#both or at least one of them MUST be bashed up

[bunnyreaper]

you don't have much of a choice, forced to marry john mactavish to keep yourself safe. luckily, he will look after you, even on your wedding night.

(18+/MDNI, historical wedding night fun)

the door closing behind you has you trapped in the room, the situation. your only comfort is that you know john mactavish to be a thoroughly decent man, despite the swirling rumours of his scottish barbarism and foul highlander ways. 

you sit before the mirror, staring back at the beautiful hair and makeup done for you by the ladies of the castle in preparation for your nuptials, as john makes his way over to you. he gently, hesitantly, rests his rough, large hands on the exposed parts of your shoulders, and his new ring sparkles in the soft candlelight.

"john." you sigh your new husband's name, your eyes fluttering shut as relief floods through you at his touch. the night will bring with it challenges, but you can't think of a better man in all the highlands to be wed to.

"i know, bonnie. i wish it were nae under such circumstances." he whispers, expression soft as he squeezes you gently, forcing the tension out of your shoulders. he leans down, pressing the gentlest of kisses to the top of your head. "we can take it slow, we've go' all night." 

"i know, thank you." you bring your hand up to hold his, your matching ring so close to its counterpart. you squeeze back his hand in the hopes of offering some semblance of comfort in return. whilst john is a warrior, physically and mentally strong, but you've at least seen him vulnerable enough to know there's something eating at him too--and your instincts cry out at you to soothe him too. "it's not... for lack of wanting you. i want you very much. i'd just hoped we could ease into it." 

once more, he brushes the top of his lips across your head, before he slowly coaxes you to your feet. his fingers trail from your bare shoulders, down the silky material of your sleeves until they come to grasp at your waist. 

"we will. ill take care of ye." he whispers, voice beyond soft. 

you wish you could tell him you'll take care of him, too, but the tightening of your chest makes it tricky to usher forth even a whisper. you turn in your newly-wed husband's embrace, embracing his thick, muscular arms and rubbing them soothingly. 

it's you who initiates the kiss, the first one since you said your vows, and were tied together in matrimony. it's soft and gentle and sweet, at least at first. as your lips tremble against john's, and his grip around you tightens, the embers within you roar to life--hot like the coals in your chamber's fireplace. 

the passion that rips through you both consumes you--sensual, tender touches yet tinged with overwhelming need. one kiss turns to another, turns to desperately gripping at each other's finery until it falls away, revealing parts of yourself previously unseen to the other. 

you'd seen your now-husband shirtless many a time, seen the celtic knots inked into his biceps, his clan motto on his chest--but in the dim light and knowing you get to touch him freely, you start to take on a new appreciation. 

his hands touch reverently across each new piece of skin you bare to him, or he bares to himself, as he tears away your clothes like the hazard they are. it's not long before he has you completely revealed to him, and he kisses you breathless in response to the overwhelming love and lust inside him. 

he maneuvers you to the bed, laying you down with such care before climbing atop. when his hard cock brushes against the top of your mound, you cry out in both pleasure and trepidation.

johnny must easily sense your discomfort, as he pulls away from you with a concerned, caring look in his eyes, along with a reassuring smile on his lips. "dinnae worry, i'm nervous too." his knuckles brush softly over your cheek.  

"you are?" you ask, voice soft as you stare up at him. 

"aye." he nods, his smile turning a little awkward, a little bashful. while you've seen him burdened and raw, you've never seen him nervous. "ive no' been wit' a woman properly before." 

his admission stuns you. john mactavish is a gorgeous man inside and out, respected in his clan, and yet has a reputation for being good with the ladies. it never bothered you, as you knew truly he was loyal to his core, but such a confession from him takes you entirely by surprise.

"not from lack of opportunity, surely." you try your best to be light-hearted, to put him at ease. your own nerves, trepidation and inexperience with the act were a given--but john's could be perceived by others, and likely to him, as a threat to his masculinity. 

he trusted you with it regardless. 

he huffs out a laugh at your gentle teasing, dipping down to press a few kisses to your neck.

"appreciate yer kind words. but ah, i ken i wanted to save myself, only give tha' part of me to ma wife." the words cause something to surge through him, his hips bucking as the head of his cock nudges against your clit and sends you both reeling. your eyes flutter shut for a moment, and when they reopen, the look in john's eyes is completely feral. 

he pins you with a look you couldn't turn away from if you tried, and his hand gripping your chin leaves no room for debate. "marriage of convenience or no', you are ma wife." 

his wife.

the words alone make you shiver and quake, but your husband takes the opportunity to roam his hands down your body, lower and lower until thick fingertips find your aching clit. 

you're completely transfixed as your eyes drop down, watching the way his rough hand works against your softness, pulling pleasure from your body that aches for release. 

hot, open-mouthed kisses start to accompany his touches, working their way down your body until his mouth is hovering just inches away from your slit--taunting you with what's to come. 

you squirm wildly, trying to chase the wet heat of your husband's mouth and to finally have it on your clit, but he simply smirks, remains steadfast and steadies you with a firm grip. 

"please." a whine rips from your throat, as you've never felt such need before in your life. you thought you'd felt riled up watching john fight, work the horses, chop wood--but seeing him between your legs ready to eat you like a man starved drove you completely wild.

as a dutiful husband, he couldn't deny you any longer, lips settling against your most sensitive spot, pressing tender kisses to you. 

it feels too good, and yet still not enough. your fingers thread in his hair, try to tug him in deeper. "please john, I just need you... inside." 

he seems to ignore your pleading, mouth sinking back into your folds and immediately sending jolts of pleasure throughout your body. then he pulls away for a moment, staring at your pretty lips in awe before he growls. "the lady consents, but i willnae sink my cock in ye until ye weeping for me too."

[neet-elite]

hi, could you write something about sam and sebastian hanging out with a shy naive reader who casually mentions that she's never even kissed anyone, let alone have sex before and they offer to help her out but instead take advantage of her until she's a crying, overstimulated mess? -🌸 (if this emoji is claimed i can change it)

Dummy — (SDV) Sam + Sebastian

Pairing: Sebastian / F!Reader / Sam Genre: Smut 18+ WC: 12,688 Warnings: virgin reader, threesome, dubcon, victim blaming, manipulation, lots of kissing, saliva, fingering, cunnilingus, nipple play/sucking, praise, overstimulation, creampie, just the tip, tongue sucking, cervix fucking Synopsis: Him, a threat? No, never, you sweet thing… He’s about to reassure you of just how docile he really is with sugary lies and faux platitudes. But your meek tone effectively shuts him up, and he’d be a fool not to watch you dig your hole even deeper.

“It’s— Um, it’s not like it’s a big deal or anything… Right?”

A/N: I took way too long to complete this I'm so sorry... I hope it was worth the wait :D ! ty for the good idea <3

“What do you mean you’ve…”

“Never…  Kissed  anyone before?”

Doubt drips their words, emphasis pushed onto the offending action of  kissing —  you’re lying, aren’t you?  Because to Sebastian, one of your  dearest and closest friends , he can’t imagine a pretty girl like you still yet keeping her  kissing virginity  for God sake, let alone any kind of virginity! He’s always imagined you must have sneaked off with Alex one late saloon night, and he’s hypothesised with Sam before that maybe you had fooled around with Abigail during a sleepover, or— well,  something … Anyone, really. And yet here you were, anxious fingers twiddling tight into sheets while you try to avoid their scepticism laced gaze. A staring contest ensues. Not one formally introduced, but one borne out of disbelief, and in your case: embarrassment. Where Sam begins the questioning, it’s only natural for Sebastian to follow; seeing as how in tune they are with each other. Two twisted peas in a pod, you really shouldn’t have told them that.

Which is why the moment their eyes meet they instinctively understand what must follow your little revelation. Your best kept secret, surely held close to your shy little bunny heart out of fear of judgement, or worse,  prey . It’s only natural for them to be curious, right? It’s a big scary world out there, you should be thankful that you only have to face two of them tonight, little prey.

Because that’s what you are at the end of the day, or at least it is when you’re snuggled up securely under Sebastian’s bed sheets. Tugging on the fabric as if doing so would somehow hide your bashful expression from your best friends watchful eyes, but they know you better than that. Just like how they knew what actions you’d take before you took em during the long forgotten about Solarian Chronicles game earlier that night. Whether or not you choose to display your cute rosy cheeks to them was irrelevant; because they knew.  They knew  you’d regretted the decision to play a friendly round of truth or dare the minute you agreed, and they knew this was too good an opportunity to pass up on tonight. With both his parents out for the evening, and Maru attending an extended trip with the doc out of town… It was a no brainer for Sebastian to have his two best friends stay over for a few nights.

Which is to say… Sam was in on it the whole time, you know? Trapping you in the metaphorical dungeon that is Sebastian’s basement room, cornering you under the guise of some friendly   games late at night—which you should know by now is a bad idea, but when he thinks about it, Sebastian decides your naivety is but one of your many charms—however, neither one of them could have ever imagined you’d offer yourself up to them like this on a silver platter. He can tell Sam is just as surprised and eager about your spilled secret as he is given the soft glint in his friends eye, the way Sam’s gaze matches his own half lidded nature as you bury deeper under the sheets in a pitiful attempt to escape some unforeseen instinctual threat.

Him, a threat?  No, never , you sweet thing… He’s about to reassure you of just how docile he really is with sugary lies and faux platitudes. But your meek tone effectively shuts him up, and he’d be a fool not to watch you dig your hole even deeper.

“It’s— Um, it’s not like it’s a big deal or anything… Right?”

Oh, on the contrary, sweet girl. Unbeknownst to you, both Sam and Sebastian are intricately connected, thinking the exact same disgusting thought the moment you spilled your prized secret. If you haven’t kissed anyone, then…  You must be a virgin too, right ? Like,  with sex . Cause, despite their previous late night discussions surrounding you, there’s  no way  you’d have fucked by now given how bashful you are at admitting your untouched lips, and when Sebastian takes a quick glance Sam’s way he recognised the awful smirk his friend is now wearing.

He unknowingly adopts it too.

Because in the midst of your sweet little sniffs and reddened cheeks, they’ve already came to an agreement. An unspoken one, communicated through flickers of vision and a previous shared longing to have you where you sit right now. You’ve got no idea just how long they’ve wanted you like this, scared and alone, easy to dominate in the dark of the basement. It sounds bad when he puts it like that, but really what he means is: unable to refuse. To confuse and mislead you right into their arms, if that’s what it takes. Which is what it’s come to, seeing as after all this time you’re still a silly little virgin.  Poor girl , they’ll fix you tonight.

It’s Sebastian who speaks up first, knowing better than anyone that Sam has a far too easily excitable attitude to approach the tense situation with any tact. Which is what you need before the main event, surely. See, he’s not  evil , just a little selfish. He’ll provide you with the comfort you’re obviously seeking, if it means he can get in your pants later tonight.

“No, no,” He coos, standing from his computer chair to stalk over to his bed, gently dropping his weight on the edge of it to sit beside you, remaining cautious not to scare you off with anything other than absolute acceptance. Because deep down he’s  thankful , and he’d like to show you just how much. “It’s not a big deal,  promise .” A smile follows, meaning well to ease your apparent apprehensions, but he’s not so sure he can hide his deplorable excitement from you well enough, an ache in his cheeks present when he thinks about how hard this must be for you to admit. Which is silly, really, but he can understand why you must be so ashamed when in his company; even if only because he knows himself too well. To combat his worries, he places a friendly open palm where he thinks your hidden thigh must be, and he’s happy to have found it when you lower the bed sheets  just a little , enough to give both men purchase into you. His eyes flit to Sam once more, a small narrow to them as a warning.  Patience .  Do not frighten the poor bunny, okay?

A few rubs up and down and you’re already opening up to them, so easy are you in your innocence. He continues the conversation when it naturally lulls, noticing that you’re clearly shivering with anxiety in the face of their acceptance, and he’s eager to keep whittling down your fight or flight response until you feel safe again; that’s when they can pounce. And really, it’s your own fucking fault for getting yourself into this position, yeah? What girl in their right mind would think anything other than  indulgence  when her two best friends— who just so happen to be horny men —invite her to a private sleepover?  Dummy , you must be wanting this, right? You’re just playing coy, aren’t you? “If anything, it’s kinda cute,” he squeezes at your thigh to reassure, inwardly laughing to himself when you continue to clam up, pretending to be shy when he’s got you all figured out.

Or, the alternative is fine with him too. Maybe you really  aren’t  aware of your position tonight, left completely blind to the obvious trap orchestrated by himself and Sam. If that were true, then you deserve a sickening reality check anyway. See, either way he holds no guilt. Either you wanted this, or you deserve this. Which makes things easier for him, convincing himself that there’s no harm in pushing if the result is the same.

“Ain’t that right, Sam?”

“Sure is.” Sam grins back at him, wide and unassuming, a friendly face to coax you out of your self imposed shell. It’s Sam’s biggest strength, Sebastian thinks. His childhood friend has  always  resembled the sun in that way, all smiles and platitudes; exactly what you need tonight. “Been savin’ yourself, or…?”

Fuck , good question. Too wrapped up in his own selfish desires, it hadn’t even occurred to Sebastian that you might be doing just that, awaiting some sort of faux  right time  before giving yourself away to someone special; but aren’t they special enough for you? Both him and Sam, your bestest of friends, crowding around you so ardently in the relatively open basement room as Sam joins you on the bed, opposite Sebastian, aren’t  they  your special friends? It couldn’t hurt too much to give them just a taste, right? Just a little, it’s what they’re owed for protecting you for so long. If not them, then who? A bubble of jealousy prompting him into squeezing your thigh once more, the possessiveness in it easily misconstrued as guarding. Would that he could remain in his indulgent dream of corrupting his sweet and innocent little friend, you snap him out of his dirty mind with a docile little head shake, the squeak of your voice drawing him back to reality as you deny them the right of depravity for now.

“N-No, no… Nothing like that… It’s just— Uh, I guess it just never happened? I uh… I dunno why…”

God, the shake in your voice goes right down to Sebastian’s cock, and he has to fight the urge to pet at it right in front of you like this. How downright  pitiful  you sound when elaborating, unsure and cautious, fearful of their judgement even if they’d do no such thing— No, because you’re being such a  good girl  for them already, you deserve approval in return for your honesty.

“S’all right, I was a late bloomer too, y’know.” Sam snickers, easing what Sebastian assumes is the obvious sexual tension as if it were nothing, watching as Sam leans back against the bed wall as if his cock wasn’t also twitching now that they were so close to you. Closer than ever before, so close that they can fucking  smell  the desperation coming off of ya. “Think Seb was too, werent’cha?”

It takes Sebastian a moment to register the words sent his way, far too busy wetting his lips to the thought of making you cry to pay attention to the conversation. Cause he could, y’know? He could have made fun of you for still being an untouched virgin, bully you into submission until you’re  begging  for the sweet release of his fat cock, until you see no other choice than to accept his cruel treatment as forgiveness. But he refrains, his thumb instead smoothing over your blanket covered thighs as the sheets lower further still from your frame, a consistent reminder that his kind treatment is bearing fruit. “Yeah,” he scratches at the back of his neck with his free hand, staring off into space only to distract himself from the cute pout of your lips, because if he looks for another fucking second he’s liable to jump you right there and then, biting at his own lips to calm his racing heart in the face of your devout innocence.  God he wants to ruin you , corrupt your naive view of the world with his pervert cock and take advantage of your clueless attitude until all you know is him and Sam. It’s what they’re due.

