beside. 

“Sit up.” 

Aether does, it’s an ordeal, it involves opening his eyes, which hurts. His head spins, but he manages to right himself with his back against the headboard. Dew’s sitting next to him on the bed. There’s a glass of water on the nightstand. Dew’s holding what looks like a fistful of pills, and a damp washcloth. 

“Dew, I’m ok.” 

“Just take the fucking medicine, Aether.” 

Aether would laugh, make some joke about how bad Dew would be at working in the infirmary, but he finds he doesn’t have the energy. He just takes the pills from Dew. It’s less than a fistful–only four. A couple of Advil and some cold medicine. He takes them all, taking small sips of blessedly cold water to swallow them with. 

Dew settles the washcloth over his forehead. It’s cold. Almost too cold except for the immediate relief it brins. Aether’s eyes flutter closed. 

“I’m going to run you a bath,” Dew says, smoothing his hand over Aether’s flushed cheek. Fingers gentle, and feeling strangely cool against Aether’s overheated skin. 

“You don’t have to–”

“Shut up,” Dew bites with no venom. “I’m taking care of you ok? Let me.” 

“Only if you take the bath with me, keep me company,” Aether mumbles. He doesn’t want to be alone again. He feels like garbage, and as much as he wants to tell Dew he’s ok and can take care of himself–he wants the attention more, the care. Dew bends down and kisses Aether between his horns. Thumb still tracking over his cheek. 

“Yeah, if that’s what you want.” 

“Can you get me some of Mountain’s tea too? And a snack? And–” 

“Hey,” Dew snaps, laughter in his voice. “Don’t push your luck.” 

But when Dew slips out of the door a few minutes later he knows that Dew will come back with everything he asked for and more. He lets himself sink into the bed, still feeling like shit, but knowing that the end is in sight. There’s a cool bath in his future, and more gentle touches from a fire ghoul with terrible bedside manner. What more could he ever ask for?

[stilestheabominablesnowman]

Tyler with pothead!reader definitely fuck in the woods, what would reader do when Tyler suggests he chase her through the woods after a 🍃sesh??

The Chase - Tyler Galpin

Part One

Summary: smoking pot with Tyler in the woods leads to something neither of you will forget.

warning: Smut, fingering, p in v sex, semi-public sex (sex in the woods), unprotected sex, finger sucking

You held the blunt between your lips and inhaled, allowing the burn to hit the back of your throat.

Your body buzzed with a feeling of connection from your spot on the floor of the forest. You passed the blunt to Tyler, who looked at you in awe.

He cautiously held it between his fingers and brought it up to his lips.

“So i just..inhale?”

You looked at him for a moment, taking in his beauty. He was gorgeous, with golden brown hair and green eyes.

“Yeah, it easy. Try it.”

He hesitated for a moment, but not because he didn’t want to, because he was afraid to embarrass himself in front of you.

You watched as his plump lips wrapped around it, and warmth flooded through your body at the implication of what could happen.

He slowly inhaled and immediately he began coughing. He held his chest as he coughed.

“It’s ok, relax.” You comforted, “Try again.”

He came down from his coughing fit and brought it back up to his lips. He inhaled again, and this time when it reached the back of his throat, he anticipated the burn. He held it for a moment before blowing the smoke out through his mouth.

He passed it back to you and you hit it twice before passing it back to him.

After about 10 minutes his head became fuzzy and his mind was suddenly filled with you. The way your hair shined in the light that broke through the trees. The light in your eyes as you places your hand on the ground, and dug your finger into the dirt. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath in and then a plethora of flowers begun to rise from the ground and bloom.

He was in complete and utter awe of your beauty.

He leaned into your side and his nose was overwhelmed with the scent of you. Flowers and rain.

He wrapped his arms around your middle and stuck his face in the crook of your neck.

“Oh, your definitely a clingy high person. Yeah?”

“Mhm”

He begun to cover your neck in small wet kisses. And you leaned into him, moaning softly.

“Ty..” he pushed you back onto the ground and layed above you, continuing to kiss your neck.

The innocent kisses soon turn to nippling and then to full on biting your neck.

You panted as he pressed into you. You could feel how hard he was against your core.

“Tyler, are you sure you want to do this here?” You breathily spoke.

“Definitely.”

“Is there a specific way you want to do it?”

“I want to chase you.” His response had warmth running straight to your pussy. “I want you to run through the woods, and I want to catch you.”

He pulled back and pulled his lip between his teeth anxiously.

“Anything you want.” You said working to pull his shirt off.

Once you got his shirt off he stood up, and helped you off the ground.

Then all the sudden you took off deeper into the woods.

He was so in shock of your sudden exit he forgot he was supposed to be chasing you for a moment. When he came to his senses, he took off running after you.

The adrenaline rushed through your body egging on your arousal. You continued running as he caught up, you could hear his approaching footsteps.

He was definitely gaining on you.

It was difficult for Tyler to run after you when he was so unbelievably hard, but he kept up.

You took a sharp turn, and then another one, swinging yourself behind a tree.

He reached where he had seen you last before you turned, and called out to you.

“Y/N…come out come out wherever you are..” He said in a singsong voice.

You begun to hear his footsteps recede in the other direction, so you took a sharp intake of breath.

“Gotcha!” A hand wrapped around your throat and slammed you against the tree.

You were pleasantly surprised by his roughness.

Tyler slammed his lips into yours and shoved his tongue into your mouth. Your tongues danced together and he bit your lip softly.

Your fingers dug into his belt buckle, and you began to undue it. He finished pulling the belt off for you, and reached to pull your shirt off.

His eyes widened at the sight of your bare chest. He immediately attacked your chest with kiss and bites, and then latched onto your right nipple. He lightly dragged his teeth across the nub, illiciting a loud moan from you

His hands left your hips for only a moment to shove down his pants and boxers. And then they went to your pants and began unbuttoning them. He shoved them down and slid your panties to the side. He took his fingers and just barely slit them across your pussy, collecting the slickness, and spreading it across your clit. He pushed a finger into you, and used his thumb to play with your clit.

He slowly pushed a second finger inside you and began moving them. You pulled your lips away from his to moan.

He fingered you for a moment and then removed them from you and brought them up to your lips.

“Suck.” He ordered. You obliged, opening your mouth for him go stick his fingers in. Your lips wrapped around them and he groaned as you began sucking. He quickly removed his fingers from your mouth and gripped his hardness.

He slid the tip and and down your slit, and then pushed in. You both groaned simultaneously at the relief. Your foreheads meeting, he watched your eyes close softly and squeeze together when he began moving.

Your loud moan rung across the trees, and vines began growing around the two of you as your pleasure grew.

He pulled out almost all the way before slamming back into you. He hit that spongey spot deep inside you and you whimpered.

His hips snap against yours, a loud slapping sound echoing throughout the woods.

The pleasure twisted inside you, and snapped. You clenched down on him and his hips stutter before he’s releasing inside you.

He comes down slowly before nuzzling his head into your neck.

“I love you.”

[t3a-tan]

What would James do if he found a borrower child by themselves? Especially if Oliver wasn’t there to help?

Oh I don't know... Probably something like... This!! >:)

---

"Oliver?"

James was a bit surprised to hear something fall in his kitchen— mainly because Oliver usually greeted him when he arrived…not to mention that he told James just a couple days ago that he would be busy for the week and wouldn't be visiting during that time.

James turned off the TV and stood up, doing some much needed stretching after having sat down lazing about for most of the day. He paused as he heard more rattling in the kitchen, growing concerned. Oliver hadn't responded…was he stuck somewhere?

"You okay, mate? Did something happen and you had to come by early or did you just miss my handsome face that much." He added a bit of humour to his words as he walked into the kitchen, immediately recognizing that the noise had been coming from the sink. His eyes widened. "Shit— hold on…"

Without wasting any time he carefully picked up the various dishes and cups that were piled in the sink in an effort to find where Oliver had managed to get himself trapped. He wouldn't have been too worried if not for the fact that the dishes were all currently soaking in warm water, and if Oliver was stuck then he might also not be able to breathe.

Eventually his hand brushed against something that didn't feel like dishes or bits of food that were floating about it the water, and without even checking to make sure he was correct James hastily pulled his friend out of the water, making sure to pick up the plate that had trapped his leg first to avoid injury. He pulled the plug out too to keep the incident from repeating.

"Fuck— are you okay? Please don't drown in my sink, that would be a...a… um." James trailed off, freezing up as he watched a young child shuddering and hacking up water whilst in his hands.

"You aren't Oliver…" He murmured, slightly in awe of that fact. He hadn't held another borrower besides Oliver before— he had interacted very distantly with some borrowers that Oliver was in the process of rescuing once, but they hadn't spoken a word to him…let alone allowed him to carry them.

It was surreal. Even though Oliver let James poke and prod and carry him as much as James wanted (with permission of course), it never felt that crazy because…well… Oliver acted very normal. Sometimes James even forgot he was the size of his thumb if he hadn't looked at him for a while.

This was different, because this was new. Oliver had never put much significance to James carrying him or touching him, but he had always reminded James not to grab or touch or pick up any other borrowers he found—

Oh.

"Uhh hey kid. You alright?" James spoke, thankful that the boy was at least awake. Coughing up the water was a good sign, right? Better than not coughing it back up at least… James leaned in closer to try to see how the child was doing physically.

He was rewarded with a terrified squeal, one that startled him so bad he very nearly dropped the poor kid. Not that it would have mattered, because the kid scrambled back away from his face so quickly that they toppled over the edge of his palm anyway.

"Shoot—"

James's hands quickly shot down to catch them, and he was relieved when his fingers managed to catch on the kid's little bag. For a moment James was intrigued by the tiny pack, only to quickly focus on the panicking kid that was kicking and shoving at the air in hopes of escaping.

