#and then we all know what is going on in one go

[plethorawrites]

(A/N— because the secret relationship trope is one of my all time favorites—)

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Dick and Tim weren't expecting much when they visited—broke into— Jason's apartment. Honestly, despite never being there (because frankly they thought he'd open fire for their trespassing) they had very low expectations for his living style.

After all, Jason was used to the bare minimum. Pretty much all of his past safe houses were almost empty, sans a place to sleep, research, and hide things.

When they got there, picking the window lock on the 5th floor of a nearly empty apartment building in a much shadier area of town, they were expecting the same thing they had always seen—take out containers, traps, a messy bed laying on the floor without a frame. Probably some rat traps and maybe a few threatening signs, telling them to get out.

Instead, they found a fully furnished apartment that smelled of... cinnamon? Vanilla? What was that smell? They weren't sure, but it was sweet.

The couch had matching cushions, the tv was on a stand instead of sitting on the ground, the kitchen actually had a basket of fruit on the counter instead of a trashcan filled with old Chinese food.

"This is ...weird," Tim muttered, swiping his hand over the countertop, expecting dust but finding it clean and smelling of lemon cleaning product. "Are you sure this is the right place?"

Dick nodded. "According to the most recent address we have," he replied, glancing around at the art on the wall and the blankets strewn over the couch. "I sure as hell hope it is. Otherwise we just broke into someone's apartment."

That would definitely be bad. Especially if Bruce found out.

Thankfully it was only a few seconds later that Jason walked out of the bedroom, rubbing his eyes as he yawned. Which, to their relief proved that they had the correct address.

He stopped dead in his tracks, his hair still messy from sleep, his voice still gravely as he asked, "What the hell are you doing here?"

"Uh...we needed your help," Tim answered, his eyes narrowing in confusion. "Did you just wake up?"

It certainly looked like it. After all, he was still in his sweatpants, no shirt in sight. It was after eleven am, though. They had assumed he would be up by now.

Jason heaved a sigh, crossing their path to start a pot of coffee. "And it couldn't have been a text message? Or a phone call?"

"Not really," Dick replied, watching his brother look through a drawer of coffee pods.

Since when did Jason drink anything other than straight black instant coffee that was probably three days old and freezing cold?

Tim, despite the mild befuddled expression, went on to elaborate about their visit. "Look we know you have the day off, but there's new information on the case with Penguin and Bruce said—"

"Jay?"

Tim stopped as he was interrupted, his eyebrows cinching as he turned his head to the voice of the sound.

You.

Your eyes were as wide, if not wider than theirs when you walked in, wearing far less than acceptable clothing in the form of a bra and shorts that were a smidge too tight.

"Who the hell..." Dick was already muttering, like a deer in headlights.

It took Jason all of two seconds to grab his favorite jacket, putting it over your shoulders to keep them from seeing any more of your skin than he found acceptable.

Even as you pulled it tightly to cover your attire, the jacket, which swallowed most of you, still hit your thighs. Their eyes cast down at your bare legs as you tugged his jacket lower awkwardly.

"Hey!" Jason snapped both figuratively and literally, his voice loud and his fingers waving in their faces. "Eyes up here."

"huh? Wh- sorry," Dick murmured, still confused as he motioned to you. "We weren't expecting uh... anyone else to be here..."

"Yeah, that makes four of us, I'm sure," you mumbled quietly, glancing over your shoulder at Jason who towered over you. "I'm just gonna...go get dressed."

He nodded, his hands still on your shoulders as he stood behind you. "Good idea."

Slowly backing away as his hands left your shoulders you waved weakly. "It was...nice meeting you," you remarked with an awkward nose scrunch, pointing over your shoulder. "I'll uh... I'll be in the bedroom."

As you left, the door shutting quickly and loudly, Dick and Tim could both see the look in their brother's eyes which simultaneously told them not to ask and to never ever say a word about you walking out in your pajamas like that.

"I guess we know where the throw pillows came from," Tim noted.

[reignpage]

Quick! Go Hide

in which you prank the sleeping jjk men by telling them, 'You need to hide; my boyfriend's home!'...saw it on tiktok heh

Satoru croaks, “Oh, shit. He is?” 

Groggily, he clambers out of bed and hides in the bathroom, bare feet padding. In the dark, he waits. Seconds pass and he shows no sign of realising what games you’re playing. When you go to collect him, you find him asleep, standing with his forehead pressed to the cold tile, drooling. 

“Is he gone?” He asks, voice raspy, shaken awake once again. You nod, biting your lip to keep from laughing. “Good ‘cause I’m too tired to fight anyone…I’d win though.” 

Soon after, in bed, he continues sleeping. And it’s only in the morning that you find him grinning and prodding your puffy cheek. “That was really funny, babe. Ten out of ten. No notes.”

Suguru's brows furrow. Without opening his eyes, he mutters, “Nice try.”

“No, really. You gotta go; he’ll kill you.” A curse emerges, large and foreboding, just watching in the corner of the room. Shivers wrack your body. It doesn’t move, doesn’t blink, nor utter a single sound. Still, the message is clear. You roll your eyes and cuddle into your boyfriend’s side. “You’re no fun.”

He tucks you in close. “Try again in the morning, pretty girl. I’m sure I’ll be more fun when I’m not half asleep.”

Choso startles awake, bloodshot eyes widening. “Oh no. What should we do?”

He lets you shove him into the closet, shirtless and hair a mess. There he stands patiently, shuffling on his feet and holding his breath. Then, when a minute passes, he has a moment of realisation. Creaking open, the closet door widens to reveal him – he looks unimpressed…and pouty. 

“I’m your only boyfriend; why do I need to hide?”

You giggle. “Sorry, Cho. It was just a joke.’

“I don’t really see what’s funny,” he grouches as he gets back into bed with you, wrapping his arms tight around your body and tucking his head in the crook of your neck, quickly forgetting your prank once his senses are overwhelmed with you. 

Toji peeks one eye at your faux panicked face. He shoves it away, grumbling under his breath about how much of a brat you are and shifts into a different position; he’s got his back turned to you now. Undeterred, you shake him one more time. “I’m being serious. You gotta hide, Toji.”

“Leave me alone, woman. I don’t wanna deal with your shit right now.”

You drape your entire body over his. His beefy arm comes around to keep you steady, in case you fall off the bed with your clumsy ass. “Okay, but if he beats you up and takes me away, your loss.”

He grunts. “I’d like to see anyone try.”

Then, to keep your mouth from disturbing his sleep any longer, he suffocates your face in between his pecs, a hand on your ass, groping it for compensation.

Kento jolts, hands grabbing you to push your body behind his. He scans the room, then the door, waits for the intruder, ready to defend. Only when he hears your stifled laughter does he truly process what you told him. He sighs, hand rubbing down his face. “Can’t sleep again, darling?”

“No. The baby keeps kicking me.” You smile when his warm palm caresses your stomach. 

Leaving a kiss on your forehead, he mutters, “I’ll give them a stern talking to; no child of mine hurts my wife. Now, would you like a midnight snack or should we stay up and watch the stars again?”

Lifted out of bed, he carries you in his arms, intent on keeping your bare feet from touching the cold floor. Even as sleep still courses through his veins, he’s determined to meet your every need – Kento couldn’t fall asleep again knowing you’re wide awake anyway. 

Sukuna doesn’t awaken. He’s as still as a corpse. You try again. And again. Nothing. When you pout and smack his chest, one of his four arms snatches your waist and slides you onto his huge body. Your ass is being patted, as is your head, and with another arm, he rubs your back. 

Calmly, his chest rumbles with his words. “All your previous partners are dead. No one will disturb us. Sleep.”

“Okay, Kuna…wait…no, they aren’t.”

He doesn’t reply, leaving you to wonder when he had the time to hunt them down one by one when he spends so much time never leaving your side in the first place. No answer comes to mind, not when his body can be so persuasive in pulling you to the land of slumber with him. Though, you are certain he whispers, ‘They will be,’ when he thinks you won’t hear. Try and follow up the next day though and he’ll shrug off your concerns with a, ‘I have no idea what you’re talking about.’

[fanficgirl429]

Never Have I Ever (Adult Edition)

Prompt: The Thunderbolts decide to play Never Have I Ever. Much to Bucky's dismay Y/N becomes a little to willing to share about their sex life.

Warnings: Mentions of sex, 18+, minors do not engage

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The Thunderbolts were somehow not blowing something up, which was impressive. Following a rare successful mission with zero civilian casualties and only one minor fire (which Ghost put out with a fire extinguisher and a smirk), they’d earned some downtime at Avengers Tower.

That’s how they ended up sprawled across mismatched couches and beanbags in the lounge, a half-empty bottle of whiskey on the coffee table, and a game of “Never Have I Ever: Adult Edition” already spiraling into chaos.

Bucky sat with his arm slung across the back of the couch, Y/N sitting with her back against the armrest, legs sprawled across the couch and onto Bucky’s lap. Both of them were holding half drunken beers in their hands. 

Walker leaned in with a wicked grin. “Alright, next one. Never have I ever had sex in a quinjet.”

There were some groans, a couple of eye-rolls, and then two people drank: Yelena, with absolutely zero shame, and—Y/N .

Everyone turned.

Bucky raised his eyebrows and looked down at her, amused. 

Y/N  shrugged with a smug little smile. “What?! Don’t you remember we were stuck on a stakeout for 36 hours, and it was raining. I got bored.”

“Oh, I remember,” Bucky said, smirking. 

Walker cackled. “You got bored? What about Barnes? Didn’t think he had the stamina for mid-mission extracurriculars.”

Y/N  turned to the group, clearly tipsy and way too comfortable. “Oh, Bucky’s got plenty of stamina. I mean, you don’t survive a century of war and Hydra brainwashing without learning how to go for, like, five rounds in one night.”

There was a stunned silence.

Ava choked on his drink. “Five?”

“Depends if we count the shower,” she added, thoughtful now, as if doing math. “And the floor. Oh! And that time on the balcony. Though that one was more of a quickie, technically.”

Bucky groaned and buried his face in his hand. “Y/N …”

But Y/N was on a roll.

“You guys don’t understand,” she said, leaning forward like she was sharing state secrets. “This man is a menace. Silent, broody, acts all mysterious, and then he—”

“Y/N !” Bucky hissed, bright red now. “I swear to God—”

“—broke the headboard. Twice.”

Ava wheezed. “This is the best day of my life.”

Red Guardian was nodding proudly. “Good man. Strong arms. Knew it.”

Yelena pointed at Bucky with a raised brow. “You didn’t even flinch when she started talking about this. How often do you two—”

“Never have I ever had sex on a rooftop?” Ava interrupted. 

Y/N smirked at Bucky and took a sip of her beer. She nudged him and he reluctantly took a drink as well. 

“Damn, you two need to slow down,” Bob muttered. 

Walker grinned wider. “Alright, my turn. Never have I ever hooked up with someone mid-mission. Like, you know, while still technically on duty.”

Yelena raised her glass slowly. “Well, technically I once had a quickie between two ops. Had to keep it quiet though—Walker nearly blew our cover trying to be discreet.”

Walker feigned offense. “I was being respectful!”

Ava laughed. “Respectful? You literally banged on the door like a gorilla.”

The room erupted into laughter, and even Bucky’s tension eased, his eyes sparkling with amusement as he glanced at Y/N .

“Never have I ever been tied up during sex,” Ava said with a mischievous smile, her eyes sparkling with a hint of challenge.

Y/N casually took a slow sip of their drink, trying to hide a small grin, while Bucky let out a low, amused sigh before following suit and taking a sip himself.

Bob leaned forward, curiosity lighting up his face. “Okay, seriously—what haven’t you done?” he teased, a playful smirk tugging at his lips.

“I have to know…was Y/N or Bucky tied up?” Yelena asked. 

Y/N  smirked and leaned into Bucky. “Hey, what happens in Avengers Tower stays in Avengers Tower.”

“Unless Y/N decides to broadcast it like a podcast,” Bucky muttered.

“Guilty,” she said with a wink.

Another few rounds of “Never Have I Ever” confessions followed, each one more hilariously embarrassing than the last, much to Bucky’s increasing discomfort.

“Enough!” Bucky stood, gently lifting Y/N ’s legs off him like she was a landmine. “We are never playing this game again.”

Y/N  tilted her head back against the couch, grinning up at him. “You love me.”

“I love you less when you’re drunk and talking about my super-soldier stamina in front of everyone.”

“You love me most when I talk about your stamina.”

He froze, narrowed his eyes—and then bent down, grabbed her hand, and pulled her to her feet.

“Okay. That’s it. We’re leaving.”

A chorus of protests rose up.

“Nooo, come on!”

“She didn’t even get to the balcony story!”

“Bucky, come on, share one detail—”

“Do not encourage her!” Bucky snapped over his shoulder as he led Y/N  toward the elevator.

She gave the group a dramatic wave. “If the tower starts shaking later, mind your business!”

The elevator doors closed.

Ava turned to Yelenal. “Ten bucks says they’re doing it in there right now.”

Yelena sipped her whiskey. “Smart money’s on the elevator.”

[light-wrath-paradise]

Ok people in this thread either need to stop describing my experiences or I need to get tested.

Actually can plural egg cracking (memes or otherwise) become a thing. It might seem obvious to YOU that emotions don't normally have gender identities and gender fluidity doesn't normally give you different hobbies per gender but nobody bothered to tell ME until I was already knee deep in this shit

[mickyschumacher]

can we get some… maybe smut sub!oscar with pictures taken during it? yk?

[MISS POSSESSIVE!]

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: three wins in a row calls for a little late night celebration. but your night turns a bit tipsy when someone's eyeing your oscar. or in which you turn into little miss possessive.

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: 18+ (minors dni), established relationship, sub!oscar (obvi), jealousy, lots of teasing, photos taken during sex (assumed to be pre-consensual), oral sex m receiving - blowjob and handjob, edging, unprotected sex (simply don't do it), p in v // poorly proof-read as usual

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: oscar piastri x gf!fem!reader

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 3k+

𝐀/𝐍: honestly i don't usually write sub smut bc i can never seem to do it justice so hopefully this is good! i really like this one too! thanks anon! ♡︎ ALSO feels like it's been ages since i wrote for oscar so yay!

You and Oscar weren't club people. By any means. For a guy who listened to house music 24/7, Oscar couldn't find a place worse than a club.

Humid. Sweaty. Crowds of people. Dancing. Alcohol. Strobe lights. Music thundering beneath the floor. Bathroom lines.

It was simply horrible.

Yet... here you were.

Oscar had been on a winning streak. Three to be exact.

It had been a quite while since a McLaren driver had done it.

And that obviously called for a celebration.

Oscar had begged you to join him. Going to a club was already bad enough, he'd at least like to "share the suffering," as he so kindly put when he asked you.

While you had every intention to deny him, a look into the pleading brown eyes and you thought Oscar really drove a hard bargain.

But upon actually be here, you couldn't decide if you had been glad to come or whether you regretted it.

With your teeth sinking into your bottom lip, watching quietly as another woman had come over to Oscar to congratulate him. To your count, it was the seventh this evening.

This one, however, was special.

Your tongue kissed your teeth, jaw clenching while you flitted your eyes to her. Her hands gripping Oscar's bicep tightly as a overly joyful laugh escaped her mouth. "Funny and a winner... what are the odds?" She laughed so loudly, you could've sworn it had rung in your ears.

What are the odds I slap that fucking laugh out of you?

Oscar meekly smiled, a small gulp travelling down his throat. He felt awkward. Yet he was unable to pry those hands off of him.

The girl turned to you, a fake smile plastered on her face. Nowhere near as pretty as the one she flashed Oscar. A poor attempt at being friendly. "You're a lucky girl," she stated.

You could see it in her eyes. The fame hungry gaze. Out of all the drivers she could've picked from, she'd picked your Oscar. Anyone in this damn room would've been fine and yet... those beady little eyes were on him.

Oscar opened his mouth to respond but you cut to the chase. "I know," you simply stated.

The beam on her face had dropped momentarily as though her brain had forgotten to keep the act up. The disbelief was brief yet visible. Her raised brow almost daring you to say it again.

But once was enough.

You turned to Oscar and smiled tightly. "I think it's time to go home."

Oscar's mouth fell open before he quickly closed it and nodded. "I think that's a great idea. And I mean, God, would you look at the time?" He laughed nervously, gesturing to the watch on his wrist.

"Already? That's so sad. It's your celebration!" She cooed, lips pouting in a way that made your own curl in disgust. She braved a step closer to your boyfriend, hand caressing the back of his shoulder. Tilting her head, she batted those poorly put-on lashes. "I'll see you around, hmm?"

You had the nerve to laugh with amusement. It was short and sweet. Your skin burned with annoyance.

"Yeah... I think not," you retorted, eyes narrowed while you gave a sickly sweet smile.

Without waiting for her offended response, you had grabbed Oscar's hand and were headed straight for the door. You grumbled, rolling your eyes. "She had the situational awareness of a fucking brick wall," you muttered.

━━━━━━━━━━━

The ride home was silent.

You could feel Oscar's eyes flicking between the road and you every two seconds but your simmering annoyance made it hard for you to say a word.

Even as Oscar pulled into the Hilton hotel parking, put on the handbrake and turned off the car, nothing was said between you. Even during the minute long elevator ride as he held your arm, stabilising you through the small wave of motion sickness you'd get.

"Sweetheart," Oscar slowly started, grabbing the keycard from your awaiting hand. The small beep resonated in the air before he turned to you. "There are people like that everywhere."

You stayed quiet momentarily, holding in your snort. You walked in, feeling him follow behind you. Pausing in your steps, you stilled.

You opened your mouth as his ears perked up. "They're not everywhere, Osc. It takes a specific type of bitch to pull what she pulled. I mean seriously... out of all the fucking people in the room. The amount of guys staring and her and she had eyes on you? The nerve."

Oscar pursed his lips, walking around you. Slowly he bent down, grabbing the bottom of your foot to take off the heels that had also been killing you all evening. "Let's just put it behind us, hmm? Don't forget. I'm always yours."

Your eyes flickered to his, softening slightly as he kiss the front of your foot gently. You arched down, putting out a finger under his chin. Lifting his chin, you held his eyes as he slowly stood up.

A small smile settled onto your face at the anxious gulp travelling down his throat.

Such a pretty throat.

A blank canvas.

"I know, baby," you responded, thumb grazing the side of his lip. "I just needed to do a little reminding. That's all," you murmured.

The silence between the both of you stretched. A game of patience to see who would break first. The desperation that lingered in Oscar's eyes or your urge to show him exactly who he belonged to.

He watched the words slowly fall from your lips. The very ones he had watched you paint earlier that evening, wishing they would touch his skin.

"Come here, Oscar," you commanded, index finger coaxing him towards you.

Wordlessly, his body obeyed you without a second thought. The few steps towards you feeling ever so natural.

You watched those warm brown eyes dance and his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed. You smiled gently, hand reaching to caress his cheek. "What's on your mind, pretty boy?"

Oscar blinked, leaning into your hand. "I want you to touch me," he confessed with a heavy breath. His voice soft and raw.

You chewed on your lip. "Yeah?" You asked, feeling his breath graze past your skin. You moved to rub his ear gently, leaving a tingle to crawl up his spine. "Where do you want me to touch you?"

"Everywhere," Oscar admitted.

You pursed your lips, slowly nodding to yourself. Stepping away, you walked past him, heading towards the bed. You could hear him follow after you instantly, rushing to take his own shoes off.

Your eyes flickered to the decorated digital camera Oscar had brought you for your birthday... it laid there on the drawer, waiting. Taking a seat on the bed, you crossed one leg over the other. Your hand smoothly patted the empty spot next year.

Obediently, Oscar took a seat next you, eyes already a little dazed. He sucked in a sharp breath, chest rising as your hand travelled to his thigh. The other inched to his pectorals, his black shirt fitting snug against them.

Creeping to the hem of his shirt, you could feel his body tense while your fingers skimmed his bare skin, peeling off the layer. Leaning your head down slightly, you pressed a kiss on his collarbone, traces of your lipgloss glittering his skin. Your trail started and ended down his chest, hands roaming him carefree.

Oscar's hand naturally went to your leg, intending to grasp them for some stability as small ripples of shivers fell over him. But the light whip of your hand told him otherwise. He looked at you, brows furrowed and eyes confused.

"No touching 'till I say so," you murmured, smile tugging at your lips.

Oscar's lips parted, eyes swarming with a hint of refusal. Instead, he quietly pushed back his itching hands to the side, agreeing without a fight.

"Let's take these, hmm?" You queried, tugging on the hem of his shirt.

Oscar peeled off his shirt, feeling the cold air sweep past his body. He breathed slowly while you looked at him silently, standing from the mattress.

Without thinking too much, his nimble fingers reached for the zipper of your tight dress. His teeth sunk into his lips, watching your bare skin appear as he gently pried off the fabric, leaving you in only your undergarments.

You stalked towards him, feeling those lust-ridden eyes rake over you. You could hear his breath hitch as your legs hooked over his lap, leaving you straddling him, warmth spreading over his tightening pants.

You held his jaw with your hand, firm and steady, getting his eyes on you. Tracing his lips with the edge of your finger, you smiled before pressing your lips to his.

Oscar fought to put his hands on your waist, instantly wanting you closer. He could feel it. The want, the desperation that spelled it out on his lips while your hands roamed his bare chest.

All mine.

Oscar moaned into the kiss, feeling one hand slide through his hair, giving his locks a tight tug. He could feel the electric heat of your body pressed against his, breasts threatening to spill out of your bra. And only a thin barrier between the wet goodness of your pussy and his dick.

He shuddered when your hips ground down into him, moving in tantalising motions. Fuck, he needed to touch you. For you to be closer. "Please," Oscar breathed, pupils already blown. "Let me touch you, sweetheart, please."

You reached out to the draw, grabbing the digital camera. Holding it close to you, you smiled softly, hearing the click of the lens. You eyed the photo carefully, satisfied with how you had captured his flushed cheeks, the smudge of your lip gloss, his wide eyes, and hooded with his lust.

Sliding off his lap, you hear a rasp of refusal from his lips. You laughed quietly, still eyeing the picture. You pursed your lips, looking back to him while you set the camera aside. "Maybe she was right to act that way... after all, you do look so pretty."