He’s lying, of course. Him and Sam had messed around when they were  much  younger, exploring their sexual appetites together as a regular occurrence ever since. Fuck, even Abi had joined in every now and then, so he’s surprised to see you so easily accept their lie as truth. He’d assumed Abi had maybe told you about their shared experiences, maybe even invited you on occasions despite you never showing up— but the dumb look you adopt tells him otherwise. Upon hearing Sam’s initial misleading statement, he instinctively knew to lean into it. Butter you up or something, he doesn’t really know. It’s getting difficult for him to reason with himself when your tits are just begging for his lips around them, the barely there tank top you’d decided to wear tonight given his reminder that his room runs hot is just  calling to him , leaving him struggling to think straight.

“So uh… Don’t even worry ‘bout it, okay?” He smiles again, cheeks burning from the constant reassurance he’s trying to offer you. It’s the best he can come up with when all his mind can focus on is the swell of your tits and how bad he wants to taste them for the first time in your life.

“Have you done  anything ?” Sam is quick to follow up, and Sebastian is happy to have the spotlight off of him for a moment, allowing him to eye up the space between your tits and your shirt, doing his best to remain undetected as he takes a peek down. It’s a bad idea, he knows it is the moment he does it, eyes instinctively rolling to the back of his head with a hushed gasp escaping his open lips.  Tight  fucking body,  fuck — your fault, remember?

Silence befalls the room and he holds his breath, afraid that if he doesn’t then a moan will slip out from how eager he is to have you— been waiting for this exact moment for as long as he can remember. Sam too, honestly; a shared crush that allowed them to work together, a disgusting alliance built purely on a need to claim you as their own.  Their  best friend.  Their  innocent little bunny who needs to be bred, yeah? And when he lifts his gaze from your tits to your face for a brief moment, all he can see is how hard you look down, staring the same spot he was with a blush adorning your cheeks.  Cute . So fucking pretty that he wants to eat you right up. Quickly gazing at Sam yields the same result, a cocky smirk on his friends face before a fists raises to chew on.

Yeah , Sebastian thinks.  Me too.

“Uh… I, well—”

They already have their answer, but it’s so  fun  making you get all shy like this; the payoff assumedly going to be even sweeter when they eventually coax you out of this timid behaviour. “It’s okay, you know you can  always  be honest with us, sweetheart.” Sam pouts, finger under your chin to tilt your face up at the sun, and Sebastian doesn’t miss the audible gasp the bold move knocks out of you.

“No. I haven’t, um… Y’know…”

Oh,  this  is  fun.

“Haven’t what?” Sebastian grabs your attention now, repeating Sam’s action but instead directing your vision to  him , a soft angel smile on his lips to try and entice you further into him, to force you into saying those dreaded words that you’ve surely spent a lifetime avoiding; but if only you’d admit them, then he’ll reward you nicely. Been so good so far, don’t give up on him now.

“Haven’t… I haven’t uh, had… Sex… Or, really much of anything…” You trail off into soft embarrassed laughter, barely audible over the thump of his own heart, or the sudden shuffle of sheets under Sam’s weight. He’d scold Sam if doing so didn’t immediately give away his own position, and so instead he follows suit. If ya can’t beat em, then join em. Inching closer towards you so that you’re sandwiched between their shoulders, the brush of his hand up and down your thigh surely able to be passed off as a friendly action only, right? And not the lewd action of temptation, a lure to reel you in.

“That’s okay.” He says, more of a whisper than anything, which was an accident at best. Simply stunned by the gift you’ve given them tonight, cock twitching in his pants to be buried inside of you already— show you what you’re missing out on, or maybe, to shamelessly show  himself  what he could have been fucking years ago. But the way his hushed words catch your attention urges him to continue the soft tone, if only because it distracts you from how horny he is— and nothing has really even happened yet. Embarrassing, but understandable. Any man would surely agree; he’s stuck a gold mine with you tonight, and you know no better than if he were to play the role of the virgin with how hard he’s already gotten at your confessions. “In fact… I’d argue it’s pretty cute.” He repeats himself, unable to conjure up anything more worthwhile saying when he’s focusing so hard on not sticking his dick in you already.

“For sure.  Super  cute, even.” Sam adds, though his voice is much more boisterous and causes you to shiver against Sebastian, which he happily accepts with an arm wrapped securely around your shoulder.

“Mhm… But, aren’t you at least  curious ?” He asks nonchalantly, “About how it feels?”

He can feel you tremble some more, leaning further into him in apprehension. Your hearts probably racing by now, right? Two men leaning against you in a hidden basement up in the mountains. Regardless of the familiarity, even innocent lil  you  can recognise what that means, surely.  Fuck , no one but them would hear you during the night, the thought alone causing his cock to leak some more in his underwear. The implication is  right there , sweetheart; and yet he waits patiently for your virgin mind to play catch up to it.

“I mean, a little?” You answer honestly, questioning lilt at the end of your confession as if seeking their approval.

“It’s only natural, after all.” Sam interjects, hand lifted to play with the loose strands of your hair absentmindedly; except it’s not. Not really. In fact, it’s  intentional , and Sebastian knows it to be so given the half-lidded nature of Sam’s gaze on your lips. Which, of course, you’ve got no way of witnessing. Your eyes glues to the pattern of Sebastian’s sheets, staring as if they were the most interesting thing in the room right now, instead of the correct answer being that of your admission of  want . “We could help, if you wanted.”

Sebastian knows that Sam is only suggesting because this would be a whole lot easier if they made you think that tonight was  your idea , rather than a best laid plan of their own. “Yeah, s’not fair that you’ve been left out, right?” He adds on himself, quick and sharp, disallowing you room to think to better their chances of getting lucky tonight. Squeezing your shoulder softly to hopefully coax you out of your understandable anxiety and instead onto your back where you belong.

“Ah, wait!” Your voice is louder than it’s been tonight, panic stricken in the face of their offer. Which Sebastian understands, but still he chews on his bottom lips before he gives into his need to pin you down.  Shut you up . “It’s— Wouldn’t that be  weird , right?” You laugh, and the sound would be sweet if not for the fact that it was standing in the way of both Sebastian and Sam getting what they so desperately wanted. “I mean— we’re  friends . Friends don’t—”

“What, kiss?” Sam scoffs, but his expression remains friendly. Needs to, really. Because despite the assumed shared frustration between them, Sebastian glares at him to keep on your good side. Of course they could take you without much issue, fight back against your retaliations by working together to get you naked, manoeuvring you into whatever position they so please simply because they  want to . But, it’s  easier  this way, no? A little more upfront effort, but the end will be much sweeter. “I mean  fuck , me and Seb do it all the time!”

It’s not a lie, but seeing your expression turn to one of shock makes him think that  you  think it’s a lie, so Sebastian takes the opportunity to swiftly settle the score.

“S’true. Friends can kiss, promise it’s not weird.”

“Really?” You immediately interrogate, head tilted up to properly look at him, and  God you’re so cute like this , disbelief lacing your tone even after his confirmation. Are you thinking about them kissing right now? Imagination running wild with what your two best friends must have been up to all this time together?  Jealous that you weren’t included?

“Really,” Sebastian’s hand leaves your shoulder to instead gently cup the back of your neck, rubbing up and down your nape in an effort to convince you of his words. “Do you wanna try?” he questions only as a formality. He’d going to kiss you tonight whether you want to or not, but it’s nice to be nice sometimes, y’know?

There’s a pause before you answer, considering your options as they creep closer together. Not enough that you’d notice given how full your empty lil mind is, but the nearer Sebastian gets to you, the more he notices. Your faint scent, how warm your body feels; must be from embarrassment, or perhaps excitement at the prospect of his lips on yours?  Fuck , he’s certainly excited himself. Cock leaking beads for you as you make him wait, the hand he has on your neck ever so slightly pinching to get your attention back on him.

“What d’ya say?” he questions when you look up at him, and he has half a mind to immediately lock lips with you to quell his trembling cock, twitching eagerly from how downright  dumb  you look with those pouty lips and furrowed brows.  Too cute — far too cute to be as innocent as you claim, but the quiver in your voice tells him otherwise.

“Um… Only if that’s okay… With both of you, I mean. But just a kiss, okay?”

Got you.

Stupid little mouse, rolling over to show your tummy so  easily , even if you can clearly see his salivating open maw. It’s like you  want  to get eaten alive, not that he’s opposed to the idea. A kiss is all it’s gonna take for them to swallow you whole. After all,  you’re just a dumb little mouse . You won’t know any better. But  he  has experience.  He  knows how to look after you the way you deserve, in tandem with Sam.

Of which, his friend takes the giddy lead with an excitable “So, who do you want to go first?”

A scolding rests on the tip of Sebastian's tongue, annoyance worming to his stomach in fear of Sam’s nature working against their plans, but when you timidly tug on the sleeve of his hoodie and he sees for the very first time that night genuine  worry  (or perhaps fear, they’re cousins), he can’t help but extend you a helping hand. And, if he’s honest, he’d  really like to go first , acting the saviour to protect you from Sam’s hungry teeth out of selfish desire.

Your bottom lip wobbles before him and he tuts down at you quietly, lovingly. Only Sam can understand the triumph in the click, forcing Sebastian to suppress a laugh at the scowl his friend now wears. He inhales deeply before letting you in on a little secret at your indecision.

“You’re so pretty,” He pauses, waiting to see your bashful cheeks, all red hot thanks to his compliment.  Good , you look so  cute  when awaiting his words. “But you’re  so stupid .”

And  oh  the look you give him was worth the pause. Mouth open for him to instinctively stick his fingers into, your pretty eyes wide at his intrusion for him to admire. The first thing he notices is how your tongue is  so soft , unexplored for him to take advantage of with his sweat soaked fingers.  So stupid is right , why would you ever be so surprised at this turn of events? He can only imagine what it’d feel like to have your virgin tongue wrapped around his fat cock, struggling to take his face fucking while your throat closes up due to his rough treatment. Has his cock all hard and needy at just the thought,  God he wants to , wants to shove his pervert cock right against your cheeks, smear dirty precum all over your lips like gloss, see how well you cry for him— but a little whimper you gag around his fingers convinces him otherwise.  Fuck —

“Sorry—” He laughs, deep and genuine, removing his fingers from your open mouth only to hear you sputter for air. “Didn’t mean to scare ya, promise. It’s just—  Ah , you looked too cute, y’know? Couldn’t help myself.” He admits honestly, but the way in which he does so comes across as  pandering , another attempt to allude to the fact that this was all your idea,  remember?  If only you weren’t so pretty.

Alas, with his fingers removed and drying nicely in the cool air of his basement, he cups your cheeks without warning and moves closer, hovering his lips above your own.  Teasing  his taste, practically smirking against your lips when you openly gasp out for him at the sudden turn of events. A deep inhale later and he recognises familiarity. An insidious kind, burrowing deep to his heart as he looms. “Ready?” he whispers against you, still tenderly touching your cheeks as he dives in before you have a chance to answer.  Payback  for when you stole his opportunity to talk earlier, he muses to himself. Immediately poking his tongue out, slipping into your wanting mouth just like how your body is asking him to do— a groan escapes him and down your throat. The delicate touch on your cheek grows flat, before quickly moving to the back of your neck to  grip . A tether to keep himself controlled as he drips saliva onto your tongue, mindful of the fact that you’ve got no idea what you’re doing, but that’s okay. It’s hot enough just to steal your first kiss from you, you can get better with time. Because this won’t be the last time you taste him, even if you don’t know it yet.

He presses closer against you, pulling away only to slowly push his lips back against yours. A soft  smack  filling his ears with how wet his tongue has gotten your lips to become. It’s an instinct for his free hand to wrap around your waist, pulling you even closer to himself as he makes out with you. So agonisingly slow that it even teases him, causing his gasps for air to become strained, his muscles to tense in their obsessive grip of your body. As if claiming  mine , despite Sam watching the whole ordeal and waiting for his turn like a good dog. He feels you sink into him, reciprocating the kiss with a little more ease now that he’s taught you the proper motions, smiling to himself when you experiment by dragging your tongue against his own; and  moaning  with you when you let a whimper slip.

The desperate sigh that follows from your kiss bruised lips is almost just as sweet as your whines, prompting him into a wide grin. Saliva stains shining in the dim light of his room as your eyes catch on to where you’ve just explored.

“You’re good at least.” He half lies, rubbing his thumb against your waist to keep you preoccupied while Sam gets into position behind you. Sebastian admires the string of saliva keeping you attached to him in the meantime

It takes you a moment to collect your breath before reply, and he can’t help but smile down at you with adoration at how cute you are when getting taken advantage of. So much so that you play right fucking into it, d ummy . “Really? I mean, are you sure—”

Before finishing your question, Sam has your chin tilted back for your body to follow, landing your back against his chest and ass between his legs. “C’mere, s’my turn.” Is all Sam says before placing his lips on your own too, a greedy growl escaping him at the shared saliva between friends.

Sebastian tilts his head at the way your eyes widen, palm automatically coming into contact with his too hard cock to pet at while you’re being kissed. It’s interesting, really, to see what you look like when enjoying yourself; when you’re being exploited for selfish gain. You’re so pretty when prone, and if he hadn’t just endured your inexperienced kissing then he’d for sure assume you were still lying about being a complete virgin, but the way you clumsily hold on to Sam’s wrist for stability while he far too eagerly kisses you is cute if nothing else. Just like you, skin flushed and eyes squeezed tightly shut, the way you try to keep up with Sam’s agility by way of arching your back— a pretty fucking sight by the way,  are you sure you’re actually a virgin?  The whiplash you must be experiencing causes his cock to drool under his rough palm, circling the leaking tip to the sight of Sam’s free hand clutching your hair, pushing your face against his own with fervour. “See, told ya.” Sebastian praises you, heart fluttering in his chest when you attempt to respond, but Sam’s tongue is too overpowering. Choking your words before they even have a chance to sound—  fuck , that’s so hot. Your gasped mewls and furrowed brows; he can barely stand it. Wants to stick his dick in you already, clawing at the wet fabric of his tight jeans while Sam eats your face.

Maybe he’s a little jealous, especially when he catches a glimpse of your cute tummy laid bare for his eyes to feast on. An immediate suck of air and a roll of his eyes to the back of his skull, hips instinctively rolling against his perverted paw from the tiniest show of skin.  God , he’s— no,  they’ve  got it so bad for you and your stupid virgin mind can’t even begin to comprehend it, can you? How the sight of Sam’s hands travelling up and down your untouched tummy to eventually make groping actions at your chest sets his tummy aflame, equal parts envious and horny, a shiver of pleasure rolling down his spine when you sputter away from Sam’s lips to anxiously ask: “ Wait!  Just— aren’t we just  kissing,  I—”

Too slow , Sam had manoeuvred your face back to his own for more sloppy sounding kisses for Sebastian to jerk his cock to.  Silly little girl , it was never  just kissing . He remembers how you had asked for that to be the case, but; neither one of them had  promised , did they?