"Careful there, kid. Here, I'll put you down…nice and gentle, see? Nothing to be— hey!" James was in the process of lowering the tiny child onto the kitchen counter, but the moment he released them they made a run for it. James didn't hesitate to slam his hand down in front of them, stopping the kid in their tracks.

"I'm not done with you yet, kid. Will you just— OW! Fu—rick..!" James cursed (or almost did) as he suddenly found the sharp end of a sewing needle getting jabbed into the base of his thumb. He thought borrowers carried those to fight off predators! Why was this kid stabbing him??

Once the initial shock of the needle wore off it no longer hurt, and so James pulled it out with ease. He shoved it in his pocket before levelling the kid with furrowed brows and a deep frown on his face.

"Right then you—"

"P-please don't kill me..!" A tiny cry of terror caused all of James's frustrations to disappear in the blink of an eye. He watched with halted breath as the child curled into a shaking ball and covered their head…cowering. From him.

James's heart sunk. Oliver said other borrowers would be scared, but he never explained how scared. James had always assumed they'd be more nervous than terrified— Oliver after all had zero fear of James when they first met. He was the one approaching James after all.

But here James was, looming over a tiny kid who apparently thought he was a murderer. James's hand fell away from the counter quickly, now hovering close by with worry.

"Hey now… I'm not gonna…kill you." Despite his attempt at reassurance the kid remained curled up in terror. James sighed. "Sorry. I wasn't thinking— didn't notice you were so scared. I won't do anything to you, okay? I'm just surprised. Oliver said I didn't have any borrowers in my house."

Thinking that maybe mentioning he knew what borrowers were might help. It seemed he was off his game today…

The tiny child's wide eyes turned onto him, face as pale as a ghost. James bristled, not expecting such a visceral response.

"I'm… I'm not a bad human." The words left James's mouth, though it sounded more like he was reassuring himself than reassuring the kid at that moment. He had taken Oliver's nonchalance for granted it seemed, because right now he felt like nothing more than a monster.

The kid had gone back to burying their head in their knees, visibly shaking, silently heaving in a way that made it clear they were crying. James felt worse and worse for the kid by the second.

"How old are you..? Where are your parents?" James wished Oliver was here. He would know what to do— not to mention that this kid wouldn't be shit scared of him.

After receiving no response, James reached forward slowly, very lightly tapping the child's back to check if they had heard him.

"T-ten…! I don't know where they are— p-please let me go…" They sobbed, now openly crying without their face buried in the fabric of their shoddily made clothing. James winced.

He would let the kid go… but if they didn't know where their parents were then that wasn't a good idea. But was keeping them a much better one? Would Oliver be mad at him for keeping them? Would he be mad if he let a kid go alone?

He decided not to respond to the plea, focusing on the answers he had received instead.

"Are you lost? I can get you back home if you need it, kid. No fare to pay either." He joked, but neither he nor the child laughed. He doubted the tiny child even understood what a fare was.

"L-let me go…." They begged again. James pursed his lips awkwardly, not responding. If he said no the kid would panic more, and if he said yes then he'd be lying.

"I have chocolate..? Even borrower kids must love chocolate, huh? Let me fetch it…" James moved back away from the tiny kid, although he hesitated while looking down at them from this perspective. They were so tiny… being around someone as confident and assertive as Oliver had made him forget just how minuscule and fragile borrowers were compared to him.

"I'll… hang on." He turned, rummaging through a cabinet and trying not to focus too hard on how colossally he must be screwing things up. "Where did I..? Did I finish it or something…? Oh! Here—"

When James finally found the fruit and nut chocolate bar he turned back to the kid only to find an empty countertop, with a little puddle of dishwater left in their place. He saw wet prints and followed them to one of his outlet covers which was slightly askew… the kid had escaped.

Rather than calling out and scaring them more, James sighed. He looked down at his hand, trying to remember what it felt like to hold them in it moments ago. He then shook his head, putting the chocolate bar down on the counter before pulling the sewing needle back out of his pocket and putting it down next to it. He glanced towards the wall the kid was probably currently hiding in. Hiding from him.

"Your needle is on the side… and chocolate. I'm going out, okay? Just don't get hurt please." He spoke with a slightly raised tone to make sure they heard him. Then, with some hesitation, James stepped away from the counter. He put on his shoes, grabbed his keys and left.

Please don't die.

[makedatmoneymayne]

✨✨Welcome to The Boys✨✨

--Y/N(I might give her a name later) is a store owner who loves what she does,BAKING. Ever since a young child she enjoyed it. Later on in her baking career, she started catering for shows like Supernatural, Dexter, and Grey's Anatomy. Now she's gotten a call from the one and only Eric Kripke to cater for the cast and crew of The Boys--

Y/N is a BLACK woman.☺️

🕺🏾MEET THE PEEPS🕺🏾

Y/N❤️

Owner of the shop

Bestie/Co-Owner of the store

Kapoia💗

Best Frenn/Co-Owner (technically)

Julaya💙

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Lovely Day✨

You and the girls, well more like just the girls you were terrified of riding bikes on hills. They decided that it was a perfect morning to get some air and ride y'all bikes to work for the day. Julaya swerves whilst Kapoia does wheelies trying to get you to join in. "Y/N do some tricks or sumn, you lookin like you being made to do this with how hard you're grippin the handles." Kapoia yells zooming off with Julaya laughing their asses off at you. "Girl hush, you know I'm scared of riding on these hills. I see the shop right up ahead lemme speed up."

You all slowly come to a slight stop as yall see a man laying on the bench right outside your shop reading a newspaper.

As yall inch closer you notice his face immediately. "Omg heyyyy Eric!" You scream running up to him for a hug. "Hey honey!" He catches you and lifts you up. You look over his shoulder and notice Julaya and Kapoia giving you a look of confusion. "IS THAT YO NIGGA Y/N!" Julaya yells still confused. Eric dies of laughter, "No dumbass, this was the first director of a tv show I catered for. Yall know the show Supernatural?" The girls start screaming and rambling, "come on inside please you're like a legend." You just shake your head walking into the shop right after Eric.

The Shop✨

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

"So why are you here anyways E?" You ask confused by his presence. "Awww what happen to the nick name Eric pooh" Eric pouts at you "Chile that was a long time ago, things change" You say walking behind the counter already smelling the fresh coffee and pastries. "Anyway, I'm here to ask you to cater for my cast and crew again." "Oh reallyyy what's the show called?" You raised your eyebrow slightly seeing Julaya and Kapoia out your peripheral, listening in while still setting up. "Have you heard of a show called the boys?" The girls start screaming again nonstop. "Wait y'all what is it." They collectively gasp and Kapoia starts actin up. "Girl what the fuck what do you watch Virgin River or some shit?" She looks at you waiting for an answer and as you didn't answer she already knew. Julaya snickers and mumbles under her breath, "Aw hell naw". "Don't answer that, it's about these FINE ASS superheroes that are highkey corrupt." Kapoia says with heavy emphasis shoving a picture of the superheroes in question in front of your face out of their costumes.

"OH MY FUCKIN GOSH IS THAT JENSEN!?" Y/N yells loosing her mind. "Yeah I know right he got old on us, ladies still adore him though even labeled him "zaddy" ." Kapoia laughed so hard she started coughing before sayin, "I know thass right, alright I'm gonna leave my phone with you babe so I can keep baking for Eric" Eric always asks for 4 boxes of anything that's delicious. "Who's that fine ass man in the back middle" you ask. "Lemme see, oh that's Antony Starr. He's a cool guy kind of quiet , but cool." Eric says shrugging his shoulders walking out the door heading back to his car to go arrive on set. "Alright honey I got to go back to set before everyone shows up. Just bring it by 4pm." He yells walking out on his phone to warn his boys about you showing up with pastries showing pictures of you all.

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

3:00pm hits as you and the girls hop in the delivery truck getting on the road. You're blasting System of a Down - B.Y.O.B, windows rolled down. "STILL YOU FEED US LIES FROM THE TABLECLOTH" You all scream in unison. A big black Suv pulls up next to you guys at red light but you pay it no mind. Their windows are rolled down waiting to surprise you guys with the next lyrics to the song. Jensen and Jack yell in unison with you guys, "Lalalalalalalalalala Ouuuu!" You snap your neck over aggressively trying to roll your window up from Jack and Jensen who were laughing hysterically. "Oh my gooossshhh roll up pleasseeee!" "JACK WE LOVE YOUUU AND ANTONY, Y/N THINKS YOUR SEXY" Julaya says from the passenger. You zoom off deciding to taking the long way to drop off the pastries.

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

On Set✨

You walk through the trailers trying to get to the main room. A trailer door opens aggressively, Antony and Chace walk out laughing. You drag the two girls away quickly not wanting Antony to see you girls after Julaya's outburst. "Girl what the fuck you draggin us for they still saw yo foine ass. Had em droolin." Kapoia laughs. "Wait for real wait is the dress cute? Is the makeup eating?" "BREATHE GIRL we aint even delivery the food yet come on you look sexy." Julaya mentions walking away with the boxes. "Heyyyyy honey it smells so good and fresh." Eric says giving a tight hug like yall didn't just see each other 5 hours ago. "Alright alright let gooo and eat it let me know how it tastes, text me alright?" You turn around walking noticing Julaya and Kapoia has wandered off. "I told them they can chill before you walked up to us." You turn, "Aww how nice I'll text them to not take too much of those actors' time." You begin to text while walking away zoned in on your phone. Walking through the trailers you crash into a hard body head first. You grip your head immediately snapping back into reality, "Oh shit i'm so sorry." Looking up you make eye contact with Antony mother fucking Starr. "It's okay darling." He bites his lip not hiding him scanning her curvy body. You stare back him in the eyes noticing them glance down to your the lip you're now biting seductively. Snapping out of it, make the most random excuse which was, "Oh well um hi I've gotta go back to my shop." Looking over you see your girls. "YALL COME ON WE GOTTA BUSINESS TO RUN!" Once you see your girls jogging over to the car, you start up the car. "The fuck you in such a rush for? We own the fuckin place, we can open later." Kapoia says upsettingly putting her seatbelt on. Ignoring Kapoia you notice Julaya in the back lipstick smudge like hell. "GIRL WHO THE FUCK YOU MAKE OUT WITH" You ask looking in the rearview at her. "Huh what Jessie girl he was so fine in them pictures I couldn't help myself." Shaking your head you turn up your radio, blasting Frank Ocean - Solo with Antony on the brain.