Hovering over him, your hands pulled down his pants and boxers, leaving him stark-naked. Licking your lips at the sight of his cock, you sighed. Everything about Oscar was pretty. Everything.

Oscar' mouth fell open as your hand wrapped around his cock. The slight squeeze of your hand around his base sent a shudder rippling through his stomach.

You eyed the precum on his tip, thumb gently grazing the area to pick it up. The strained whimper from Oscar's lips made you clench your thighs. You flickered your eyes to him, opening your mouth to lick the drop off your thumb.

"Shit," Oscar cussed, cock twitching at the sight.

You said nothing. Only briefly smiling as you leaned forward, warm lips covering the sensitive tip of his cock, tongue swiping the small slit in between. You could feel his hips jerk immediately while his low moans filled your ears.

Oscar tilted his head back, mouth wide open, the warmth of your saliva trailing down his cock making him quiver. Through his hooded eyes, he could see you lean further into his lap, taking in more of his length as your head bobbed up and down, hair falling in all directions.

He was kind, hand moving to gather your hair, only moving it to the side. But hell, he wished he hadn't done it. Or else he wouldn't have seen the way his cock fully disappeared into your mouth, lips flushed with his skin.

"Oh fuck," Oscar cried out, unable to contain the jerk of his hips. He just wanted to feel the back of your throat. God, it felt so good, so warm.

The gag of your throat only turned him on even more. You hummed in agreement, the action sending a wave of pleasure down Oscar's cock. You briefly pulled away, lips still sliding up and down the side of his shaft. "Who makes you feel this good, baby?" You asked.

"You," Oscar rasped out, trembling when he feels your hand massage his balls and the other press their fingernails into his thigh. "You make me feel this good– holy shit," he moaned, eyes rolling as you put your hand back on his cock, fingers expertly swirling around the tip.

Your other hand inched towards the camera, pointing the device at the dazed male. "Smile, baby," you teased, angling the lens from your point of view, capturing the moments of ecstasy building between his hips.

Oscar made an effort to look into the lens, skin burning and red. Fuck, he was so fucking close. His vision was blurring. His moans becoming airier.

"You wanna come? You're nearly there," you taunted, putting the camera aside again before pressing a small kiss to his tip. You slowed the pace of your hand, barely grazing his cock.

"Please, please, please, please," Oscar breathed, panting heavily as his chest rose and fell. His hips jerked in your hands, chasing that slither of euphoria.

A sob fell from his lips as you played with him, increasing and decreasing the speed at your will. The sweat had built up on his body, the hotel sheets sticking to him. His lips were red and swollen from how many times he had bitten them each time he had gotten close. His cock was throbbing, adorning another beautiful shade of warmth as it stood in your hands, shaking in pain.

Another pretty picture.

"Sweetheart," Oscar gasped, tears welling in those pretty brown eyes. He looked at you, a pleading gaze hitting you.

You breathed slowly, legs parting again. You would be lying if you weren't dripping between your legs. The slick had soaked your panties and had been threatening to slide down your thigh for the past ten minutes.

Oscar whimpered as you pulled away, head falling flat on the bed. His chest heaved while he watched you from his peripheral. Watched you take off your panties, cock twitching at the dark damp material. Watched you remove your bra, your breasts free and exciting him all over again.

Oscar sucked in a sharp breath, eyes following the way you climbed over him, legs on either side of him. He willed himself to sit up, eagerly eyeing the way you aligned yourself with him.

He took a glance at your pussy and God...

His cock hurt so good.

Drenched was only the beginning. You were leaking. Folds glistening, the hood of your clit pulled all the way back, letting the bundle of nerves to stand tall and hard. God, you looked so fucking good.

Oscar swallowed hard, feeling the heat radiate off your pussy and onto his cock. He looked back at you, wondering why you were waiting. Why you were torturing him like this.

"You wanna make me feel good, Osc?" You asked, slowly inching towards his cock.

He nodded dumbly as though all rational thoughts had left him.

You smiled with satisfaction, fingernails grazing his v-line, teasing him yet again. "Good," you commented. "So do I."

The moan Oscar released was guttural as you pushed yourself onto his cock. His hands immediately flying to your hips.

"Fuck!" Oscar weeped, the shard of pleasure hitting him instantly.

Your jaw was slack, barely able to breath while Oscar's cock fully bottomed out, flushed against your skin. Your walls hugging him tightly, feeling the slight stretch because shit, you would never ever get used to him.

You barely got any time to adjust. You had teased your poor baby enough that your pussy was an instant drug, luring him in. He had gotten the taste of what release could feel like and fuck, Oscar wanted it so bad.

You moaned, your own nails digging into your thigh as he moved his hand to press on your clit. "Shit," you cried out, feeling his cock thrust so deeply inside you.

"I swear I'm made for you," Oscar breathed out, hips moving at an endless pace, chasing the ecstasy rippling through him. "Do I make you feel good, sweetheart. Please say I do," he whimpered, fucking up into your tight cunt.

"Yes!" You panted, walls clenching around his cock. "Fuck, yes, you do. Such a good boy for me Oscar," you praised, eyes rolling back. Shit... you were already getting there.

Oscar groaned at your words. "Please. I'm gonna– please," he bawled, tears finally escaping those pretty brown eyes.

You really wanted that camera. But God, you felt so good. All you could do was memorise the way he cried for you as his orgasm hit him in a sharp wave, your walls clenching at the deeper thrusts.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck!" Oscar repeated, smaller spasms of pleasure hitting him as he came inside you, fingers digging into your hips.

You let out a sob, body convulsing at the piercing surge wrecking your entire being.

You exhaled while Oscar slowed down, relief easing back into the both of you. You blinked, gently moving yourself off of his cock, hissing at your sensitive folds.

Oscar immediately reached for you, pulling you into him, enjoying your bare skin on his. He breathed out, "That was.."

"Good?" You asked, eyes slightly concerned that you had teased him too much. Or perhaps your jealousy had gotten it's way.

Oscar chuckled softly at the worry in your voice, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. "Perfect," he murmured, "I'm thinking... maybe I need to get you jealous more often."

You frowned, giving him a pointed look as you hit his chest lightly. "That's not funny," you muttered, still narrowing your eyes despite the quirk of your lips saying something else.

Oscar grinned before softening his gaze. He rested his forehead on yours, looking directly at you. "I'm yours, okay? Only yours."

"I know." You smiled gently at his admission, the one you heard every other day and still relished. Raking a hand through his hair and whispered. "And I'm yours."

"At least you got some good photos out of it."

"Oscar!"

© 𝐌𝐈𝐂𝐊𝐘𝐒𝐂𝐇𝐔𝐌𝐀𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐑

[whatsverstappeningnow]

how f1 drivers react

when they notice you haven't been eating enough (requested)

drivers mentioned: MV33, LN4, OP81, AA23, CS55, CL16, LH44, GR63

-> tw: obviously references to ED behaviours and not eating, reader discretion is advised if this is a trigger for you!

max verstappen

You thought you were being careful. Smiling while he cooked. Saying you were full from lunch and moving the food around your plate just enough to make it seem like you’d eaten more than you had. You knew it was wrong, you should say something, but couldn't find the words.

You thought you were getting away with it.

Then one night, after a particularly long, stressful day, while the two of are getting ready for bed, Max quietly hands you one of his redbull hoodies. It feels like a peace offering. He's silent for a moment, like he too is struggling to the the right words.

“You’ve lost weight.”

You freeze with your arms halfway in the sleeves, eyes wide and aimed at the ground. “What?”

His tone is neutral, forcibly so, but his eyes aren’t. They’re serious. Studying your reaction.

“I can feel it when I hug you,” he says, blunt and truthful. “You’re smaller. You're tired all the time. You barely touched dinner. Not the for the first time, either”

You try to deflect. “I’m fine. It’s just stress...work’s been a lot—”

“I’m not judging,” he interrupts softly, hands on his hips. “But don’t lie to me. Not about this, schatje.”

You stare at the floor, guilt swirling and pooling in your stomach. His hands find your waist, thumbs brushing over your hips as if to emphasize what he already noticed. He leans in just enough that his forehead touches yours, leaning against eachother softly.

“I know you think it’s not a big deal. But it is to me,” he murmurs. “I don’t care if it’s small meals, snacks, whatever... but you need somehting. I need to know you’re okay.”

Then, after a long pause, “Please don’t shut me out. Your hurting the woman I care about, I can't let you do that.”

He doesn’t push after that. Just holds you tighter that night. Makes breakfast the next morning and doesn’t say a word when you take the plate. Just smiles a little when you pick up the fork.

lando norris

You’re lying on your stomach across your bed, scrolling through your phone aimlessly, when Lando flops down beside you with a sigh. You laugh at his sudden, unexpected appearance, but it dies out when he you don't hear him join in.

“I’m gonna say something, and you’re not allowed to get weird about it.”

You glance over, up your phone down, suspicious, but trying to lighten the tone. The sudden seriousness leaves you uncomfortable. "Hm, ominous."

He gives you a look, one that says he's not joking for once.

“You haven’t really eaten today. Or much yesterday. And I don’t think that’s nothing.”

You open your mouth to deflect, but Lando cuts in, gentler now.

“I’m not mad. I just… I want you to know that I notice these things. I don't want you to hide this stuff. I'm a... a bit hurt that you thought you had to.”

"I didn't mean to it's just. It's hard to talk about this stuff," you try to explain.

"I know that. Of course, I know that. But we spend hours talking about how I'm going, where my head is at, and that's not a one way street, love."

He nudges your shoulder lightly when you you can't find the words to say. “Let me take care of you, yeah? We’ll order something...anything you want! You don’t even have to leave the bed.”

And when you nod, he grins and kisses your cheek like it’s no big deal...like loving you includes this, too.

oscar piastri

Oscar notices something's off before you say even say anything.

You're out running errands together and get dizzy out of nowhere in the middle of the store. You hand grips his as you try and blink away the blurry spots. He's quick to put a hand on your back to help you stay up right, and even quicker to ask whats wrong.

You try to brush it off , I probably just need water or something, but he doesn’t buy it. The crease between his eyebrows deepens.

“You’ve been lightheaded more than once this week.”

You blink at him, surprised, heart suddenly beating faster than before. “No, I haven't.”

But he nods like you've said the opposite. Eyes searching yours for... something.

“I’ve also noticed you keep skipping breakfast a lot. And lunch, probably, if I'm not home with you. And you’re ‘just tired’ every night.”

Oscar isn’t dramatic about it. He just says it plainly, as truth, fact. But that just makes it harder to brush off.

“I’m worried,” he admits, voice quieter, hand holding yours tightly. “You don’t have to explain it all right now. But I need to know you’re okay... I need to know if you're not.”

You murmur that you're not sure what's going on, and it's the truth. Oscar doesn’t press.

“Let’s get head home. Have something easy. And if you don’t want to talk, we can just sit.”

"I'm sorry," you whisper to him, unsure of what to say.

"Please don't apologise. I love you. I want you to be well."

carlos sainz

You’re on your apartment balcony together, lounging around after a long morning sleep in. Carlos offers to make you breakfast, but you tell him not to bother. You’re not hungry.

He pauses mid-step, one foot inside, one still on the balcony. Looks at you, slightly offended on your behalf.

“No desayuno? Why not?”

You shrug, trying to keep your tone light. “I don’t know. I just… don’t feel like eating, I guess.”

Carlos doesn’t say anything at first. He just watches you. But the crease between his brows deepens, and then he's moving toward you, slowly, like he’s approaching something fragile. Maybe he is.

“You’ve skipped too many meals this week, mi vida. I’m not blind.”

His voice is quiet but firm, that kind of gentle stubbornness you’ve learned not to argue with. The kind that comes from a place of love, not discipline. You look down, suddenly finding it too hard to look Carlos in the eyes, but he doesn’t let the moment slip by so easily.

He finally steps right behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist lightly, and resting his chin on your shoulder. His voice is softer now, words whispered right into your ear like a sweet secret for just the two of you.

“I don’t need you to be perfect. I need you to take care of yourself.”

His fingers rub little circles into your sides, grounding and steady.

And before you can come up with a deflection, he’s pulling away just enough to kiss the side of your temple and mutter, “I’ll make something light. You don’t have to finish it. Just try.”

It’s not about food. Not really. It’s about how he wants you well. Wants you cared for. It's about showing you you are loved, and deserve to be taken care of.

alex albon

You're facetiming while he’s away, talking about qualifying, how the pets are doing, your plans for tomorrow, what you did earlier that day, when you offhandedly say, “I had a granola bar today, that counts, right?”

He laughs at first, caught up in your cute rambling. Then stops suddenly, all the humour draining from his face in a milisecond.

“Wait, that was all you had? Actually?”

You realize too late how that sounds. You can't take the words back now, and you can't find it in you to play it off as a complete joke. Part of you wants him to know.

Alex's expression shifts immediately. “Babe… You need to eat. No excuses.”

He leans in closer to the screen, voice suddenly quieter.

“Are you alright? Seriously.”

You start to downplay it, words coming out quickly to cover yourself, you weren't that hungry today, you were busy, you would eat later to make up for it, but he shakes his head gently at each excuse.

“Hey, hey. You don’t need to explain if you’re not ready. I’ve been there, I get it. But I wish you’d told me. I would’ve sent you like… twenty reminders. Or ubereats meals.”

Despite the worry, he smiles at you, soft and sweet, with the kind of look he always has before he leans in to kiss you.

“Okay. We’re ordering food together, right now. Virtual dinner date? I'll get room servivce, order something to the house for you. Yeah?”

You laugh, tear up a little, and agree. He smiles bright at your agreeance, beaming with pride.

charles leclerc

You're halfway through slicing vegetables for dinner when you say it. You'd been tossing up the right words to say all day. Deflecting is an art.

“I’m not really hungry tonight, but you go ahead.”

Charles doesn’t respond right away. Just finishes stirring the pan in front of him, sets the spoon down carefully, and, without another word, switches the stove completely off.

You glance up, confused and stunned. “What are you doing? That's not done yet.”

He simply shrugs. “If you’re not eating, then we’re not cooking.”

There’s no edge in his tone. No accusation. Just quiet finality, as if he had anticipated you not wanting to eat.

You blink, confused. “Charles, that’s ridiculous. You shouldn’t skip dinner just because—”

“Because you are?” he says gently, stepping away from the stove and closer to you. “No, I shouldn’t. But I’m not going to sit here and act like I haven’t noticed what you're doing”

He closes the space between you, wiping his hands on a dish towel before setting it aside.

“I’m not trying to make you feel bad, chéri,” he says quietly, searching your expression for the truth of the situation, but coming up empty. “I just want you to take care of yourself. And if I can help, even just a little, I will. If this is what it takes for you to know it is unhealthy, then I will do it.”

Charles reaches out and pulls you gently into his embrace. One hand on your back, the other smoothing your hair behind your ear. When he speaks again, his voice is soft against your skin. “Even if it’s just toast and juice. Even if it’s small. I’ll eat with you.”

You nod slowly, not because you’re convinced you can finish a whole meal, but because the idea of sitting across from him, even with something simple, suddenly feels like something you can do. Something you want to try. For him.

So he kisses your temple, rubs his hand down your back once again, and then says, “I’ll make tea. You pick the bread. Oui?”

lewis hamilton

You’re pacing around, trying to get stuff done, arms filled with knick-knacks you should have put away ages ago, when Lewis gently intercepts you. Hands on your upper arms, holding you still.

“You’ve been running nonstop all day, love. Did you eat yet?”

You wave him off. “I haven’t had time.”

That makes him stop cold. He exhales, long and hard, then walks over and takes your hands in his.

“That’s not okay.”

You go to respond, but Lewis lifts a hand. Gently, calmly stopping you.

“I’m not upset. But I also… don’t think this is the first time you’ve let yourself forget about food. And it’s scaring me a bit.”

“It’s not like that… I promise,” you reply in a hushed tone.

His thumb traces small circles over your knuckles, constant and soft.

“Ok, and I trust you to know if it was like that you could tell me. But I’ve seen what burnout looks like. What forgetting to take care of yourself does. I won’t stand by and watch it happen to you too. I love you too much to watch you crash and burn.”

"Lewis—"

He takes all the clothes and cups from your arms and places them on the table, leaving your hands empty and your heart beating fast.

He leans in and kisses your forehead, hushing you. “Let’s start small. Something warm. Something easy. Please? Gotta make sure my girl is taken care of.”

He doesn’t ask for more. Just reminds you, with every soft word and touch, that you’re worth taking care of, even on the days when you forget how.

george russell

You're lying in bed together when George brings it up for the first time.

"Love, I need to ask you something, and I need you to be honest with me. Please?"

When you turn to look at him, his face is dead serious, his undereye bags heavy and dark like something’s been worried about something for a while.

"You haven’t been eating enough." He says it quietly, thumb brushing just beneath your cheekbone like he’s afraid he’s already said too much.

"That’s not a question," you reply, a little too fast. A little too defensive.

George doesn’t take the bait. He just watches you for a second, gaze steady but soft. There’s no judgment in it, only worry.

“I know,” he says. “But I’ve been holding it in, waiting for you to come to me, waiting for the right time, and... I guess there isn’t one, is there?”

You sigh, low and long from the weight of everything you've been feeling. He shifts closer, wrapping an arm around your waist.

“I’m not angry. I don't want you to think that. I just...noticed recently. And I didn’t want to corner you, or make you feel.. attacked, but I love you, and I can’t keep pretending I don’t see what’s happening.”

You rest your forehead against his chest, and his hand runs gently up and down your back.

“You don’t have to explain anything right now,” he murmurs. “Just let me help. We can start slow. A good breakfast tomorrow. I’ll make tea. We can talk about it, if you'd like. One thing at a time. Yeah?”

"I'm sorry."

"Hey, none of that. This isn't something you need to apologise for. I got you. We got this."

You nod against him, curling tighter into his soft hold. George presses a soft kiss to the top of your head like a promise. One that says: you’re not doing this alone.

lowkey inspired by both the anon request and the quote "i love you, i want us both to eat well" <3

[dark-night-hero]

Imagine being Rafayel's non-mc significant other.

Imagine being his fiancé, one he was long destined to be with. The one he may have not chosen for himself but grew to accept and loved as time passed by. The two of you were perfect for each other even thought it did not started with love. The two of you have found peace and contentment with each other.

Imagine for years, you had believed that his silence was strength, his distance a habit, and lastly, his loyalty was none other than yours. Rafayel have always been some kind of distant to other people that does not capture his interest. Sassy to those whom he find troublesome and annoying. To yours, he was soft, he treated you with care and gentleness. But lately, something has changed.

Imagine trying to find Rafayel within the island, strange shape seashell all nested in your arms as you try to show it to him. It looks like he was need of a inspiration so you took the chance to give him the things that he often looked for, something you often saw him do as you trail behind him, letting him to all the work as he please. He looked down these past few days, often catching a glimpse of him staring at nothing. "No no no, not that one, this." "You really have a strange taste, Rafayel." He was with his bodyguard, MC.

Imagine you never really find it weird that he was in need of a bodyguard, after all the recent event, it does seemed valid that he needed someone to look after him in a more safely way. But then again, something was changing. "Shall I accompany you-?" "No, there is no need for you to be there. Ms. Bodyguard would be there with me." There was something, "Will you be visiting this week?" "Hmm, this week? I have a meeting with a client." "Will Thomas be with you?" "No, but Miss Bodyguard would be there with me." Something was changing. "Have you eaten yet? I have cook-" "Miss Bodyguard and I have already eaten out on our way home- is that my favorite?" "Well... yes, but it's alright, I'll just take it home with me." No, something had changed.

Imagine the way you notice things had changed. The way he laughs more with her, the way he relaxes in her presence, the way he reaches out to her without thinking. He never does that with you. You never thought in the first place he was capable of laughing like that. Nor could he let his guard down like that. And the way... The way he looks at her, he never looks at you like that. He never looks at you with such fondness, with such adoration, with such...

Imagine the way you tried to deny it. But the truth is, deep down. The moment you saw the two of them together you had already begin to piece it together. The quiet observation from afar, half finished sentences and moments you were never meant to witness. In the first play they aren't even trying to hide it, or maybe, they aren't even aware of what was going on between the two of them as if it was natural.

"Are you sure you don't want to see him before you go?" "Would that change anything?" There was nothing but silence. "I thought so.." You replied to yourself and look around the island for the last time. This house no longer feels like home. "You cannot heal in the same place you got sick." You added, looking into your friend. "Please don't look at me like that, I know what I'm doing." You smile sadly at her. "Then, shall we go?"

Imagine, once upon a time, you always thought you have found the right prince for your fairytale. Turns out you were trying to hold on to a love that was never truly yours to begin with. Because if it was yours to begin with, why does it felt like you meant nothing to him? After all this time? You were no longer the one his heart answers to... and maybe never was. In the end, you left. You left because sometimes, the right way to love is to leave.

[ⓒdark-night-hero] 2025°

: I wrote this on my notes while doing my research paper. Ngl, i don't think I'll be making a part two for any of the non mc imagines but we'll see.

[uluvjay]

Return of the Mad-M. Verstappen

Max Verstappen x fem! Reader

In which Max allows the anger he’s been burying to come through, or Mad Max makes his return..

Warnings?; degrading, kind of asshole max, hair pulling, unprotected sex (A NO NO), talks of throwing things at people, slight George Russel hate (it’s for the plot sorry), use of the word cunt, sorry for any errors I missed!

You weren’t surprised when the helmet went flying across the garage, you’d seen it coming over the past few races.

The way his fists would clench when he returned from another race where he hadn’t made podium, the way he’d curse to himself in Dutch when the fia gave him a penalty they didn’t give to other drivers doing the same thing.

Yes the few wins he’d secured were nice and you were positive that if it wasn’t for them he would’ve blown up a long time ago.

You owed George Russel a thank you basket for pushing him over the edge, the way they’d raced each other the past few weeks pushing max closer and closer to the edge. And finally after George’s dirty moves in the Spanish Grand Prix the anticipated return of Mad max happened.

You were cautious as you pushed open the drivers room door, nobody had even attempted to even approach Max since he’d entered the garage with his lion printed helmet flying at a wall.