While Sam is busy sucking your face, Sebastian decides to indulge a little more in himself. He’d have liked to have taken things slower than his counterpart, but it’s difficult to blame Sam for his excitement when you’re quite literally in his lap; Sebastian knows he’d be unable to control himself if the roles were reversed too. Are you kidding? A pretty little virgin just  begging  for corruption, unsullied body receptive to their every touch. There’s so much he wants to do to you, yknow. So much he  can  do to you now that you’re distracted again, unintentionally slutty moans hummed down his friends throat.

First, he tugs his jeans off. Leaves his boxers on for now, it’s more fun that way, right? He crawls closer to you after throwing his clothing to the ground below, tapping on your knees to watch them easily fall apart for him. “ Fuck—”  he sighs, slotting himself between your legs. “So  easy , you’re trembling.”

Maybe the mention of such startles you, but Sam seems determined to keep sucking on your tongue, strings of saliva caught between his lips and yours, you’ve got no room to do anything else but whine for more. And you’ll get it,  fuck you’ll get it,  they’re determined now that they’ve had a taste .  Moving his hands to either side of you and Sam, making sure to rest the tip of his cock against your still clothed hole, but  fuck it already feels good,  doesn’t it? To just have it sit there, twitching and drooling all over your clothes as a reminder of what you do to him, of how easily domesticated you are from just one messy kiss. He’d like to have heard your reaction, but there’s pleasure enough to be had in feeling your hips reflexively shift against him, cunt so close, teasing his resolve without even knowing it. A natural born slut, you’re lucky it was your friends that discovered this side of you and not someone more sadistic… As if they weren’t being mean enough themselves, biting on your lip and squeezing at the fat of your thighs.

Having you writhe under him prompts his hips to start moving, gentle rocks back and forth to contrast Sam’s abrasive groping, though Sebastian isn’t complaining when your shirt gets ruthlessly removed and your pretty tits are spilling out from your bra. Makes his head all fuzzy just looking at em, hands finding home on your waist to keep you pinned against his friend while he bucks his tip against your hidden hole. Even this feels too good, doesn’t it? To have all the attention, two hard cocks pressing at both your holes. Bet Sam’s leaking all over himself by now too, dripping onto your ass from how your sensitive body encourages them to continue.  See , he thinks,  you  are  asking for it .

“Isn’t this more fun, huh?” He asks, a hint of knowing on his tongue. “Y’sure look like it’s more fun,  God — Look at’chu—” He mutters, only because he’s too focused on rocking his cock against your covered slit to have you making more of those pretty sounds you’re echoing into Sam’s mouth, rather than keeping track of exactly what he’s saying. Spilling dirty words for you in abundance as Sam gives you a moments respite, just enough time to undress his lower half. “Are you sure you’re a virgin?” He taunts you from above, knows that you’re too breathless to reply with the drool coating your cheeks. Sam’s always been a messy kisser.

It’s as you’re catching your breath that Sebastian moves you into a different position, growing impatient with Sam when he struggles with his underwear, though thankfully your face is turned from Sam when his cock finally snaps against his tummy. A low thud almost catching your attention, if not for the way Sebastian’s body covers your view as he helps you lay down with your back on his bed. “C’mon, catch your breath, pretty.” He coos at you, all soft and loving despite his degenerate thoughts about how sweet you look when struggling. Practically eye fucking you as his face hovers above you, propping himself into half sitting up to watch the conflict of tonights situation flash across your face.  Cute , he mumbles to himself, before his vision drops to your bra and he thinks  hot .

While you’re busy trying to ground yourself, Sebastian takes to dancing his fingertips down your chest, ghosting over your tummy, until eventually reaching the band of your bottoms. He pings at them a few times, relishing in the wince you send him each time the fabric smacks against your soft skin. Until eventually, his fingers dig  under  your clothing to help leverage Sam into hauling them off. So badly does Sebastian want to take a peek, just a small glance down at your panties, selfish desire pooling in his cock as it twitches against your side. But he’s got time, he can take it slow; even if Sam refuses to do so himself.

“I— Wait,  please . I need a second before—”

“Aha…  Oops .” Sebastian mocks, pressing his fingers against your slit once he feels that Sam has dragged your underwear completely off. Only, he  groans  with his words too, pained at just how wet your little cunt has already gotten from some light foreplay. Just a little kissing and you’re  soaked , you really must be a virgin, right?  Oh you sweet thing , if you’re this wet already, then you’ve got no hope of surviving until the end of the night. The thought of which only turns Sebastian on some more, prompting him into matching the rooms state of undress as he lets his cock free with a heavy sigh, incidentally smearing precum all over your bare hips while the pads of his fingers explore your virgin cunt.  So fucking hot, holy shit—

“ Relax , baby,” Sebastian isn’t sure if Sam had meant to sound so condescending, but he can’t deny how hot it is to see one of his best friends so dangerously out of control when face to face with your cunt. He takes a look at Sam upon hearing how strained his voice is, and the look of sheer desperation painted on his face is enough to convince Seb to start toying with your clit. Little circles, barely there if he’s being honest, but of course it’s enough to get your untouched body  reeling . Wiggling and croaking, the feeling of your hand grasping on for dear life onto his shirt only serving to rile him up further, makes him buck his cock against your waist a little more intentional. He can’t stop himself even if he tried, snapping his vision back to you to watch you fall apart on his meagre touch.

If you’re this fun to toy with now, he can hardly wait till he’s got his cock in you. Fat beads of precum leaking all over you as Sam lowers to your cunt level, heart racing in his chest at the prospect of deflowering you in such a nasty way. You can’t even  decline  their advances, not when Sebastian continues flicking your clit, dragging his fingers down your slit to dip into your heated hole. A gasp escapes him upon coming into contact with your wetness, slick coating his fingers with a gush as he angles his hand downwards; allowing Sam enough room to nose against your puffy clit.

“Fu-uck ,” Sam whines, all broken and  needy  as he sniffs your slit. “Oh my  God ,” He continues, Sebastian taking the opportunity of distraction to start pumping your little hole with a single finger while Sam drools over your cunt with slurred words. Can’t fight back when you’ve lost your voice to moans, can you? “Smell so good— Wanna lick it so bad,  fuck , wanna taste you—”

“Go on then.” Sebastian encourages Sam, spreading your cunt open for ease of access, and he’s surprised to hear just how breathless his voice sounds when he’s got you whining into his chest, blushing cheeks buried against his shirt like earlier with his sheets. Can’t get enough of him, can you? Not that he’s doing any better, practically ready to bust just from curling a single finger inside of you, cursing quietly to himself when his flicks earn a full body shiver from you. You’re already so fucking tight, just barely able to take his single finger inside— the thought of having that tightness wrapped around his cock causes him to throw his head back.

And he knows Sam has started lapping at your cunt when you  sob  into him, soft and pretty cries crooned into bundled shirt.  Fuuuuck , he needs you. Needs you so bad that his heart  hurts  to hear more, arm taut and muscles tight as he focuses on offering you precise flicks of the finger inside of you; gotta stretch you out properly to take his cock, yeah? And  oh you’ll look so pretty  when stuffed full, won’t you? He hopes you cry when he’s inside too, wrapping an arm under your back to secretly unclip your bra, taking a brief pause in fingering you only to throw it to the side. And when you’re fully exposed he keeps his arm under you, circling it back around to cradle you in his arms— and to be able to grope at your tits a little. He’s so  mean , isn’t he? Leveraging your surely confused and vulnerable state against you, selfishly kneading and pinching at your pretty tits.  Ah , he takes a quick look at them— or what he can see of them with your body twists to hide against him. It’s a mistake,  of fucking course it is , given just how hard his cock already is— because the sight of them rising and falling harshly under his fingertips is almost too much to bare.  Almost  convinces him to shove Sam out of the way so that he can have you all to himself; that is until you arch towards him and he falls like moth to a lamp into your chest. Gently, mind you, lips latching on to your nipples with  hunger . Dizzying desire clouding his judgement when he nips at them a little, growling delight against your tit as praise for taking his abuse so well. The unsure sounds you let out only spur him on to continue, cock tip slipping against your tummy with the amount of pre your coax out of him.

Slurps soon fill the air, mixing perfectly with the sweet squelch of his fingers diving in and out of your tight little cunt. It’s about time he introduces another, right? Otherwise you’ll be forced to take his cock unprepared, and though he intends to deflower you tonight, he’s not so mean as to make it  hurt . Sneaking another finger in is easy with a loud suck of your nipples, he hopes to distract you from the stretch despite your telling whines. “ Shh, s’okay. ” He mumbles after popping off your tit for just a second, rubbing his nose against your head to grab your attention. “Doing so well… For a virgin, anyway.” He smiles when you meet his fond gaze.

Sam hums against your cunt and Sebastian matches the sound when he hears your gasp in return, keeping you attention with a nod towards Sam. “Look at ‘im.” He implores you, scissoring his fingers inside of you  slowly , almost lazily so that you have more freedom to gawk at how eagerly Sam licks and sucks up and down your cunt.  Hell , Sebastian can even feel his tongue run along his fingers at times too, assumedly trying to suck off all of your slick clean from your hole.  Greedy , Sebastian thinks to himself.  I want a taste too.

He moves with you, peering over to take a look at the mess between your legs, and involuntarily grinds his hips into you at the sight that greets him. How  dirty  he feels, fingers glistening with your slick, Sam’s face obscured between your folds— but his saliva still stains your thighs. “Shit—” he sighs, suddenly increasing the speed at which his fingers curl inside of you. An increasingly loud squish emanating from your hole with how slippery they’ve got you causes his head to hang low, more focused than ever to have you cum for the first time on his fingers;  he’s selfish . Wants that taste of you too.

“ Ah—!  No, wait—” you immediately fall back— always with the  wait  with you, haven’t they proven their worth to you yet? You should trust them to look after you by now, given that Sam’s tongue sucks those pretty high pitched moans out of you, and Sebastian’s fingers fuck silent gasps to crawl up your throat. “Feels—  No, ah—!  Feels weird!”

“Dummy.” Sebastian lets out a dry snicker, doubling his efforts of making you cum now that he knows you’re close. It’d be laughable knowing how clueless you really were; so much so that you don’t even know what’s happening to you right now, if not for the way he has to physically tense up his whole fucking body so as to not cum with you, excitement shivering down his spine at the prospect of granting you the pleasure of your first  proper  orgasm.  See, isn’t he so nice?  Sam too, the way he digs his nails into the fat of your thighs with an iron grip, keeping your cute cunt still for him to service— because that’s what they’re doing right now. They’re  servicing you , offering up themselves to you for your own benefit. They’re not taking advantage of anything: you might be a virgin, but you’ve got the body of a slut, your approaching orgasm only serving as further proof of your promiscuity. “You’re close, just give in baby.” He both encourages and clues you in, picking up the pace some more; a brutal speed unbefitting a virgin like you, but the look of sheer  enjoyment  on your face is inspiration enough to continue. “ C’mon , give it to me, yeah?” his tone is  leering , downright  insidious  with lust, spilling from his lips just like second nature. It’s what ruining filthy virgins like you does to him, apparently. “Jus’ wanna make you feel good, jus’ helping a friend out, remember?”  Lies . But you’d believe anything coming from his dishonest lips wouldn’t you, especially when you’re on the cusp of something that feels so  good , right? Both tongue and fingers coaxing your orgasm out, a few more seconds is all it takes for his eyes to narrow in on your angry expression, cunt quivering around his skilful fingers with plenty grip to leave him just  itching  to fuck you. And  fuck— the sounds you make . High strung and erotic, more so than he’s ever heard you before. Instantly, he registers your moans as addictive.  Wanna hear that again, wanna make you sound like that some more, keep gasping our names all pretty like that—

But he’s kind, remember? He wouldn’t be knuckle deep in your pretty little cunt if he wasn’t at least sort of generous, crooking his fingers against your warm insides gently, massaging your walls sympathetically to help you properly ride out your very first orgasm— how  cute.  How completely adorable it is to be finger fucking you through one of your first naughty experiences ever, and on his bed no less! A memory he’ll keep with him for as long as he lives, if only to bully you about it later down the line. And of course, he can’t forget about the help Sam has offered you, and he wants to make sure you don’t too.

“Look so pretty when cumming, angel.” He coos at you, faux sweet tone hummed against the top of your head as he scissors inside of you two more times before pulling out, not missing the way you involuntarily whine at the loss of fullness.  Dirty girl , you’re a quick learner if nothing else. A woman after his own heart. And by that he means;  fucking needy . “Say  thank you , remember.”

Despite you dazed state, still in the midst of what must be a mind blowing experience, you find the strength to look up at him with a dopey smile that tugs on his heartstrings. “Thank—  S-Sam , stop!”

“ Sorry—”  Sam heaves, eventually pulling away from your creaming cunt with his tongue still lolled and a face full of shine. Sebastian thinks he’s pretty like that; almost as pretty as you are when you sigh before following orders.  Good , he likes them submissive. And from your subservient attitude thus far tonight, he bets you’ll be a good fuck too— in spite of your virgin status. Not for long now if he has anything to do with it. And given how soft and pliable you are in his arms right now, he thinks he’s got more than a fighting chance at claiming you for the very first time; so that no one else can.  Well , besides Sammy, but that’s a given.

Sebastian taps your thigh with his cum covered fingers to get your attention again, now that Sam has stopped diverting you with wolfish laps. “You were saying?” He prompts you again, placing a chaste kiss to the top of your head while he idly grabs and tugs at your hip.

“Um— Thank you… For, y’know… All that.” You sheepishly sigh, which can only mean one thing.

Reality is settling, isn’t it? The fact that you friends have just fucked you into submission, tore your first group orgasm out of you without a care in the world. Sebastian wonders about what you must be thinking right now. Do you regret it, or are you just shy? Given the slight tremble still present in your legs as Sam kisses down them, awaiting Sebastian’s instructions, he thinks you must have enjoyed yourself at least. He’s experienced Sam’s tongue enough times to know how deceptively adept he is at using it. But, in the off chance that you might be feeling the beginnings of repentance, Sebastian’s quick to act.

“There’s no need to thank us yet—” He huffs, pulling away from your side only to manhandle you into a different position. You’re still drunk off that high, aren’t you? It’s easy to tell since you’re so easy to move, without a single word he’s able to mould you into shape. “We’re just getting started.”

And there it is. A flicker of recognition in your glassy eyes, the threat of welling tears as you suddenly understand that you had only asked for a kiss; a fairly simple act in and of itself, no?  Innocent , even. And yet, despite your utter overstimulation thanks to Sam’s dog like tendencies to lick and lick and  lick  until the sun comes up, the thought that they have more to show you is overwhelming, isn’t it? Sure looks that way when you scrunch your nose up in confusion, eyes wide at the feeling of his hands ghosting your legs. It’s the cutest look in the world Sebastian thinks,  finally  tugging at his neglected cock after he’s got you in the perfect missionary position— except your head hangs low over the edge of the bed.

In the spirit of getting rid of your firsts, why not go all the way, right? It’s what Sebastian is thinking anyway as he drips globs of precum down onto your cunt. Accidentally, of course, but the picture is pretty all the same. Like a claim,  mine .