-

--

---

End of chapter one❤️💗💙

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~~If anyone wants more let me knoww~~

~~i lowkey got bored and noticed barely anyone wrote Antony Starr/Homelander fics for black women so uh here~~

--If i messed up my bad im not really proof reading--

Enjoy☺️

[mythicalmyles]

a gang bang between some of the pasta boys of your choice and reader as a lil sex slave? you can add any kinks u want

Spitroasting, double pen, deepthroating

(Names) mind was blank as he was spit roasted, the collar around his neck causing more restriction. His (e/c) gaze looked up to meet blue ones, jeff had a shark like grin coating his face. “You’re lucky we took you in, this really is the only thing you’re good at.” His laugh was maniacal, but his words went straight to (Names) cock. He didn’t know why he liked being used by psychopaths but he had long since stopped questioning it.

“At least we can thank him, thanks to him i can tolerate you.” Sully’s voice was deep, grunting occasionally as he fucked (Names) hole. Jeff just snorted, pushing his cock deeper down (Names) throat. (Name) could feel tears and drool drip freely down his face, the overwhelming pleasure flowing through his body was almost unbearable.

(Name) was sure his knees would be coated in bruises by the time they’d finished with him. He let out a whine as he heard the door swing open, footsteps approaching them besides Sully’s bed. Jeff pulled him off his cock and he quickly turned to look at the intruder. His eyes met bright red ones, a pale face and messy brown hair.

Cody’s had a large smirk on his face, eyes drinking up the sight of Sully railing into (Name). “Room for one more?.” (Name) bit his lip at the sound of his voice, excitement coursing through his stomach. He felt himself nod before he could think about it.

Sully grabbed his hair, yanking him so his back was pressed flush against his chest. “One dick just not good enough huh?” He questioned, his tone mocking. Before (Name) had time to object Cody had sat on the bed and Sully all but threw him onto Cody, luckily Cody was quick to catch him and position him on his cock. Cody wasted no time sinking deep into (Name) who let out a loud moan as he threw his head back. Sully didn’t give him much time to adjust before pushing his cock in alongside Cody’s.

They let (Name) adjust as he shook and sobbed, the stimulation short circuiting his brain. “Aw he can’t handle being all stuffed up.” Cody’s tone was too chirpy for the situation they were in, (Name) couldn’t help but look into Cody’s eyes. Cody grinned at him before pushing their lips together, immediately sliding his tongue past (Names) lips.

(Name) moaned as his hair was grabbed and he was ripped from Cody’s mouth, Jeff was quick to cut him off by sliding his cock into his mouth. Jeff smirked down at (e/c) teary eyes, his hand had a tight grip on (Names) hair as he face fucked him. Revelling in the way the smaller gagged on his cock, the sight of (Name) getting all his holes stuffed brought his to his load quick, glee filling his features when cum came shooting out of (Names) nose and mouth. (Name) coughed his lungs up, Sully and Cody paused to let him collect himself.

Once (Names) breathing had returned to normal they were back on him, hands running all over his body. (Name) came next, clenching hard on Cody and Sully. All (Name) could do was sob as they came in him, continuing to roughly fuck out their highs.

[borrowing-at-midnight]

You Look Like Hell

You knew better than to leave the walls and go outside in the winter. Despite being hotter than balls the rest of the year, Texas managed to get surprisingly freezing during the couple months it takes a break from acting like one giant oven. When you’d felt how cold it was, you should've turned back. But no, of course not. You just had to get what you wanted. It could've waited, the repairs you wanted to work on weren't urgent, but you're stubborn so of course you didn't wait. Now, you were paying the price.

Over the past five days, it's been getting harder and harder to breathe. It’s not your chest that hurts, thankfully, but your throat and head are killing you. You can't stop coughing. You wish you could, but every time you inhale, your throat dries up and forces you into another coughing fit. The few lozenges that were stashed away for this occasion had been used up the first day and a half of this torture.

You don't know what to do anymore. You can't get to sleep, everything hurts, there's no more supplies for this.

You need Schlatt.

Usually, you avoid asking Schlatt for help. It's not that you don't get along with him, quite the opposite. He leaves things out on the counter for you, you take them, and both of you pretend it doesn't happen. He'll never say it, but he enjoys having you around. If he didn't, you doubt he would’ve offered to bring you with him when he moved south. You'd gotten too accustomed to his extra help back in New York to decline that proposition.

When you eventually force yourself to get out of your bed and make the journey to the kitchen, you try to use the old memories of you and Schlatt to distract you on the way.

You hug your blanket around yourself tightly, too miserable to care about it dragging behind you. Twenty grueling minutes later, you can see the light pouring into the wall’s tunnel. You sigh, sending yourself into another coughing fit, before dredging along the last short distance left. Hobbling out onto the counter, you hear the fridge close and Schlatt scoff, clearly catching sight of you.

“Fuck’s wrong with you?”

You would've laughed if it wouldn't induce more coughing. “Snow.” Apparently speaking hurts as well.

“Snow, huh? That clearly worked out well for you. Nice going.”

As your eyes adjust to the light, you see him looming over you. His hands are planted a foot away on either side, arms leading up, up, up to his face which is nearly straight above you. To save the energy, you carefully slump onto your back and wrap your blanket around you. “Are you gonna help or not?” You croak.

Schlatt’s lips curl into a sly grin. “Not with that attitude. Can't a man get some appreciation around here?” Despite his words, he's already moving away from you and begun digging through the medicine cabinet.

Gratefully, you accept a freshly shattered lozenge, immediately popping a piece into your mouth for a little bit of sweet relief.

“You look like hell, have you had any DayQuil today?”

You flop your head side to side. “Ran out yesterday. Didn't have any NyQuil to begin with.”

Schlatt sighs as he leans down to carefully measure a miniscule amount of medicine into a thimble. “You know, you should use my help more often. I don't like the thought of you going without essentials.” He places the thimble down next to you, then turns to the fridge and pulls out some orange juice.

“Aw, does Schlatt care for the itsy bitsy-” Your sentence is interrupted by a coughing fit due to your attempt at sitting up.

“Get fucked.” Schlatt chuckles as he pours a shot glass of juice and sets it beside the thimble, which he nudges closer to you. He leans on the counter, arms crossed. “I'm just saying. I don't get why you insist on taking care of yourself. It's gotta be dangerous, right?”

You take the thimble and take a big gulp of it, setting it aside quickly so you can chase it with the OJ. “Of course it's dangerous, but I've been doing this my whole life. I just… I know how busy you are. You don't gotta worry about me, big man.”

“I'd worry about you less if you weren't on your own.” He mumbles.

“I'll tell you what. I'll stay out here until I'm better, and then we'll see about me hanging out out here more often.”

Schlatt tries to suppress his smile from taking over his face, but the way his eyes light up betrays his cool demeanor. “Alright, it's a deal. C'mon, I'll get you set up in my room.”

He stands up to his full height, a movement that you doubt you'll ever get used to, as it sends shivers down your spine. His massive hand settles next to you. Not wanting to keep him waiting, you drape your blanket over you like a cape, push yourself to your feet, and waddle your way over to his open palm. You don't have to look up to know there's a smirk plastered on Schlatt’s face as you sit cross legged in the center of his hand.

“Ready?”

“Never am.”

Schlatt chuckles and curls his thumb into his palm to give you a bit more security, then lifts his hand up to his chest and starts walking. “You know I'd never drop you.” This close to his chest, his words rumble around you. It's… surprisingly comforting.

“First time we met you covered me with a red solo cup.” You joke, a smile growing on your face. “I don't know jack shit when it comes to you.”

“Hey, that was years ago. I didn't know what you were.”

“You could've at least used an empty cup.”

“It wasn't even that much! I wasted my Kool-aid on you, and I had to clean it up after. I feel like I’m definitely the one who’s been wronged here.” He snickers as he enters his bedroom and reaches into his closet to pull out a long empty shoe box.

“So sorry for making you dump your drink on me, I'll do better next time.” You roll your eyes.

Schlatt drops the box onto his bed, then suddenly pinches you between his thumb and index finger in order to lift you and place you on his pillow. Your heart drops to your feet and you gasp. You don't usually mind, as it makes things quicker, but he enjoys catching you off guard with it as much as he can. As expected, he's trying to suppress a grin.

“Douchebag.”

As if on cue, he’s already pulled a box cutter from his bedside drawer and clicks it open, pointing it at you first. “Watch your mouth, bitch.” He grins and grabs the shoebox, sinking the blade into the side of it. You watch curiously as he works.

It doesn't take more than a few seconds before he turns the box to show you what seems to be a you-sized doorway carved into the side. He looks proud. “So that the cats can't get to you.”

You smile sleepily. “Good thinking… thank you.”