“Go away” he grumbled from the small couch in the room, arms crossed as his foot tapped against the floor.

“It’s just me” you announced shutting the door behind you, making sure to twist the lock.

He picked his head up slightly blue eyes scanning over your body, the helmet he so gracefully chucked at the wall in your hand.

“What are you going to do with that?”

You sighed at his attitude, “nothing, picked it up along my way”

He scoffed, “should’ve chucked it at the fucking stewards with that bullshit penalty.”

You sighed setting the helmet down before moving to sit next to him, “unfortunately that would be assault and that’s not something we want. You’re already a point away from a race ban.”

Blue eyes were quick to snap towards you filled with a dangerous hue that you hadn’t seen for a long time.

“They gave me points on my license? You’re fucking joking right?” He snapped.

“I wish I was, it was unfair but they felt like it was intentional.” You sighed.

He scoffed moving to his feet now pacing the room as he removed his race suit, profanities and complaints spewing out as he changed.

Just as he was sliding on his pants a knock sounded at the door, “Max mate we need you for media”

It was Christian, at least they hadn’t sent the poor Pr girl to get him.

“Fuck Media, they can all fuck off and so can you.” Max spat.

You winced at his words knowing they were mean but this is what happens when you provoke an already irritated Lion.

You stood to your feet unlocking and opening the door just enough so you could see Christian.

“I’ll get him out, just give me a minute and he’ll be down.”

“We need him now Y/n” the Brit sighed.

You rolled your eyes at his impatience, “Yeah well that’s not going to happen, give me five minutes and he’ll be down.”

You don’t allow him a response before shutting the door and turning towards your Dutchman.

“I’m not going down there” he laughed but it was dry, mocking, like he could give two fucks about anyone or anything and what they had to say.

“Max”

“No, you want me to do it so bad then go do it yourself. Tell them I don’t give a fuck and it was that cunts fault.” He shrugged spitefully eyes locked on yours.

You walked to where he was now standing by his massage bed large hands gripping the edges in irritation.

“Look I know you’re mad but please just give them something so we can pack up and go home.” You pleaded looking up at him.

The triple header had been long and grueling and all you wanted was to climb into bed with your boyfriend and cats and sleep the next few days away before he was due at Redbull headquarters.

You weren’t paying attention to his hands until one was tangled in your hair angling your head back, a whimper escaping your mouth at the sensation.

“You don’t tell me what to do, got it? If I wanted your fucking opinion I would’ve asked for it.” He spoke sinisterly, eyes sharp and voice deep.

He was quick when he spun you around your front pressed against the massage bed while he pressed into you from behind.

You couldn’t help the way your thighs rubbed together at the feeling of his hard cock against you, the grip he had on your hair sending shocks down to your wet core.

“Fucking slut, this is turning you on isn’t it?” He scoffed.

You whimpered at his words, it was sick how his degrading words made you feel. The way the slick was spreading on the insides of your thighs you both knew he’d find a pool when he reached his hand between your thighs.

And he did.

Max growled at the feeling when he slipped his beneath your sundress, his thick fingers not wasting any time as they slid your panties to the side.

He was rough but you didn’t mind especially not when he slid his fingers inside you, a moan breaking out before you could stop it.

“So fucking needy.”

“I had a bad race and you think you can tell me what to do? Must’ve forgotten your place. But don’t worry baby I’ll remind you.” He smirked.

It was dark and sinister not a drop of sympathy behind those blue eyes and curled lip and you felt it in the way he ripped his fingers from your cunt.

You whimpered at the loss but it didn’t last long before he was pulling his pants and boxers down in one swift go.

It wasn’t long before your dress was bunched up around your waist, panties pulled down just enough for his cock to reach your cunt.

He doesn’t prep you like he usually would. There’s no need to.

You’re soaked, his cock pushing through your dripping folds with ease. And there’s nothing nice or slow about the way his cock splits you open.

“Shit.” You breathe the burn from the stretch of his thick cock was to good, the pain mixing with the pleasure causing your brain to short circuit.

He gives you a little of his cock before pulling out half way and then slamming back into you, his pace brutal as his hand twists in your hair yanking you flushed against his chest again.

His voice is steady when he speaks again, “Take it like the slut you are, always willing to take my cock huh?”

You nod cluelessly the pleasure blinding as your nails dig into the table in front of you, you’re positive there will be rips in the material by the time he’s done with you but you couldn’t care less right now.

“Yeah I know baby, I know. Anything for me to fuck my girl.” He cooed mockingly, voice mean.

He fucks you so deep. Bottoming out with each thrust.

He’s grunting in your ear, deep and raspy just the way you like. You can hear his low curses in Dutch his breath hot on your neck.

You can feel him against you, all over you. His toned chest pressed against you, every thrust of his hips makes your ass jolt from the roughness and pace of the thrusts.

His cock hits your g-spot effortlessly with each thrust, brutal, sharp, unrelenting as he chases his high.

This isn’t about you, he’ll make you cum but you’ll be paying for it later on the plane wether that be on your knees for as long as he says or letting him fuck you until he says you can cum.

You gasp when his lips meet your ear tongue teasing before he nips at it the pain sends jolts of pleasure through your body.

Max chuckles when your cunt clenches around him, you were his dirty slut and he basked in the fact nobody but him knew that.

You cry out when he tugs on your hair, it’s hard and the pain is sharp but there’s no denying the fact you’re attracted to the pain. Not when a moan follows behind it.

“You’re such a whore, act so fucking sweet and innocent but all you want is to be fucked dumb.” He growls voice hot with pleasure but you can still hear the anger lingering.

His accent is thick, one you swear he’s losing some days but not when he’s like this. When he’s got nothing but sex and pain on his mind. No that’s when the part of him he worked so hard to control comes through.

He’s got himself buried so deep inside of you that you feel everything, every vein and ridge on his bare cock.

You sob out as the feeling in your lower stomach grows stronger by the second, your body is so fucking hot, sweat making stands of hair stick to your forehead.

“M-max. Fuck-I’m so close.” You whine body trembling against him.

He grunts at the sound of your dazed voice, “yeah I can feel it. Go ahead and cum for me like a good little slut.”

And you do.

It hits you hard, your mouth drops open but nothing comes out. Your vision blurs as that band in your lower stomach snaps.

You can hear max moaning from the way you’re clenching him, convulsing around his cock just the way he likes.

He starts fucking you harder, hips snapping into you at an ungodly pace as he chases a high of his own.

And you can feel all of it when he does, his strong arms wrap around you caging you against his body as his thrusts grow wild.

He cums inside of you with a low grunt, curses spilling free as he fucks you through his high, body shaking as he comes down.

You two stay like that for a while, allowing each other to catch your breath. You’re still panting when he pulls away hands holding your waist to steady you on your shaky legs.

You’re not expecting him to spin you around so quick but he doesn’t give you much time to think about it before his lips are on yours.

His grip on your cheeks is strong, nails digging into your flushed cheeks puckering your lips on his own as he takes what he wants.

He kisses you like a starved man, it’s hot and heavy, his tongue devouring yours.

And finally when he pulls back he gives you a once over pulling your panties off completely he shoves them in his pocket.

He doesn’t speak a word as he grabs the blue and orange cap sitting at the edge of the massage bed sliding it on his damn head.

“I’ll be back in twenty minutes, be packed and ready because we’re leaving.” He states clear as day, not allowing you any room for discussion.

And right before he opens the door he turns back to you, “And don’t put anymore panties on, you won’t need them for the plane ride home.”

-

[traveler-at-heart]

Sharing is caring

Summary: Natasha doesn't like to share.

Natasha Romanoff x F!R

A/N: Thank you to @jujuu23 for reading this before I posted :)

Natasha wanted to have a good day.

But then recruits were stupid, Steve was being annoying about paperwork. And now, this.

Her favorite mug. Gone.

“Did you do this?” is the first thing she says to Sam as he enters the kitchen.

“No, I like the idea of keeping all my fingers”

And precisely then, you walk in.

Newest addition to the team, top of your SHIELD class, expert in weapons, languages and the most delicious desserts. Steve had to enforce a rigurous meal plan when even Bucky gained a good five pounds.

Natasha likes your easy smile, beautiful eyes, and those full lips that can be both alluring and mysterious.

That perfect mouth that is now sipping from none other than Natasha’s mug.

Sam crosses his arms, expecting the Russian to say something. But she stays glued to her spot.

As you enter the room, you feel two sets of eyes on you. The attention makes you falter, but you push through. There’s no place for shyness when you’re an Avenger.

“Hey. How’s it going?”

“Real nice” Sam says, and you nod, considering if it’s a good idea to address Natasha directly. You still haven’t quiet figured her out. 

“Do I have something on my face? You’re staring”

“No” Natasha rushes to say, before Sam can tell you that you’re holding her mug, the one that made her rip Barnes’ arm off when she saw him using it.  

“You sure? Dirt? Chocolate?”

“Your face is perfect” she hurries to say, and Sam has to cough to hide his laughter 

“Smooth, Romanoff”

“Ok, then. I made coffee and added a little nutmeg. Wanna try it?”

You offer her your mug and she takes it, smiling. 

“This is really good!”

“Finish it. I have to train. I don’t mind sharing” you wink at her, and Natasha has to keep from smiling. She doesn’t like new people knowing she can go soft.

“Can I have some?” Sam steps in.

“No” Natasha cuts him off and you laugh, waving goodbye. 

—

Heroes can save the day, but forget to bring out an extra chair when doing mission debriefings. 

This is the first time the entire team has been on a mission together since you joined, and now the conference room is crowded. There’s no place to sit, except for a small sofa in the back of the room.

That’s where Natasha usually sits, because it gives her a view of everyone. She can read their expressions, guess what they think, take that information to asses what needs to be refined in their team dynamic. 

Right now, though, she’s one of the last people in. The minute she looks at her spot, she sees you, leaning against the sofa, your hand discreetly holding your side.

“Rookie, you’re in Red’s spot” Tony says, walkign right after Natasha. 

She shoots him a murderous glare, but all you do is laugh, trying to stand up without anyone noticing you’re injured.

But Natasha notices.

“We can both sit here” she rushes to say, and you nod, knowing your voice would be strained if you thanked her out loud.

Mission debriefing goes by in a blur, your breathing heavy. 

Natasha is ready to tell Steve to can it, but Tony steps in, and everyone leaves the room.

Everyone except you. 

Natasha can’t leave either, worried about your condition.

“It’s nothing major” you say, knowing why she’s still sitting next to you.

“What is?” she tries to play dumb, but that makes you laugh. You wince after a second, though. “You should go to the Medbay”

“Cracked ribs, that’s all. The doctors won’t be able to fix that either way” you smile at her, but make no effort to move. Natasha stays put too, and you know she’s patient enough to wait it out. “Fine. I’m going”

You expect Natasha to leave for her room once you promise to get checked out. But instead, she follows you.

“Just in case you need something”

The doctors confirm what you already know. Rest, painkillers, no training for a couple of days. What you had missed were a couple of cuts, since you didn’t even change out of your suit until now. A nurse cleans them up and patches you up, but you’re left in nothing but a tank top and your tactical pants. 

Why is the Medbay so damn cold?

When you open the door, Natasha is already waiting, a hoodie in her hands.

“I’ve told them to fix the damn AC a thousand times” is all she says, and you smile, grateful. You struggle when you have to slide the hoodie down your body, and Natasha’s hands are quick to pull the fabric down gently.

“Thank you, Nat”

“Come on, you need your rest” 

Walking back to the living quarters, you can’t help but wonder if she’s being nice out of pity or something else. Whatever it is, you just hope she doesn’t see you as the rookie that screws up during their first group mission.

“You know where to find me, if you need anything” 

You nod, waiting until she walks into her own room to get inside.

The first thing you do in the privacy of your room is enjoy the fact her hoodie is soft, and smells just like Natasha.

You might not give it back to her.

—

Tony’s idea of a party is shut down the next morning. You can guess that Steve is aware of your injuries, as the doctors are required to submit a report.

Still, Stark insists on some team bonding activity and by a miracle, Natasha gets him to agree to movie night.

That’s how you end up in the entertainment room. There’s popcorn, soda, pizza and chocolate. 

Once again, and unbenknowst to you, you end up sitting on the couch Natasha takes up for herself.

“Hey” she walks up to you, vaguely aware that the rest of the team is waiting to see if Natasha asks you to move. “Mind if we share?”

“Not at all!” you say, moving to the side so she can sit. It’s hard to pretend you’re not excited about Natasha’s request. 

Considering she’s always keeping her distance, sharing the couch during movie night seems like a big deal.

“Everyone settled?” Tony asks, his gaze lingering on you two. Natasha glares, so he turns around and starts the movie.

After a couple of minutes, you reach forward to open the pack of M&M’s that no one seems to want. You can’t help the laugh when Natasha reaches for them at the same time.

“We can share these too” you say, handing them to her.

Natasha is trying to pay attention to the movie, but you’re shifting in the couch, sometimes your knee brushing against hers. 

“You’re not eating the green ones” she notices, leaning close to you to not interrupt the movie.

“Oh, shit” you laugh, somehow sensing that Natasha wants to know why. “My brother and I would agree to leave those for last, and then split them. Stupid”

“Wouldn’t want to mess with tradition” she says, separating them. You watch her, holding back a smile.

—

“Y/N’s all packed up and ready to go, right?” Steve says, reading over a file. 

“Yeah, she walked by like five minutes ago. Medics gave clearance” Sam says. “It’s just a recon mission, either way”

They’re going back to reviewing the team’s schedule when Natasha sprints past them.

“Yo, what’s going on?” Sam says, hoping there’s no threat to deal with. Steve is about to walk out as well, when he hears Natasha’s words.

“I’m going with Y/N! How could you be so irresponsible to send her away when she just recovered?”

Captain Rogers decides to hide behind the door, Natasha’s anger making him feel small.

“Alright, have a good one” Sam gives her a thumb up, and the redhead just rolls her eyes. He sighs, going back inside.

Steve stays silent for a second.

“The safe house only has one bed” he says, considering if it’s worth telling Natasha that. "Should we tell her?"

“No, thank you”

—

Recon missions suck. 

There, you said it. Unfortunately, those are the most frequent ones for you, as the newest member of the team and being practically unknown to the general population.

You’re walking to your car, hoping the mission can be done quickly. It’s a day and a half and being alone makes it specially boring. As soon as you open the driver’s door, you find Natasha sitting, smiling up at you.

“Jeez! What are you doing here?”

“Backup. Cap asked me to come last minute” 

“Oh” you get quiet, nodding.

Natasha tries to stay neutral when she notices how your face falls. Did she read into the situation? A part of her thought you liked being around her.

Either way, she can’t back out now. Once you’re settled in the car, Natasha drives out of the Compound, to the small office you’re meant to infiltrate.

“Is… did…?” you mumble a couple of times. Natasha keeps a poker face, waiting for you to speak again. With a sigh, you finally let it out. “Did Steve send you to babysit me? He thinks I screwed up because I got injured, doesn’t he?”

“No, it’s nothing like that” Natasha says, mentally kicking herself for rushing to join you. She didn’t even consider your feelings, too eager to spend time together. “I just didn’t like the idea of you going alone”

“Oh” you say again, this time blushing. Natasha can sense something shifts from your tone alone, so she turns to look at you. Your eyes meet hers and you smile. “Yeah, I was actually thinking how boring it was going to be. So, I’m glad you tagged along” 

“I’m glad too” she says, trying not to smile.

“Let’s see if you keep saying that after I put on my roadtrip playlist”

“Bring it”

Natasha tries to enjoy the songs, though she’ll never tell you that pop music isn’t really her thing. What she does enjoy are the gummies you offer. In your words, road snacks are key to the trip.

As you park close to the safe house, you leave your bag in the living room and then go down to around the corner, checking you have everything you need in your jacket pockets. 

“Wanna go over the plan?” Natasha says, trying to keep calm. It’s just a recon mission. You’ll be fine.

“Bug the conference room for the meeting happening tomorrow. Hack into Russo’s computer and download everything. In and out, easy peasy” 

Natasha nods, and you wink at her.

“If I finish in under 10 minutes you buy me dinner”

“Deal” Natasha says, and she wishes she could tell you she’ll buy you dinner no matter what happens.

You finally go, walking up to the building, strolling casually. As you’re about to reach the doors, a man leaves the office and you snatch his ID to get past the gates.

That’s the easy part. Unfortunately, there’s a lot of people in the hallways still, and the office you’re supposed to infiltrate is at the end of the long corridor.

The conference room should be close to the elevator, so you decide to take a look around. As you approach, you hear voices inside.

It will be difficult to bug a room with other people in it.

Looking around, aware that you’ll be suspicious if you just stand there, you think of a way out.

And then you spot the distraction you need.

Well, whatever it takes to get the mission done.

—

Natasha finds a cafeteria that is across the office, and she gets to sit by the window, looking out as you skilfully snatch the ID from someone who’s leaving.

Standard time for a mission like that should be under fifteen minutes. Unfortunately, the man whose ID you stole is coming back exactly five minutes later. 

Natasha’s not sure if he forgot something, or if he noticed he was missing his ID and decided to return for it. The fact of the matter is that if someone notices you used it to get inside, you’ll be in trouble.

She suddenly wishes you had a comm with you so she could help out. Hell, if the man keeps talking to security, Natasha will find a way to make a scene and distract them long enough to get you out.

Just as she’s about to stand up, one of the cleaning staff walks out and hands over the ID. Did you notice what happened and dropped it? Were you still inside? You didn’t need the ID to exit the building, but still.

The man takes his ID, and walks back inside. 

It’s been nine minutes. Natasha will give you five more before she intervenes.

She’s so focused on looking out the window that she misses the moment you step inside the restaurant, and sit in front of her.

“What…? “ the redhead does a doble take, and you take great pride in that.

“Janitor’s closet, grabbed one of their uniforms. Nobody questions cleaning staff”

You pass her the USB, smiling at her shocked expression.

“And you gave him back his ID, as if you weren’t the one who took it”

“All under ten minutes. You know what that means?”

“Of course. Let’s check the menu” Natasha says, smiling at you.

After ordering a couple of cheeseburgers, you read over the desserts.

“We could share a brownie” you say, holding back a smile. You’ve noticed Natasha has a sweet tooth, and is less than inclined to share her food, especially if it’s a dessert.

“Sure” she says after a beat, and you clear your throat, speaking after the waitress leaves.

“You know, I can handle rejection”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I’m the youngest of three. I’m used to people telling me to leave their things alone” you say, smiling at her. “If I’m bothering you…”

“I don’t mind sharing” she cuts you off, her shoulders tense. It’s a bit uncomfortable for her to be vulnerable like this. “Not when I’m sharing with you” 

“Oh” you blush, biting your lip. The way her words affect you make Natasha regain some of her confidence. 

“How come you didn’t want to do a recon?”

“I don’t know. I like group missions. Or at least going with someone else. Like I said, I have siblings and I guess being around the team makes me feel like at home”

“Well, I like them because I can take a break from everyone. But that’s just because I’ve been dealing with those boys for years now” she laughs.

“Yeah, I get it. It can feel like a frat house sometimes. Let’s have girls night, no boys allowed” you joke, but perk up a second later. “Wait! That actually sounds fun. Oh my Gosh, we could go to the movies, or a museum, or dinner…”

“Sounds like a date to me” Natasha interrupts your rambling, pleased when you play with your hands.

“Yeah. That could be a date” 

Once the food arrives, you eat and chat. Natasha does agree to sharing dessert, which makes your heart melt a little at the gesture.

The last part of the mission is supposed to happen tomorrow, when a couple of shady businessmen meet at the building you infiltrated. All you have to do is sit and take pictures of whoever walks in, so intelligence can run background checks.

After dinner, you head back to the small apartment. For the first time since you arrived, you walk past the entrance to check the space.

“What’s wrong?” Natasha asks when you come back, fiddling with your hands.

“There’s only one bed”

“Oh”

“You can totally take it, the couch looks fine…”

“No, you’re still recovering, I’ll sleep on the couch”

Natasha and you speak over the other for a few minutes until your voices die down and you stare at each other.

“We could share?” you suggest.

“Ok” Natasha nods, trying to pretend it’s not a big deal.

But when you change into an oversized t-shirt (no shorts because you truly thought you’d be alone here), and lie down in the small bed, your heart is practically beating out of your chest. 

“You ok?” Natasha says, trying not to move.

You give up with a sigh, turning on your side and moving closer, until you’re inches apart.

“Just need to sleep on my side. And I usually hug a pillow. Don’t ask me why, I just do”

“Well… here” Natasha moves even closer, taking your arm. She places it around her waist, and pulls you closer. Your breath hitches for a second, but Natasha smiles reassuringly. “Is this better?”

“Yes”

As a matter of fact, it’s the best sleep either one of you has gotten in years.

—

You’re not in the mood for parties.

But that’s never stopped Tony before.

After waking up cuddling Natasha, (and barely completing the mission because you didn’t want to leave bed) you were eager to ask her out, or have her ask you out. Whichever was fine by you.

But as soon as you parked the car, Cap was waiting with a frown and a big file.

“We leave in an hour” he said, only to Natasha.

Apparently, this was going to be a very demanding mission, and Cap didn’t want you pushing yourself.

So, Natasha, Sam and Steve had been gone for a few days now.

Tony was mildly disappointed, but this was Pepper’s birthday party and he wasn’t about to call it off for a few working Avengers.

Still, you try to cheer up and put on a good face, mainly for Pepper. You’re not sure she really wanted this big of a party, but she seems happy enough.

Most of the people attending are from Stark Industries, so you try to blend in and speak to some of them.

“Hey, do you work in legal?” a young blonde asks when you go get another drink.

“Oh, no, definitely not”

“Thought I knew you. I’m in HR”

“Fun” you say, but the tone you use makes her laugh. Before you can do anything, she changes seats and moves closer to you.

“I’m Sasha”

Reluctantly, you give your name. Even after the bartender hands over another glass of Chardonnay, Sasha keeps talking to you, though she doesn’t really care if you work at Stark Industries or not. After your third glass of wine, you begin to relax, and say a couple of jokes that make her laugh a little too loud.

She’s definitely flirting.