The weight of what’s about to come must be heavy on your chest, hypnotising Sebastian as he watches it rise and fall in anticipation. Nobody moves once in position, all awaiting some sort of  right moment  to get started again— that is until you let out a little squeak. A pitiful sound, one that has his cock all twitchy and drooly.

“I don’t— I thought we were just gonna  kiss . I don’t think I’m ready for—  Ah! ”

He’s known to have some persuasive hands. Tickling up and down your trembling thighs, eyes trained on the bob of your throat when he inches just a little too close for comfort against your cunt. There’s no need to be shy now, you’ve just covered his sheets in cum.

“C’mon, you’re a big girl, aren’t you? Just the tip wont hurt. Promise we won’t go any further, right Sammy?”

Sam lags behind, catching Sebastian’s eye with a roll of his own, knuckles white where they grip at the edge of the bed— either side of your head. He wonders how Sam must look to you, from your angle where you hang off to stare at him from below. Does he look just as  ruined  as he does to Sebastian right now? Or maybe all you can see is cock. Heavy and heady, dangling just out of reach from your lips. Do you want a taste? And then, he can only imagine how he himself must look. Red hot cock jerking all over your front, so close he can practically taste your cunt already, experimentally letting his thumb hover close enough to spread your lips apart and—  oh , what a pretty girl you are. All nice and wet, puffy little clit just  begging  for some more stimulation. He can’t hope to hold himself back now, huffing short bursts of air as he teeters on the edge of just  shoving it in already , exhaling sharply through his nose like some sort of dog.

“Uh-huh.” Is all Sam offers, and Sebastian gets it. Really, he feels it on some sort of spiritual level. The cockiness to his friends tone, the curt nature of the response. They’re both at their limit, and they’re both seedy little liars who want nothing more than to just fuck you silly. To ruin a pretty virgin like you.

A rather simply ask, no?

“Won’t that… Y’know, hurt or something?” You mumble, shying away further from their faux promise. Sebastian only wishes he could see your expression at the same time as your timid question, he bets you wear worry well.

Regardless, he lines his leaking tip up to your sopping cunt despite your vocalised worries, impatience thick in his selfish action when he tugs at his tip a few times, biting down on his bottom lip so as to not embarrass himself by moaning at the slightest touch. Because he wants to, not even inside of you yet and he’s already close to painting you white. You were responding so well to them earlier, all pretty moans and sighs, so give them what they’re due. It’s only fair, right?

But still, he shrugs. Even if you can’t physically see it, he’s not fully present to provide an attentive answer to your understandable question anyway, easily sliding his tip between your folds slowly . Teasing himself more than anything, rutting himself to the edge just for fun. Because you’re under him, and he wants to. A quick gasp shared among friends at the slippery glide up and down reminds him of your position, jaw tight with barely there restraint as he hisses  something, anything  through his teeth. Just to get the ball rolling again.

“The tip? No, absolutely not.” How would he know? He’s not the one about to take cock right now. But he’d say just about  anything  if it meant he got to bury himself deep inside your tight virgin little hole. Not that his answer actually matters with the way Sam’s cock blocks your vision, jerking precum onto your chin just like how his cock hovers nears your hole— you’ll soon have no way your voice concern.

And the sooner that happens the  easier  for him, looking up at Sam for all but a second before his nails dig into your thighs to pry them open even wider, spurred on by the look of desperation Sam adorns when feeling the heat of your breath brush against his profusely drooling tip. Sebastian’s heavy cock slips and slides between your folds on a whim, his breath hot and fraught with absolute  need  to steal your virginity away in the worst way possible. But you’re soft, aren’t you? A shy little lamb, ripe for his brutal taking. He panders to you once more, preparing himself for what he assumes will be one of the best experiences of his life. Sullying his best friend— is there anything better?

“Just the tip, okay? You can do that for me, can’t you?” He sighs above you, both in love and frustration. You feel so fucking good already, he fucking hates it. “Promise it won’t go further, just the tip.”

“I— Guys, I’m not sure if I’m  ready  for this—” Oh, how cute you sound when so scared. It’s okay, he believes in you.

But more than that, Sam is at his limit. A forced groan garbs Sebastian’s attention away from watching his cock  almost  disappear into your tight hole, finger fucked and stretched for  him , but Sam begs for attention.

“Course y’are. Why else would y’be this fuckin’ wet, huh?” He seethes, and the urgency lacing his words just  does something  to Sebastian’s brain. Short circuits it, forces him to reconcile with the fact that he’s never heard Sam get this agitated during sex before. It’s nice. It’s  hot  seeing his best friend all worked up like this, watching in slow motion as Sam angles his pretty cock to your lips only to smear precum all over them, a wet gloss coating the lower half of your face due to how much Sam needs you. Can’t you see? Can’t you  feel  the way Sebastian’s cock begs against your cunt, how your hips wiggle and shift under him as if  asking  for that which you’re so scared of. Don’t worry, he’ll hold your hand through it. S’not so bad when it happens, you might even enjoy yourself— though that part isn’t necessary.

There’s ought else left to do but join in on the fun, something that takes Sebastian a second to consider as he appears hypnotised by the sight of your lips parting automatically, like your body knows what to do even if you’ve never done it before yourself. A natural born  slut , of course you’re going to enjoy yourself. Wet little cunt gushing around his cock before he’s even put it in; you’re pleading to be domesticated, aren’t you? And  fuck  the sound you make when Sam slyly slips inside of your wanting mouth? All muffled and choked, matching perfectly with Sam’s aggressively relaxed sigh into you.

Without a single thought else, he  finally, fuck he’s been waiting so long for this moment,  pushes inside of you. Just like he promised, only the tip. But immediately he has to tear his hands away from your thighs and instead plant them at either side of your waist to even hold himself upright, sheer pleasure striking down his spine for him to shiver into you, and then before he has a chance to even adjust to your tight little virgin cunt, he’s already setting a far too unfair pace even for himself to keep up with. Forget  just the tip , fuck, are you kidding him? Pure desperation, unadulterated pleasure present in every stroke of his cock inside, fists balled into his sheets below to search for any semblance of control left— but your cunt sucks it out of him, just as well as your hole already sucks him off; you should be thankful he went through the extra effort of prepping you, especially when you’ve offered him your sweet seclusion tonight. And wow... You really must be a virgin from how immediately tight you are, he finds it difficult to fully rock into you until drawing his hips back a few times. He could have easily taken you as soon as you walked in, but  fuck  if he isn’t happy that he took the time to open you up. Help finger your first orgasm out of you so that you squeeze around his cock that little bit harder from overstimulation now that he’s inside, causing him to moan into the guttural sputters Sam’s face fucking pounds out of you.

He’s sure that if your throat wasn’t currently occupied with cock right now you’d be a whimpering mess for him, hips rolling into you with precision, a practised back and forth along your unkissed walls for him to  ruin . Because that’s what he wants to do with you, wants to corrupt you to the point of shame, destroy any hope of you enjoying anyone else in future because no one but him and Sam could ever hope to have you feeling the way you do right now. The perfect mixture of fear and pleasure, unsure of what to focus on more— his balls slapping against your ass to leave a soft  plap!  sound filling the air, or the taste of Sam’s salty precum dripping down your throat.

He’s thrown out of his indulgent thoughts only because of Sam’s greedy gulps of air, the look of fervour should be illegal on him. “Shouldn’t—  Ah, fuck , jus’ like that—” Sam cuts himself off, almost falling into you from how hard he leans over, back bent to better fuck your throat with. “Should you be wearing a— a condom, right?” he finally manages to force out in between humps and moans, but Sebastian doesn’t miss the sick smile Sam wears with his otherwise serious words. The shared understanding going straight to Sebastian’s cock at how mean they’re treating you right now, with no regard for your thoughts or feelings because you just feel  that good . Even if he wanted to take you into consideration, every thrust inside of your tight little virgin cunt renders him useless, a mere babble of sighs and groans, emphasising his want for you with cruel humps and grabby hands at your waist. Tugging lightly at your skin for some kind of purchase, because his mind can scarcely keep up with every unfair squeeze your hole wraps around his length.

“Ah, probably—” Sebastian sighs, but there’s no intention behind it. Lazily fucking his cock inside of your almost too tight cunt, the mere thought of pulling out to put on a condom causing his heart to race. His mind to repeat  no, no, it feels too good to leave now!  “Jus’ a few more seconds, then— Then I will.  Promise .” He whispers those last words to you, but you’d never be able to tell by the way he stares at your cunt, eyes trained on where his cock disappears inside; it’s more like he’s talking about you rather than to you.

“She feels—  shit , feels so good, doesn’t she?” Sam half laughs, half moans into the feeling of your throat tightening around him at his dirty words. Sebastian can feel it too, the way your hole wraps even snugger, as if you were asking for more.

And it’s not that Sebastian disagrees, but the tight squeeze fit inside honestly just leaves him a little breathless. Brows furrowed in pure concentration  not  to bust a load inside of you already. He knew you were gonna be tight, but  fuck  aren’t you taking things a little too far? His hips stutter into you, all precision lost on him when you wriggle around under him, the sight of your hands clawing at Sam’s hips driving him  insane  with lust pooling in his tummy.  Dirty girl , you’re enjoying this, aren’t you?

“She’s a tight fuck,  God , you gotta feel her, gotta fuck her—” Sebastian rambles, mind almost as much of a mess as his thighs currently are with your sticky slick and the gush of precum that dribbles down your ass to stain his sheets with every shove of his cock inside.  Greedy , eager thrusts, fucking himself into a sweat that clumps his hair to his forehead, a few drops trickling down to hit your exposed tummy. Talking about you like you aren’t really there, just a hole to be fucked, an object they have the pleasure of using. And it’s a pleasure indeed, especially when Sebastian rocks his hips so deep into you that his tip kisses your cervix, prompting him to apply more weight to your sides for better leverage. A sharper angle to fuck you in, rough moans crawling up his throat at the gargled sounds you’re forced to make in response to the ruthless throat fucking Sam has you enduring. You look so cute when pliable, tits bouncing for Sebastian to become mesmerised to. He wants em back in his mouth, but he can’t slow his thrusts down enough to latch on.

But above, where Sam and Seb can look at each other, Sebastian notices how little distance is left between them. Both bent over your pretty body, taking what they want from you simply because they can. And in the heat of the moment, after a quick glance at each other, Sebastian’s tongue pokes out for just a second too long before Sam falls further forward, tongues meeting before lips eventually do too. Feeling his friends tongue glide against his own, and then eventually the weight of having his tongue  sucked  whilst being balls deep in your cunt has his cock throbbing hard, leaking more precum out against your walls to increase the already egregious wet slap of his thrusts. It’s all a bit too much even for him, let alone poor little virgin you, taking it in both holes because you’re in no position to fight back. And  that  turns him on even more too, openly moaning loud and clear down Sam’s throat while yours is getting fucked, swallowing every drip of saliva and needy groan Sam has to offer him while pinching at your sides for grounding. But it’s useless, isn’t it? With the way your insides squirm around his cock, how tight and taut his balls grow with every slap against your ass, the feeling of one of your hands wrapping so firmly around his wrist, like you’re scared that if you let go you’ll disappear, makes him sigh with adoration.

And he wants to reassure you that in spite of their rather inattentive and immoral actions tonight, they’re  thankful  to be using you, but Sam has one hand on your throat to feel his length hump up and down it, and the other at the back of Sebastian’s neck, effectively pinning him in position to suck some tongue. Not that he’s complaining, but  God , with the way you cunt is forced to stretch to his size, a greedy need to fuck you into the shape of him, to leave your body printed on his sheets for the days to come, selfish desire dribbling from his tip and onto your cervix with every rapid thrust inside— barely able to catch his breath from Sam stealing it, humming between moans shared amongst friends because you feel  so fucking good all tight like that, oh my God . It’s too much, he feels so good bullying his cock inside of you again and again, feeling the throb from tip to balls, drooling and trembling over your exposed front thanks to how messy of a kisser Sam is when lost in the feeling of your tongue massaging his length.

And the realisation suddenly hits him as he feels the all too familiar twitch in his cock, tummy doing a little flip as he forcefully removes his lips from Sam to take a sharp intake of air. A gasp, downright dirty in how he chokes on it, followed by a high pitched little whine that he wasn’t aware he could make—  the things you do to him .

He’s fucking  you . One of his best friends, a filthy little virgin in spite of how expertly your body reacts to his grabs and pulls, his head thrown back in pleasure only to swing the other way to hang low as his thrusts grow sloppier. Less precise and more  feeling , unable to keep a consistent rhythm when your body knows exactly how to squeeze him just the way he likes, the puddle of slick and pre collecting under you coaxing him to add to the pile. His heart aches with even more twisted want.

“You’re so good to me—” he practically huffs, annoyance lacing his tone in spite of the otherwise kind compliment. It’s just—  Fuck , he can’t focus. So close to the edge due to all your previous teasing, the devious smirk Sam wears when listening to his feminine fucked tone only adding to his frustrations “Best—  God , you’re the best friend ever—” he laughs, but it’s all breathless and barely there when suffering the snug fit of your cunt. Like you were made to take his cock; and soon to be Sam’s. Held off just for them, didn’t you pretty girl? With how good you have him feeling, it’s easy for Sebastian to convince himself of such facts. “Just— You’ve jus’ gotta lay there and take it, okay? That’s all—  all you’ve gotta do. ” He winces into his words, doing his best to hold off on cumming for just a little longer, burying his bully cock into you just a little deeper. Because despite having the rest of the night to share with you, he’s  selfish ; and he doesn’t wanna stop. Not for anything, your cunt is so warm and nice, sucking off his heavy cock so sweetly— the thought of having to stop irks him instantly.

And he doesn’t think you’ll ever quite understand the joy turned lust at taking your virginity like this. How he feels just so  special  to be treating you like this— knows deep down in the pit of his stomach that Sam will too, especially when enjoying his sloppy seconds he’s about to give you like the nasty man he is. How he can feel your cunt struggle to fit his fat size, fucking your shape into the sheets below, Sam’s hands rough around your throat to  really  face fuck you now— he must be close. Sebastian can’t blame him, teetering dangerously on the edge himself through sheer willpower alone, he wants to watch you get ruined just as much as he wants to ruin you.  Their  perfect little princess turned slut, a mess of fluids and dumb brains, he feels lucky to be able to see you like this; even if it’s only because he and Sam have worked together to coax you into the bunny trap they laid out with ill intentions. But can you blame them? Surely not, your cunt doing her best to milk him dry, accepting his full fat length like a  good girl . He decides to reward her with lazy pets, inaccurate circles against your clit more as a distraction than anything of substance. A self serving action, playing with you more as a toy than as someone who would like touch; but he doesn’t feel or hear you protesting, quite the opposite really.

Nails clawing on his arms, begging just as much as his cock does when it twitches inside of you. It’s okay, he understands all to well what you’re probably feeling right now; or at least he thinks he does. He can only guess after all. But the way you desperately cling on for dear life, how your legs raise  just a little , like you’re trying to get closer to him, or better yet— help him hit that spot inside of you that you must intrinsically understand exists, tells him all he needs to know. You’re close again, and by the looks of things, so is Sam.