“Alright, let's get you some rest, huh?” Schlatt takes a moment to look around the room for something to use as bedding, and spots a clean washcloth. He grabs it, folds it in half twice, and opens the shoebox to place it in the corner before turning to scoop you up from his pillow. “I swear I'll work on a better setup, but it'll do for now, eh?” He allows you to scoot off of his hand on your own this time.

When you lay down on the cloth, you can't help but notice how this is already far better than your matchbox setup inside the walls, padded with tissue that you did your best to replace once a month. It must be evident on your face, because Schlatt chuckles and places the lid back on the box.

“I'll take that as a yes.” His voice may be muffled by the box, but it's still all enveloping. “If you want the lid off during the night I can keep the cats out of the room, but only because you're sick. Don't start thinkin’ you're above Jambo, pipsqueak.”

“I would never.” You're already drifting off, sprawled out across the soft, plush cloth.

You can hear him smiling as he speaks, walking out of the room. “Sweet dreams, idiot.”

[candysugarush]

𝐎𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐮𝐩𝐨𝐧 𝐚 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞...

𝐎𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐩𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐝𝐮𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧:

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The trap door of the attic creaked loudly, a sign of the wear of time and rare use of the old wood as dust particles flew in the air of the cramped space. One might wonder what led to this? Well, it was nothing more than the curiosity of two children of man, youthful and curious beings completely excited at the propect of exploring and sniffing around the corner of the old house of their sweet grandma. The first head popping up, pushing on weak limbs that should definitely have seen more exercise considering the age of their owner, let out a cough as they got a mouthful of dust and old smell right in their nose and mouth.

" Argh?! *Cough* *cough* It's so fucking dusty in here! Is there no ventilation?!"

Finally pushing the rest of their body on the small ladder and standing fully in the space, they took the time to dust off their clothes as a sliver of light from a tiny window made them visible on the dark space. A young man whose youthful energy was only matched by his bravado, your older brother. Running a hand through his hair, he stepped around the space, watching the dust particles flowing around like fairy dust.

" Hey, munchkin. Get your ass up faster, would you? I don't know how long we can stay there until we need to take fresh air in our lungs. So hurry up."

Pushed by the insistence of the young man, you followed after him and stood beside him in the secret space full of antiques and secret of the past. You didn't even have time to wonder too much about your grandparents' belongings as your careless sibling already went to move around and touch stuff without waiting for you. He huffed as he looked through boxes and old furniture's drawers but seemingly his searches didn't seem to satisfy his exploratory soul.

" Tch, boringggg... "

You were about to scold him for his recklessness with handling the items that definitely saw better days and shouldn't be thrown around as this hooligan was doing, when you caught glimpses of a small shelf with books on it. Immediately, you felt drawn to it as you approached the old wooden furniture. But it wasn't the structure that interested you. It was the content of it.

There were a few things on the shelves. Mostly trinkets and old leather bound journals. Probably diaries of your grandparents. And there was a lone book there. It was large and quite big too. It was bound close with ribbons and ropes for some reason. As you felt compelled to reach toward the scripture, a hand reached forward before you and went to grab it with a groan. Snapping out of it, you turned your head to look at your brother who was holding the book in his hands with a smirk.

" Ugh, damn it's heavy! What is this? The entire movie script and original text of 'The Lord of the Rings'?"

He paused his antics to look at you with a mock stern tone.

" You should be careful, kiddo. That thing could easily crush your foot if you let it slip from your hands."

He placed the book back on the shelf as his eyes noticed a certain item. An ink pot that looked ancient but chic and elegant. Everything that would catch the attention of your brother. He grabbed the glass flask, glancing at the content in awe.

" Woah, there's no inscription on it but it does look like an ink pot. And it even looks shimmery... You don't think grandma will miss it if we take it, right?"

You had a bad feeling about this and were about to tell him off as he pulled on the stopper of the flask, trying to open it to look at it more closely. Seems like luck wasn't on your side at all during this small exploration trip as he suddenly gasped when he managed to open the flask. Unfortunately, his movement was too abrupt and sent the liquid splash out right into the book on the shelf, the liquid seeping through the paper exposed. He yelped as he put the flask back on the shelf and went to grab the book.

" Shit, grandma is going to kill me! Y/n hold the book for me while I open it and assess the damage!"

He literally almost threw the heavy book in your hands as he undid the ribbon and rope around it before opening it. The sound of papers flickering resonates through the room. And it would have been the end of it if not for the shimmery ink on the paper, starting to glow ominously and spread through the pages. The sight made both of you recoil from shock. But where he could simply stepped back, you had the heavy scriptures in your hands and could only watch helplessly as the glow turned into a flash of light blinding you before you lost consciousness, the last thing you heard being your brother calling out your name.

After what felt like both a few seconds and eternity, you fluttered your eyes open only to see the blue sky with the soft rustling of leaves in the trees from the wind. Pushing yourself up in a sitting position with a grunt, you held your head while regaining your bearing and glancing around. The scenery was unfamiliar and you seemed to be in different clothes than the one you were wearing previously. You honestly didn't know what to make of the situation until your eyes landed on a paper beside you with something scribbled on it with ink. Hesitantly grabbing the parchment and bringing it closer to read it, your breath hitched in your throat at the content.

" 𝓘𝓯 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝔀𝓪𝓷𝓽 𝓽𝓸 𝓵𝓮𝓪𝓿𝓮, 𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓬𝓱 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓮𝓷𝓭 𝓲𝓷 𝓸𝓷𝓮 𝓹𝓲𝓮𝓬𝓮. "

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Taglist: @loumin908

[xamaxenta]

I've got a shitty, evil cold and I want Ace like that, he gets to suffer along with me. (Includes regular cold stuff if coughing, runny nose, sore throat)

Ace is going through a day and not thinking the little cough he has matters enough to visit med bag, he probably just hasn't drank enough. At dinner, he tries both ale and water at dinner and it's not perfect, but he does feel a bit better and decides not to pay it any mind when he climbs into bed and passes out.

Marco comes to bed later, late evenings in the med bay you know, and notices that Ace is tossing and turning but he calms down when Marco runs a hand up and down his arm, and he chalks that up to a nightmare. He quickly gets undressed and tucks himself in near Ace, hoping his heat will get rid of any vestiges of a nightmare left.

Ace wakes up the next morning with a sore, scratchy throat, an annoying cough, and a desperate need to blow his nose. He stumbles to the bathroom, slightly lightheaded in a way he normally isn't, and blows his nose in what could only be called a honk.

Brain still trying to catch up with this whatever-the-fuck, he tries to breath deeply and ends up jumping straight into a cough fit, each exhalation tearing at his throat.

Ace moans, tired, tired, tired down to his bones despite just waking up. Swiping at his nose again, he goes back to the bed and chugs the red cup of water Marco must've brought for him.

He attempts to curl back into Marco's chest, but that makes one nostril all plugged. The other side does the same thing and Ace grumbles, moving to his back. There's little solace there, but better than the first two options, so he props himself up a little and falls back into an uneasy sleep.

Marco wakes up to Ace in the middle of a coughing fit, the bed jostling from the intensity. He's a little confused but mostly concerned, and starts rubbing soothing circles on Ace's back, using a bit of his flames to ease his partner's pain.

"Are you good?" Marco asks, surprised when he gets an armful of messy, sniffling, whining Ace instead of an immediate answer.

"I'm dying, Marco. Put me out of my misery, please."

Petting at black hair, Marco shakes his head. "No thanks. I'll get you some medicine instead and something soft to eat from Thatch, how does that sound?"

Ace whines again. "Can't you just use your flames on me? Pleeease. I feel awful."

"They don't work as well with colds, it's not like an easy to find and stabilize wound. I'll use a little bit and go get the food, okay."

Nodding forlornly, Ace lays back on his pillow. Chuckling internally at how cute his sickly Fire is, Marco taps Ace to sit up a little and tucks his own pillow underneath Ace's. Ace gives a small smile and Marco leans over to press a kiss to his forehead, letting blue flames dance over his lips and enjoying the soft sigh from below.

"Thank you Mar," Ace whispers, grey eyes fluttering shut, his breath slowing to an slightly more even cadence. Marco ran his hand through Ace's hair one last time before tugging on his shirt and going to fulfill his promise.

HIS SICKLY FIRE aawawawhdowyrowhr this is so. Cute sO cute

U know im always weak for how domestic and in love you make Marco and Ace, like its their best phase of their relationship just past the honeymoon part and its the utmost trusting phase? Like when theyre fully settled into their relationship as partners its really lovely

Ive only just beaten my sickness from three weeks ago so i hope you feel better soon Angel 🥺💕

[ziptiesnfries]

The Interrogation, part 2

part 1 - tag list: @gala1981 - Roux & Ambrose masterpost

CWs: water torture, manhandling, previously broken finger, creepy/intimate whumper, minor character death, blood, knives

Roux gasps and splutters as the interrogator yanks their head out of the icy water. Immediately, they start coughing, water pouring out of their mouth. Once they’re able to drag in a full breath, they start, “I t-told you—I told you everything I know—”

After Ambrose left, the interrogator came back with a metal tub, and Roux had finally cracked. The details of the job they’d been given spilled from their lips, a desperate attempt at avoiding further pain.

In the end, it didn’t matter. Even after they talked, the interrogator dragged them to the tub and pushed them under. Over, and over, and over.

The interrogator drops them. With their hands tied behind their back, they’re in no position to catch themself, and they wince as the edge of the tub smacks their ribs. They can hear the indifferent shrug in the interrogator’s voice as he says, “Boss said to dunk you anyway.”

“Why?” they demand. Why would Ambrose want them to keep getting tortured if not for information? Punishment?