“Wanna take this conversation somewhere else?” she asks and you look around.

“I think I need some air…”

“We could…”

But she doesn’t get to finish her sentence, because Natasha is by your side in an instant. Little drops of water wet your shoulder as she approaches you, having rushed from the shower to see you.

“Hey, detka. Having fun without me?”

“You’re home!” you shout, excited at seeing her again.

“I am. Come on, let’s go to the balcony” she says, taking your hand. You’re halfway there when you remember Sasha, and try to turn back to say goodbye.

“I don’t want to be rude”

“And I said I like to share with you, not share you” 

“Oh” you blush at that, and stay silent as Natasha drags you out of the party. 

“Was that too much?” she asks when you finally get to the balcony.

“No. I just drank too fast and I’m happy to see you” you say, your hands going around her shoulders. 

As if it’s the most natural thing in the world, Natasha holds your waist and pulls you closer to her.

“I’m happy to see you too” she leans her forehead against yours. “And about that date…”

“Yeah, I’m up for it” you confirm with a nod. Your faces are inches apart, and Natasha  can tell you’re sneaking small glances at her lips.

“As for other stuff…” 

“Mhm” you hum, aware that she’s leaning forward. You let her lips meet yours, and the kiss is short but tender. “Will this date have more of these?”

“Hell, yeah” she nods, making you laugh.

“Tomorrow, then?”

“Can’t wait” she nods, kissing you again.

Unfortunately, you’re interrupted by Sam, who is sporting a shit eating grin.

“Anything you two wanna share with the team?”

“No” you answer at the same time.

Some things, are meant to stay between you two. 

[satoruxx]

THE SPACE BETWEEN COMFORT AND CHAOS.

✧ PAIRING: wolf!toji fushiguro x f!reader | 9k words

✧ SUMMARY: this fic has always been 18+ but now especially I MEAN IT mdni, toji gets horny fr this time (like 2.5k words of just that), masturbation, toji gets turned on by love idk, rut/heat cycles, basically abo/hybrid mating tendencies, idk let me write my porn sigh, misogyny, um stalking, more hybrid mistreatment, talks of murder, the typical blood as a metaphor for love :/

✧ RHEYA'S NOTE: lol okay i'm vv sorry for the six month absence.. had to get that degree :33 but hopefully this chapter being 9k words and having horny toji makes up for it.. however pls do heed the warnings! i yap a lot about mating and other abo things so if that's not your thing pls scroll TT.. anyways i'm thanking you all so much for your patience !! hope you enjoy <33

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"pause."

toji's form stops abruptly, and you bite back a chuckle when he turns to glare at you over his shoulder. "what?"

you grin, rocking back on your heels even as the rest of the street continues bustling around you. "i'm hungry."

the street's lights reflect over toji's facial features, and the way his jaw drops looks extra comical. "already? we just had dinner."

you frown, affronted. "that was like an hour ago."

toji snorts, rolling his eyes, though it comes off fonder than you expected it to. "so you want dessert?"

you nod eagerly, and a muted chuckle escapes the wolf as you catch up to his side. his jade eyes scan the lively streets critically, before falling on you again. "well, go crazy."

you immediately grab his wrist and tug him along, peering at different stalls and stores despite his protests. toji ends up just crossing his arms as he waits for you to buy your dessert (ice cream, you've decided. on a cone). he watches you grin as you pay and then hurry over to him, both of your hands full.

"here," you chirp, shoving a cone into his hand. a few melted drops stain his skin, still cold to the touch. "for you!"

he huffs. "kid, i told you i don't like sweets that much."

"that's what you say at first." you point your finger at him as you lick up the dripping sides of your own cone, gaze all too knowing. "but then you try it and realize you can't get enough."

toji rolls his eyes, but still obediently takes a lick. the flavor of chocolates and some other sweet confections burst across his tongue. it's strong, almost unbearably so, but then it settles on his palate and leaves a satisfaction in its wake. he can't help the subtle twitch of his lips, almost pleased, and you give him a smug smile.

(it seems like he will always be doomed when it comes to sweet things.)

you both walk home in relative silence, save for the occasional bit of chatter when you remember something you haven't told him. the streets are still bright and bustling with people trying to enjoy their saturday night, and toji feels a little more comfortable because it's so easy to blend in.

"are you sure you don't want me to hold those?" you ask pointedly, peering at all the shopping bags he's balancing on his arms. "aren't they heavy?"

he gives you a sidelong glance—affronted. "seriously? how weak do you think i am?"

you raise your free hand in surrender, biting back a laugh as you look at him with that same spark of a challenge in your eyes. "don't you sleep with a nightlight?"

toji's glare is boiling when it settles on you. "shut up and eat your ice cream."

you chortle, nudging his side with your elbow, and he groans under his breath. his fingers itch. it would be so fucking easy to just grab your free hand that's swinging listlessly at your side. the lines of his large, rough palm pressed against your smaller, gentle one. his fingers would curl around yours so gratefully, sweet and soft and yet still keeping you attached to him.

(he can't elaborate on how pleased the thought makes him. keeping you at his side, where he can always see you. where you can always see him.)

but all he can do is clench his fist, internally reprimanding himself for taking such liberties with you to begin with—even if it's just in his own head.

when you both make it back home, you hop in the shower quick and then toji takes his turn, so used to the mundane routine. he heads into the bathroom, not before making a sarcastic jab at your choice of pajamas for the night (doughnuts, printed in all shapes and colors), to which you just punch his arm as he cackles.

toji enjoys the feeling of the searing hot water burning into his skin. psychopathic maybe, but it feels comforting. it's not like he was given the luxury of hot water back when he was underground.

(that being said, even once he'd started living with you, it's not like he took hot showers often. in fact, he'd sometimes find himself relying on cold showers. especially when you were around him. a fleeting touch here, a meaningful glance there, and he'd find himself under pelting ice, breathing heavily through his nose until he's finally got himself under control.)

even now he tries not to think too deeply about that, focusing on enjoying his warm shower. he feels a little guilty when he stops to consider that you probably have no idea that his thoughts about you are so fucking depraved.

(poor thing. you don't deserve something so unhinged breathing down your neck.)

and unfortunately that's all he truly is. unhinged. an animal that lacks self control. and you are nothing of the sort. sweetness and good all bundled up into a human being. night and day, dark and light, sun and storm.

good and evil.

toji knows this well. knows that he has no right to let his claws tear into your perfect flesh and rip you to pieces. only monsters ruin perfection after all.

and perfection you were. he knows you don't really see yourself that way, but it's hard for him not to. reminds him of statue deities the old artists left behind to stand in museums under heavy spotlights. for people to flock to, eager and awestruck as they marvel at beauty like they've never seen it before. and he'd bow front of you, knees digging into rough earth, bloody and bruised as he reaches for your marbled fingers. letting stone gently tickle the sharp curve of his jaw, trace the scar cutting over his lips. maybe when he finally looks up at you he'll only remember your smile immortalized into the stone.

but toji is selfish. he doesn't want to worship a statue. he'd rather have you as is, life thrumming through your veins the way blood does. warmth bursting from under your skin and seeping into his own. and there's a part of him that knows you'd touch him so eagerly, ready to please and give him everything that he's ever wanted. you've already been so generous—giving and giving and giving some more. if he asked to let him take you apart, would you dare say no? would you let him sort through sinew and muscle until he's found your very core? would you let him hold your beating heart in his claws no matter how many times they nick the flesh and make you bleed?

you would, with stars in your eyes. in fact, there's a greedy part of him that thinks you'd do the same in return. tear him apart piece by piece with careful fingers until he's nothing but laid bare in front of you. press your flesh against ragged scars and bruised skin, rough with use and danger. if he focuses a little harder, he can feel your touch linger on those scars. your lips will follow, pressing deep against his blood, staining you wine red. but you'll just smile, light bursting behind your silhouette (angelic; awe-inspiring), and he'll once again be speechless in front of you.

(powerless in every sense of the word.)

this is followed by yet another dangerous thought—just how much of an animal would you let him be?

it would be easy to cage you between his arms, close enough that he can count every eyelash and see every shade in your skin. it would be easy to hook his claws around the waistband of the fabric that hid you away, press a searing kiss into the stripe left by the elastic. it would be easy to reduce you to a shaking mess, quiet whimpers escaping into the space only he shares with you.

it's ridiculous, how quickly his obsession bleeds into arousal. a thin line, his toes dancing over it. but he doesn't have it in him to dwell on the shame behind it. it's instantaneous, how heat starts thrumming through his veins at the thought of you, alighting every expanse of flesh and breaking through skin.

toji bristles, tail flexing even under the weight of the water.

you have to know what you're doing. weren't you ever warned about dangers like him? wasn't it common sense not to dangle prey in front of a predator's eyes?

(though, if he's being honest, toji doesn't feel like much of predator. if anything, you're the predator, circling him with attentive eyes that makes his hair stand on end. makes him want to expose his underbelly and let you pounce.)

it doesn't make sense to him, how his mind relates someone as sweet as you to a role so unflinchingly unkind. in reality, the only one who's fucked enough to take on that role is him. the true animal—unhinged, reckless, cruel.

the only one who'd dig his fangs into your flesh and tear you apart with no hesitation. let sweet blood drip from his lips, lapping away until not a drop is left. reverent—because he knows how valuable it is.

the problem is you'd let him.

welcoming, with open arms and a warm smile that makes him want to take even more. more and more until nothing is left.

(would you enjoy it? his claws encircling your fragile wrists and pressing them into sheets. heavy body weighing yours down, scarred muscle meeting soft flesh. fanged teeth digging into the tender meat of your lips. perhaps you'd tell him as much, quietly sighing into his mouth, singing his praises and whispering a sweet combination of toji please, more.)

blood rushes south, his cock hardening so quick it's almost humiliating. this had been an ongoing issue for months now. toji never thought anyone would have the ability to drive him up the walls like this. not that you had gone around deliberately trying to give him a hard time (no pun intended), but it'd become more difficult to ignore. even just noticing little things—like the texture of your fingertips against his skin or the way your scent bleeds into the walls of the house. or the way his height towers over you and forces you to look up at him in a way that is so easy to imagine in certain other scenarios. in between his legs, gentle hands on his knees, eyes peering through lashes, and swollen lips wrapped around his—

fuck.

he's rock hard now. thick and aching in a way that makes him feel almost ashamed because there's no reason he should be acting like a whelpling who's just been thrown into a rut for the first time. no, he'd been an adult for a long time. one that had gotten through a lot worse than this.

(it's seared into his brain, the way the faceless doctor from the underground would hand him suppressant pills a couple weeks before a rut was due to hit, eyeing him to make sure they were swallowed without any issues. his body remembers scratching at the stone ground of a cell as he snarled through the pain of one of his most natural instincts being manipulated through a drug.

it was normal for them. every hybrid there had experienced being put aside for a day or two, labeled "out of commission" for a fake sick period while they rode out their cycles with no help or relief.

what would've normally been a couple weeks of rut was cruelly suppressed into two short days. in that time, toji was confined to a special cell with no outside contact. no fights, no interactions with any other hybrid.

all he had was the time to get increasingly more feral and frustratingly turned on. and no way to deal with it but ruthlessly fucking his own fist until he was exhausted.

exhausted, but never satiated. never satisfied.

after all, the suppressant pills couldn't erase the nature of his instincts. the part of him that craved not for a simple release, but for the experience of sharing a rut with someone. craved forming a connection with another being who could not only provide relief through it, but also take every bit of devotion he had to offer. the pills were effective in dulling down the intensity of ruts and heats, and shortened the length of them tremendously. but even after all that, they were still animals—there was no denying it. no, none of it could be erased; the instinctual craving for a fucking mate.)

all of those years under suppressants had made toji forget what a real rut felt like. but if it's anything close to the way he'd been feeling lately, he was definitely screwed. his mind had become increasingly more creative, able to conjure up the most inappropriate images of his most shameful fantasies. and this issue could only be fixed by jacking off until cum was dripping between his fingers and he felt even more ashamed than he did before.

which is exactly what he's being pushed to right now.

it seems almost instantaneous the way his fist wraps around his cock, throbbing flesh hot and angry. he bites back a hiss at the sensitivity, the hot water doing nothing to help his already searing flesh.

toji knew to start expecting flare ups of arousal. after all it was just a part of his nature, but a headache all the same. unfortunately, when escaping that hellhole he called a home, he didn't think about what would happen to his body now that those bastards weren't pumping his body full of suppressants.

sukuna had once said that it was their way of stripping them of their natural instructs, domesticating hybrids without them even knowing. the thought had pissed both of them off, but the tiger was right. nothing inherently natural about controlling such a significant facet of their bodies.

if he had more time to prepare his escape, he would've broken into the medical wing and stolen a few years' worth of suppressants for himself.

hindsight. instead, now he has to deal with these admittedly intense pangs of carnal desire. he knows why. how long had it been since he'd had a natural rut? definitely not since eighteen, because that's when he'd given up his freedom and they started feeding him suppressants (after all, can't have a feral wolf in rut running free throughout the barracks; bad for business; too dangerous to control). it makes sense that his body is working on overdrive now that it's finally tasted freedom.

(finally tasted a sweet scent and warm smile.)

toji isn't sure what he'll do when his rut really hits. he had thought that maybe he could get away with lying to you, passing it off as some contagious sickness and locking himself in his room for a few days until it passed. but then he got nervous thinking about just how bad this rut might be, and he figured he probably wouldn't be able to keep it from you even with the walls acting as a barrier.

there was also the option of telling you the truth. you'd probably be so accepting about it; after all, you've been nothing but understanding. and it seems like you know more about hybrids than your fellow humans, so he's sure you wouldn't judge him for something he can't really control. and yet despite all that, the thought of telling you feels strangely nerve wracking. some strange implication behind admitting just how vulnerable he'd truly be (and some sick thrill at the unspoken boundary that could end up being crossed).

a boundary line that he had scratched into the floor over and over again. so intent on denying the thought of ever being that close to you.

and yet he can't deny it. can't deny that the idea of trailing his tongue over the swells and divots of your body doesn't make him salivate. like the thought of your lips pressing into the ridges of his neck doesn't make his ribcage jump.

(like the thought of you saying yes to him doesn't make him want to lay the entire galaxy at your feet. because saying yes to him means something more than you'll ever realize. means bonding yourself to him for a lifetime. souls intertwined, the way only a mate can be—)

toji's presses his forehead against the damp tiled wall, exhaling shakily. there's a reddish pink shade crawling up his skin, spreading like liquid gold. his fist feels like nothing special, but it still offers a semblance of relief from that stupid aching feeling. the warmth of the water and the remnants of soap makes it easy for his fist to slide back and forth, and god he's so fucking hard. he's starting off fast, but he doesn't really care. all he knows is that it feels good, and it's utterly humiliating to be jacking off in the shower when you're just across the hall, so he just wants to get it over with.

but his brain? his brain lingers, cruel in its torture.

if he closes his eyes, toji can picture you doing it instead. your hand's a lot smaller, but it's softer than his—not rough with scars and callouses and danger. maybe you'd touch him slower, not as stupidly fast as he is, not with the mission to just get off and be done. no, you'd probably touch him with intention, eager to take him apart. he'd be glad to let you do as you please, so pathetically ready for whatever you want from him.

his fangs dig into the scar cutting over his lip, almost hard enough to taste blood. he thinks about sinking those fangs into the open canvas of your neck, and his dick twitches in response, eager and swollen. he tightens his grip and twists his wrist in the same way he's always done, knowing it'll get him there quick.

toji's head presses harder into the tiled walls, and he blinks the water away from his eyes as he tries to focus. his brain conjures up a strikingly detailed image of you pressing your lips against his dick, and that itself shoots a searing hot flash of arousal up his spine. but that's not all. he imagines that you'd be a lot more generous with your touches than he is. you'd touch him all over, gentle fingers tracing over the curve of his jaw and over the slopes of his cheeks. down over the planes of his chest and the ridges of his abs. gentle, the way only a lover's caress could be. chills run over his skin, the shiver so pleasurable it makes his breath hitch.

his high creeps up frighteningly fast, tingles shooting up the nerves in his body like he's never touched himself before. the muscles in his arm strain as heat pools in his lower belly, licking at his insides like an uncontrollable flame. the sound of the soapy water each time his hand moves is embarrassingly inappropriate, and he's briefly struck with the filthy thought of the type of sounds he'd be able to pull from your body if you just gave him the chance.

he wonders where to touch you to make you sing. where you'd be the most sensitive. what spots would have your voice catching on a strangled moan or have a breathy whimper escaping your throat. maybe you'd beg him for more, or perhaps you'd demand it from him. maybe you'd give in finally tell him what he's been dying to hear. in that same sweet voice, quietly sighing an earnest toji, i love y—

ropes of cum splatter between his fingers, and he's thankful that his muffled grunts are drowned out by the shower. his hips twitch, instinctual, and his dick pulses with every spurt, pelvic muscles contracting with effort. and throughout all of it, all he can think of is you.

(horrible, he is. so dirty, filthy.)

"ah fuck—" he feels messy, and hypersensitive. he stands there for a minute, catching his breath and doing his best to quell the mess in his head. it takes all but a minute to wash away the evidence of his crimes, but the thoughts of you still linger—infectious and deep.

(he thinks maybe he'll never be rid of you. you've latched onto him the way he has to you—parasitic and flesh deep. some part of him really likes that; a sick and twisted part.)

the wolf huffs out a tired sigh, standing under the pelting water like some kind of mindless idiot. what kind of freak was he? you offer him a place in your home and here he was jerking off in your shower with nothing but filth in his head. he's terrible; a dirty animal.

and yet, he feels good. feels good in the same way he feels when he sees you smile. or when you finally come back home. or when you grin at him from across the dining table as you watch him dig into his food. or when you accidentally fall asleep while watching some stupid movie.

his brain is foggy, and there's still a few aftershocks of pleasure tickling his nerves. but his guilt is smothered by that good feeling, pressed down into the deep recesses of his subconscious as he focuses on how you seem to have such an influence on his emotions.

(powerful, sneaky little thing.)

"hey toji?"

your muffled voice cuts through the pleasant haze in his head, and the panic is instant. he flinches so hard his elbow thuds against the shower wall, eliciting a yelp that he tries hard to recover from.

"y-yeah?!" he winces at the voice crack (trying to pretend he didn't just bust to the thought of you not a minute earlier), and clears his throat.

"i'm running low on period stuff so i'm gonna run down the street and grab some pads."

"i can go grab em if you want?" he replies, scrubbing his skin with a quickening pace, but then you chuckle and wave him off.

"no no it's fine. enjoy your shower. it's like two streets over, i'll be back soon."

"well…" he hesitates, but then nods even though you can't see him. "fine. be careful, y'hear?"

"yeah yeah…" your voice fades away as you head down the hall, and toji's shoulders relax. for a second he thought you might've somehow heard his less than appropriate little session, but instead you're just updating him on something he probably wouldn't have cared about many months ago. but here he is, ultimately caring so deeply.

hot water streams between toji's eyes, and he pushes his wet hair back with a tired huff. his ears fold under his palms, muffling all noises and for a second, the raging thoughts in his head subside.

(if it were up to him, he'd stay in this peaceful bubble for as long as he could. hoping, dreaming, praying that you'd join him in the space with no protests. comfort, chaos, and everything in between.)

****

the streets are a lot more deserted than they were a few hours prior, back when you were dragging toji to eat ice cream. now there's only faint chatter, the occasional squeals of laughter and excitement permeating the sounds of your slippers against pavement. normally you would've dragged toji out with you, especially so late on a saturday night, but since this is barely a 15 minute walk and you've been here countless times before, you decided not to bother him.

after all, you would grant toji as much peace as you could give him (god knows he deserved it and more).

there's some faint song playing over the speakers when you enter the store, instantly fading into muted background noise as you smile at the elderly man behind the counter. he recognizes you, a local frequenter, and smiles back before going back to the paper he was reading. your steps take you to the feminine products quickly, memorized route guiding your feet, and then you're scanning the shelves for familiar colors and brands.

the store is almost completely deserted, save for a few other likeminded individuals who needed a late night run. your fingers drift over boxes until you finally find the brand you like.

"excuse me? can you help me with this?"

the flinch that comes from you is almost embarrassing, but you're genuinely impressed by how quietly this guy seems to have snuck up on you. you glance over your shoulder carefully.

dyed blonde hair, dark roots, narrowed beady eyes. and yet a sheepish, awkward smile that makes your shoulders drop when you notice the box of pads in his head. you tilt your head questioningly, quirking a brow. he raises the box. "my girlfriend sent me out to get supplies but i have no clue what to pick for her…"

the helpless smile that crawls onto your face feels natural. at least he was trying, that in and of itself was a lot to ask for these days. "well do you know if she has a heavy flow or a light one?"

"heavy i think?" his brows furrow thoughtfully. "she says she bleeds a lot…"

"well then this is probably better for her than that." you reach for a different box on the shelf, one that's specifically labeled for handling heavy bleeding. "they're better for heavier flow. and they're longer so that should help her out."

he takes the box from you carefully, before smiling. something shines in his dark eyes. "thank you so much. i'm clueless when it comes to this stuff."

you chuckle, shaking your head. "no it's okay. at least you're trying."

"i would've been lost without your help. i'm naoya by the way." his smile gets a little more pointed, that gleam in his gaze brighter. he sticks his palm out expectantly.

warning bells start ringing in your head, but you don't know why.

"oh uh, nice to meet you…" you trail off, cautiously taking his hand. you're sure he's being polite, but you don't really understand why he's telling you his name. maybe it's paranoia, but you bite your tongue and hold off on giving him yours, something telling you that maybe you shouldn't be sharing that information.

the blonde doesn't comment on your lack of forthcoming, but something feels off. he looks like he knows something, like he's dissecting you on a surgical table. you let go of his hand, and awkwardly smile, before turning back to the shelf. his voice gets a little louder. "naoya zenin."

you freeze. the name washes over you, a brief sense of warmth, before it bleeds into something cold and jarring. you know this name well—heard it murmured from scarred lips a few times (in a voice that was filled with nothing but distaste.)

now if you think back, you can remember the same blonde hair and dark eyes being in the background of pictures you've seen on the internet. random news articles of what the head of one of the biggest companies in the country did that day. you don't know why you couldn't remember it earlier. maybe you just weren't expecting to see naoya zenin at your tiny little store so late at night. but he looks calm, as though it's all intentional, as though you should've expected to bump in to him like this.

the warning bells ring louder.