It’s your choice at the end of the day. That’s what he’s worked so hard for together with Sam to try and make you feel. If you wanna cum, you will. His thumb drawing sloppy circles against your clit while his cock stutters inside of you, quick snap thrusts to rub his tip across your cervix again. He’s alarmingly close to cumming inside of you already, and he’s got no qualms about finishing before you have the chance. Though embarrassingly, Sam seems to have beat him on that front. A cough of your name, stuck in his friends throat with a final thrust down your own— surely leaving you suffocating from the amount of cum Sam tends to shoot. Which is hot, Sebastian quickly decides. Balls tightening up at the sound of Sam’s loud whines, the sight of the little bit of cock you weren’t able to swallow pulsing against your tongue  doing things to him, God . You’re so hot without even trying, even the little sniffles and wheezes you let out when Sam eventually pulls out of your throat are cute, allowing Sebastian full control of your body which he happily takes within his own two hands.

Now that he has you all to himself, he takes proper hold of your hips and fucks you  down , matching his every upwards thrust to leave you squeaking like a fucking toy.  So hot, so fucking hot, fuck — he feels  dizzy . Particularly when you gasp out a quick  feels good, Seb!  And he’s got no choice but to hammer into you now. Acting the savage with how fast he fucks into you— Sam has to hold your shoulder weight with how hard he thrusts, practically fucking you off the bed to leave the mattress squeaking just as much as you do.

“ You cant—”  he takes a big gulp of air, struggling to keep up with his speed. “Can’t just fucking  say that , you’re so fucking hot—” red hot embarrassment rises to his cheeks from how pathetic he sounds, all high and soft, like a bitch in heat. Which is humiliating mostly because  he’s  supposed to be making  you  sound like that. “Letting me hit it raw?  Fuck , so hot, I—”

He’s close. Thumb thrumming away at your clit out of instinct,  begging  to feel you cream his cock while he fucks you into the mattress below. And thankfully, it only takes a few more rubs for him to get what he wants—  you’re such a good friend, aren’t you? Treating him so well, giving him exactly what he wants when he wants it; such a good little fuck   for a virgin .

And while he’d love to praise you to the high heavens for cumming around his cock all sweetly like that, mouth hanging open in a silent sob, a quiet whisper of his name quickly following as your insides grip his cock so tight it’s almost too difficult for him to move— you’ve left him  dumb . Rendered stupid   inside of your no longer virgin cunt in awe at how fucking good it feels to make you cum. Addictive, almost. Because as soon as he starts spilling inside of you, he already wants to do it again. And again, and again, continuing his thrusting despite your sobs for him to stop out of overstimulation— that’s the best bit, don’t you know? To soak your insides white while you cry all cutely for him, the little sniffles you send his way only prompting more cum to shoot, cock fucking it as deep as possible when his hips refuse to let up. And even when you’ve fully milked him and he  knows  he’s running empty, he just can’t stop. Gently rolling into you despite how he’s quickly softening, only fully stopping when he inevitably slips out and he can watch his seed ooze out of you like some sort of triumph.

When he does take the time to look at something other than your cunt, he catches sight of how messy you are. From head to toe, a blushing beauty mess thanks to their treatment. It’s a good look, y’know. Has his cock already wanting more, silently trembling against himself while he catches his breath enough to compliment you. “Done so well.” He smiles earnestly, and he means it. You should look like that more often.

“Seriously!” Sam beams, back to his ordinary sunshine self after gaining more time to calm down than you and Sebastian. “Dunno about you, and no offence Seb— But, best fuck of my life.”

Sebastian scoffs at his crass words, despite how true they might be. Which is why he feels there’s no need to verbalise  no offence taken , because it’s true. You’re such a good fuck that he can’t give you up, not after having a taste himself. And besides, you seemed to enjoy yourself too, didn’t you? The stupid smile you wear as you come down from your first high, the gentle shake in your legs as you paw at Sebastian to gain his attention.

He tilts his head in your direction, away from the sweet smile Sam wears and down to your just as dulcet tone. “Best— Um, sorry.” You giggle, hiccuping into your words in such a cute manner than he almost wants to choke you. Show you again and again exactly what you do to him, and by extension, Sam. So pretty without even trying, it’s annoying. He loves it. “Best kiss ever, I think.” You manage to get out, and Sebastian can only hang his head low in agreement, a twinge of guilt crawling up his throat.

“In that case…” Sam distracts him, moving to the bed and crawling over beside Sebastian, lightly pushing him out of the way. Sebastian would complain if it were worth the while, but he’s got an idea as to what Sam is about to say already, so he automatically assumes the position at your head: just like where Sam was. “Why stop now?”

[adventuringblind]

Don't Leave Us

Lestappen x Reader

Genre: angst, hurt/comfort

Summary: With the mass amount of online hate and a relationship that's not public, it all gets too much.

Warnings: graphic depictions of self-harm, graphic depictions of suicide

Notes: I hope you're doing okay, Nonny! Maybe this will help you like it does me :)

side note: I am not above begging for interaction. Fill my inbox with feral driver thoughts! Interact with my posts! It feeds my praise kink and makes me giggle and kick my feet 🥰

Masterlist // Request Form // My Website // buy me a Ko-Fi

It's not like the toxicity of social media is a new thing. She's always known that it could happen. She just wasn't expecting it to be so... much.

Her relationship with Max and Charles isn't out for the public. There are dangers that come with opening that up for everyone to get a glimpse of. Reporters waiting to make snide remarks. Fans that want to bash on the drivers they dislike.

Plus, she's not famous. People don't notice her. At least - they didn't until recently.

Some WAG account had managed to get photos of her with either Max or Charles. Not the three of them together. Speculative fans determined she must be playing both of them.

Not all of them, some people defend her. Those comments make her cry out of relief that at least someone isn't trying to tear her down.

She doesn't bring it up to either of the boys. They have enough on their plates as is. Stress and sickness become her new best excuses to not go out in public.

Sure, she's isolating herself and not talking to anyone. Carmen and Lily keep trying. She's just not ready to show her face.

Nothing is sacred anymore. The rumors are too much. Even avoiding all social media isn't enough. She can't even leave her house without someone trying to discreetly take her photo.

Her skin burns with attention every time she steps out the door. She can't eat knowing people are always looking at her. She can't even go to the shop to get groceries or to her mailbox.

It gets worse by the day. Soon enough, someone figures out where she lives. Knowing she has a stalker makes every ounce of security she once had vanish.

It's miserable seeing her information leaked out for everyone to see. Privacy is now a luxury of the past. It's enough to send her spiraling.

When her safety is called into question, Max and Charles bring her to Monaco. They are willing to risk it for her. Their attempt at giving her some piece of mind by staying in the same apartment only makes her thoughts darker.

She's the reason there is so much negative publicity. The sharks are circling them, just waiting for one wrong move. Is she ready to be the catalyst for her lovers' downfall?

The thought sends her stomach up her throat. The thoughts swirl around her head, paralyzing her body into a perpetual state of fear. Stuck in a luxurious Monaco penthouse. Because people being toxic and stalking her is such a horrible problem to have. She should just suck it up; pretend everything is fine.

So then, why is it so hard? Why can't she just be alright?

One week. A plan in her head and a smile plastered on her face. The boys haven't asked about it. Their concern shows in the facial expressions, but they don't push. Maybe it would be better if they did. Send her already crumbling walls to the ground.

She deep cleans on Monday. She does her best to make sure the apartment isn't in disarray, that her own things are packed away, so they won't have much to deal with. The contrasting red and blue of Max and Charles' clothes are the only things left in the closet when she's done.

Speculations start again on Tuesday. Max and Charles spend all day in some PR meeting about it. It gives her time to sort out her affairs without them hearing her. She cooks them dinner to help ease the frustrations. Their teams don't want them to come out, but they do.

Wednesday, they leave to their next destination. She doesn't leave the hotel room despite the concerns of others. Carmen and Lily come around at some point. They eat in with her and kick out the boys. It feels normal for the first time in months. She almost breaks and tells them.

Thursday is media day. She feels for both boys as they get asked invasive questions about their love life. They look stressed. She gets hugged a little tighter that night. It calms the thoughts, but it's not enough. They hurt more every day. She's just wants it to stop.

Practice on Friday goes well for both. Max and Charles are in better spirits. She drags herself out to eat with them. the boys don't care who sees. She does. The anxiety nearly suffocates her. eyes crawling over her skin. Please, make it stop.

Saturday is a wreck. The qualifying is difficult for both her partners. Their relationship status is once again coming under fire. The speculating is becoming extreme, enough for the whispering of the paddock to become deafening to her ears. She spends her time hiding away, writing her last thoughts in messy scrawl.

Sunday, they turn the weekend around. The podium has always suited them. Smiling for everyone to see and dousing each other in champagne. She smiles too, even though it hurts.

They fly back to Monaco that night. Conversation turns to going public despite team wishes. They are willing to risk it for her. She can't bring herself to say yes. They worked hard to live their dreams; she won't ruin it for them.

Monday comes around again. The notes are laying out on the table. The boys are with their friends, some kind of brunch get together.

She leaves the bathroom door unlocked.

The bath filled, her clothes still on. Her thoughts finally still. Tears streak down her face.

The water is cold.

Then it's red.

~~~~~

"I worry about leaving her alone." Charles pulls the car back into its spot.

"Well, if we brough her along it wouldn't be much of a surprise, yes?" Max checks his watch again. "Plus, what could she have done in the fifteen minutes we were gone?"

They haul the ridiculous number of snacks to the front door. They decided last week they would see if they could coax the female out of her depressive state, just for a little while. Maybe get her to confide in them. If not, then at the very least a therapist.

The distance is damn near suffocating. She's so close physically, yet so far away mentally. Always staring at the walls with a distant look in her eyes.

The apartment is eerily quiet when they step inside. The kind that Charles despises after living in a chaotic house with two brothers and three busy schedules his Maman had to keep track of.

He drops the bags and peers around the entry way. Then searches the corridors until he finds one of the bathroom doors closed.

Charles knocks on the door but receives no response. "Cheri? Are you not feeling well?"

Charles almost dives out of the way when Max comes barreling down the hallway. The Dutch tries the doorknob, heavy breathing filling the odd silence.

Charles pales at the sight revealed to him. Paralyzed that this horrific scene could even be a possibility. Is he dreaming? He has to be - there isn't any way for this to be real... right?

"Charles!-" the Monegasque is dragged from his thoughts. Real or not, Max needs his help. Scratch that - she needs his help. "- Get an ambulance!"

Charles fishes his phone out of his pocket and makes the call. Max is desperate trying to stop the bleeding from the vertical slit traveling her forearm. "Is she...?" He can't finish the thought. Heart being through his chest at the possible answer.

"Pules is there but faint." Max sounds like he's desperately trying to hold back his tears. His mind working desperately to keep her alive.

Charles must space out. He doesn't remember opening the door or watching her be carried out by the swift paramedics. The car ride doesn't register, not until they are already in the waiting room.

Max hands him her notes. The paragraphs she wrote to them. A final goodbye in messy scrawl, but the tails of her letters still curled.

"She did it for us, Charlie, because she thought she was hurting us."

They both break down in the uncomfortable waiting room chairs. Charles violently sobbing. Neither of them respond to their messages. Phones buzzing with calls that go to voice-mail.

A doctor comes calling her name. Charles is only half listening. Specifically looking for either a confirmation of death or the relief of hearing that she's okay. Max seems to be paying attention. His shoulders sag, and there is a soft look on his face when they are left to their own devices.

"She's alive, Charlie."

He erupts until tears once more.

~~~~~

Everything hurts. Her thoughts are fuzzy. There is something soft beneath her.

The white ceiling is paired with the burning smell of alcohol. A sterile environment. Meaning-

Fuck. How did it go so wrong? How had they managed to keep her alive?

The beeping on the heart monitor picks up. A sign that she's definitely alive and in a hospital.

Her attempts at moving are futile. There is too much pain and exhaustion to do so. A pulsing behind her ears drowns out the thumping of her heart.

"Rest now, amour."

It takes a single stroke of Charles' fingers on her cheek to make her entire facade shatter into nothing.

She's mumbling incoherent words. It's a string of apologies, rants of anger and embarrassment, and confusion at why they are even here with her. They are continually reassuring her. They coo into her ear how they are so glad she's alive. That she doesn't have to fight whatever battle through hell this is alone.

Recovery is difficult. They have to put her on a suicide watch, but Max and Charles somehow manage to keep her out of the psychward. Mostly because they want to be with her at all hours of the day.

They miss a singular race for her. Then drag her to the next. Part of the deal they had made was that they won't sacrifice their careers for her.

They negotiated with the teams. Managed to wriggle around their soft spots and get them to approve going public. Max and Charles want to openly defend her. No more public executions. They'er pulling her out of the shark infested waters that is the media.

It's slow. People ask about it sometimes; why Charles and Max had missed that race. None of them give an answer. They aren't obligated to.

"Why fight for me?" She asks. a year after the events.

"Because chéri, we love you enough to help you carry the burden."

"Honestly liefste, we fight for what we believe in. We believe in you and the love you have for us."

"Maybe it's selfish, but we want to share that with you. Keep you here with us to go on adventures and explore the different paths life offers."

"So don't leave us yet. You are worth every sacrifice."

[rafecameronsslxt]

Pretty

Rafe Cameron x Virgin! Reader

Synopsis: A sweet girl falling for a man like Rafe Cameron leads to nefarious gazes as you and Rafe walk out sweaty and red lipstick covered on his neck.

Warnings: Thigh riding, slight corruption?, Angst at the end.

A/N: Making a part two because why not? Also, the request fan fictions will be out tomorrow.

An hour before your parent's event, your brother was nowhere to be seen. It was the most significant advancement for their company to expand and aggrandize. More or less, Rose asked you to find Rafe, and knowing he was with your brother, you ran in your ruby-red Christian Louboutins if running was concluded to waddling in the Country Club, all eyes, failing to look at their girlfriends and to you instead. Most girls give you dirty looks, their eyes falling on your body. Having everyone stare at you was never intentional, but you also never noticed.

   There they sat in casual clothes, talking with each other. “Nathan, our parents need us to be there. Where is your suit?” You knitted your brows together. “We’re living precariously,” Nathan said with a lively tone as Rafe snorted, receiving amused looks from both of them. You sigh at the childish behavior. You shift on your heels, becoming uncomfortable in the sun's warmth, illuminating the highlighter and Chanel red lipstick. You bite your lower lip, looking at Rafe, who has barely said a word to you as usual.

   Anytime you were around, he’d get quiet, unwilling to look at you. “We’ll go.” Rafe glanced at Nathan, who stood up, leaving you behind to catch up. You were practically just the younger sister in every situation because, as people said, you were entirely sweet and innocent though it was true. 

   You couldn’t help but let your eyes wander to the man before you, watching his tanned arms flex almost too perfectly in the grey and black shirt, showing off every vein in his forearm while he adjusted his grey backward hat. You saw Rafe every day. Whether it was at your house or his or during your morning jog, he was always in your line of sight.