They try to struggle upright, but the interrogator keeps a firm grip on the back of their neck. Again, his voice is indifferent. “Not my business.” Then he shoves them back under.

It’s getting harder and harder to hold their breath long enough, and they start inhaling water a moment before the torturer lets them up again. They lean against the edge of the tub and shiver as they hack up what they just swallowed. Water drips down their shoulders, soaking their shirt. It didn’t feel cold in here before, but suddenly it’s like the AC is on full blast. They wonder if that’s something else Ambrose ordered.

Finally, the interrogator sighs, releasing his grip. “I think that’s enough,” he mutters. “It better be, anyway.” Roux feels pathetically grateful as his footsteps recede, relieved to hear the door shut behind him.

They try to shuffle away from the tub, but they lose their balance and land in the cold puddle next to it. Their shoulder hits the floor, the movement jostling their broken finger. Shit.

Roux squeezes their eyes shut and takes a deep, shuddering breath, wishing their team would just show up and rescue them already. How long have they been here? It’s hard to tell—it feels like a long time. Interrogations never feel short, even when they are. But this hardly counts as an interrogation anymore.

They startle as the door opens again, and they find the energy to struggle up to their knees. What now? they wonder desperately. Did the interrogator change his mind? They don’t think they can survive more waterboarding.

But when they finally get themself upright, they see Ambrose approaching. Dread fills their stomach as he grins at them. “Aw, look at you—you’re soaked.”

“Fuck you!” Roux snaps. The sudden effort triggers a coughing fit, and they double over, trying not to lose their balance. Ambrose patiently waits for them to finish, quiet as they straighten up and glare at him. “I told him everything you need to know—”

“I know.” He crouches down, and they realize he’s holding a towel under his arm. “Thank you for that, sweetheart, I really appreciate it. I thought you might want to be dried off.”

They narrow their eyes, trying to figure out what kind of sick game he’s playing. “I’m fine,” they mutter. They’re still shivering, kneeling in a puddle of cold water, but whatever he’s offering, they don’t want it.

“Oh, come on, you must be freezing.” He drapes the towel around their shoulders, rubbing it up and down their arms.

They flinch away. “Don’t touch me—ah, fuck!” Their back hits the tub, and their broken finger pushes up against it. They lurch away—and right into Ambrose’s waiting arms.

For a moment, they’re so startled that they can’t even move. He wraps his arms around them, pulling them into his lap, and suddenly their head is pressed against his chest as he rubs their back. “Shh, it’s okay,” he murmurs. “Oh, you’re even lighter than I thought you were …”

Their face flushes a deep red. “What the hell are you doing?” they hiss. “Let go of me!”

“Aw, but you’re just so cute like—ow!” His jaw snaps shut as they headbutt him in the chin. They only get a small moment of satisfaction before he yanks their hair back, glaring at them sternly, the same way he might scold a dog. “Hey. Don’t be like that, sweetheart; I’m trying to help you.”

They scowl back at him, still uncomfortably aware that they’re sitting in his lap. “What the fuck?” they demand. “Are you—” Their stomach twists. “Are you trying to flirt with me or something?”

For a moment, he looks confused. Then he starts laughing—a deep, full laugh, like that’s the funniest thing he’s ever heard. “Oh, no, no, of course not. That would be like—like flirting with a teddy bear. Or a puppy.”

Their face gets even redder, their thoughts going from relieved to offended. They get the urge to headbutt him again, but he’s still gripping their hair, keeping them from moving. “I’m a fucking adult, first of all,” they snap. They’re certainly mature enough to handle romance—they just don’t want it from him.

“Oh, I know.” He grins at them fondly, and their skin crawls as his fingers scratch against their scalp. “But you’re so adorable.”

Usually, when people call them cute, Roux either brushes it off or takes advantage. After all, it’s easier to be a criminal for hire when no one expects it—and, being under five feet tall, most people expect some kind of sweet, innocent demeanor from them. Roux works with it. But here, wrapped up in Ambrose’s arms, being seen as cute is starting to feel like a serious liability.

Roux shoves their shoulder against Ambrose’s chest, but it doesn’t seem to have any effect on him. “You’re a creep,” they mutter, wishing their hands were free so they could punch that stupid grin off his face. “Let go of me!”

But the stupid grin remains, and he continues rubbing the towel up and down their arms, keeping a tight grip on them. “If you keep squirming, I’ll dunk you in the tub,” he murmurs. “Then you’ll be really cold.” He looks pleased by the idea, like he’d love to see them shiver harder.

The same thought Roux had about him earlier floats up in the back of their mind: What a goddamn freak. What’s wrong with him?

Despite the threat, and despite their violent shivering, they can’t bring themself to stop squirming. They hate having his hands on them, and he seems like he’s getting annoyed with it. “Can’t you just sit still?” he mutters.

“No. Fuck off.”

He sighs, and their stomach drops as he hooks an arm under their legs and picks them up. “Well, the tub it is, then.”

“Wait!” they gasp. “Wait, no, I—” But he’s only a step away from the tub, and before they can protest further, he dumps them in.

Suddenly they’re submerged in icy water, soaking the rest of their clothes, sloshing into their boots. They gasp at the shock of it, open-mouthed as they stare up into Ambrose’s grinning face. “I warned you.”

A violent shiver runs through them as the cold sets in. “You fucking bastard.” They lean against the side of the tub, awkwardly scooting into a sitting position so they’re not so submerged. Not that it helps; they’re soaked all the way through, and not even Ambrose’s flimsy towel could do anything about it now.

Ambrose opens his mouth—but he’s cut off by a distant banging noise. His grin disappears. He narrows his eyes as he glances at the door. “I’ll be back.”

He leaves them alone, and it’s a relief not to have him watching as they struggle to their feet. Their legs tremble with the cold as they step out of the tub, dripping water all over the floor. The towel, which was still wrapped around them when Ambrose dumped them in the water, sinks to the bottom of the tub. It probably wouldn’t do them much good with their hands still tied, but it would be nice to have something to dry off with.

The noises outside are getting louder, and Roux lets themself feel a weary sense of hope. Sure enough, when the door bangs open, a familiar figure grins at them through a black ski mask, and relief floods through them. “Roux!” Cruz exclaims. Then his face falls as he takes in their condition, hurrying over to them. “Shit. Are you okay?”

Roux lets their shoulders relax, even though they’re still shivering. “I’m fine,” they say, even though it’s not strictly true. They turn around as Cruz pulls out his knife to cut their hands free. “How long was I …?”

Cruz saws through the rope quickly. “We lost contact for four hours.” Four hours? It felt like longer than that. “This place was higher security than the client let on—no wonder you got caught.” He shakes his head, like he has a longer rant in store about the client. Roux gets the feeling that whoever hired them is getting charged full price, despite the fact that Roux didn’t get the files they were sent here for. “Anyway,” Cruz continues, “don’t give me that ‘I’m fine’ bullshit. You got tortured.”

The torture wasn’t even the worst part, but Roux keeps their mouth shut. Thinking about how Ambrose acts around them sends a chill down their spine that has nothing to do with the cold, and all they want is to go home and forget about it. “Let’s just get out of here.”

Cruz gives them a look that says they’ll be discussing this later—a conversation they’re already dreading. But, for now, he just squeezes their shoulder and pockets his knife. “Right, let’s go.”

The scent of blood hits Roux as they step out into the hallway, making them slightly queasy. A familiar black-clad figure wipes her bloodstained knife on her pants. “Hallway’s clear,” Violet announces, casually stepping over a body. The face is turned away, but Roux is pretty sure it’s the guy who waterboarded them. Roux has never been quite comfortable with killing—it’s more Violet’s department than theirs—but they feel a sick sense of satisfaction that their torturer is dead now.

They don’t have time to feel guilty about it, though; they have a more pressing question. “Did you happen to see a tall, blond guy in a suit?” they ask Violet.

The same part of them that’s relieved to see the torturer dead is hoping she’ll say, Yep, the body’s just around the corner, wanna see? Roux isn’t usually one to wish death on others, but Ambrose was … unsettling. More than that—he was creepy, and it was laser-focused on them. They wouldn’t mind being rid of him for good.

But Violet shakes her head. “Nope, no one like that. We should go, before reinforcements show up.”

Roux tries to hide their disappointment, ignoring the way Cruz raises an eyebrow at them. “Right, yeah, let’s go.”

Violet leads the way, hopping over the scattering of dead bodies she left in her wake. Usually, Roux would feel a little more nauseated by that—they love Vi; they’ve never quite gotten used to her penchant for killing, though—but they’re distracted by the thought that neither Cruz nor Violet have seen Ambrose. Did he see the carnage and decide to bolt? Roux hopes so, because they can’t stomach the thought that he’s still lurking around here somewhere, waiting to pounce.

Relief washes over Roux when the team finally bursts out into the cool, early morning air, and Cruz hurries them toward the van. Roux collapses on their knees inside, and as soon as Cruz and Violet shut the doors, the van lurches into motion.

Lyon is in the driver’s seat, maneuvering away from Ambrose’s building as quickly as he can. “Status?” he asks, his voice tight with worry.

“Walking; breathing,” Roux replies, slumping against the wall.

Cruz rolls his eyes as he pulls off his ski mask. “They’ve got a broken finger, some blood on their face, and they got waterboarded.”

Lyon inhales sharply, his hands tightening on the steering wheel. “Jesus.”

Violet pulls off her mask, too, shaking out her long, purple hair. “I killed four guards—that’s as many as we saw. No sign of whoever was in charge.”

Roux’s chest tightens as Cruz turns his gaze on them. “Did you happen to find out who was in charge?”

They manage to keep a poker face as they nod. “He said his name was Ambrose Lacrosse. Tall, blond guy.” A real fuckin’ creep, they add in their head.