"so!" the blonde claps his hands together, brightly smiling as though he's catching up with an old friend. "how is he?"

you feel your tongue grow numb. an image of a moody scowl and twitching ears flashes behind your eyes, and you finally realize that warning bells had nothing to do with your own safety.

(too preoccupied with dedicating your care to someone else. someone who's probably patiently waiting for you back home.)

"who?" you're playing dumb, and you're sure he knows it because he just laughs and quirks his brow knowingly.

"you know who." he pins you with a level stare. "toji of course. my precious cousin."

you remain quiet, mind spinning. you're not sure if you should lie or continue playing dumb or just run and hope he isn't fast enough to follow. but naoya just continues on without a care in the world.

"let's stop beating around the bush." the blonde's smile drops, voice going serious in the same way you've seen it go on those television interviews. "i don't know how or why you're connected to him but i'm sure you know what he is by now."

"ah yes the wolf ears and tail really gave it away," you reply sarcastically, not even bothering to keep the bite out of your tone. naoya grins predatorily, making a show of leering at your blatant hostility.

"well yes, the poor beast was unfortunately born that way." naoya waves offhandedly, before his expression sours. "just my luck, he had to be born into my fucking family."

you snort out a scornful laugh, crossing your arms. "well it makes sense. i mean he might be the wolf, but it's pretty clear that dogs run in the family."

naoya pauses, before his smile returns. this time, it is icy, and yet there is spark of malice flickering in his eyes. "hah! you're more interesting than i thought. you look so boring from afar, you know?"

you glare at him irritably.

"but! you're much more entertaining than i expected. maybe that's why toji's hanging around you." naoya glances down at his fingernails with feigned interest, his voice dropping. "it's a shame he didn't teach you any manners though."

his hand drops to his side, and his expression darkens so fast it makes your head spin. "if it were up to me, i'd cut your tongue out and deliver it to him, you know?"

your bravado shatters, blood going cold. naoya seems to catch the change, so he just smiles again with that fake politeness. "but father says we should be nice and talk it out. so that's what i'm doing! i had no clue how i was going to find the time to chat with you, but i'm glad i caught you today."

you swallow, fingers creasing into the sleeves of your sweater.

"you know, when i told father i saw toji with you today, he was surprised. that freak doesn't seem like the type to get help from others, let alone humans like you and me." the blonde hums, amused. "but seems like he liked something about you. that, or you had something pretty valuable to offer."

you almost roll your eyes. clearly this asshole liked to hear himself talk.

"i mean i'm kinda surprised that you got close to that freak. don't you have any survival instincts?" he tuts, exaggeratedly pouting at you like you're nothing but a dumb child. the blood in your veins grows hot with indignation.

"he's not dangerous." your voice is resolute, stating a fact rather than an opinion. naoya observes you with mild interest. he hums thoughtfully, and you shift your weight not knowing what to do.

"you know, i saw you both being all cute on your little shopping trip." naoya's expression turns bored, almost like he's disgusted. he leans against the shelves haphazardly. "it's a shame i lost you both in the crowd as you left though. i would've stopped by at your house otherwise."

the threat is not lost on you. and something churns in your gut when you think about this man being anywhere near your house. near toji.

"i don't understand," you say, raising your head. you have no clue how you manage to keep your voice steady when your heart is beating so fast, but you'd rather not look too deep into that. "what exactly is it that you want from me?"

"you have…influence," naoya grins, peering at you. his expression is mocking. you think you might vomit. "i'm sure you can bat your eyes and convince my dear cousin."

when you swallow, it feels like rocks are sliding down your throat. "convince him to what?"

naoya's grin drops, eyes narrowing dangerously. "to go back to where he belongs."

your words tumble forth before you can even stop them, hot and indignant. "and what if he doesn't want to go back there?"

a burst of laughter escapes his throat, though it is sharp and unamused. "don't you get it? he doesn't have a choice. that's all he was born to do anyway."

you glare at him, teeth digging into your tongue so hard it hurts painfully. naoya's expression turns bright, a very dramatic flare of sick amusement filling his tone. "ohh i finally get it!"

he leans closer to you, smirking. "who would've thought my dear cousin went and found himself a girl!"

the traitor organ sitting in your ribcage gives an eager jump, getting distracted by its original threat. you steel your expression. "what are you even talking about?"

"no need to play coy. i understand!" he raises his arms like he means no harm, a greasy smile still splitting his face. "that just means you really should be able to influence him."

"you don't even know what you're saying." you roll your eyes, turning away from him, though you still keep his figure in your peripheral. "it's not even like that. we're barely even friends. the most i would say is acquaintances."

the lie bleeds through your teeth easily, molten lava. worth it if it means keeping him safe. away from the treacherous vines that seem so intent on chasing him and pinning him down.

"oh sure." the blonde chuckles, looking at you with a sharp mockery in his gaze. it's obvious he doesn't believe you, especially with how quickly his tone turns chilling. "i don't really give a damn who you are to him. let him know what he needs to do, or we're gonna have a problem."

"and if i can't convince him?"

naoya shrugs casually, but then he pins you with a stare that makes you feel like your bone marrow is turning to lead.

"well then, we'll just have to see what happens, won't we?" he says nothing more, but the implication is very clear. the blonde then glances down at the pads in his hands. his expression goes disgusted once more, and he haphazardly chucks the box back onto the shelf. "ew…" he mutters, dusting his hand over his coat. his eyes find you again, and then that same smile appears once more. "anyways, i'll definitely see you around! get home safe!"

your pulse is thudding wildly as you watch him leave, a heavy onset of nausea making your stomach churn like never before. the hidden threats were so carefully placed, but not obscure enough for you to miss, and that scares you even more because it says that this guy is just that confident. you stand in the aisle for another two mins, mind running in a thousand different directions. suddenly you feel strangely exposed, like you've been placed into a glass box for someone to observe your every movement.

(suddenly, you feel completely and utterly alone. scared and vulnerable and in real danger. suddenly, all you can think about is the brooding wolf you've left at home, and how seeing him is the only solution to making these feelings go away.)

you're out the door before you even realize it. your legs carry you back in the direction of your home, but your paranoia leads you to take as many convoluted turns that you can think of (because you can't shake the feeling of those beady brown eyes digging into your shoulder blades).

naoya zenin. you don't know how he shares blood with toji. if you squint hard enough you can maybe find some similarities in features. but still, you cannot understand how someone so outwardly horrible can be related to someone like toji. toji is not warm, not inherently sweet. but he is good, and that much is obvious to you. the same way you know this naoya is bad, with nothing but negative intentions.

when you finally reach your doorstep, you keep your head down and slip inside. your fingers double check every lock, every window. your mouth feels dry and there's too many weaknesses and he's definitely still out there and—

"hey."

the voice makes you jump, and when you look up, toji is staring at you—confused. his brow quirks as he peers at you through his wet hair. "well that was dramatic."

you sigh, quelling the thundering of your heartbeat. sweat beads on the skin of your palms, and you drag them over the fabric of your pants. "you just scared me."

"oh yeah, i'm so fucking terrifying." he sits on the couch, aggressively drying his wet hair with a towel. you snort, grinning as your eyes trail over the way his pointed ears fold under the weight of the fabric.

"shaking in my boots." toji rolls his eyes at your reply, and you pull off your coat with a quiet chuckle.

(honestly a little jarring how easy it is for you to relax in his presence. how easy it is to start smiling again.)

"i thought you went to get supplies?"

you freeze, glancing over your shoulder. "w-what?"

he motions to your empty hands. "you didn't get anything?"

your stomach drops. "oh um…" you clear your throat. "they were closed. so i came back."

it's almost laughable how quick the lie slips from your mouth; sickening, really, because it shouldn't be quite so easy to lie to someone who obviously trusted you. you've felt guilty before, but not like this. this goes past the dull surface ache and settles as a deep stinging, fraying your nerve endings. maybe it's because you know that you have no right to keep this from him; after all, it's his family. but something about the gleam in naoya's eyes makes your hair stand on end. if it were up to you, you'd stand in front of toji with a smile even with knives raining down your back.

the way toji's brow arches tells you that he's a little confused, maybe a little skeptical, but he shrugs and turns back to the tv, turning it on with a flick of his finger. "well okay then. i can grab some tomorrow on my way back home."

you inhale through your nose, forcing a smile. there's really no point stressing. naoya can't do much to you to begin with, not without starting something potentially dangerous with toji. so you just push it to the back of your mind and take a seat next to the grumpy wolf you realize you would do anything for.

(even lie.)

"thank you, toji," you say earnestly. the wolf gives you a sidelong glance, ears twitching at the sound of your voice, and he scoffs.

"whatever. it's not like i haven't done it before. quit bein' dramatic."

you grin, watching him cross his arms and sulk like an overgrown puppy. for some reason, his expression settles the chaos in your chest and you decide that whatever problem it is, you'll do anything it takes to keep it from him.

(perhaps it's silly, thinking that you could easily stand in front of a hybrid capable of tearing you to pieces and expect to be able to protect him. but you know he would do the same for you, and that's why it feels all too natural. easy.)

you think you will always be willing to offer him whatever space you have left. comfort, chaos, and everything in between.

****

toji doesn't consider himself a very intelligent person. not to say that he's dumb. no, he thinks he excels at street smarts. after all, no one survives a life like his without a brain.

but in terms of emotional intelligence.. well he doesn't feel all that confident. yet another area where he feels like you're a lot better than he is.

it scares him a little, how fast you can read him. how you can pick apart his every expression and behavior like it comes naturally to you. and then how you're able to to adapt and give him exactly the response he needs. whether it's sweet comfort or rational courses of action—it's perfect.

(you're perfect.)

but he's not like you. he cannot pick people apart, can't look at them and figure out what they're thinking. cannot read them like an open book the way you can.

but right now, he feels like something is wrong.

it's been almost a week since he's noticed this change in behavior. you've been looking over your shoulder like you're in some kind of horror movie. eyes constantly scanning your surroundings, fingers fiddling with the window locks. even peering outside through the gaps in your curtains.

you're nervous, he realizes. paranoid, like something's chasing you. whatever it is, toji understands that he doesn't like the way worry looks on you. in fact, he hates it. hates the way his ears can pick up your increased heartrate. hates the way he can smell the spikes of anxiousness in your scent.

he's trying to be a good housemate and respect your boundaries. trying not to be nosy and let you deal with your own issues like an adult. but then his mind wonders if there's something really wrong, if someone's giving you a hard time or stressing you out, and then he just gets angry.

(don't you know that he adores you? don't you know that you need only say the word and he'd kill a man for you? don't you know the amount of power you have over him?)

regardless, he's still trying to be a good housemate and respect your boundaries. but it's becoming increasingly more difficult to watch you come home everyday like there's someone chasing after you. even now, he watches you double check the door locks before you hurry over to your windows. double check the locks, tug the curtains shut, peer outside through the gaps.

only when you're done do your shoulders relax, and when you turn around, you jump when you notice him standing there staring at you. the surprise bleeds into a quick, barely there smile. "oh hey! how was your day?"

you don't even wait for his answer before you're turning around to hang your coat up, and that's enough to make him crack.

"alright what the fuck is wrong with you?" toji's voice cuts through the silence like ice, and you internally wince. defensive walls rise quickly, and then you're turning on him with fire in your eyes.

"excuse me?"

toji's bulky arms flex as he crosses them, staring down his nose at you completely unfazed. "you've been hiding something."

"i—"

"—and don't even bother tryin' to deny it. it's written all over your face."

the wolf watches you inhale heavily, and the crease in between your brows makes his fingers twitch (eager to reach out and smooth them down carefully).

you sigh, defeated. "remember last week when i went to the store that one night?"

toji nods.

"i, um, bumped into someone there." your fingers rub over your arms in an attempt to be soothing, and toji's frown deepens in tandem.

"who?"

you glance at him. guilt gnaws its way up your esophagus. "um, naoya zenin."

toji's reaction almost makes you vomit. his ears stand up straight, tail going rigid, and the anger that contorts his expression makes you shiver. "what?!"

his voice has taken on a timbre you haven't heard before, an inherently primal growl ripping through his vocal cords in a way that sounds almost painful. you wince, trying to placate by backtracking.

"i was gonna tell you—"

"what the fuck did he say to you?!—"

"he just—"

"that fucking creep i swear to god—"

"toji." your palms find his forearms in this strangely natural way that makes his stomach churn. steadying, stable, everything that he lacks. "please. can we just relax and sit down?"

his ears droop slightly, but he still maintains his heated glare. not that he's necessarily angry at you. but his palms feel too sweaty and his heartbeat feels too fast and his stomach feels too heavy. still, he forces himself to breathe deep through his nose, quelling the instinctual rise of feral panic that seems to want to burst from his veins. he lets your hands, barely able to fit around the width of his arms, maneuver him to the couch.

when you take a seat next to him, he can smell the nerves.

(spiked; hints of bitterness hiding between layers of sugary sweet.)

more so, you look guilty. it briefly strikes him that perhaps you feel bad about keeping this from him. he's then struck with a similar feeling when he realizes he's kept something from you too. this is all followed by a searing streak of anger when he remembers the reason why you both have been hiding things from one another.

(maybe it wouldn't be so bad to live up to their expectations of him. be the real curse of the zenin bloodline. they always said he was an uncontrollable animal. maybe it would be okay to finally prove them right. have his family's life force dripping red rivulets through his pointed claws. taste its metallic tinge between his sharpened teeth.)

"he came up to me at the store," you start, wiping down your palms on your thighs. "he already knew that i knew you. said he saw us walking around that night shopping."

toji's claws dig into the flesh of his palm painfully. the memory is now tinged with something poisonous. always breathing down his neck.

"he was talking about how his father was surprised that you were even interacting with another human. and then he said it was a shame he lost us in the crowd because otherwise he'd come to our house for a visit."

you watch the wolf next to you clench his fists, and your lips slant.

"what else did he say?" toji tries to keep his voice even, but it comes out strange. your teeth dig into the flesh of your bottom lip painfully.

"he… he said that since i was clearly c-close to you, i should convince you to do something."

"and what's that?"

you pause, before letting the bitter words spill. "convince you that's it's time to go back where they want you to be."

"that fucking asshole!" toji's voice is akin to a roar, and you wince as you watch him stand and snarl like he's been beaten. he pushes his claws into his hair and grits his teeth. "how fucking dare they even—"

another pained growl rips from his throat. the sound makes your stomach coil, and before you can stop yourself, you're reaching out to grab his arm. his head whips around at the contact, baring his teeth with a snarl as he ears point upright. but then he sees your expression, sad and tired, and his shoulders drop immediately.

"you know that i don't want you to go, right?" you ask him quietly. toji stares at you, long and hard. his jade eyes are bright with anger, but there's a hint of fear in there that makes you want to cry.

"… you sure?" his voice is so quiet you almost have to strain to hear it. your fingers tighten around his forearm. even with the way he is standing over you, you think he looks smaller. like he's carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders.

"i'm sure." your voice is resolute, like it's always been when it comes to him. his exhales slowly, and you smile at him in this tragic way that makes him want to rip his eyes out.

(you're too good. too trusting. too confident in the fact that he won't lead to your downfall.)

"kid," he calls out, voice strained.

"hm?"

"i gotta tell you somethin' too."

you frown, but then you're pulling him back to the couch (right next to you; close enough that your scent wraps around him once more—warm, blanket-like), and then you're looking at him earnestly. "what is it?"

he tells you all about his run in with naobito zenin. details the angry confrontation in which his stupid uncle had warned him to go back to where he belonged, tired of the wolf's running game. how the old man had been close to calling his men to come get him before toji had resorted to nearly crushing his windpipe in retaliation. how naobito had warned toji that hurting him was a punishable offense that would lead to him being locked up again. and how, at the end of it all, toji had told him that it would be worth it if it meant being rid of the stupid zenins once and for all.

and then he finishes by telling you that his uncle was so convinced toji would end up back there on his own anyway, because he was nothing more than a mindless animal.

(he carefully leaves out the threat naobito made about putting him down. and he also leaves out how none of that scared him more than the idea of his family's clutches ultimately reaching you.)

you sit there and listen with an expression that bleeds horror. the divot in your brow is so deep toji worries it may become permanent, and your eyes shine with a sadness he's never seen before. when he's done speaking, you exhale shakily.

"kid, i'm never gonna be rid of them," he says quietly. "they're always gonna be breathing down my neck. which means they're always gonna be breathing down yours too."

you nod slowly, eyes distant as you stare at the edge of the coffee table like it's got all the answers in the world.

"there's nothing i can really do." he finishes with that final statement.

you chew on your bottom lip quietly. something is working behind your eyes, calculating, evaluating. "you threatened him?"

toji scoffs. "of course i fucking did. threatened to kill him and his brat son."

you turn to him, eyes alight. "would you?"

toji's heart leaps into his throat. he will never deny the amount of times he's thought about it. since the day he was old enough to realize his own brute strength. every day he was thrown into that damn cell. every fight where he would scratch and claw just to live another day. and every day since the old man stopped him in the streets.

the thought has lingered in the back of his mind, poisonous. rotting. because he knows that it is the only way. he knows that they deserve it. he knows that it is the one path that could lead him to peace.

(that could lead to him wiping the worry from your eyes.)

it's always been there. and now you…

"you can't be serious?"

"toji, answer the question. would you do it or not?"

"of course i would!" he fires back quickly, before taking a steadying breath. "you don't get it, kid. i got no love for them. been dreaming about ripping those bastards apart since the day i was smart enough to realize they only saw me as an animal."

you nod slowly, still chewing on your lip. something settles behind your eyes, and the thrill it sends up toji's spine is almost sadistic. your voice is flat when you speak, but it does not waver. "toji… if there was something that came into my life that was threatening me and my loved ones. our livelihood, our safety, our security… i wouldn't really be thinking about morals anymore."

toji stares at you mutely, and you continue. "so… if there's an unwelcome guest showing up at the door, and we've asked them—no, begged them—to leave us alone and they haven't listened… then maybe the only thing left to do is force them to leave."

his mouth runs dry, and simultaneously, his ribcage jumps. you're looking at him with all the conviction in the world, and something in his deep complicated web of feelings for you shifts on its axis.

(you are sweet. you are peace and comfort and good. you are innocent and untouched by the horrors of the world in the best way. you are completely humane and understanding and you give nothing but kindness. you've offered him the world and he's gratefully cradled it in his palms. which is why this deeply root loyalty, this protectiveness, this affection—it has all come so naturally to him.

he would show mercy if you wanted him to. he would rip apart limbs if you wanted him to. he would dig a knife into his own intestines if you wanted him to.

but this. this is something he's wanted; dreamed about for as long as he can remember. cursed himself for thinking about because it makes him evil and wrong and horrible. but here you are—giving him support. telling him that you want it too.

this utterly wrong and animalistic thing that makes him the monster.

maybe you aren't all that pure. maybe he's the one who corrupted you. but then he thinks back to the fire in your eyes, that same resolute determination in your tone. and then he thinks that it couldn't have been him. it had to have come from within you, this desperate and complicated decision.

and then toji realizes that the reason it appeared is because you value him so highly. because on your moral scale, it is worth it to sin if it means keeping him safe. it is worth it to be animalistic if it means having him by your side.

he wants to envelop you in his arms. find your lips and breathe his own soul into you because he knows you'd keep it safe. knows you're willing to do whatever it takes for him.

the same way he is for you.

he loves you, he thinks. it's just that simple.)

and that's all the confirmation he needs.

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[okaylikeschaewon]

We Are Aespo

~7k words, inspired by Karina's "Aespo" slip up

Concerts, jets, explosions, these are some of the first thoughts that probably come to mind when one thinks about the word ‘loud’. However, there is nothing in the world louder than the sound of a glass shattering during a party. At least, that’s how it felt right now, and the DJ deciding to pause the music at the very same moment didn’t help either.

“Oops,” Karina stares blankly at the shards of glass decorating the marble floor as if she wasn’t the reason they were there.

“Alright,” you grab her arm. “It’s time to go.”

“B-But… I… look…” Karina cranes her neck to look over her shoulder at the mess, fighting your pull.

“They’ll take care of it, let’s go,” you give her another tug, ignoring her distress.

“Where go?” Karina asks cheerily, already forgetting about the glass.

“Away from stuff you can break.”

Karina stops moving and frowns. “It was an accident.”

The sigh barely escapes your lips before Karina’s face lights up and she runs right past you.

“Winter!” Karina shouts, forgetting about you entirely, and rushes toward the girl. She grabs Winter by the face and plants a kiss directly on her lips.

“Karina…” you groan, internally laughing at Winter’s wide-eyed expression. You grab Karina’s hand and pull her away. “Come on.”

“Where are we going now?” she whines, fighting your grip again. “I want Winter.”

“And I want you to drink some water.”

“More champagne?” Karina asks with those round puppy dog eyes. Your weakness that you always struggled to deny; She’s cuter than ever in this moment, rushing to keep up with you, latching onto your arm tightly.

“Maybe after the water.”

“Oh! Alright, but what–” she begins before suddenly squealing and crumpling to the floor.

“Karina!” you gasp, quickly kneeling down next to her. “You alright?”

“It… it…” her lip quivers and she brings her knees up to her chest, slowly tears pool up in her pretty eyes. “It hurts.”

“Aww baby,” you pull her into a hug and rub her back. “What am I ever going to do with you?”

“Karina!” Winter catches up, joining the two of you on the floor. “What is wrong with you?”

“I think I rolled my ankle,” she sniffles as you let go of her.

“Does this hurt?” you start gently flexing her ankle before Karina inhales sharply.

“Owie…” she pouts, quietly, tears spilling down her cheeks.

“I’m sorry baby,” you reach forward and tenderly wipe her eyes, trying your best to avoid smudging her eyeliner.

Trying to be as careful as possible, you place her foot in your lap and begin massaging her ankle. Around you, the crowd pretends to ignore what’s happening, but envious glances occasionally catch your attention. You know very well they would do anything to trade positions with you, but all they can do is watch.