   You once asked your parents what they thought about the Cameron boy, and they worded their sentence, carefully trying not to bash him as your parents were good friends of Rose and Ward Cameron, but to say the least, they are not fond of him and wished your brother wouldn’t hang around with such bad influence as Rafe Cameron, so why would you want a man like him? A man who would only break your pure heart.

   We arrived at the house, but you had to get going quickly. You couldn’t help but feel deep sadness as you walked out the door. Did Rafe hate you? You called Kiara to pick you up, hoping she would advise you. You barely had any boy experience, and it shames you because you’re nineteen and dated only one guy just for him to drop you for another girl, but he quickly got put in his place by your brother and Rafe… 

   “Doesn’t even GLANCE AT YOU! You’re drop-dead gorgeous. Who couldn’t like you? But, wait, who is he?” Kiara’s jaw dropped, and she gestured her hands all over. 

    You smile at Kie’s reaction but tauten as you’ve been edging around Rafe’s name. Kiara would freak out if she knew it was Rafe, you fancy. “I don’t- remember his name.” You rub your neck nervously, stuttering over words. “What?” Her lip arches in confusion as she parks her car, and we get out. You avoid the comment. “Ok… Since you don’t want to reveal the mystery man, I must find my parents.” She pulls you in for a short-lived hug and disappears into the crowd, leaving you alone. 

   You go to the front, lifting the red floral summer dress in hopes you won't fall as your parents start their speech, causing everyone to go quiet. They talk about how grateful and happy they are to make it where they are, but a fragrance envelops you, cedar and Caledonian sandalwood, and to your knowledge of cologne, it's from Chanel, and the scent entices you to turn your head only to be met by a pristine Rafe. His towering body glances down at you, feeling flustered. You avert your eyes back at your overjoyed parents. 

   Once they announce who they're partnering with, the mass breaks out into a cheer, and you clap, smiling, proud of your parents, and everyone begins to split into groups again. Your bones feel strained, and butterflies appear in your stomach, only for you to stumble backwards, landing in Rafe’s arms, then moving to hold your waist. “I’m so sorry- I’ve been really uncoordinated today.” You give him a thin smile, but the smile fades, deterring you from thinking optimistically about his reaction and the atmosphere surrounding you and Rafe. It wasn’t anger or enmity, but it felt tense and something else you couldn’t place as he leaned down to your ear, his breath light. “I’m going to ruin you, pretty girl.” Your body stiffens as he places a feathery kiss on your red lips, yet a bright red stain marks his. Rafe smirks at your cherry face, but his blue eyes are a dark sea, and his jaw sharpens. 

   Rather than leaving, he intertwines his hand with yours, taking you to an extensive vacant room crammed with spare decorations and chairs. You don’t realize you're holding your breath until Rafe brings you onto his thigh. Your heart is palpitating, and butterflies have become aching for him. The room is cold, making you shudder. Rafe’s gaze is piercing as you try to get comfortable, but wiggling around on his thigh is futile and instead stirs a quiet moan from you. 

   You feel embarrassed. “You know how pretty you look like this? You know how long I’ve wanted you?” His low voice mumbles into your lips, and he places his large hands on your waist, pulling you farther up his thigh. You relax into his soothing touch, but the nervousness doesn’t leave. You’ve never had sex or have done this before; Rafe guides your hips back and forth, creating friction between his thigh and your clothed clit. You whimper against his lips as you start to move into the rhythm of his hands. 

   You feel selfish for letting him do all the work, so you bring your hand to his tangible erection and start palming him through his dress pants. His size makes your eyes widen, Rafe was a big guy, but his length was impressive. “Fuck- you don’t have to do that, pretty girl,” Rafe grunts out while your movements against his thigh become swifter. “I want to.” You moan into the sickening sweet yet dirty kiss as he slips his tongue into your mouth, greedily accepting it. You gasp, pressing your body harder into his thigh but keeping your languid pace on his cock. Your legs feel weaker as pressure builds up in your stomach, and the throbbing initiates burning in your lower abdomen. “Rafe-” You wrap an arm around his neck, and your face is hidden in the nape, mouth open and pressing your plump lips to his Adam's apple. His hands grip your waist indefinitely to leave a red imprint. 

   “My good, pretty girl. Only for me, hmm?” He rasps out through grunts. You nod; words would be incomprehensible in the condition you are in. Edging release until the pure gravelly voice of Rafe pushes you over the boundary, officially connecting yourself with the Cameron man in more ways than you ever thought would happen. You are spasming around nothing; adrenaline is still coursing through the white splotches as you pant. Despite Rafe not receiving much, he has a dazed look in his eye, and you lay your forehead on his. But you see hesitation cover his relaxed complexion. 

   What are we? The question is a broken record in your head. You didn’t want a hookup with Rafe. You trust he won’t take advantage of you, but you hold him to higher standards. Rafe would never do that to you. Yet, Rafe must see your wheels turning because he reassures you. “I like you, pretty girl.” His thumb hovers over your lips, outlining them until you recognize the red lipstick gleaming on his neck, lips, and cheeks. Your jaw drops. Your widened eyes look to Rafe’s calmed ones. You put your hand under his jaw, lift his head, and take a picture of all the marks to show him, to which he shrugs. “Your lipstick is smeared too, pretty girl. There’s no bathroom, so we’ll just have to go out.” You wobbly stand up from his thigh and timidly raise a brow at the noticeable strain in his black dress pants. 

   He stands up, unzipping his pants. “Rafe-” He doesn’t answer. Instead, he brings down a hand and starts rearranging, tucking his hard-on under the waistband of his boxers. “Let’s go, pretty girl,” Rafe says carelessly, slinging his arm around your shoulder, not wasting time on your answer or pleas. 

   It’d be an understatement to say all eyes were on you. Everyone criticizes you with sharp eyes, and you decide you are lucky you aren’t under eighteen because your parent's face drops, livid at the sight of Rafe’s neck and your puffy lips. Kiara is stunned, and your protective brother begins to walk you out, with Rafe following. “I can take her home, man.” Nathan is coldly stern as Rafe leans down to kiss you softly and wave him off. You take off the ruby-red pumps, placing them on the floor of Nathan’s truck.

   “Why Rafe? Rafe Cameron, of all people, you had to get involved with him. What changed in the last hours to have you walking out like that!? Do you realize how pissed Mom will be? Jesus, did you guys seriously have sex? You berated me for barely making it, but you could barely stay and got my friend's dick wet instead.” 

   “We didn’t have sex! You can sleep with fifty girls, but I get with Rafe, which becomes a problem. What the fuck, Nate!” You’re not one to scream, but the circumstances quickly overwhelm you. A disgusted look holds on your face, not at Nathan but yourself. You throw your hands into the air, pinching the bridge of your nose, tears threatening to fall because of how embarrassed you’ve become of the situation, not weighing the consequences or reactions.

   The orange sky had slipped away to a dark starry night, and few cars were on the road. The rest of the drive had been eerily silent until Nathan pulled into the driveway, and we finally reached the front door. 

   “Rafe is not a good guy. We know this. You. Know. This. But if you like him as your brother and friend, I support you, and I’m sorry for being a dick.” You can’t explain how much you love your brother for comforting you and being open to your relationship with Rafe. Nate tightly wraps his arms around your waist as if he is losing a piece of you, but he is open-minded to the new chapter that will begin in your life, with or without the people around you. 

[sidekick-hero]

(steddie | 2.4k | teen | tags: future fic, steddie in their 40s, second chances, mutual pining, happy ending | @steddielovemonth Love is the hope for a future together by@acasualcrossfade | AO3)

"I don't know, Robbie. I mean, it's been years! Even if there ever was a 'spark' between us, it's probably long gone."

He doesn't look over at Robin as he says this, pretending to be engrossed in grading papers. They both know that he hasn't made a single mark on the paper in front of him since Robin burst into his house with her spare key and announced, "Eddie's coming to the wedding."

"Inside voice," he had chided her, even though April was at her friend's house doing a school project. Old habits die hard.

Plopping down next to him at the kitchen table, Robin had happily ignored him as she continued, "Lucas just called me, it's going to be a surprise for Dustin. Eddie's finishing the tour two days early, so he's coming straight from the airport. But he will be there, Steve!"

Trying his best not to show how his heart had started beating faster as soon as Robin had mentioned Eddie's name, Steve had shrugged nonchalantly. "That's nice, Robbie. Dustin will be over the moon."

"That's nice, Robbie." She repeated in a surprisingly good imitation of his tone. They definitely spent too much time together. "You can act indifferent all you want, Steve. I was there when you refused to leave the house for a whole week when Eddie went to LA, remember? I held your hair when you puked your guts out after drowning your sorrows when Eddie brought what's-his-face to Max and Lucas' wedding. You two belong together, Steve! You just had bad timing. You've never both been single at the same time - until now. That must mean something. Maybe he's not just coming for Dustin, that's all I'm saying."

Which had actually led them to discuss whether Steve should put them all out of their misery by finally growing a pair (Robin's words) or decide that whatever had been between them that summer, when Eddie had recovered from almost being eaten alive by demobats, was long gone (Steve's words).

"I beg to differ, Dingus. I saw the way he looked at you at our little 'Fuck Off Upside Down' anniversary party. He spilled his beer when you walked in the room, Steve. No one else did."

"He's clumsy. You know that. I'm surprised he never fell off the stage," Steve jokes. He's not sure who he's trying to convince, Robin or himself.

Robin's expression changes to something more serious as she puts her hand on top of his, still holding his red grading pen in a white-knuckled grip. "Steve, listen. I'm not saying you have to do anything. You and Eddie have been friends for almost twenty years. We've all been. You're not going to lose him no matter what you decide. But," and here she takes a deep breath, "I just want you to be happy, Steve. You deserve to be happy. And I know that you're not unhappy, I know that. You've got April and you've got me and you've got the kids, even though they're scattered all over the country. But I also know that you've never stopped imagining a future with him, have you?"

"He kissed me," Steve blurts out, and to Robin's credit, she doesn't react except for her hand on his to twitch in surprise. She makes a questioning sound in her throat, clearly waiting for more.

"The night before he left. We had this big going-away bash, remember?" She nods. "We all got pretty drunk after the kids left and you and Vicky had gone to sleep in the guest room and I had offered to sleep on the couch so Eddie could have my bed. His back was still bothering him and he had a long drive ahead of him the next day. But he insisted on sharing and I was too drunk and tired to argue. The next morning he got up very early, probably thinking I was still asleep when he got dressed and left. Only he didn't leave. At least not right away. He came over to the bed and kissed me. On the mouth. And he said, 'You'll always be my almost, Stevie.'"

Robin looks at him with wide eyes, and Steve thinks that maybe he should have told her sooner, that maybe he violated some code between them because they tell each other everything. But something about this morning had felt, well, almost sacred in a way. As if putting it into words would make it less so.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner, Robbie. I just..."

"You had to keep it to yourself so it would always be the one dream you could turn to?" Robin suggests in a soft voice, and Steve wouldn't have said it like that, but she's right. Every date that didn't feel right, every relationship that went down the drain, hell, even when his marriage imploded on him, he thought of that one kiss and dreamed of a life where Eddie would have stayed. Or where Steve had followed him.

"Oh Dingus." Suddenly, Robin's arms wrapped around him in a hug, and it wasn't until he saw the wetness on her shirt that he realized he was crying. "I can't promise you it'll work, but I really think you should talk to him. Your life doesn't end at 40, Steve. You can still have the future you've always dreamed of."

Steve nods against her shoulder, tightening his grip on the best thing that has ever happened to him besides April.

Dustin and El's wedding is a small affair, just family and close friends, which is basically the same in their group.

Steve tries his best not to show his inner turmoil and mostly succeeds. There are handshakes that turn into tight hugs, hellos that turn into stories about kids and grandkids, neighbors, vacations, jobs, life. It's great to see everyone. It also helps distract him from the butterflies that have taken up permanent residence in his stomach for over a week now.

It works until everyone is about to take their seats and Eddie still hasn't shown up. He's supposed to be one of Dustin's groomsmen, along with Lucas and Mike and Will, while Steve is actually Dustin's best man. He only cried a little when Dustin asked him to.

Just as the officiant is ready to start without him, the heavy double doors open and Eddie walks in like Aragorn into Helm's Deep (Dustin insisted that Steve watch the movies if he didn't want to read the books, and Steve may have thought of Eddie more than once while watching Aragorn, sue him).

He rushes to his spot next to the other groomsmen, ruffles Dustin's hair as he passes him, and mumbles, "Sorry, shrimp, the airport lost my luggage." Then his eyes fall on Steve and he freezes for a moment before giving him a bright, dimpled smile. "Hey, Stevie," he whispers before stepping to the end of the line of groomsmen.

Steve is glad that Hopper is recording the whole ceremony, because he doesn't hear a thing that's being said.

Later, everyone gathers in the dining room and Hopper and Claudia each give a heartfelt speech before it's Steve's turn. He has everyone toast to Dustin and El's future, because while the past may have brought them together, it's the future that belongs to them and their love. He forces himself not to look at Eddie as he says this, knowing that his face would give away his thoughts.

And then Eddie stands up to say a few words as well, something no one expected him to do.

"I've known Dustin for 20 years now, and the only time I ever doubted that he was a genius was when he let El go without a fight. But you know what? I was wrong. Dustin and El may have taken the scenic route to get here," Eddie tells the guests, "but sometimes that's the best way to get somewhere. If you're willing to take the long and winding road, the road less traveled, as Frost would say, you know that whatever's at the other end is worth it."

Steve desperately wants to believe that Eddie is not just talking about Dustin and El, but he doesn't even look at Steve when he says that. He just sits down again next to Robin at the table right next to the one where Steve is sitting with Dustin and El and their parents, because Steve is part of the family, too, as Claudia had pointed out.

The rest of the evening is kind of a blur until everyone gets up to go to the ballroom where the dance floor has been set up. Dustin and El open with their first dance, "You and Me" by Lifehouse, and Steve has never been prouder of his little brother as he watches him lead El across the dance floor with the biggest, toothiest smile on his face.

"They've come a long way, huh?" says a voice next to him and Steve doesn't have to turn around to know it's Eddie.

"Yeah. I'm glad they made it." Steve agrees, his eyes never leaving the dancing couple. More and more people are joining them now, and Steve can feel the fond smile on his face grow.

Eddie's hand rests on his arm as he steps around Steve to face him. He extends his other hand to Steve, palm up, and asks, "May I have the pleasure of this dance with you?"

As if Steve could ever say no to Eddie.

Just as they step onto the dance floor, "You and Me" fades out and the next song begins. It's "Unchained Melody" and Steve suspects that Robin had a hand in it. It's the song Steve listened to a lot after Eddie left and she once complained that he ruined the song for her. Apparently not enough to put it on the playlist when he and Eddie hit the dance floor.

"I always kind of liked that song," Eddie tells him, and Steve snorts. "No, really! It's not really metal, but I don't know. I just feel it, you know? It's real." Eddie explains, veering close to rambling territory.

"Is that so?" Steve has to ask as he slowly sways, his hand in Eddie's and his arm wrapped around Eddie's waist.

Eddie hums quietly in agreement. "Back in '86, when I was trying to settle down in LA, I used to listen to it for hours." Eddie admits quietly and Steve's heart is suddenly in his throat. "I felt every single word and every single word made me think about what I was leaving behind."