Lyon thinks for a moment, then shakes his head. “I’ve never heard of him. That doesn’t mean he’s not dangerous, though.” His voice hardens. “I’ll have to chat with our client, because if they knew he was this dangerous and sent us after his stuff anyway …” His voice trails off, and he lets out another aggravated sigh before his eyes flicker over to the rearview mirror. “You okay, Roux?”

“I’ll recover.” And they will—physically, at least. They’ve had worse injuries than this before.

“We’ll have Sonny check you out when we get back,” Lyon says, referring to the team medic. “No more missions until they clear you.” Roux bites back a groan—they should’ve expected some recovery time, but they hate being idle. They briefly meet Lyon’s eyes in the rearview mirror, and his gaze softens. “I’m sorry this happened. I never would’ve sent you if I’d known …”

They wave a hand. “It’s not your fault.”

Cruz slides to the ground next to them and wraps an arm around their shoulders, despite the fact that they’re still soaking wet. “We’re just glad to have you back in one piece.”

They sigh, leaning into his warmth, and their anxiety about Ambrose melts away. Right now, they’re safe with their team, and that’s all that matters.

[ohgodimafraud]

bnh///a - Severe Thunderstorm Warning

hotw//ings

crosspost from my ao3, 18+ only & pls keep on the kink blogs

chapter 1/?

word count: 4,401

Something is wrong with Hawks. It’s not just the face mask and tacky merch beanie he’s wearing under his headphones, but also the unnaturally stiff stance Hawks has taken on that immediately catches Dabi’s eye, 

Hawks hands over the promised files without any preamble and Dabi smirks. “Took you long enough.” He smirks as he lazily thumbs through the manilla envelope. This time the birdie had come through and had actually given him a bit more information than he’d asked him to get. As much of a ruse as this may be, at least the information is generally reliable, though he’ll have to see if all of this actually holds up. “Guess you’re not as fast as they say,” he adds with a click of the tongue.

Hawks narrows his eyes and Dabi waits for the comeback. He keeps waiting as Hawks’ brows tent like he’s confused about something. Then he abruptly jerks his head down into the inside of his jacket. His wings puff up slightly, and he lets out a shaky breath before returning his attention to Dabi. “It’s only been two days.”

Dabi stares at him and Hawks stares back, though his gaze isn’t as focused as usual. Usually Dabi can feel the bird’s eyes pierce through him whenever he’s provoked. It’s more of an insult to not have the usual hint of disgust and aggravation on the hero’s face directed at him. “What’s wrong with you?” He taps his foot impatiently, his beaten up boot rapping the pavement. 

Hawks glares and ducks into the inside of his collar again, this time a pathetic noise follows the gesture and Dabi has to wonder if it was a cough or sneeze or some kind of bird noise. Maybe all of the above. “What? Nothing,” he says with an incriminating sounding sniffle. 

Dabi raises an eyebrow and shoots him an especially unamused look, though admittedly seeing the aggravation on Hawks’ face has absolutely brought him amusement.

“Might be coming down with something,” Hawks adds with a shrug. His consonants are notably rounded and dulled with congestion. “Might just be the weather, though. Pretty rainy today, huh? Guess it doesn’dt uh, matter to you since you’re basically water…uh- hh …resistant…” Hawks’ eyes flutter shut again and his breath wavers vocally. “H-hehh… kchht! kndtXX!”  He ducks again into the fleece of his jacket and his feathers puff up again.

Both of Dabi’s eyebrows fly up to his hairline. So he had been sneezing. It’s almost impressive how unflinchingly silently he’d been doing it before.

“Bless,” he says with an emphatic tone just to be a dick. Hawks sneezes again and something falls to the ground. Dabi grabs it before Hawks can and inspects the object. “Oh. Might be sick, but you’re wearing one of these?” Dabi mocks, holding up the incriminating cold pack with his thumb and forefinger. He throws it at Hawks and the hero fails to catch it. “Running around with a fever?”

“‘M finde.” Hawks has a feather retrieve the item and  he shoves it into his pocket. “Are you worried about me? Don’t tell me your heart grew three sizes overnight?”

“Nice,” Dabi mutters. “More that I have no use for a bedridden or dead recruit.”

Hawks sneezes again and Dabi has to stop himself from cringing at how disgusting the inside of his mask must be by now. Not like it’s his problem. Though apparently Hawks is making it his the longer he sticks around.

“Hawks. Go home.”

“Am I gonnda get a call from you this week?” he asks cheekily.

Dabi scoffs. “Will you even be alive by the end of the week?” Dabi can’t see Hawks’ mouth, but he’s sure he’s pouting. 

“Aw,” Hawks hums, sniffling wetly before continuing, “You know I’m not gonna leave you high and dry, hot stuff.” Hawks punctuates the sentence with a soft, nasally hum and a suggestive wink. That one night stand was even less than that—it was a one time exchange of handjobs (unlubricated and awkward ones at that) in an alley. The fucking bastard. How Hawks can attempt to hit on him when he looks like he could keel over at any moment is beyond him.

“Whatever, birdie. Go back to your nest.” 

Surprisingly, Hawks actually does. He makes a tacky comment before leaving, but usually the chicken tries to push his luck with Dabi’s generosity. Or, well, the lack thereof.

***

It’s overcast and disgusting the next day and Hawks does not answer Dabi’s call. So much for not leaving him high and dry. It doesn’t take a genius to deduce that it's probably because he’s sick. Still, Dabi doesn’t like being ignored and receiving such treatment from the main guy who usually gives him the immediate gratification of attention has him unable to sit still. Nothing gives him a rush like having the Number Two Hero at his beck and call. At least nothing else has yet: this is more like an appetizer to pick at before his main meal. There’s the ongoing debate raging in his head on whether Hawks is fucking with him right now or if he’s genuinely asleep or incapacitated. It’s been a few hours and the day has been tedious and slow.

Dabi is in the middle of creating a rut in his so-called bedroom and growling and grumbling to himself when his phone rings. Oh. Okay. He lets it ring another five times before picking up the call.

It’s spam. 

That or someone truly wants to discuss Dabi’s nonexistent car’s extended warranty.

Dabi hangs up immediately. Overcoat angrily shoved on, he slinks out of the hideout and into the weather. It sucks. It’s more rain than yesterday’s drizzle, but as Hawks had pointed out, Dabi can dry off without much effort anyway. 

He’d figured out Hawks’ actual address a long time ago and has decided now is a good opportunity to confirm it for himself. Worst case scenario, he’s wrong and has to burn a building. Maybe he’ll do that anyway depending on how the day goes. He’s broken into so many buildings that scaling the fire escape is mundane and easy. 

All he needs is the paperclip from his inner pocket to go to work on the patio door. As picks the lock, he’s expecting to glance up to Hawks standing over him, his shoulders looking especially broadened by his large wingspan, eyes fixed on Dabi, talons out and teeth bared and all ready to sink into him. His heart pounds and pounds with exhilaration and soon enough the lock clicks from the joined effort of his and the paper clip. He rubs the back of his neck, fingers brushing against the skin Hawks had pierced during the makeout session that had led to their hookup. The pondering of what else the hero’s tongue can do doesn’t distract Dabi enough to keep the annoyance at bay when he sees Hawks typing away at his laptop on the couch. 

“What the fuck?” Dabi mutters.

Hawks has the decency to startle, his wings retracting and rapidly alternating between sharpening and puffing for a few seconds. Admittedly, invoking fear in Hawks is enough to make the trip worth its effort. “Dabi? What…” he trails off, voice cracking. He clears his throat and coughs harshly into the inside of the hood of a hoodie with the tackiest design Dabi has ever seen. He’s never seen such a garish pattern in the ugliest shade of yellow under the sun. The word chartreuse comes to his mind, and he’s not even sure where that word came from. Whatever color it is, it’s bringing out the redness across his face and especially around his nose. “ hghkkSCHhu! EhhGXXtsh!” Hawks sneezes. Dabi wonders with great disgust if he’d even be able to tell if Hawks had gotten snot on his hoodie, and if it would even make it look any uglier. “Scuse mbe,” Hawks breathes, managing to sound self conscious. 

Dabi watches as Hawks takes a paper towel and wipes his nose with it. A paper towel. A fucking paper towel. This is Japan’s Number Two Hero. Dabi unfortunately knows secondhand how much someone of that standing makes, and Hawks is sitting here in a barely-furnished room, wiping his nose with fucking paper towels. Hawks wipes his computer screen as an afterthought before tossing it into the wastebasket at his side that’s nearly filled with other paper towels. 

“The fuck is wrong with you?” Dabi asks, this time directing it towards Hawks. 

“Huh? Oh, I‘mb okay. Just a… hKXxtchu!” Hawks pitches forward into the paper towel with a wrenching sneeze and scrubs at his nose. “Just a cold. Ugh, see , hahaha. Gross, sorry.” The laptop wobbles on the blanket draped over his lap and Dabi wills it to fall. It doesn’t.

Dabi can’t even pick what he’s more mad about: Hawks ignoring him, seeing Hawks trying to work, Hawks somehow not noticing he was outside, or the fact that Hawks’ nose is redder than his wings and he’s scrubbing at it with the roughest thing in sight. He chalks it all up to the common denominator: Hawks. Instead of using a towel (paper or otherwise), Dabi takes a moment to dry himself off with his quirk as he glowers over Hawks. He grabs the laptop and shoves it on the table before yanking the blanket off of Hawks and revels in the squawking noise of protest from the stupid fucking chicken. “If you’re going to dodge my call at least have the fucking decency to be asleep,” he hisses. 

“What?” Hawks croaks. His eyes widen. “Shidt, sorry I thigk I left mby phonde at work.”