Meanwhile, Karina’s staring at you and her beauty has never hit harder. You feel your entire body burn warm under her gaze as she holds steady, letting your fingers work the joint. She’s in pain, a lot of it, but it’s quickly fading away. For just a moment, the hectic rambles of the event are wiped from your minds, leaving you in a comfort that you’d easily pick over everyone else in this room combined. The crowd no longer matters.

It probably helps that they’re all here to impress you, and not a single one of the millionaires attending would dare say anything but praise – at least not in public. They know better than that. Not that Karina cares what others think, in fact she couldn’t care less about the dull droning coming out of their mouths, the incessant forced-flattery whenever anyone would find the courage to talk to you. She knows they’re fake.

That’s probably why she decided to get so drunk tonight – an attempt to actually enjoy the evening. It doesn’t happen often, but you always have fun when it happens; Her silly, dorky behavior carries a charm that took barely more than one interaction for you to fall in love with. At this point, you’re far more entertained by her antics than the thought of listening to another wave of the gilded gibberish you’ve been enduring all evening. It was time for you to actually enjoy the six figures you spent on this party, and for you, that meant being with your girl.

“God, you look so beautiful right now,” you whisper while gently massaging your fingers into her ankle. “Can you walk, or should I carry you?”

“Or I could carry you,” Winter adds cheekily.

“That’s what I want, I want Winter to carry me,” Karina giggles as you help her to her feet. She frowns and looks down, testing her ankle. “I think I can walk, but I need…”

“I’m here,” you smile, slipping your arm around Karina’s waist and holding her up. “Winter, sweetheart, could you ask one of the staff to bring water and another bottle of champagne up to our room? And then please join us as well if you’d like a break from…” you gesture broadly at the swath of designer suits and dresses filling the room.

She nods.

“More champagne?” Karina’s voice jumps with excitement at the sound of more alcohol.

“Not for you,” Winter sings before scurrying off.

“You said that’s what you wanted, didn’t you?” you open the door and walk Karina to the grand staircase. “How can I say no to my princess?”

Karina leans over and kisses you on the cheek. “Do you love your princess?” her voice sweetens like syrup.

“More than anything,” you answer.

“More than your cars?

“More.”

“More than your house?”

“More than all of my houses.”

“More than your business?”

“Are you kidding me? I just ditched my business back there so that I could spend some time with the love of my life,” you point out. “Now, enough silly questions,” you add, leaning in and kissing her.

She giggles before squealing as you sweep her off her legs and into your arms.

“What?” you smile down at her and start climbing the stairs. “I’m not having you hop up these.”

Karina stares up warmly at you, her face brimming with emotion. She holds on tight as you walk her up the steps, smiling but also a bit on edge. She’s thinking about something, and she’s thinking hard.

“Yes?” you encourage her. “Think any harder and I’ll start seeing steam come out of your ears.”

“I think…” she begins softly, “the last time you carried me up these stairs was after our wedding.”

“Has it been that long?”

“Yeah,” she smiles up at you, the subtle, rosy alcohol-glow making her face shine more adorable than ever, as if that was even possible. “Do you remember that night?”

“Of course,” you open the door to your bedroom and gently lay Karina down. “Do you remember what happened after?”

“How could I forget?” she whispers with a smile, reaching her arms out towards you. “We had to cancel brunch the next morning because I literally couldn’t walk.”

“Whatever, we needed the sleep anyway,” you laugh before slowly climbing onto the bed with her, sliding your hand gently up her leg as you push her onto her back and carefully lay on top of her. You gently crash your lips against hers, bringing both hands up to her hips.

She kisses back, sliding her arms around your shoulders, running one hand through the hair on the back of your head. Her dress rides up her body as she wraps her legs around your hips, pulling you closer into her embrace, breathing heavily into your mouth.

The kiss turns aggressive. Like a fight, forceful and hostile. Her tongue intertwines with yours, she’s keeping you on your toes, figuratively speaking. Your heart races, trying to keep up with Karina’s passion – she’s unrelenting.

It’s primal instinct at this point. Karina’s warmth and love is all you crave in this world. You slip the straps of her dress off her shoulders before reaching lower and squeezing in her thighs, tightening the grip her legs have on your body. You want her close, as close as physically possible.

Her flowery scent engulfs your mind, numbing it briefly, alongside the subtle citrus taste of champagne on her lips. It would be addiction either way, anything Karina does is addiction for you. She doesn’t even know it, but she has full control of your every thought. She’s what you want, perfect in every way.

“Ahem,” a voice calls from behind.

Neither of you cares, still kissing as if your lives depended on it. Intoxicated and obsessed with the other’s taste, addicted and engrossed in the other’s body. She’s–

“Stop kissing!” Winter slams the door shut, glaring at the two of you with a bottle of water in one hand and champagne in the other.

“Don’t be jealous,” you ease away from Karina with a smile. “You had your turn earlier.”

“Oh yeah, that reminds me,” Winter walks over and places the bottles down. “What the fuck Karina.”

“What?” Karina giggles, sitting up in the bed, her dress a disheveled mess. “It’s not our first time kissing.”

“Yeah but in public?” Winter whines. “Everyone saw.”

“And they probably fucking loved it,” you laughed, giving the champagne bottle a shake. “Come on Winter, live a little.”

“Live a little? This was supposed to be a professional event. The entire company is present.”

“Oh please,” Karina scoffs, crossing her arms. “It was so boring.”

“Maybe for you it doesn’t matter, you’re already married to the damn king,” Winter retaliates. “No one cares what you do. I actually have to worry about my reputation. People talk, you know.”

“And you suck the king’s cock every morning,” Karina laughs. “I think your reputation is beyond saving here.”

“W-What are…” Winter stammers and her cheeks burn pink. “Don’t say it like that.”

“How else would I say it?” Karina teases. “Half of them already know your job is to empty his balls.”

“No they don’t!” Winter whines. She’s upset, but the problem is how cute she is even when she’s upset. “And that’s not my job!”

“Oh sorry I forgot,” a smirk flashes across Karina’s face. “Sometimes if you’re a good girl, he bends you over your desk.”

“Karina!” Winter complains.

“Relax Winter,” you uncork the champagne and give it a few shakes.

“Are you…” Winter begins backing away. “Don’t you dare.”

“Too late,” you smirk before moving your thumb aside and begin spraying Winter with champagne.

“My dress!” Winter cries out as she runs away, ducking her head into her arms.

The room erupts as you chase her down, fueled by Karina’s laughs and Winter’s cries. Winter runs around the bed, jumping on it and grabbing Karina for cover. Mouth wide open in shock, Karina shields her face, turning to the side and screaming as you spray her as well, laughing hysterically as you cover her in champagne.

“Babe!” Karina laugh-shouts in disbelief as she looks down at her soaked dress.

“Oh no,” you chuckle before walking over to the table and filling a glass. “Winter, do her a favor and help her out of that dress, it’s all soiled.”

“What about my dress?” Winter whines before unzipping Karina from behind.

“Don’t worry, we’ll get you out of yours too,” you smile, holding the glass out for Karina to take.

Karina smiles up at you, her tits on full display, barely covered by the lacy bra she had hiding under her satin gown. She accepts the glass, downing it in one go before handing it back to you.

“Your turn,” you refill the glass and hold it out for Winter.

“I don’t need that, there’s plenty right here,” Winter waves away the glass before crawling in front of Karina. “You drink it, and then drink another one for me,” Winter adds over her shoulder before devoting all of her attention to Karina.

She yanks down Karina’s bra, freeing her tits in all their glory, and shoves her face deep between them, licking up the champagne directly from Karina’s body. You can’t help but smile as you sip, enjoying the view of Winter as she slides her tongue all over Karina’s tits, lapping up anything she can reach – you’re reminded of how fucking lucky you are as you pour another glass of champagne.

Winter squeezes Karina’s tits together, creating a little ravine for her tongue to play in. She makes little circles, pushing her tits in all directions. Meanwhile, Karina’s loving it, eyes closed breathing through an open mouth, soft moans escaping her from time to time, especially whenever Winter’s fingers give her nipples little pinches. It’s hard to say who’s having more fun.

“My God, Winter,” you put the glass down and flip up her dress.

You laugh as she doesn’t even react, not even when you slip your fingers down the back of her underwear. Slowly, you ease your fingers down to Winter’s pussy, playing with her wetness while enjoying the show. “You’re so fucking wet,” you tease, daring a couple of fingers into her entrance.

“Am I?” Winter finally looks back over her shoulder at you, arching her back. “Are you sure?”

“Positive,” you yank down Winter’s underwear and give her ass a smack. “Right, babe? Wanna see?”

Karina excitedly sits back up and steps off the bed, stands next to you and also slaps Winter’s cheeks.

“Wow,” Karina licks her lips as she frees herself from her champagne-covered dress. “You look so fucking scrumptious.”

Winter laughs, reaching back and giving her own ass a slap. “Are you two just going to keep staring, or is someone going to fucking eat me out?”

“Go on,” Karina whispers as she steps behind you and snakes her arms around your hips. She presses her tits into your back, pushing you forward as her fingers unbuckle your pants. “I know you want her.”

She presses your face into Winter’s cheeks before you can even come up with a response, and your brain immediately turns to mush. You suck on Winter’s folds as hard as you can, trapping her pussy between your lips and flicking your tongue back and forth.

“Oh fuck,” Winter moans out, her knees nearly giving out.

“Get that pussy ready,” Karina calls out to Winter as she yanks down your pants and grips your cock. “Your night is just starting.”

Winter can’t make sense of Karina’s words, or anything for that matter, as she flexes her back, overwhelmed by your mouth. You keep sucking her pussy, using both your hands to spread her soft cheeks as far as they can go, getting your mouth as deep as you can. With your mouth buried in Winter’s pussy, you feel Karina’s fingers gently jerk your cock to life. It doesn’t take long, you’re already rock-hard.

“Oh fuck that, I changed my mind,” Karina gasps before grabbing you by your hair and pulling you out of Winter’s pussy. She tosses you onto the bed and you land on your back right next to Winter who’s still on all fours. “I need this cock so fucking bad.”

“Baby it’s yours, it’s always yours,” you laugh, grabbing your base and holding it straight up, waiting for Karina.

“What the fuck!” Winter whines. “I guess I’ll just go fuck myself.”

“Stop being so dramatic,” Karina rolls her eyes before giving Winter the hardest slap of the night on her ass. “And take this shit off,” she tugs at Winter’s dress. “You’re too fucking cute to be covering up.”

Winter obliges, tossing her dress to the side.

Karina shoves her hand between Winter’s legs. “You’re really so fucking wet,” Karina moans as she shoves two fingers up Winter’s pussy.

“Don’t… Don’t fucking tease,” Winter crumbles to the bed.

“Winter, come here,” you reach over and grab her hand. “I need Karina to ride my cock already, you’re distracting her.”

“Me?” Winter retaliates as you pull her over. She places one knee right next to your ear and lifts her other leg up, following your lead. “I didn’t do nothing.”

“I don’t really care anymore,” you lick your lips at the sight of Winter’s pussy right above you. “Fucking hell, look at you.”

“Oh you like this?” Winter lowers herself just slightly out of reach as you crane your neck up.

She giggles as you give her ass another slap.

“Winter,” Karina scolds, joining the two of you on the bed as she straddles your body. “Turn around first.”

“Oh,” Winter quickly drops her pussy onto your face for just a moment before lifting herself up and flipping around so that she’s facing Karina. “Like this?”

“You’re killing him you fucking tease,” Karina laughs as she takes your cock in her hand and pokes at the precum leaking from your tip.

“Seriously, I’m going to remember this,” you moan, reaching up with both hands to spank Winter’s cheeks.

She giggles again before lowering her pussy down onto your face. Her thighs squeeze against your sides, and her pussy begins painting your face with her wetness. Her playful giggles almost immediately turn into moans, and you can just imagine Karina’s smile as she watches Winter sitting on your face.

It’s exactly what you want, almost sweet, a bit of tang, and unbelievably soft. Her folds press against your mouth hard, twisting and contorting to the shape of your face. You’re suffocating in her pussy and you love it. Just when you start thinking about how this is as good as it gets, your world gets flipped upside down.

Karina moans out, loud enough for you to hear even with your ears squished against Winter’s thighs. She’s lowering herself onto your throbbing cock, and that first bounce nearly makes you erupt on the spot. Karina’s pussy consumes your cock and your entire world. You might be starting to feel the alcohol.

You’re almost scared by how quickly you felt yourself about to bust. You try to hold back, desperately – and of course now Winter decides to start grinding her hips back and forth. Breathing becomes difficult, your body is struggling to hold on, it’s too much. You’re definitely feeling the alcohol.

It’s a battle with your body that you know you’re going to lose, but you still fight on as hard as you can. You start thrusting your hips up, slamming into Karina’s pussy as hard as you can. She starts moaning – perfect. Her pussy tightens, squeezing your cock, it’s almost painful how good it feels now. Her cries muffle, as do Winter’s, and you just know the two of them are glued by the mouths.

The view of Karina and Winter kissing engulfs your thoughts. You’re drooling, still suffocating on Winter’s pussy, and your cock is burning up. The pressure is building, it’s becoming too intense, overwhelming. You hold on, fighting on, trying to make the moment last, gasping into Winter’s pussy as you try to push your hips up.

Then, Winter slips forward just a bit too much, sliding her pussy across your chin. Instinctually, your face follows, and before you know it your tongue is pressing against her tight asshole. You push forward, indifferent, trying to get as deep as possible, using the last remaining ounce of strength in your body as you feel your breaking point approach.

Her asshole feels just as nice against your tongue as her pussy, if not better. Not as wet, but you can feel the tightness. You can feel her reservation, a timidness that fades almost instantly as you press your tongue into her asshole. She eases up, letting your tongue prod and explore her asshole – but it only lasts for a brief, fleeting moment.

Your head drops back, slamming into the bed, and your hips fly up towards the roof. You nearly launch Karina off your cock with how hard you thrust – the final thrust before you blow. Warm and with purpose, your cock shoots deep into Karina’s pussy as you fight desperately for air.

Holding herself just a few inches above you, Winter’s fingering herself, letting her pussy spray across your face with no regard as you gasp it all up, choking through an attempt to catch your breath. She dips her body down every few seconds, bouncing her wet pussy against your face again and again.

But you’re spent. All you can do is lay there, accepting the barrage of attacks, while still internally melting at Karina’s touch. She’s still riding your cock, even as you stop pumping her full, she’s making these little circles with her hips, driving you fucking insane. It’s too much, she’s too good.

Moments pass and Winter collapses next to you, her hand held tightly between her legs, trembling and quivering just enough to notice. Your attention, however, never wavers from Karina. She’s staring down at you, cupping her tits as she grinds up and down your shaft.

She wears this smirk, so confident in her ability. She knows the power she holds over your body, and she fucking loves it, wears it proudly. While from time to time she seeks reassurance with a glance in your direction. The truth is she doesn’t need it, there’s no doubt in her mind that she’s your everything – she owns you.

Karina lifts herself up, your thick white cum threatens to spill from her pussy. She steps off the bed and you almost want to reach out and stop her, but you can’t show how desperate she knows you are. So you let her go, wherever she’s going, and turn your attention to the girl balled up facing away from you on the bed.

You pull your hand back before slamming across Winter’s ass, sending her cheeks recoiling.

“Ah!” she shrieks, instantly turning towards you and covering her behind with her hands. “What was that for?”

“Nothing, just felt like it,” you laugh.

“Idiot…” Winter mutters as she scoots to the edge of the bed. “Is there any champagne left?”

“Yeah,” you sit up next to her and grab your cock. “I think there’s some right here.”

“Ha. Ha. Very funny,” she rolls her eyes before giving you a quick couple of playful tugs. “God, why are you such a mess?”

“Me?” you wrap your arm around Winter’s waist and shove your fingers between her legs. You force her thighs apart as she turns into a giggling mess trying to fight you off. “I’m the mess?”

“Stop!” she’s gasping as you finger-fuck her, pulling away and trying to escape. “Please! I… I can’t breathe!”

She’s laying flat on her back now, chest heaving up and down after you let go of her pussy. 

Winter props herself up on her elbows and smirks at you. “I can’t believe you ate my ass.”

“I saw how hard you just came, don’t try pretending like you didn’t like it,” you turn away, leaning over the edge of the bed as the room sways side to side – the hangover is going to be brutal tomorrow,

She lifts herself up and sits on the edge of the bed right next to you again. Winter stares at you until you finally look back. She’s truly adorable, and her voice is just as cute when she speaks up. “I never said I didn’t like it,” she adds quietly, tilting her head and smiling at you.

“I’m glad,” you smile. “It was definitely unexpected.”

“Can we… do you think we could…”

“Already horny for more?” you tease when suddenly Winter frowns and her shoulders drop. “Winter–”

“Do people know?” she asks.

“What?”

She looks up at you, a small pout on her lips, eyes tender and delicate. “What Karina said earlier, do people from the company know about…” she adds quietly.

“No one outside of the three of us knows,” you reassure her as you wrap an arm around her shoulders. “She was just teasing you.”

“Promise?”

“Uh, I mean, I didn’t tell anyone,” you smile. “Did you?”

“No! I’d never–”

“Then I promise,” you interject.

Winter’s expression relaxes slightly and she starts to smile. She inches forward just a touch closer to you and her hand moves to your lap.

“Winter…” you breathe softly.

“Don’t think,” she whispers, leaning in for a kiss. “You’re the boss, just enjoy the moment.”

Her lips are soft and warm, and they wear the same subtle taste of champagne as Karina’s. It’s like she can read your mind, and she gives your cock a final stroke with her fingertips, sliding up your length before getting up and reaching for the bottle.

“I think I need to slow down,” you comment as she brings the bottle directly to her lips.

She holds the bottle out for you to take, using the back of her other hand to wipe her mouth. “Don’t be a bitch, drink.”

“Winter–”

“Shut up and drink,” she glares. “And then you owe me.”

“I owe you?” you accept the bottle with a laugh and take a sip.

“That’s right, you were supposed to fuck me earlier, remember? Before Karina stole you.”

“Oh yeah, where is she by the way?” you glance towards the door.

“Focus!” Winter whines as she grabs the champagne. She holds the bottle over your head and waits for you to open your mouth – even though you know it’s a bad idea to drink more – and she pours the liquid directly down your throat. “Good boy,” she smiles, emptying the rest of the bottle.

“You’re so fucking cute,” you mumble, trying to steady yourself on the bed, immediately feeling the alcohol from earlier hitting you. “But where’s–”

“She’s on the balcony,” Winter snaps before turning around, sticking her ass out and looking back at you. “Now can you fucking pay attention to me?”

“You’re just…” you pause to reach forward and slap Winter’s ass hard, “a stupid slut.”

“Alright dickface,” Winter rolls her eyes before stepping backwards until her ass is right in front of you. She has her legs just slightly bent, hands on her knees, and back arched just a bit. “Go on then, you know what to do.”

You lean forward, nearly falling forward off the bed, catching yourself against Winter’s ass. She buckles for a moment before steadying herself again, and you feel her hand reaching back to push your face into her. But it’s unnecessary, you don’t need any extra encouragement, the view of Winter’s tight little asshole staring at you was all you needed.

A gentle moan escapes your lips as you spread her cheeks wide. She gives her ass a little shake, right before you lunge forward, shoving your mouth into her ass. You push your tongue forward as hard as possible, entering inside her, licking and poking at her hole.

“Oh fuck,” Winter cries out, bringing her fingers between her legs. “That’s so fucking good.”

It’s addicting. You slide your tongue up and down between Winter’s cheeks before pressing forward again. You push into her asshole, moving your hands from her ass to her hips, holding her steady. Her ass is tight and your tongue struggles, but you try nonetheless, using as much strength as you can to spread her wide. The room is spinning, but you try your best to steady yourself, holding onto Winter’s ass for support.

She lets out a shriek and falls forward onto her knees, holding herself bent over in front of you, her fingers moving quickly between her legs. She’s trembling and writhing on the soft carpeted floor, moaning loudly as she fingers herself.

You let yourself slip off the bed as well and get right behind her. That tight little asshole, glistening with your saliva, is staring right at you. As badly as you want to shove your cock into her, it’s impossible – she’s squirming too much, and you know you’re too drunk to make this work right now.

Instead, you settle with a finger. You shove your middle finger down to the knuckle into Winter’s ass and she screams louder than ever. As you move back and forth, you can feel her fingers also moving in her pussy, so you try to alternate and match her. At the same time, you use your other hand to slap her ass hard, over and over.

She’s screaming and moaning, body twitching. It only takes a few more moments before she collapses to the floor, flat on her stomach, entire body quivering as her fingers slip out of her pussy. She lets out a long, drawn-out moan as you pull your finger out of her.

“Are you alive?” you chuckle, giving her ass a few squeezes.

“No,” she moans.

“Well, that’s an issue.”

“You… you need to fuck… me…”

“I think maybe you just need to rest up a bit.”

“No!” she replies forcefully despite still having no energy. “On bed, from behind.”

“Winter–”

“Now.”

You sigh before laughing and shaking your head. Then, you bend down and pick her limp body up from her armpits and place her stomach down against the edge of the bed. Her legs dangle off the edge lifelessly.

“Now fuck me,” she mutters.

“Winter,” you laugh again, tracing the red markings you left on her cheeks from earlier. “This isn’t happening.”

“Okay,” she sighs quietly, and within seconds she’s out, snoring softly.

You give her ass a little pat before putting on a robe and stumbling to the balcony. Outside, you find Karina leaning against the railing, holding an empty glass in her hand, her dress thrown on messily.

“Think you’ve had enough yet?” you take the glass from her hand and place it down before wrapping an arm around her waist, leaning against the railing with her.

“That’s why I’m out here,” she smiles at you for a second before turning to the view again. “Needed the fresh air.”

“You and me both.”

“How’s Winter? I heard her screaming.”

“Turns out she likes getting her ass eaten, who woulda known.”

Karina laughs. “Alcohol does things to that girl.”

“She also got kinda sensitive about people knowing.”

“What?” Karina cocks an eyebrow. “She knows I was joking, right?”