"Eddie," Steve begins, only to be gently silenced by Eddie's finger against his lips.

"Please, Stevie, I have to say this now or I never will. So please, just listen, yeah?"

Steve crosses his eyes to look pointedly at Eddie's finger against his lips before looking back up at Eddie, who snorts at the gesture. "Brat," he teases, taking his finger away.

"Okay, I'm listening," Steve tells him, and mimics zipping his lips.

Eddie's eyes sparkle with amusement and affection, and something deeper. Something that makes the seeds of hope in Steve's chest tentatively open and reach for their sun.

"Stevie, sweetheart, you certainly know... I mean, you must know that I..." Eddie rambles and Steve has never seen him so lost for words. He doesn't say anything, but he brings their joined hands to his mouth and kisses Eddie's in silent reassurance.

Eddie's eyes find his and the expression in them is so unbearably soft that Steve almost has to look away. No one has ever looked at him like that before. "You were always the one who got away, Steve. My almost. Even when I was with other people, you were there. On every stage, in every hotel room, on every stretch of highway, you were there. And I almost told myself it just wasn't meant to be. I had you as a friend and that was a gift I never thought I would have, I shouldn't be greedy and ask for more."

He takes a deep breath, like he's steeling himself, gathering every ounce of that incredible courage Steve has seen time and time again, even as Eddie keeps insisting he's a coward. Steve knows better, and Eddie's next words prove him right once again.

"But the funny thing is, it never stopped me from hoping for a future with you."

They stop dancing, if you can call what they were doing dancing, and look at each other, eyes searching for answers. For reasons to hope.

Steve is the first to break the silence, a soft grin on his face. "May I speak now?"

That makes Eddie laugh softly and he nods.

"Is this what you want? A future with me? Because that means a future with a middle school teacher with a little pet tornado who's currently staying with her mom. You have to mean it for her as much as you mean it for me. This means being all in, Eddie."

Steve hates that he has to say this, that he can't just fall into Eddie's arms and kiss him senseless. But Eddie needs to know what a future with Steve means. If he wasn't sure he wanted that kind of future, then they couldn't have one together. At least not the way they both wanted it.

Eddie cupped Steve's cheek in his hand, his smile growing with every blink of his chocolate eyes. "Steve, I know who you are. I know what it would mean to be with you, and I want it so much that I can barely stand another day without it. I love your little pet Tornado, she's adorable and funny and she has great taste in music. No idea where she got that from, though," Eddie teases before sobering up. "I want to be a family. This tour was our last for at least two years. The guys need a break and so do I. And after that, we don't know yet, but whatever it is, it will be something we agree on together. You and me and April."

Maybe Steve should ask more questions, be more cautious. But he's waited twenty years for this, and he can't wait another second to finally kiss the man he's always been in love with.

He's ready for his future to begin.

[reidslovely]

Something about helping frat!blonde! Peter touch up his roots. Like he calls you and reader must think its for hooking up purposes - then he surprises her w “can you. uh..retouchmyrootsplease” and she’s like “??? 🤨wat” and you just go over to his place and spend time with him, washing his hairr, he making eye contact with reader through the mirror, etc. But he’s still stubborn about his feelings so he’s like “this was a one time thing only don’t let it get to ya head”

sorry if this was jumbled I just had this in my head for a while now

Yes this idea is so so so so so cute. I have written something vaguely similar before but I love it so much I don't care to write it again

please reblog or comment in place of liking/hearting this post 🫶🏼

“Pete?” You questioned picking up your phone, your eyes locked on the clock that read 4:00pm. “It’s far too early for a booty call..what’s up pretty?” 

“Ya flatter bashful.” His chesty laugh could be heard on the other end of the phone. It sent your heart doubling in speed, your cheek pressed lovingly into your shoulder. 

“You still with me bashful? I need you to do me a favor.” 

“So this is a hookup call..you only ask me that if-” You're cut off by him rushing out a string of words. None of which you caught. “Pete..baby. I need you to breathe and say that again.” You laughed softly, already gathering your stuff up to head over to the Theta Tau. Regardless if this was a hookup situation or not you were tired of your homework and Peter always seems to take any type of stress away. 

“Can you uh..” There's an awkward cough and sigh. “Retouchmyrootsplease?” 

The questions still came out as one word this time around but at least you actually caught what he was saying. 

“Sure, Pete.” You tried not to laugh. “Do you have what you need or do we need to run by Sally?” 

“No, no I have everything here for you. Thanks for this.”

“Course Pete, anything for you.” You hung up before you could get any type of snarky reply. 

Peter’s blond locks were a new addition about three weeks into your situation ship and you absolutely loved them. They flattered his face, and made his little baby deer eyes even more baby deer like. Which made you want to kiss him even more, and made it hard to say no when he’s asking you for another round. 

“You’re literally the best for this. Just moved up to like number two in my ranking.”

It was a joke, you were easily number one if not the only girl in Peter’s ranking but you have to play along or else you’ll scare him away. 

“Offended, whose number one.”

“May..sorry.” Peter sighs dramatically, leading you up the stairs to his bathroom. Tossing a few nods and hey’s to his brothers walking down the steps. 

“Mhm can’t be mad at that.” 

Peter laughed sitting on the chair he’d tucked away in the bathroom, pulling off his shirt. 

“Awe did you go ahead and set everything up for me?”

“No I was gonna do it myself but that's how we ended up in this scenario in the first place.”

Peter would never admit to it but he had set everything up for you. He’d done it before he even picked up the phone: not that he knew you'd say yes but he could hope. 

“Mhm I see.” You hummed running your fingers through Peter’s hair. He grabbed his phone starting his music, looking at you in the mirror as you started sectioning his hair out. 

Admittedly the whole time he was locked on you. Every move you made he was locked on you, not wanting to miss a moment. His head lolled back as you ran; you painted the bleach on his roots. Earning soft little ‘stops’ and ‘hold your head up’ from you as he relaxed. Your eyes were fixed on his hair making sure you’re applying everything evenly and correctly. Peter held his phone up in the mirror snapping a quick photo of the two of you. The photo falling amongst the others he’s sneakily taken of you or the both of you that you had no clue about. 

“Okay you gotta sit for a while and then I’ll wash it, tone it, all that after.” You said sitting on the toilet lid next to him taking the gloves off, tossing them in the trash can. 

“This is nice.” 

Peter's comment threw you off, you two only really hung out in the context of having sex or it being mutually beneficial for both. You hated to admit you had more moments like this. 

“Yeah?” 

“Mhm no pressure, at least not for you. I still gotta make jokes and keep you entertained.” 

“Tragic.” You tsked resting your arm on the sink hand to head as your free hand started a 30 minute timer. 

“Come on, we have enough time to watch some of that Hulu cooking show you like.” Peter stood taking your hand in his walking to his room. You flopped down on Pete’s bed watching him sitting next to you. “Careful you’ll get bleach on your..”

“No no, I'm good sitting up.”

You nodded and laid your head on his lap watching The Bear, Pete’s fingers combing through your hair switching between watching the TV and you. 

Pete’s head was tilted back in the sink, a towel under his neck for comfort. “Stop looking down my shirt, Parker.” 

“I’m not…I’m not.” He lied, turning his eyes up to look at you as you shampooed after toning his hair. “Do I look fabulous?”

“Oh absolutely.” You laughed wrapping his hair up in a towel helping him sit up. Ruffling the towel through his hair you laughed watching it sticking up every which way. You blow dried it for him smiling and singing under your breath as you fixed his hair perfectly. 

“How do you feel Parker?” 

“Amazing..I look great thanks bashful.” He says turning around, capturing your hips in his hands. “Let's get dinner, and then we can come back here.” 

“I hate sex after dinner.” 

“No, no we come back here and finish the show.” 

“Oh I get to come back to the Theta house? And not have sex?” You fake a gasp of shock. 

“I know it’s a rare occurrence. This is a one time thing though, don’t let it get to ya head.” Pete taunts, hand rubbing your side grabbing his wallet off his dresser.

“Oh baby it has.” 

Peter knew and even in his playful disdain and stubborn personality you were slowly craving a spot out in his chest and making a home in it, and at this point he had no say in it.

___________

tags: @helloheyhihowdyheya @sincericida @moonyslove78 @a-lumos-in-the-nox @messymissy @adhdhufflepuff @toomanyfictionalboyfriends @ateliefloresdaprimavera @eevylynn

[wishuroses]

.⠀ ݁ ⸜⸜ 𓂃 𓇼 make a wish, spider soccoro.

✶ pairings: spider x sully!reader

✶ warnings: fluff, lovesick fools, confessions, reader is a cutiepie and spider agrees wholeheartedly, you fell first he fell harder type deal, uppercase intended!

✶ word count: 854

✶ na’vi glossary: tawtute – human.

✶ a/n: i remember seeing a post asking for more spider fics, so i thought why not feed all my spider lovers out there? i’ve also been breathing down jack champions neck a lot recently (he is so fine) happy reading! :-)

“C’mon Spi, keep up!”

“Ugh. I’m trying, your legs are too long!”

The forest glowed beautifully beneath your feet with every step you took, pointed ears fluttering from the echoed sounds of chittering flora and fauna. You and Spider had fallen into the steady, yet risky rhythm of sneaking out past eclipse; disregarding the fact that your mother would skin him and then knot your tail right after if she ever caught both of you out, alone for that matter. Yet you–stubborn and hardheaded– never listened to what your mother had to say, easily blocking out her irritated hisses of frustration when you openly expressed your interest in the little tawtute.

Little did you know, that little tawtute also took interest in you. Much more than you did him, for that matter.

You giggled at his exasperated comment, looking over your shoulder and flicking your eyes downward to find that he is, indeed, struggling to catch up with you. Spider was, for a fact, small compared to your lithe 7ft frame, but if you plopped him next to the rest of the sky people, he beats at least a handful of them in the height department.

“Want me to carry you?” You asked genuinely, coming to a complete halt as you watched him trail beside you carefully. Spider scoffed at your silly question, not missing the way his heart rattled in his chest at the fact that you cared for him, looking up at you with mirth and adoration shining in his eyes. “No need for that, not yet at least. We’re here anyway.”

At his words, you craned your neck to look around, beads thudding together in a chorus at the sudden movement, a smile blooming on your face as quick as it came. The familiar stream of crystal clear water and shroud of colorful flora confirming that you both were here. Your secret spot.

“Look Spider, look!” You stretched your arm and pointed a strong finger towards the darkened sky, tracing over the rushing streak of light that ran across the horizon. “Make a wish!”

He turned his full attention to you with a furrowed brow, tilting his head. “Make a what?” Like a moth to a flame, he leaned into you, happily taking in your presence.

“A wish! It’s just.. something you really want that you don’t already have. Something you long for. Dad said it was a tawtute tradition! Make one, quickly!” Spider hummed in understanding, watching you with a lovesick expression etched on his face. His eyes traced over your wide eyes filled with astonishment, twinkling stars reflecting off adored pools of honey.

“Well..” Spider paused and licked his chapped lips, “What if it’s.. someone I long for?” His palpating heart only increased violently when you locked eyes with him, the pretty smile on your face only widening further, gasping softly at his bashful confession.

You shuffled closer to the boy, warm thighs pressed against each other. “Spider,” You cooed, proud of him for finding a person to give his heart to, “You like someone? Who, who!” You wrapped your four-fingered hand around his forearm, tugging at it with excitement. “You must tell me!” He flushed strawberry pink, dipping his chin down to shy away from the intensity of your gaze–making a pout form on your face.

“C’mon, I won’t tell! Swear it!”

Spider then looked at you with a playful grin, heart soaring like a multitude of shooting stars when you quickly reciprocated his grin. He exhaled, and with a random surge of confidence, he intertwined his hand with yours, the obvious difference in size making it quite tricky–but he made it work.

You wonder how much he needed to hype himself up to go through with going so far as to hold your hand–he’s never been this bold, up until now, at least.

You looked at your entangled hands with raised eyebrows, wide, curious eyes flickering back to stare into his softened brown ones. Spider nodded briskly, answering your wordless question with a nervous look on his face. In your eyes, he looked slightly constipated–like he was worried about what your reaction would be– and if you two weren’t tangled up in each other, you would’ve laughed at him.

But realistically, in your eyes, he was the prettiest he could ever be. You smiled, eyes forming crescent moons.

As if you two hadn’t already popped your personal space bubbles, you scooted even closer, leaning your forehead over the sleek glass of his exopack. Spider never wanted to kiss you more than he did now–to press his lips against your face, trailing down to your neck, and onto the expanse of your striped tummy, all while thumbing gentle circles into the jut of your hips. He found you so beautiful, no words could ever suffice.

“My wish..” Spider started breathlessly after a long beat of silence. Your ears flicked forward to selfishly take in his next words, watching as his pupils dilate the more he took in your appearance, eyes already so brown that if you didn’t have such good eyesight–you would’ve missed it.

“My wish is you.”

[silversweetpea]

Peer Review

pairing: Spencer reid x reader (gn)

word count: 1895

warning: This is probably really sappy but other than that i don’t think so?

summary: The genius and the student and the very obvious thing between them they both weren’t seeing.

author’s note: this is wildly self indulgent because I'm struggling with staying motivated with school and really just wanted to image a cute coffee date with Spencer. I have an idea for a second part so keep an eye out for me continuing to be wildly indulgent the next time I get sad about making my reference page lmao

❀✿❀✿ ❀✿❀✿ ❀✿❀✿ ❀✿❀✿ ❀✿❀✿ ❀✿❀✿ ❀✿❀✿ ❀✿❀

You weren’t hiding your college course from your coworkers. If Hotch or Morgan or even Garcia had asked you would tell them flat out that you had classes you were studying for. It wasn’t a big deal and if anyone in the world was going to understand what it was like to be addicted to working on something, it would be them.

If you were to hide it though, you would want the man approaching your table to be the last to know. 

“Hey Doc, what’s up?” Reid smiled again, a little dopey and a little bashful, the same one that you got every time you called him by the nickname. Seeing him in this moment was almost worth having been at the table since you had slipped out of the office yesterday afternoon. 

“Just, uh, you mentioned this coffee shop on the past few three cases straight. I figured I might as well try it while I had a chance.” It was your turn to smile, world suddenly a little brighter at his comment. You’d be the first to call anyone else in your circumstance hypocritical or indecisive to be so giddy over someone proving that they’ve been listening to you while trying so hard to hide something from them. Lucky for you, you weren’t anyone else and Spencer, as attentive as he was, had yet to comment on your sudden love of textbooks or attachment to your laptop.

“Good right? Have a seat, tell me what you got.” He was quick to slip into the spot across from you, long legs brushing yours under the table. You’ve never been more thankful for the close quarters as you are in that moment. Your laptop gets drawn towards you, but not quite closed. There was no telling if it would turn back on if you gave it a chance to rest.

“I have no clue. I didn’t know what most of the drinks had in them and by the time i got to the front of the line there were people behind me. Whatever it is cost six bucks.” His voice is tired and part of you longs to cup his face in your hand, to run your finger along the bags forming under his eyes. You’re not sure how tired he must be to not rehearse his order like usual but you’re not sure you could handle finding out either. It helps explain the dramatic drink - nearly half of which you’re sure is whip cream - in front of him at least. 