“You—!” Dabi has to cut himself off. Of course he went to work. Of course he got sent the fuck home. “Go the fuck to bed you stupid fucking bird.” He angrily points at the presumed direction of his bedroom.

“Oh hey, is that why you’re here, because I dunndo if—”

“Go to bed and fucking sleep!” 

Hawks looks taken aback and Dabi’s face threatens to melt into the same sort of look. What the fuck is he doing? It’s time to go. Dabi’s suspicion has been confirmed, Hawks is of no use to him like this, and he really doesn’t need to catch whatever Hawks has. “Did you combe all the way here just to yell at me?” Hawks snorts, handsome crinkles forming at the corners of his eyes distracting from the dark shadows underneath. Doesn’t change the fact that he’s shivering, teeth clenched to avoid chattering. 

“I don’t have to explain shit to you,” Dabi hisses, “Get your bird-flu-ridden, flat ass to bed, chicken.”

“It ain’dt flat,” Hawks protests with such great indignation that his accent slips. He sighs and glances up at the blanket Dabi had stolen and slowly wobbles to his feet. Oh shit. Is he that sick where he’s going to collapse? Hawks shivers. “‘S still pretty early," he says with a soft yawn, and Dabi has to force himself to not follow his lead. Then Hawks reaches for his laptop and Dabi swats his hand. 

“I’ll fry you and feed you to your fans, I swear to god.”

“Jeez, hot stuff, alright. I wantd it for backgrou’dd noise.” Thunder booms in the distance and Hawks shivers again. It’s probably sensory hell on his wings from what Dabi knows about his quirk. “You should probably get goi’gg before it gets bad out. Ndot that I’mb kicki’gg you out, but, heh-ehh… ” Hawks pinches his nose for a few moments before releasing it and sniffling. “Doubt you really wandt to catch this.”

Dabi shrugs. He doesn’t. Hawks is right, and he should probably leave immediately; he’d gotten his answer, he’d proved his point as a dangerous villain who should not be ignored and who also knows where Hawks lives (somehow, he’d thought Hawks would be more afraid of the latter fact). But contrary to what Hawks has stated, he really shouldn’t go out in the storm and it’s not like he can call Kurogiri right now. He should’ve known from the tenderness in his joints that it’d storm, but he supposes he hadn’t been thinking straight earlier. 

“‘M basically a lightning rod,” Dabi finally says and gestures to his own body. Coincidentally lightning strikes in the window near the balcony door and it absolutely feeds into Dabi’s god complex.

“Oh, uh,” Hawks trails off, sniffling again. The need to sneeze he's successfully starved off before seems to have returned with a vengeance. Something about the way his face scrunches up is almost endearing. “ hehh…ndhtXxch! h’Kndxtshh! Hhh…heh-ehh—hHRRSHhue! Guhh..sorry.” He sniffles hard and groans. 

“Damn, birdie,” Dabi mutters. That’d been significantly louder than the stifles he’d heard yesterday. “You gonna live?”

“Yeah, uh,” Hawks’ face goes blank for a few moments before it goes into some sort of neutral expression. “Stay as lo’gg as you gotta, thend.” It’s said in a resigned way that tells Dabi that they’re about equally uncomfortable, and yet it’s not deterring either of them from accepting the situation.

“Are you gonna show me your room or are you gonna keep standing there like you’re not sure why you should cross the road, chicken?” Dabi drawls, picking at his nail beds. 

Hawks raises an eyebrow. That hadn’t been one of Dabi’s better burns, he supposes. Still, Dabi stands there, barely regarding the man in front of him who is standing but looks like a gentle breeze could knock him down. “Sure, I guess,” he says finally. He leads the way and Dabi keeps a distance of a few inches. The bedroom is decorated similarly to the living room—it’s not. There’s a large bed, a dresser, a side table that has nothing but a bottle of ibuprofen on it, a closet, and a single painting of an apple that looks like it probably came with the room. It makes Dabi’s shitty bedroom at the current hideout look decorated. Sure it’s mostly with newsprints and wanted posters of himself all over the walls, but at least it has some personality. Even if it’s a shitty one. 

“Guessing you don’t really bring people back home much, huh?” Dabi provokes.

Surprisingly, Hawks shrugs. He props the laptop on the dresser before sitting on the bed without another word. Dabi listens as the bird’s chest rattles with a horrible coughing fit. It’s a lot less fun to fuck with Hawks when he doesn’t fight back. He sighs and plops down next to him, giving his back a light pat. 

“Easy, don’t bust a lung.”

“I’ll try,” Hawks says with a tired grimace. “Look, I don’t think the couch is a pullout but—“

“For fuck’s sake,” Dabi groans, putting a hand on Hawks’ chest and shoving him. “Just go to sleep. You sound like shit.”

Thunder booms in the background and Hawks flinches again. Now that Dabi’s listening, he can hear the whistles of high speed winds. At least he’s in a safe place for once to wait out the storm. It’s almost relaxing to him, the sounds of the wind and the rain, the occasional roll of thunder. There’s something about being able to observe chaos from a safe distance that makes him feel like he could fall asleep, even if it’s still fairly early in the evening. Hawks has a few feathers retrieve his headphones from a drawer, but just as soon as he plugs them into his laptop, there’s a loud beep and they’re in the dark. 

Of course.

Hawks swears. His face is illuminated by the laptop screen and Dabi catches a glimpse of how sickly pale and panicked he looks before he shuts the laptop all together. Dabi stares into the dark and realizes that the bed is shaking. For once it’s not Dabi bouncing his leg, it’s Hawks. 

There’s another crash of thunder that hits so hard that the room shakes and then there’s a distinct choking sound that must’ve come from Hawks. Then there’s a whimper and a cough. 

“You alright, birdie?” he asks tentatively. He feels Hawks shift and grasp around for something that isn’t there. He doesn’t get a verbal answer, but he doesn’t need one. “Got any candles?” Dabi asks in an attempt to change the subject. 

“Ah…maybe,” he says. His voice sounds notably more brittle than it had earlier.

“Well, do you or don’t you?” Dabi mutters before rising and pacing around the room. 

Dabi goes into Hawks’ closet and starts snooping around—a difficult feat in the dark. Of all situations to get himself into. He continues mentally scolding himself as he pulls out a box. 

“Usually dondate the gift baskets,” Hawks finally mumbles. Then his voice cracks in time with another crack of thunder. Hawks takes in a breath that sounds painful and for a ridiculous moment, Dabi wonders if he’d been sniped somehow.

“What...” Dabi starts. He sighs, resigning himself to the full question. “What’s wrong?” 

“Nothing, nothing,” Hawks croaks, though it’s barely intelligible with how congested he is. “Sorry I sound so gross. Should be extra pillows in the closet on the shelf, though.”

Dabi raises an eyebrow. He’s not even sure if Hawks is asking for them himself or offering them to Dabi, but it doesn’t matter. “Okay,” he mutters, glancing up and igniting a finger to see better. There are some weird looking throw pillows on top of the shelf and he puts out his flame and grabs them. On the way back his boot smacks into the foot of the bed. He swears under his breath, even though it hadn’t even hurt. Thunder hits again and then there’s a whimper and before Dabi knows it, Hawks is sputtering and sobbing and coughing and shaking. 

The only reason Dabi doesn’t drop his jaw is because he knows he’ll end up popping a staple. Without his permission, his hand moves to the man’s back only for him to flinch and for a flurry of feathers to smack into Dabi and knock him to the floor. Thankfully, they’re not sharpened. That would’ve been the dumbest fucking way to go out. 

“What the fuck?” Dabi hisses, pulling plumes out of his hair. He’s asking himself just as much as he’s asking Hawks. A memory of him comforting his brother after he’d scraped up his knee threatens to surface and he rolls his eyes at himself. 

Now Hawks is apologizing as he cries. Dabi has seen a lot of anguish in his time and he’s caused a lot of it too, but whenever he’d caused it, it had been intentional. The sparks of anger have long since been snuffed out. He knows from the extremely brief contact he’d had with Hawks, that the man is burning up with fever, and Dabi knows he’s no treat to be around when he’s sick. He’s spent a fairly significant portion of his life laid up with one illness or another, but the most distressing symptom was always the fever, forcing his quirk and emotions to run rampant and burn through so much of him with little reprieve.  

“Sorrysorrysorry—it’s-it’s a bird thing,” he sputters between labored breaths. The wheeze in his chest makes Dabi’s own chest hurt. He’s no stranger to panic attacks, but seeing Hawks of all people having one was not on this year’s bingo board. 

“Birdie, it’s just a storm. You’re okay.” Dabi shifts to a more comfortable position but otherwise continues sitting on the floor.

“Look it’s-it’s—just, stop,” Hawks sputters frantically, “Sorry. Just, just give me a second, okay?”

Dabi hums and glances away as if to give him privacy. It’s stupid. There’s no way Hawks can see him well anyway, but what the fuck is Dabi supposed to do? Hawks has gone silent, body shaking with sobs. The room is dark and he can only make out his basic outline. He’s broken into the guy’s house and somehow made him cry, and it’s storming outside. He almost wonders if he should risk getting struck by lightning or getting crushed by a falling tree just to get out of this awkward-as-fuck situation. Luckily, Hawks seems to catch his breath. Dabi is dizzy just from listening to what felt like an hour of Hawks hyperventilating, congestion audibly restricting each breath. 

“You good?” Dabi asks quietly. 

“ Hehhdt’kue! hh…KSCchh!” Hawks sneezes. He sniffles a few times in succession before it happens again, and in Dabi’s opinion it’s preferable to the sobbing. “ heh’SHHhx! Hrrhshhu! Guhh…” 

“Bless you,” Dabi says after a few moments of hesitation. 