“Yeah, I told her that,” you gently rub Karina’s hip. “I guess it’s a soft spot for her.”

“She’s a really sweet girl, I hope she doesn’t downplay her success,” Karina frowns. “I really like that one, a lot more than your last assistant.”

“I know, I’d keep her around even if I wasn’t fucking her,” you reply. “She really makes my life a lot easier.”

“Yeah, and she sucks you off,” Karina nudges you in the ribs.

“That part matters less to me,” you turn Karina so that she’s facing you. “I’m more than satisfied with what I’m looking at right now.”

“Is that so?” Karina’s eyes glow in the moonlight.

“Absolutely,” you smile at her. “Although, you’d probably have to start showing up at the offices with me.”

“And have all your employees gawk at me all day?” Karina snorts. “No thanks. They fucking suck at hiding it. If I had a dollar for every time I caught one of them staring tonight, I’d be richer than you.”

“Can you really blame them, have you seen yourself?” you laughed. “You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”

There’s a soft pause, Karina smiles at you, her cheeks still rose-tinted from the champagne.

“I really love you,” Karina whispers.

“And I love you.”

“No, really,” Karina frowns as if she’s being misunderstood. She wraps her hands around your lower back and steps closer. “I really, really love you, so much. So much…”

She stumbles, holding onto your body for support.

“Careful,” you grab her. “Should we sit?”

“No, just hold me,” she replies, squeezing you. “I love you.”

“You’re everything to me,” you kiss the top of her head and gently sway back and forth with her. It’s cold on the balcony, but your body is still warm – probably the alcohol.

Karina lets go of you and takes a step back, leaning against the railing.

“I know you just fucked Winter, but I’m still in the mood.”

“I didn’t fuck her.”

“Oh?” Karina raises an eyebrow. “You ate her ass and she didn’t even let you fuck?”

“The girl passed out,” you chuckle. “I wasn’t going to wake her.”

“What about you? Any juice left in there?”

“Depends who’s asking.”

She smirks and pulls her dress down again until her tits are out. “Who do you think is asking?” she pulls on the string of your robe.

“For you, always,” you step forward and press your lips to hers. “But I am a little drunk.”

“I can see that,” Karina giggles as she turns around and leans over the railing, lifting her dress up. “Hold onto something.”

“You know,” you step right behind Karina and place your hand on her waist, “if anyone was to step outside right now, they’d see your tits.”

“Who gives a fuck, let them watch,” she giggles, bending over deeper.

“Did you know I love you?” you grab your cock and slide it up against her pussy.

“So I’ve heard,” she lets out a sharp gasp as you enter her pussy. “Oh! Slowly, please.”

“Anything for you,” you whisper into her ear, leaning closer, holding her tightly as you start moving your hips back and forth.

Her breath catches each time you ease your cock into her. It’s not an act, it’s genuine. In the cool breeze of the evening, you were her warmth, and her pussy yours. There’s no need to rush it, you just have to move your hips slowly against her body, anything you did right now worked, driving her insane without being too much.

Soon, the cold air vanishes, and Karina is consumed by warmth. Her pussy burns up, squeezing your cock gently with each thrust. Her body is obsessed, riding the edge, begging for more without being demanding. Even her moans, louder now, are careful and full of love.

And you can feel it all. Every emotion and sensation, you can feel it through her body. She’s squirming, leaning over more, holding the railing harder. Just a bit more, and it takes all the self-control in your body to keep going like this, part of you wants to grab her, take her, use her.

Just not now, because right now is Karina’s moment. It’s her turn to feel good, to feel loved. You aren’t going to take that away from her.

Her pussy warms up some more and you feel her legs buckle. She cries out, and you grab her for support, making sure she knows you have her. A rush of wetness spills out of her, down her leg, past your cock. She’s struggling now, and you’re basically the only thing holding her up – you can’t even thrust anymore, you’re just holding her as her pussy squeezes down on your cock.

“I love you,” you whisper into her ear before kissing her on the cheek.

She moans a response, still high off her orgasm. It takes her a few moments, a few moments of warmth where you simply hold your cock deep inside her. Finally, she regains enough strength to hold herself up, and she looks back at you over her shoulder.

“C-Can we go inside?” her teeth chatter.

You take her hand and walk her back to your room, closing the balcony door behind you. On your bed, Winter is still laying there with her legs hanging off the edge and her ass up, exactly where you left her earlier. Her cheeks are crimson red, enticing you to walk over and bring your palm down on them yet again, but you hold back.

“Let her sleep,” Karina thinks the same and takes your hand, walking you across the room to one of your armchairs.

She sits you down before dropping to her knees in front of you, staring up at you, gaze as sensual as imaginable. She’s dripping sex appeal from every cell in her body, just by existing, and she knows it, she knows how special she is to you.

“Just relax,” she whispers, delicately stroking your shaft, slowly without pressing. “Let me take care of you.”

Karina leans over and kisses your inner thigh. Just a short peck at first, pausing to gaze up at you before pressing her mouth against your skin again. She kisses deep, sucking and twisting against your skin, leaving a mark before moving her lips back.

Then she presses her tongue to the mark and slides it up your thigh until her lips meet the base of your shaft. She wraps her mouth around the side of your cock and slides her head up and down, as if playing the harmonica.

She’s slow, calculated, deliberate. There’s no need to rush, she knows she has you for as long as she wants – and that’s still not enough. Her lips graze your tip, blessing it with a quick kiss before sliding back down your length and resting against your balls.

Her fingers start to make little circles around your tip and she prods at your entrance lightly with her thumb as her tongue explores your balls. She pushes them around like they’re her toys – which they basically are. Up down left right, wherever she wants, until she opens her lips wide and lets them fall into her mouth.

Karina hollows her cheeks, sucking hard on your balls, coating them in her saliva while sliding her tongue between them. She lets one slip out, squeezing harder against the other until it also escapes. Her thumb is moving a bit faster now, little circles around your tip.

A sharp inhale slides through her teeth before she opens her mouth wide and shoves her face into your taint.

It feels fucking divine, so much better than you were prepared for, you nearly jump out of the armchair. The moan you let out is stifled, your brain doesn’t understand how to react, it’s too much pleasure, an avalanche of dopamine.

At the same time, Karina wraps her fingers around your shaft and starts stroking. She’s no longer slow and delicate, she’s fast. Her lips press hard into your skin, kissing deep, and her fingers give your entire length quick strokes, pausing every few times to make a little circle around your tip with her palm before going right back to your shaft.

“That’s so fucking good,” you moan softly, gripping the armrests until your knuckles turn white. “I fucking love you so much, oh my fucking God.”

She answers with another sharp breath as she backs up just slightly. With her hand still stroking rapidly, she reaches her mouth up and gives your balls a quick peck before pressing her mouth down again, pushing at your taint hard.

Your cock is throbbing, Karina can sense it. She works your length for a few more strokes, giving your skin a few final licks before lifting herself up. Her lips part, she stares at you until you lock eye contact, and then she lowers her mouth onto your cock, replacing her fingers as she moves down.

Inch by inch she goes until her nose presses softly against your crotch before quickly pulling back. Only then does she close her eyes and place her hands on your thighs. She starts bobbing up and down, sucking your cock with everything she has.

It’s inevitable, you’re about to bust. You can’t remember the last time you had a blowjob this fucking phenomal, it’s absolutely perfect to each detail. You can feel her lips squeezing hard against your shaft, her tongue prodding at your tip, the little pressure every time her mouth comes up.

She’s moving steadily, and you’re on the edge. You can’t, no, it’s impossible, but you try desperately to hold on, to make the moment last, begging your body to hold onto the moment for just a bit longer.

You can’t.

The room starts spinning, this time without any credit going to the alcohol. Your cock explodes inside her mouth, gushing cum all over. Instantly, some of it spills from her lips – impossible to contain. But she tries, she tightens her mouth some more, cheeks hollowed once more.

Her eyes flutter open, searching for your gaze, meeting it with more emotion than you can fathom. She’s perfect. Seriously, perfection is all you can think about when you stare down at her, your white mess spilling from her lips despite how hard she sucks against your shaft.

She’s patient, coaxing you to keep going without rushing you. Her tongue pokes and prods gently at your tip, easing out more of your cum until you’re entirely emptied. Everything, she gave you everything, and in return she got everything back, there was nothing left.

Karina sits up, letting your cock leave her lips, ignoring the gush of cum that spills out of her lips and onto her chest. She stares at you, gaze deep and intimidating, focused only on you.

“I love you,” she whispers.

You take her face in your hands, holding her, emotions brimming through your body. Your body is beyond relaxed, blood flowing. You pull her close and press your lips to her forehead, holding for a moment, kissing her gently.

“What did I ever do to deserve someone as amazing as you are?” you whisper softly as you lean back and gaze back into her eyes.

She giggles, then smiles, tilting her head to the side. For a moment, she just stares at you, lovingly and full of emotion. Then, she climbs onto the armchair and wraps her arms around you, holding her warmth against yours, becoming one with you.

She says the line again, you say it right back, and the two of you refuse to let go of the other. Ultimately there’s only one option left – you stay in each other’s embrace until you both peacefully fall asleep, comforted by undying love you share.

---

A/N:

This is a super quick fic. I spent about two evenings on it, purely spontaneous, inspired by my headcannon of them being drunk at that award show. I just love these two girls honestly. I still tried to read through it a few times to make sure there aren't too many mistakes, but sorry if you find some, I also went with present tense instead of past tense with this one so give me some leeway!

I am honestly struggling so hard with some of my other fics (looking at you Dating Seraphs). I know what I want to write, I have it literally planned out, but it's just so tough. Regardless, I appreciate everyone's patience and support. This blog has grown so much more than I could have ever imagined, I just hope I can keep releasing stuff you guys enjoy!

[dollfacefantasy]

bucky barnes x fem!reader cw: nsfw (18+), smut, p in v, public sex, boss/employee relationship a/n: i just watched brave new world so <3333 this is based on the request i am going to answer in a few moments.

1:30 pm, and a quick call to your desk. "sweetheart, could you come in here for a minute?" his voice crackled through the receiver. you knew what that meant.

not even five minutes later, he had you bent over the dark mahogany in his office, your pencil skirt hiked up around your hips, the pretty pink panties you'd worn for him pushed to the side so his cock could pump in and out of you with ease.

"fuck, mr. barnes," you whimpered, taking your bottom lip between your teeth. your hands slid as they pressed down on scattered papers beneath them.

a chuckle came from behind you. his hands gave your hips a squeeze. you could feel the mechanical flex on your left side.

"what'd i tell you about calling me that?" he asked.

"that- mmm- that i should only do it at work, but- ah!" you tried to explain, cut off by his tip brushing against a sensitive spot inside you. gripping the edge of the desk, you steeled yourself to finish your sentence. "but, technically, we're still at work, sir."

you heard him hum in acknowledgement, and in your mind, you could all but see that cute little smirk on his face. the one reserved for you. even when you were just his secretary, you were still the only one who got to see it so freely.

"smart girl. i guess that is true," he said, completing his statement with a particularly hard thrust.

you squeaked at the impact, and your eyes rolled back. despite your own noise, you were just happy the desk wasn't budging an inch under his momentum.

"but since we're 'at work,' you also know that you're supposed to be quiet," he said, his voice much lower and much closer to your ear. you could feel the crisp fabric of his suit against your back. his tie feathered along your side, causing you to squirm back on him.

"i- i am," you stammered.

"yeah? you think this is quiet? quiet enough that if anybody walked by those doors, they wouldn't hear you whining for me?" he whispered.

words of defense didn't come to mind. instead, you gasped as he nuzzled into your neck, planting open-mouthed kisses along your throat. your walls clamped around his length. you squeezed him, sucked him in with everything you had, your body wordlessly crying more, more, more.

"we wouldn't want any rumors going around, would we? people already talk about how cute my little secretary is, how she chases after me with stars in her eyes," he practically cooed. "they warn me about you, you know. i don't wanna get caught up in a scandal after all."

your knees almost give out beneath you, but being squished between him and the desk keeps you in place.

you knew what he was saying was true. people did talk about you and him. speculated if your relationship went beyond what was appropriate for a representative and his secretary. but fuck, you didn't care. not while sitting at your desk during the day or laying in his arms at night, and you certainly didn't care when he was fucking you like you'd been made just for him.

"they won't," you finally answered, words closer to a babble now. "they won't hear. only you can hear."

his lips curled into a smile against your skin. "that's right, baby. only me," he said with a soft peck to your cheek.

the moment of tenderness was brief though. his mechanical hand slid around to grasp your throat, giving him more leverage to drill into you.

at this point, you were right on the edge. he had settled into a rhythm that stroked you just right every time. your release was coming closer and closer every second.

you sucked in another ragged breath, unable to get the words out to articulate what you felt inside. but that was ok. he knew all your tells. he recognized the shaky legs and grabby hands and pulsing grip of your cunt.

his hand that wasn't on your neck wrapped around your body and snaked its way between your legs. the warm flesh of his fingertips swirled over your clit, rubbed back and forth in rapid stripes to give you the final push.

"i know, baby. i know it feels so good, and i know you're gonna be a good girl and stay quiet. so cum for me," he murmured.

just in case, you covered your mouth with your palm. your body spasmed as you let release wash over you. to your surprise, you did remain quiet for the most part. only a few little sounds of ecstasy escaped your lips for your hand to muffle.

he groaned right into your ear, the noise quiet to the entire world except for you. it was only a matter of seconds before you felt the familiar burst of warmth and the uneven jolts of his hips against your backside.

once the two of you had both finished, you each took a few seconds to catch your breath. you couldn't take too long however because his lunch break was ending, and it wouldn't take a genius to figure out the both of you were doing a little more than going over briefings in here.

he eased out of you and then helped you clean up a bit. your panties fell back into place while your skirt unbunched to cover up your thighs again. you glanced in the mirror on the wall to make sure your makeup hadn't smudged. with a tug of your blazer, you were ready to go back out there.

"not even gonna give me a kiss before you go?" he asked.

that brought a little smile to your face. when you turned to him once again, he was put back together too. no remnants of you on his suit, all the buttons together again, every strand of his hair in place.

you leaned in for what was supposed to be a quick peck. but his arm looped around your waist and held you close for a few moments longer. your shy eyes connected with his when he finally let you pull away. he gave you a pat on the ass as you went to walk away.

"i'll see you after work, mr. barnes," you said with a little laugh.

[bluerosefox]

Hmmm we should play around with the idea of Tim going undercover more. Especially when he goes out as Caroline Hill btw.

Dead Tired prompt once again.

Danny knows the people he's working for are... shady at best but he needed this job, ever since he left Amity Park after getting into a bad fight with his parents, they wanted him to become a Ghost Hunter (funny how they never really pressured Jazz into it.), he made sure to shut down the portal now since he learned to make portals (and made sure to delete and burn his parents blueprints for it), renounced himself as Ghost King (he really didn't want the responsibility and helped set up a kinda self governing and kinda 'I will come back to help the Realms keep stable but I am NOT ruling' thing)

[Basically Danny is still technically the King, the Realms need him to keep stable (personal head canon the Realms reflect its Ruler, Danny is much more stable than Pariah Dark and thus the Realms are healing and slowly returning to its natural state), but Danny set up a somewhat self governing thing where he can leave but returns very so often to keep the Realms stable and healing. Its complicated but it works.]

AND because his grades tanked hard due to the accident and being a young ghost hero in high school, Danny didn't have a lot of choices for work or even school (he is in college, none of his dream ones though, and is juggling between it and odd jobs here and there)

Anyways so yeah, Danny knows the people he's working for aren't... great. He knows they're shady AF and knows he could maybe find out what if he used his ghost powers but he does need this job for just a bit longer, until his next paycheck that's all.

He also know his new co-worker might be an undercover cop and is investigating them.

Caroline Hill is a nice lady though, even if it was an act to get closer, polite, works hard when paired with him, and very pretty.

So Danny decides to help cover up tiny mistakes or distract their other co-workers/employers when she's snooping around their work areas/offices.

[teambyler]

Let's talk about #WallGate

The Upside Down appears to have been created the night Will went missing. I just read a theory from @MarianDalton on YouTube that Will has powers and in 1983 he created an Upside Down version of Hawkins because he wanted to get back home...

Whether or not that's exactly it, there's SOME connection between the Upside Down and Will. And destroying the Upside Down and saving Hawkins might be directly connected to Will.

Remember the lyrics to "Heroes" about forbidden love and kissing at the Berlin Wall?

Well, it now looks like the Upside Down has a wall:

It's possible that the Upside Down's wall maintains its structure, and destroying it is key to ending the UD and saving Hawkins. Since the Upside Down and Will are likely connected, what if the UD is connected somehow to Will's psychology and his likely coming-out arc this season? A place he created to wall himself in, a seemingly safe place, but also where he's closed off from the world because he can't be his true self? (His CLOSET?)

Ross Duffer has said about season 5, "This emotional arc for [Will] is what we feel is going to hopefully tie the whole series together."

One theme of the show has been the prejudice and fear of Hawkins. What if the physical wall parallels the metaphorical walls in Hawkins? After all, "conformity is killing the kids." We have an episode titled "Escape from Camazotz" which in A Wrinkle in Time was a hive-mind planet...

And what if the key to Vecna's power over Will is the fact that Will never thinks he'll find love? The show establishes that love is what frees people from Vecna.

Will and Mike are standing by the wall in the UD, and Will is about to use his connection to the UD to destroy it and save Hawkins, but it means destroying himself along with it. Mike can't stay or he'll die also. Will tells him to leave, which he refuses to do. Mike had promised Will they'd be a TEAM. Finally, Will, to explain himself, makes clear he loves Mike, and he can't let Mike die (my own favorite theory... mine lol). Mike absolutely will NOT leave and decides to die with Will.

When Will doesn't understand why Mike is doing this, Mike kisses him.

What they don't know yet, is that the key to tearing down the wall is that Will sees he is loved.

The wall falls.

The lyrics to "Heroes" suddenly become perfect:

Standing, by the wall And the guns, shot above our heads And we kissed, as though nothing could fall And the shame, was on the other side Oh we can beat them, for ever and ever Then we could be Heroes, just for one day.

-teambyler

[batmanisagatewaydrug]

Hi, sorry if this is an insensitive question but I was wondering if you have books by black authors that don't center racism? It's not that I want to live a blissful life not knowing about racism, I'm dark skinned nb woc, racism is part of life. I just noticed that unless it's a romance book, every 'by black authors' book list I find will have all the books with racism being a major theme. As if being a black author means publishing will only sign if you write about racism. I want to read something different, happy and humorous, fantastical, scry, whatever. I don't want every book I read from black authors to be about race the same way I don't want every book by queer authors I read to have homophobia. I got some recommendations before and all of them were like "hilarious book where author talks about racism they faced in a funny way", I feel exhauated. I know different books have to exist but I can't find them when I google.

sorry I'm so charmed by the idea that asking a white bitch for book recs about Black people doing something other than experiencing racism might be insensitive

anyway you're right like!!! a lot of authors of color only get to crack into publishing if they're willing to write about their suffering and be lauded for that and like, cool, bless up for writing that but would be cool to pay attention to stuff that's not all pain and suffering!!

I'm going to caveat to say that some of these will contain, you know, References to racism, especially if they take place in the real world, since Black authors and Black characters are gonna acknowledge that, but I'm not gonna rec like. The Hate U Give where that's The Point, yknow? also a lot of these are still rather dark and grim as novels because of who I am as a person and what I like but I hope will still be helpful. check the content warnings for everything I recommend ever.

ANYWAYYY

gotta shill for Akwaeke Emezi right out of the gate as usual: their most recent novel, Little Rot, is a pitch black thriller that starts with a Nigerian couple breaking up in Lagos and proceeding to have the most evil and deranged weekend anyone has ever had. truly almost content warning in the book for this one, BUTTTTT racism is like. the least of anyone's worries. girl, there are hitmen.

My Sister, the Serial Killer by Oyinkan Braithwaite is another Nigerian novel that's more of a dark comedy about a dutiful older sister who's been cleaning up her impulsive and beautiful younger sister's dead boyfriends for YEARS. shit comes to a head when little sis sets her eyes on a man her older sister likes (who's also her boss!!! gag!!!).

Helen Oyeyemi's novel The Icarus Girl is a quietly creepy horror about a young mixed English girl who visits her mother's Nigerian family and comes back with a commanding, powerful imaginary friend that no one can see, who starts causing terrible things to occur once the family is back home. I was blown away by how well Oyeyemi wrote little Jessamine's POV; really nailed the smart, lonely, anxious child perspective.

Darknesses by Lachelle Seville is a WILD paranormal indie pub that i read earlier this year that's soooo messy and so entertaining. I think I described it as feeling like reading through someone's blog about their OC's? it was a hoot. the basic premise is that a young Black woman named Oasis, physically and mentally scarred from escaping a cult, is working at a bookstore in New York City when she meets another gorgeous Black girl who claims to be in love with her... and also to be an incarnation of Count Dracula.

if we want some high fantasy I really, really love NK Jemisin's Dreamblood Duology, which is set in a fantasy version of ancient Egypt and revolves around a class of priests who utilize the magic of dreams. political intrigue ensues!

love of my life Janelle Monáe curated a collection of short stories called The Memory Librarian, where each story is written by a different author and is inspired by the world of Monáe's album Dirty Computer. Danny Lore's story Nevermind, based on the music video for Pynk, is my #1 favorite thing.

also if we want some nonfiction I truly adore all of Samantha Irby's essay collections so much; there aren't a lot of writers who consistently make me LAUGH laugh but she gets me. her most recent, Quietly Hostile, has some top notch shenanigans re: having to go to the hospital for a very stupid allergic reaction at the height of COVID social distancing.

you may also find inspo here (I know I did!!)

and here (I'm especially intrigued by Meet Me at the Crossroads)

[em1i2a3]

Got You (Where I Want You)

Pairing: Bob/Robert Reynolds/The Sentry/The Void x Thunderbolts!Fem!Reader!

Summary: You walk in on Bob staring at himself in the mirror.