“Fugk. Thangk you. Hey, uh—“ 

“Look,” Dabi starts with a sigh. He clears his throat and rubs his elbow which had apparently been bruised during the tumbling on the floor. “How about I get you some water and I let you get some sleep?”  

There’s a pause. “Sure,” he takes a shaky breath and sniffles before continuing, “Hah, I forgot you can’t really see me noddi’gg, huh?”

“Yeah. I’ll be right back.” Dabi may be a villain, but he isn’t the kind of person who would kick a sick bird for fun. The last thing he wants is to see Hawks do whatever-the-fuck-that was again. He rubs at an awkward twinge in his chest as if he can rub it away. 

Finding a water bottle among all of the coffee cans in the fridge is a struggle. The water is thankfully still cool, though. As an afterthought, he grabs the roll of paper towels too. To avoid startling Hawks again, he raps on the open door before returning to the bedroom. “Here birdie,” he says. As an afterthought he kicks off his shoes before he walks towards him. “Got some water. When was the last time you had some ibuprofen?”

“Dunndo,” Hawks admits as he takes the water. “Uh, also, sorry about—“

“Just drink it,” Dabi interrupts, pushing the bottle into Hawks’ hand. In spite of the bluntness, he keeps his tone fairly soft. The last thing he needs is for Hawks to tell him some sort of tragic backstory about someone dying or that he himself almost died in a thunderstorm or in the dark or some shit. He already knows enough about Hawks’ past to have leverage and anything more makes him too human. He listens as Hawks swallows and as the bottle of pills shakes for him to take one out. 

“I’ll take these pillows to the couch. Seems like you should get some rest.”

“Wait—ah,” Hawks starts, “Seriously ‘mb sorry about knocki’gg you downd and y’kndow. Guess I’mb more out of it than I thought.”

Dabi huffs. “Fuck you, I don’t fall unless I want to.” Hawks has the gall to laugh at him and Dabi doesn’t feel any sympathy when the awful coughing starts up again. 

“Oh yeah? You wanted to hug my floor?”

“Get a carpet or some shit next time,” Dabi mutters. “Maybe some art or posters or pictures or anything . It’s like you don’t even live here.”

“Pff.” Hawks sniffles. “I’ll hire you as my—ugh wait. Hh h…ihh’—! Dammb, sorry I thought I was gonna… KSHHhu! Okay, well there it is. What was I—“

“Just close your fucking eyes.”

Surprisingly, Hawks lets the commanding tone slide and shuffles around on the bed and gets under the blankets. Dabi’s just about to leave when the bird opens his beak again. “The couch ki’dda sucks, just a heads up.”

Dabi sighs and looks over in Hawks’ general direction. “Probably gonna get bird flu anyway,” he mutters to himself, moving to sit next to Hawks. 

“Oh yeah?” Hawks asks. 

“What, you’re shy now?”

“Who says I’m complaidi’gg?”

Dabi takes off his jacket, but leaves the rest of his clothes on to avoid any stupid commentary. Hawks is shaking next to him. “You’re obviously cold. Get under the fucking blankets.”

“You sweet ond me?” 

Dabi grabs a throw pillow and smacks Hawks in the general direction of his face with it. It’s successful. Hawks sneezes again and Dabi ignores it. 

“Combe keep mbe warmb,” Hawks whines. 

“Fucking spoiled,” Dabi grumbles, climbing in next to him. The sheets are soft. Hawks blows his nose into another damn paper towel while lounging in sheets probably worth an average person’s monthly rent. Hawks is so bizarre and contradictory that it’s hard to look away. 

Hawks shivers again as the thunder rolls. The storm at least seems to be moving away now from the increasing intervals of time between the thunder and lightning. They lie there in a long silence save for the occasional cough or sniffle from Hawks. 

“Sorry if’mb keepi’g you up,” Hawks murmurs after a particularly harsh set of coughs. It’s all too intimate. Dabi’s never participated in pillow talk before.

“It’s fine,” Dabi mutters, “You don’t have cold medicine?”

Hawks stiffens next to him. “Can’dt take it.” 

“What?” 

“Bird thi’gg,” Hawks tells him a little too quickly. “ Hehgxxchh! Ihhgxxtsh!” 

Rather than question Hawks‘ statement, Dabi just hums. It’s none of his business what Hawks does really. It’d be easier if he didn’t have to keep reminding himself that; he doesn’t have time to get wrapped up in other people’s shit, but when he looks at the digital clock, there are no numbers there so what happens next doesn’t count. Careful of the wings in their current position, he moves closer to Hawks. 

“Did’dt peg you for a cuddler,” Hawks says before sniffling again. Dabi assumes it’s supposed to be a joke, but there’s a certain vulnerable quality to the statement so he doesn’t snap at him. 

“You’re shaking like a damn vibrator.”

“Well,” Hawks says with a hesitant laugh, “Thangk you for shari’gg your wambth.”

“Pushing your luck, birdie.”

Hawks hums. “Hey, Dabi?”

“What?” God. What now?

“You’re on mby wing,” he says sheepishly. 

Oh. “Shit, sorry.” He moves away immediately. “Uh, here. How do you wanna do this?”

It takes a few moments of moving around before Hawks is mostly on top of him, head on Dabi’s chest. He wonders if Hawks can hear how fast his heart is beating. Hawks is notably shivering less, so at this point Dabi doesn’t care. He doesn’t care that he’s stroking Hawks’ hair. He doesn’t care that he’s definitely getting sick. He doesn’t even think he’ll care when Hawks inevitably coughs or sneezes on him. It’s only when Hawks’ breathing turns to gentle snoring that he actually relaxes enough to join him.

[showfallmediamaintenance]

[Video transcript begin.]

[The recording starts off facing a door from someone's shirt pocket. A metal hand is raised, ready to knock.]

?: [Quietly.] Alright, Mmmmman. [It is clear they were about to say something else.] You can do this. Just… knock.

[Voice identified: Edgar.]

[He knocks quickly, and the door swings open seconds later.]

?: HEY!

[Voice registered, awaiting name…]

[The person who answers the door has brown hair and hazel eyes, similar to Edgar. He looks ecstatic.]

E: JAMES! How have you been!?

[Name registered. Applying…]

J: WE’VE BEEN GOOD! Come in! I’ll shout for the others!

[Edgar is ushered in, and immediately there is a blur approaching him.]

E: GAH–

[The blur slams into him, sending him toppling to the floor. He starts coughing, and the blur stands, revealing themselves to be a short little girl with brown hair tied in pigtails. She pouts at Edgar.]

?: Where have you been! I missed you!

[Voice registered, awaiting name…]

E: Shit, I… I’m sorry, Lily. I’ve missed you too.

[Name registered. Applying…]

[Two more people approach, one with green and red dyed hair, and another with ginger hair. They both offer Edgar their hands, and he is pulled up. He turns to the person with orange hair first.]

E: Hi, Maxine.

[Name registered. Applying…]

M: Hey there.

[Maxine pulls him into a hug, Edgar can be seen somewhat tensing up. As soon as he pulls away, he turns to the other.]

E: Hello, Alex.

[Name registered. Applying…]

[Another hug. As soon as Edgar pulls away, Maxine looks him up and down fully.]

M: Mike… what happened to you…?

E: [Clearing his throat as he bounces back and forth on his feet.] It’s uh… Edgar. I remembered my name. And… It's a long story. But! I’m so happy to see you all again! It’s been too long!

Al: I– you remembered? How much?

J: Shit! I forgot to mention that! He– damn it. Ness told me and–

Al: James, shut. We need to catch up.

E: Before we do that, I– you guys have all grown so much! Especially you, Lily! You’re so much taller now!

L: Thank you! You look, uh. Um.

E: Different? Yeah, I… I know. Let’s go sit down.

[Edgar, along with the rest of the group, move to the couch.]

M: First off, Mi– Edgar. Sorry. Um… what the hell is up with the arm?

E: Oh, you mean Adam?

Al: You… named your prosthetic?

E: Well… he helped.

Al: Wh–

[The arm quickly detaches and jumps over to the coffee table. Startling everyone except Lily, who immediately picks him up.]

M: LILY! PUT THAT DOWN!

E: He’s harmless. Most he’ll do is–

?: Do you have a. Microwave.

[Voice identified: Adam.]

L: Yes! We do! [Lily gets up and runs away.]

E: That… uh, now that she’s out of the room… I can do a little more explaining.

M: Perf, uh… okay. Those bite marks. Who did that to you…?

[Edgar shifts uncomfortably in his spot, considering his answer.]

E: That… requires a bit of context. So… do you remember hearing about a new show called, er… ‘The Mechanics Lament’?

J: Yes…? I– oh. Oh god. Don’t tell me they–

E: Yep. That was me.

Al: And that other show being advertised?

E: Mhm. I… I’ll tell you all what happened in greater detail someday. Or… you could also just read through my stupid Tumblr. That’s an option.

M: … huh. I… I guess I’ll do that.

E: But, uh… yeah. No. These are from me. I got locked in a, uh… closet full of corpses. I had to, uh… eat. Them. And myself. I… saw Micah’s body. I–

[Multiple gasps are heard.]

M: YOU HAD TO WHAT!?

Al: THAT’S SO AWFUL, DAD– I– SHIT. SORRY.

J: Holy fucking shit, Edgar. I… that’s so messed up.

E: Uh, I… don’t worry about it, I’m… I’m alright. There’s a lot worse things that happened that I’ll tell you about some other time.

[A moment of silence.]

E: Um… what have you guys been up to?

M: Well, we–

[Phone battery depleted. Ending transcript.]

[Transcript end.]