Warnings: Fluff, with some intimacy thrown in there for good measure, because why the hell not, right? The sweetness is cavity inducing lol

Author’s Note: Had this idea yesterday and had to put pen to paper y’all, I don’t know what the hell got into me that made me push aside my other stuff for this idea, but I liked it too much to not go absolutely bonkers on my keyboard lol…Anyways, enjoy <3

Word Count: 4,785

Subject: FINAL HR WARNING - CONDUCT REVIEW (Walker/Starr Conflict)

From: HR Officer Marshall Greene

“Agents Walker and Starr are now under internal review for insubordination, hostile communication, and repeated disregard of team mediation protocols. One more infraction and we’ll initiate temporary removal from field rotation. Val has been informed. There will be no further email warnings.”

Walker (Reply All):

“Good to know HR thinks performance under pressure is ‘hostile communication.’ No wonder no one trusts leadership anymore.”

Ava (Reply All):

“Glad we agree that nobody trusts you.”

Yelena (Reply To: Ava and Walker):

“I swear if you get us all sent to HR group therapy again we are going to leave you both at the next extraction site.”

You choked on your own laugh, face half-buried in your pillow as your tablet buzzed again. Notification after notification trickled in like popcorn kernels catching heat–erratic, chaotic, and loud as hell. The entire thread was spiralling quickly, and all you could do was watch the digital tornado unfold before your very eyes. You sat up quickly, nearly dropping the tablet in your lap as you scrolled through the influx of new messages. One leg was tucked under you, while the other bounced with that familiar blend of amusement and secondhand dread.

Ava’s spelling had deteriorated into pure adrenaline–half her words missing vowels, full of heat and fury and thinly veiled threats. Walker had officially gone full defensive, slinging phrases like “operational leadership failure” and “compromised team integrity” like he was writing a dissertation for Val.

You snorted as Yelena replied again but to everyone this time with a simple:

“You guys are literally down the hall from each other, there’s no need to continue to document the arguing, just kill each other now.”

It was definitely a full-blown HR meltdown, and it was definitely going to warrant group therapy again, but the thread was just too good to keep to yourself.

Your thumb hovered over the screen for one more second, then you grinned, tossing the tablet to the side of the bed, because you knew exactly who would enjoy this as much as you.

Bob.

He was never in these threads–more because he didn’t even think to check them anyways. He was never mentioned, never cc’d. He just floated above the chaos like a gentle cloud of soft-voiced concern. He was never involved enough to be a direct problem, but he was always tuned in enough to notice when issues were brewing. He never participated in the drama, but he loved hearing about it. Only from you, though. Only when you read it out loud with your overly expressive hand gestures and dramatic reenactments–like you were performing Shakespeare in the park…But only for him.

It was a tradition. A rhythm that only belonged to you and Bob alone, because every time a thread decided to spiral into a tailspin of arguing, you sought him out immediately.

Sometimes it was in the kitchen over cereal. Sometimes it was on the roof, sitting hip to hip with your legs dangling in the wind. Sometimes it was huddled on opposite ends of the couch with your legs draped over his lap…And sometimes–like right now–it meant running to his room like you were delivering urgent news straight from the battlefield.

You glanced down at yourself–sports bra, and underwear–and let out a low huff. Bob had seen you like this before, technically. That’s what came with the territory of shared safehouses, mission recovery stations, and walking around the compound late at night when you thought nobody else was awake. Those were different situations though.

You padded across the room and yanked open your dresser drawer, rifling through your exercise shirts until you settled on a worn black t-shirt–oversized and thinning with age. You tugged it over your head in one swift movement, letting the hem fall just past your hips, then you grabbed a pair of navy basketball shorts off the back of your desk chair and shimmied into them with a quick hop-step, tightening the strings as much as possible so they wouldn’t fall as you rushed down the hall.

You scooped the tablet back up in your arms, the screen still glowing with the madness you’d left behind.

HR Officer Marshall Greene (Reply All):

“This is a formal thread, please refrain from using inappropriate language and making unfounded comments on others performances.”

The excitement only grew, as you slapped the tablet against your thigh, and bolted into the hallway.

The compound was quiet except for the distant clack of someone’s boots echoing down from the other wing–probably Ava pacing while she types another scorched-earth reply to the recent email. Regardless, you padded forward, barefoot but quick. The hum of the overhead lights casted your shadow along the wall as you rounded the corner toward the kitchen for a quick pit stop.

The fridge gave a quiet suction-pop as you pulled it open and reached for one of the bottled iced teas Bob always hoarded–hibiscus and lemon honey, the kind he insisted was the best. You grabbed one–already cool against your palm even though you had restocked them an hour ago–and tucked it into the crook of your arm as you shut the fridge with your hip.

”What’re you? A professional basketball player?” A voice from behind you asked.

You didn’t need to turn to know it was Bucky–leaning against the wall just outside the kitchen like he’d been planted there to deliver commentary on your outfit. His arms were crossed, dog tags peeking beneath the neckline of his exercise shirt. The glint in his eyes showed unmistakable amusement as he raised a brow at what you were wearing. You didn’t slow your pace though, you just tossed him a look over your shoulder.

”Careful Barnes, comments like that are how group therapy gets scheduled.” That earned a bark of laughter from him–rough and low.

”I’ll tell HR you threatened me with that iced tea bottle,” He called out as you walked off. You raised it above your head in mock-warning without looking over at him.

”Weaponized refreshments fall under Walker and Ava’s jurisdiction. Not mine.” You heard his chuckle echo faintly behind you, but your attention was already zeroed in on the familiar stretch of hallway that led to Bob’s room.

It was quiet here. Soft, almost. The air always felt a little warmer around his end of the corridor–in heat and in emotion in general, there was less tension, less noise, it was very…Bob. use him, his stacks of books, and the faint sound of whatever playlist he decided to put on.

You didn’t knock, you never knocked.

Your fingers wrapped around the handle and turned it without ceremony, pushing the door open like it was your own room, like it was a shared space you were both too sentimental to label.

“Bob! You are not gonna believe this thread..” You said as you were stepping into the room, clicking the door shut softly behind you before turning around.

And that’s when you saw him…And he nearly jumped out of his skin.

”D-Don’t you knock?!” He stammered, jolting like you’d fired a dart into his shoulder. His hands scrambled for the shirt slung half-off his desk chair, eyes wide, and cheeks flushing crimson, “I-I could’ve been–!”

”Naked?” You offered helpfully, lifting a brow as you stepped more into the room, “I think I’ve survived worse than accidentally walking in on someone mid-change.” Your voice had trailed off a little by the time you got to the middle of the room, because it hit you then–just how good he actually looked.

He wasn’t even trying, and that was probably the worst part–because you didn’t want to see him when he was…

The golden hour light poured through the west-facing window like warm syrup, catching the faint dampness along his skin and the light brown locks that his head sported. The light turned the droplets of water that still trailed down his back into halos of shimmer. His chest was broad and high with clean muscle, sharp and thick, and a bit swollen. There were red marks stretched faintly across his collarbones and the tops of his biceps, fresh from a too-hot shower–evidence of his notoriously sensitive skin. A small pink scar marked the space just under one of his ribs, thinned out from more than a decade of bearing it.

You had always known he was strong–he had to be because of the serum–but this was not what you were expecting.

Bob was built like a cathedral. Sturdy like he’d been carved from something permanent, and yet somehow he still stood like he was embarrassed of that.

”Bob.” You started, but he was already trying to pull his shirt over his head and failing–his arms were moving like they had forgotten how sleeves worked. Then after a second of struggling, he gave up with a frustrated sigh and just pressed the cotton against his bare upper torso like a towel.

“I-It’s really nothing…” He insisted, voice strained and high with shyness, “I-I was just…Looking at something.” Your brows raised as you padded even further into the room, placing the iced tea gently on the nearest stack of books.

“Got a rash or something? I know that Sentry suit probably isn’t a pleasant experience. It’s basically painted on…Probably got chafing in all the wrong places.”

“W-What? No! I–I don’t have a rash,” He sputtered, a nervous laugh catching on the tail end of his words. You could see his ears turning red, then watched as the flush crept down his neck and beneath the top he was holding against him. You grinned, leaning against the footboard of his bed, crossing your arms over your chest.

”So what were you looking at then?”

“I-It’s nothing…I swear…” His gaze couldn’t even meet yours, it just darted everywhere but your face: the floor, the ceiling, the bottle of iced tea, his desk lamp. His throat worked as he swallowed, and he shook his head, “It was n-nothing.” You sighed and, without another word, turned and sat on the edge of his mattress, tablet still in hand as you looked around the room–deliberately taking your time, giving him space to breathe. To maybe cool down a little before you asked him the same question again.

His room was neat, but not in a sterile fashion. He had bookshelves stacked high with paperbacks and limited edition copies of stories–science fiction, poetry, philosophy, he even had a few battered field manuals, but they looked like they hadn’t even been opened. A few of the books had some sticky notes jutting out in soft yellows, greens and blues, all in varying shades. There was a well-kept ficus in the corner by the window, catching sunlight in its leaves. One of his walls held a corkboard filled with photographs of places he had been with the team, with little notes he had kept from you–handwriting scrawled on torn napkins or on the backs of receipts. His Sentry suit hung off a hook like a molded second skin, and a flannel blanket was folded with precision at the foot of the bed.

“W-What are you doing?” Bob’s voice cracked with a soft, almost wounded hesitation. You didn’t look up from the bed right away, instead dragging your thumb along the edge of the tablet as you let the silence sit. Then you finally lifted your gaze, brow raised with soft mischief.

“Waiting for you to move,” You said simply. “So I can see what you could’ve possibly been looking at so intently before I barged in.” He shifted on his feet, his toes curling against the floorboards like he was trying to plant himself there and disappear.

”Y-Y/N, I wasn’t looking at anything…” You bit the inside of your cheek, eyes dropping from his for just a second–slowly taking his body in again from the reflection of the mirror behind him, the long, broad line of his back, the way the light caught in every indentation of muscle like it was sculpted for this hour of the day and no other. Then you looked back at him.

”So why’re you hiding from me then?” You asked softly, “You’ve seen me topless before…Thought you might’ve been comfortable returning the favour.” You joked. His eyes flickered to yours, then away again, lashes fluttering like a startled heartbeat. His grip tightened on the cotton he still held over his chest, the fabric slightly damp now from where it met his skin. You set the tablet down with a quiet tap on his nightstand, fingers curling loosely at your sides as you pushed off the bed and stepped toward him. The floor creaked softly beneath your bare feet. His breath hitched–just barely audible–but you caught it. His whole body tensed, like prey too stunned to run, and yet… He didn’t back away.

“Let’s look together, hmm?” You said, voice soft, it wasn’t a command…It was more of an invitation, “Turn and look in the mirror.” Bob’s eyes darted down to yours, nervous and questioning, the light in them flickering gold just for the briefest moment.

“W-What…?”

”Just…Trust me,” You whispered, inching close enough for your hand to find the edge of the shirt he was still holding to his front. You pinched the soft cotton between your fingers, “Turn and look in the mirror…And move this.” He stared at you, searching your face as if trying to find the trap. But there wasn’t one–not with you. So, with hesitantancy, he turned back toward the full-length mirror beside his bookshelf. His broad shoulders squared, his spine straightening instinctively like he expected to be judged, and slowly, he shifted the cotton away from his chest. He didn’t let it drop–he held it against his side like a safety net–but it no longer blocked his reflection.

You stepped behind him carefully, and rose up on your toes, putting your chin on his heated shoulder, eyes flickering over both his reflection and the way his skin flushed beneath you. The heat coming off his body was tangible, like the golden hour sun had been sucked up by his skin and refused to leave. His damp hair curled at the end where it had dried, and the slope of his shoulder tensed beneath your chin.

Up close like this, with nothing but the mirror before you both, it was impossible not to take him in fully–not just the parts you’d glimpsed, not just what the suit hinted at beneath all that gold-threaded armor and pressure. But this. Him.

The soft curve of his clavicle, just beginning to dry, still slightly pink from the heat of his shower. The small cluster of faded stretch marks that swept just beneath his chest, curling slightly toward the soft ridges of his ribs. They looked like pale lightning, half-silver in the light–evidence of how fast he’d grown into himself, into this body he never asked for. Another quiet mutation to accommodate the weight of what lived inside him. There were more across his lower stomach, ghosting down either side of his abdomen where the muscle swelled thicker. They branched just beside his navel and disappeared beneath the waistband of his joggers, pale and delicate, like silk run beneath sharp fingers. You wanted to trace them. God, you wanted to press your mouth to every single one.

His skin was smooth in some places, textured in others, but all of it was flushed with heat. And that light trail of hair that you’d never seen before–white blonde, so soft it nearly vanished unless you were this close–drew a path down the center of him that had you unconsciously tightening your arms just slightly where they curled behind his back.

“You definitely don’t have any rashes,” You said softly, voice light with teasing but thick with something warmer. “You’re just a handsome guy…That’s built like a house.” You gave a small shrug against him, trying to diffuse the sincerity with humor, but it still rang true. Bob’s shoulders stiffened immediately, and his reflection turned red so quickly you thought it might spread across the mirror itself.

“S-Stop it,” He muttered, ducking his head just slightly, like that might shield him from your words.

“Why?” You murmured, brows lifting gently. “It’s not like I’m lying to you.” He didn’t answer right away. The silence stretched for a second too long, and then his voice came–rougher, smaller.

“I-I don’t see it… I just see this…This person who’s not themselves anymore.” His jaw clenched a little, eyes glued to his reflection like it betrayed him. “Not like I u-used to be. Everything’s just…D-Different.” Your frown came slowly, spreading across your face with a heaviness that tugged the corners of your mouth down and softened your eyes into something deeply pained. You finally connected the dots.

He hadn’t been admiring himself in the mirror. He wasn’t checking for a rash or even trying to catch a glimpse of some half-healed wound. He was judging himself–tearing himself apart with every second he stared. Comparing himself to the man he used to be. The one he probably thought he lost the day he became more myth than man. Your heart twisted with it. That quiet kind of ache that came from loving someone too much to let them stay hurt.

“…Can I touch you?” you asked gently, voice barely above a whisper.

Bob’s eyes met yours in the mirror, startled like you’d touched a raw nerve instead of just offering kindness. His lips parted slightly, breath catching in his throat.

“O-Okay,” He said, like it was foreign–like no one had ever asked that before. You moved even closer to him, your chest now pressing against his back. You lifted your hand and just…Touched him.

Your fingertips met the warm skin of his stomach, just above the waistband of his joggers, feather-light. He inhaled sharply. Not in fear–just surprise. His stomach tensed for a second, then loosened, like his body didn’t quite know how to receive affection that came without demand. You smoothed your hand upward, tracing the soft rise and fall of his abdomen, the slope of strength beneath the surface. His skin was warm and velvety under your touch—damp in places from the shower, and soft in others from where his skin had healed from stress and strain and godhood.

“You’re so…” You breathed, thumb sweeping just beneath his ribs, “Unbelievably beautiful, Bob.” He blinked like he hadn’t heard you right. Like that word had never belonged to him.

“I mean it,” You said softly, your hand traveling up his chest now, resting briefly over his heart–feeling the beat pounding steady and strong beneath your palm. “You have no idea what you look like, do you?”

His breath shuddered. “N-Not like this…”

“Then let me tell you.”

Your voice dropped, low and tender, like a vow.

“This body,” You whispered, your fingers tracing the faint stretch marks just below his pecs, “This is a testament. To everything you’ve carried. To how hard you fought to stay here. How strong you’ve had to be. You didn’t just survive…You built this. And you built it with love. With the way you protect people. With how gently you hold things, even when you could crush them.” You leaned in, lips brushing the curve of his bare shoulder, kissing him once. Then again, higher, where the tension lived tight beneath his neck.

He shivered.

Not out of discomfort–but because he knew you meant it. Because your mouth on his skin felt more like an affirmation than anything anyone had ever said to him. His skin jumped beneath each press of your lips. Your other hand slipped around his waist, palm resting over his stomach again–feeling the subtle flex as he tried and failed to keep still.

“You’re real, Bob,” You murmured between kisses. “You’re good. You’re so good. And every inch of you–every mark, every muscle, every breath–is deserving of love.”

He made a sound then–a quiet, choked breath like he was holding something in his throat. His chest hitched slightly under your hand, and when you peeked up at his reflection, his eyes were glossed, gold flickering around the rims like he was lit from within. You tightened your arms gently, holding him from behind like a tether, your forehead pressing into the curve of his shoulder. Your lips grazed the top of his spine.

“Even if you can’t see it… I do.”

The silence that followed wasn’t empty. It was full. Of breath. Of tension. Of emotion so thick it filled the space between your ribs and his.

After a few long seconds, his hand moved. Trembling at first, like he didn’t know what to do without being awkward, before lowering it to cover yours.

His palm was big, warm, and dampened with sweat, but you didn’t mind the way it felt. He held your touch in place like he didn’t want you to stop. His thumb swept softly along the edge of your hand, nervous but desperate to keep you there.

When he turned to face you, his breath hitched again. His eyes didn’t look away this time. He just stared at you like he was memorizing the moment.

You were still holding his waist. Still close enough that the warmth of him surrounded you like a sun. His hand lifted–slow, hesitant, like the moment might shatter if he moved too quickly. You didn’t breathe. Couldn’t. Not when his fingers brushed your jaw and then curled so gently against your cheek it made your eyes sting.

He held your face like it belonged in a museum among the works of art. His thumb grazed the space just beneath your eye, sweeping along your cheekbone with the softest pressure–as if he was trying to memorize the way you felt beneath his touch. Like if he just held you long enough, maybe he could believe this was real. That you were real. That someone had truly looked at him–all of him–and still wanted to stay.

Neither of you blinked.

The air shifted–thick with something golden and unspeakable, heavy in your lungs but light in your chest. Like standing on the edge of something vast and beautiful and knowing, this is the moment it all changes.

And then he leaned in.

Not in a rush. Not in some burst of passion where your teeth could possibly clash together. But slowly–like the sun melting into the sea. Like a secret unfolding, tender and certain, inevitable as gravity.

His lips met yours with gentleness you didn’t know you were starving for.

It was so soft it almost didn’t feel like a kiss at first. Just a breath of warmth, and a quiet hum of surrender blooming behind your ribs. His mouth moved against yours with cautious wonder, wanting more but keeping his thoughts under control just for this one moment–just so he could display his secret devotion to you.

The world narrowed to the press of his lips, the curl of his fingers that were still on your cheek, the faint tremble in his shoulders, and the heat of his bare skin where your hands moved now–trailing up his sides and over his back. You traced the soft slope of muscles with your palms, admiring, until your fingertips danced along the small of his back.

And that’s when he gasped.

The kiss broke as his body flinched against yours with a startled breath, a laugh hiccuping through the sound.

”I…Sorry,” He stammered, half-flushed, half-laughing, his hand falling from your cheek like he had ruined it. You grinned, still feeling your heartbeat throughout your entire body, your eyes shining.

”Don’t you dare apologize for a kiss like that,” You whispered, and before he could respond back to you–before he could shrink away or stumble over a hundred more nervous syllables–you leaned in and kissed him again.

It was just a quick one. A seal on the moment, something that could contain it. His breath hitched like he hadn’t expected it–like he still couldn’t quite believe you were touching him so freely, so warmly.

You pulled back just enough to smile against his lips and murmur, “Only you would apologize for something that sweet by the way.” Another blush lit his face instantly, rising to the tips of his ears like fire spreading across his skin. You laughed softly and pressed one last kiss to the corner of his mouth. Then you wrapped your arms around his waist and pulled him into a proper hug, letting your cheek press to his chest as he melted into your touch.

His arms folded around you slowly, his forearms curling tightly around your waist, his palms flattening against your spine, pressing your body flush to his like he wanted to make sure there was no space between you at all. You melted into the hold instinctively, sighing against his chest as the tension slid out of you like sand between fingers. Your cheek rested against the warm pillow of muscle just over his heart, and there it was–the steady galloping rhythm, thumping firm and fast beneath your ear. You closed your eyes for a moment, just breathing him in.

The scent of his shower was clinging to him and invading your senses now, there was sage, and a hint of pine, he smelled like a forest, or the wilderness–he smelled like the safest place you would ever come to know.

For a long beat, neither of you moved.

His chin dipped until it came to rest lightly on the crown of your head, a sigh escaping him–low, content, full of something that bordered on reverent. When he hummed, it was quiet and barely even a sound–just a vibration in his chest that pulsed through your cheek and down your spine like a tuning fork finding your frequency so he could slip in and be one with you. You smiled against him.

“So…” You started, voice muffled slightly by his skin, “Is there any chance you’ll start walking around shirtless more often now that I’ve thoroughly showered you with compliments?” He let out a soft, incredulous laugh–half embarrassed, half endeared–and you felt it echo all the way through your ribs. His hands tightened slightly at your back as he ducked his head a little further, his voice feathering warmly against your scalp.

“I-It’ll be u-under heavy consideration now, I think…” He mumbled, voice playful but still laced with that soft-spoken sincerity that was so uniquely his. You smirked.

“Hmm,” You hummed back, fingers curling gently against the thick muscle of his upper back before giving him a teasing squeeze. It made him jolt, just slightly–a tiny gasp of a flinch, like you’d shocked him. He barked out another laugh, and you pulled back just enough to look up at him.

“I’ll take that as a very soft yes,” You said, grinning up at him, your fingers still resting against the planes of his back. His eyes met yours–wide and dilated, but glowing now with something unguarded and bright.

“Y-Yeah,” He said shyly, a smile tugging at his lips, “I guess…I-If it’s for you, it might be okay.” He scratched nervously at the back of his neck with one hand as he looked down at you, then added sheepishly, “B-But you have to promise not to look at me like I’m a sculpture again…I-I almost combusted.” You laughed, arms still around his waist, resting your chin on his chest now so you could meet his eyes directly.

“No promises,” You whispered. “You are a sculpture. Just one that happens to blush when I compliment him.”

His face turned a glorious shade of red, and you watched the smile spread helplessly across his lips even as he tried to hide it. His hands came up again, this time cradling your jaw like it was something precious. His thumbs brushed softly against your cheeks, and he leaned in again–this time a little more sure of himself.

And when he kissed you again, it was with a quiet hunger. Still gentle, still sweet, but layered now with the quiet thrill of knowing that you saw him–really saw him–and loved every part you found.