“Well, give it a try.” Spencer looks skeptical of the rather frilly drink in his hand but when you nod towards it, you get to see him lift it to his lips. More importantly you get to see the slight mustache that forms on his upper lip.

Your brain wonders what he would taste like if you kissed him. 

The more rational part of your brain simply leans over and uses a spare napkin to wipe the offending sweetness off his face.

It doesn’t occur to you that Reid has issues with people in his space until you’ve already settled back into your chair, napkin at your side and a dumbstruck look on his face. You’ve never seen brown eyes so blown wide or his hands so still where they still held his drink.

“Sorry about that. It’s worth it though right?” Spencer barely blinks as you give a stilted laugh and sip at your own drink - despite the fact that its now well past its peak at hours old. 

“Yeah,” The tired edge is gone, replaced with something breathy. Whatever it is though, Spencer gets a hold of himself with a short clearing of his throat and a look to the laptop you had nearly, blessedly, forgotten about. “What are you working on?”

“Oh just, stuff,” Raised eyebrows, teasing smile. If your job didn’t kill you, if this homework didn’t kill you, it would be him. Even as you cringe you can feel the knock of his knees against yours again. “You know, organizing my email, going through old files, that sort of thing.”

Hands you would recognize by shadow alone close the distance, small as it is, painfully slow. It’s a polite way to argue, an unspoken question you answer with a resigned sigh and a sip of your drink once more as you watch those beautiful features light up with surprise.

“This is an essay.” The words aren’t accusatory like you had thought they would be, they’re not even joking, just confused. It makes looking up at him a bit easier though it does nothing to stop the way that your heart skips at the eye contact.

“In theory.” Your weak response makes him smile again, mouth faltering with no noise as you slid the laptop back towards yourself. 

“Why are you writing an essay?” It’s innocent but your eyes are already skimming through the paper again, spotting all the mistakes that Spencer’s just seen and feeling your stomach plumet at the extent of them all. The bravery that had been surging through you at his presence suddenly slipped away. 

“You have to promise you won’t laugh.” His hair falls into his eyes just a bit when he nods, face serious in a way that you’ve never seen outside of the field. Though you suppose that you’ve only ever had a good reason to invite him out alone once or twice and if he was nervous with the group he’d probably keep that to himself if possible. Your eyes drift back to your cup at your side and the finger you have running around the rim of the cup to avoid looking at him. “I’ve been doing an online class recently. Figured it was about time to start updating what I know so I don’t get rusty.”

The silence between you feels unjustly vulnerable. 

“That’s...wow.” Soft as a feather. Would that be what it felt like to feel his breath on your skin too? Not looking up means that you can’t tell what he’s trying to say with just two words and it only takes a second to compose yourself. 

“I know it’s nothing compared to your wall of degrees bu-” Your gaze only snaps to Spencer when a warm hand covers your own.

“No that’s not it. I just can’t believe you found time to go back to school with all the cases we handle. Do you ever sleep?” Silence again, as if the rest of the cafe is holding its breath too while you search for some sign of insincerity. There isn’t though, not with Spencer. 

“There’s a reason I like this coffee shop.” The noise comes back all at once when you catch the smallest bit of a laugh. You don’t mind this one though, it almost sounds relieved coming from him. “Though I like it less when I’m cut off for the day.”

“How long have you been here?” Warmth floods your veins, embarrassment catching you by surprise. The strange looks of baristas who ring you out several times a visit was one thing. Watching Spencer’s brow furrow, or his hair shift as he leaned ever so slightly towards you, was another. 

The cold air feels like a brick being dropped on your hand when you pull back into yourself. Your eyes glue themselves to the laptop screen and the blinking cursor that seemed to mock you there. 

“Long enough to rewrite this essay four times and still hate it. I meant to write it in the hotel rooms but the case wrapped early and then there was paper work and-” You hadn’t even noticed the hand snaking back in your direction until the laptop you’d been focused on was pulled from your grip.

“Let me take a look,” Spencer says as if you’re not floundering like a fish out of water. The nerves have just enough time to build in your throat, suffocating you, before you realize that you’re just as anxious about the ease in which the genius offers his help. Its the same way that he saves you a seat on the jet or offers to grab you something from the breakroom. Its the same as when you share those quiet in-between moments where you learn about his life in exchange for bits of your own and marvel at how perfect they seem to fit together despite your concerns.

“If it’s bad you can say so. I know that I’m not the best at the whole essay thing. Tests I can study for but open ended ‘explain this concept I barely touched upon in class’ moments aren’t my strong suit.” He says nothing, but you can see a small smile tug at the corner of his lips. It’s hard to tell what that means for your paper but for your heart is means another skipped beat. The words keep coming in an attempt to ignore that though. “You know maybe I should just go. It’s not fair to make you review that on your day off-”

“(Y/n), calm down,” The anxiety simmers and then evaporates completely when he looks up at you again. the smile makes his eyes shine and Spencer voice is light with a laugh that doesn’t seem quite able to break free. You’re sure in that moment that time stops, that you’ve spent an eternity just allowing yourself to get lost in familiarity. Your line of work doesn’t leave much room for domestic day dreams, nights spent at the dinner table or lazy Sunday afternoons but for a minute you can see it all ahead of you and reflected back in Spencer’s gaze. “Your essay is fine. I’m just going to leave some notes for you to review later and then you can have it back.”

“Why not just tell me now?” The words are still breathless, but when he looks back to the screen, the sound of typing filling the space between you two, your lungs seem more accepting of the air you gulp down. For the first time in your life you understand how it must feel to be a smoker, addicted to the same thing robbing you of your ability to breathe.

“Because I’m walking you home. You look like you haven’t slept since you left the office.” Easy, confident, said in the same tone of voice that he’d use to tell you the sky is blue and although you want to argue, want to insist that you stay put until the essay if finished and submitted you don’t have it in you to deny him that truth. 

“Okay, just let me grab something to drink that isn’t hours old.” 

“Here,” Spencer hands off his drink in one hand and swipes your laptop bag with the other, throwing the strap over his shoulder. “It seems like something you’d like.”

When he stands, you’re pretty sure you catch a glimpse of red in his cheeks, but you’re so busy thinking about the fact that you’re sipping from the same cup that you can’t trust your own eyes. Nor can you fathom how he knew that this was your favorite drink if slightly sweeter from the caffeine free flavoring used. 

All you know is that when Spencer almost trips over himself to hold the door open on the way out, you’re thinking again of what it’d be like to kiss him. 

[sinsandsweetness]

I love your writing sooo much, was wondering if you could write a hyperfeminine reader × daryl one shot or sum like that!

ok apologies, this is actually Rick & Daryl x reader 🤭 if you have something slightly more specific for just Daryl I’m sure I can write it too💗

“I feel ridiculous.” Daryl grumbles, scrunching his nose as you place the white sheet mask over his face. The cold wet serum taking him by surprise as you use the pads of your manicured fingers to shape it to his skin. Smoothing out the little bumps and ridges.

“Well you look adorable.”

You hear Rick snort a laugh from the dresser, where he’s folding laundry neatly into their respective drawers.

“What?” You ask. Curious as to what could possibly be so funny.

“Oh- nothin, baby. He just needs some cucumbers on his eyes, then it’d be like a real spa.” Rick jokes, turning back around to fold another shirt.

“Hmm…” You turn back to Daryl, placing both palms on his chest. He must see the glimmer of idea in your eye and decides to shut it down real quick.

“No. No cucumber.”

“But-“

“No.”

“Ok. Fine.” Your brows furrow into a playful scowl at the man in front of you. He does look a little funny. White sheet mask clinging to his cheeks, only able to see his pretty lips and those ocean eyes.

You’re sitting on top of him. Thighs straddling his waist. Wearing a low cut tank top that cups your breast so delicately. Perky nipples peaking through the thin fabric. And when he lowers his gaze, he’s met with your tiny cotton panties. White ones with these little red hearts all over them. It is laundry day after all. And you’re panties are so perfectly pressed up against the bulge growing hard in his jeans. His hands are on your hips, rubbing mindless little circles onto your skin with his thumbs. And the feeling of your soft skin under his touch, really isn’t helping his situation.

“It’s too slimy.” He complains, one hand coming up to pick at the corner.

“Mkay… we can take it off if you really don’t like it. But just let me rub all this stuff in. Give you a little massage,” you explain, peeling the mask off his face by the corner and tossing it in the bin near the bed.

His skin is glistening wet as you take your fingertips, gently massaging the serum into his skin.

“You really gotta moisturize more. You’re already getting frown lines, D.” Your index finger traces the crease between his eyes.

Daryl can’t help the look he shoots towards Rick, who has to bite back his own smile at your amusing commentary.

Daryl sighs and shakes his head with a smirk. Gosh you two couldn’t be more opposite. Him, dressed in all black and leather. Rough and quiet and even a little mean at times. But you… well you’re perfect. To him at least. To anyone really. Not only with the way you look. Always prim and proper. Frills and bows adorning your flirty sundresses and mini skirts. But the way you act too, regardless of all the shitty situations you and everyone else has been through. You remain bright and kind and soft and sweet and there’s no one else who’d say any different. And there’s definitely no one else who he’d let baby him the way you do. The way you coddle him and cling to him non stop. The fact that you’re giving him an at home “spa treatment”… that alone is enough to prove how much he likes you. How much he adores you. If it were anyone else, he’d tell them to fuck right off. But not you. Not his perfect, pretty princess. The only one who can make him melt into putty the second you get your hands on him.

You can feel his hips slowly gyrating underneath you. A distracted and mindless attempt to catch the littlest bit more friction against you. His cock twitches as his blown pupils linger on the swell of your breasts.

“D,” you scold, eyes going wide and displaying your bashfulness. Though Daryl doesn’t seem to care. Eyes darting up to meet yours as he pulls his lip between his teeth. Biting back his smile at getting caught.

“Sorry,” his gaze shifts to the man behind you; An unspoken invitation.

Soon enough, you feel Ricks knee dip into the mattress, planting himself behind you both, and pressing a sweet kiss to your shoulder. Hands resting right above Daryl’s on your waist.

“You two almost done over here?” His kisses move up to your neck while Daryl’s hands make their way to your ass, pulling gently and forcing you to start rocking back and forth.

You let out a sigh, tipping your head back and basking in the attention from both men.

“Think we could probably take a break…” you breath out, pleasant tingles starting to erupt down your spine at their combined touches.

Daryl pulls at the band of your underwear, the elastic snapping back against your skin, making you jolt foreword with a gasp.

Both him and Rick let out a huff of amusement. Pulling on the thong yet again. Getting their hint across as clear as day.

“Why don’t you take these off and let us give you a real massage, huh?”

[bloompompom]

Eren is genuinely convinced he can fuck a cold out of you. You whine about not wanting to make him sick and mf just shrugs, blatantly lying ("I'm not gonna kiss you") so you can just relax and let him take care of you

ok since i am still thinking about this feeling sick, i had to update this with some shameless self-indulgence ♡

content: ~600 word count, eren jaeger x fem!reader, sloppy oral (f!receiving), explicit sexual content, explicit language. reader discretion advised.

I just feel like Eren wouldn’t know what to do with himself if you were sick. He’d be bored out of his mind. 

Like, the second you left the bedroom, just to grab medicine or something, his ears perked up like a fucking dog when he heard the door creak open. He immediately came to find you, confident that you must be feeling better by now. After all, you practically slept the entire day away. 

And before you could even step into the bathroom, Eren had you by the waist, his large hands holding you with your back against the wooden frame of the doorway.

He asked how you were feeling, but you couldn’t even mutter a reply because he was already on his knees before you, lifting your—his, actually—shirt out of the way to leave open-mouthed kisses down your chest. He continued to kiss his way lower—your sternum, then your stomach, and finally, right between your legs. Over your underwear, of course, but it made you hot all the same.

It tickled—his fingers on the bare of your sides, his breath fanning over your thighs. Your laugh—sniffly and far from spry—reminded you both why you had spent the morning (and some of the afternoon) in bed.

So Eren helped bring you back to the bedroom. Not out of the goodness of his heart but because he just needed you that badly. He needed to make it all better. And as he laid your head on the pillows, you warned him, “Don’t try and kiss me. I don’t want you to get sick.”

“I’m not gonna kiss you,” he replied matter-of-factly. He looped his fingers around the band of your underwear, tugging them down your legs while saying, “Not where you’re thinking, at least.”

Eren decided to have you then, with your thighs spread and his face nestled in between, and despite your better judgment, you didn't ask him to stop. Maybe if it didn't feel so good, the way he feverishly lapped at you until slick and spit were running down your thighs, you would have been more bashful about it—you know, considering you didn't feel (or, to be fair, look) your best. But that didn't stop him from literally worshipping you with his tongue because, to him, you were perfect.

When Eren's lips closed over your clit, sucking gently, you let your hips wantonly arch up to meet him. He splayed a hand over your stomach, pressing down just firmly enough to keep you still for him as he licked you through your orgasm. 

Now, Eren was sure you were feeling better, what with the way you stared up at him—eyes all big and fucked-out from just his tongue—as he leaned over you. But when he tried to give you a kiss, you covered his mouth with a palm.

He rolled his eyes as if to say, ‘Fine. Be that way,’ before flipping you—his bratty girlfriend—onto your stomach. He slipped from his joggers and thrust inside you in one snap of his hips; it was easy enough with the mess he had already made between your legs. He squeezed your thighs together, enjoying how tight you felt around his cock.

Eren fucked you then, with one hand flattened between your shoulders and the other groping at your ass, pounding into you like he was genuinely convinced he could fuck a cold out of you.

omg but afterward, he was probably a little embarrassed about it. like, talk about post-nut clarity, remembering that you were, in fact, sick and not actually a brat. so he didn't hesitate to tuck you back into bed and do all the stereotypical stuff he thought would help like bringing you tea. he even stayed in bed with you for the rest of the day—not to mention the next because he definitely will wake up with your cold.

[vaderkin-is-a-lightning-rod]

Vaderkin Creative Exchange 2024!

Hello and welcome! This is a gift exchange in four steps, organised by the Vaderkin Community (Vaderkin is a lightning rod discord) around Anakin | Vader's character, to increase interactions between writers and artists and give everyone some time to shine!

✒️ Step 1: Writers write prompts for artists, everyone get matched depending on sign up answers.

🎨 Step 2: Artists have one month to draw one or more works from the prompts they received.

✒️ Step 3: Arts reveal. Writers get assigned one or several art pieces and have two months to write a minimum 500 words story inspired from them.

🎨 Step 4: Fics reveal. Drawing festival, every artist can draw fanart over the new stories created from the event (and be reblogged by this tumblr for it).

Sign up here:

All works (art and fic) from tumblr will be reblogged by the Vader Community and all works (art and fic) from ao3 can be added to the event collection. For this, the works need to be tagged properly with "Vaderkin creative exchange 2024", as well as the tag "explicit" if it is explicit (smut, strong graphic violence) work.

Overall, it’s a typical gift exchange, only writers prompts will be in image rather than words, and everyone is strongly encouraged to have fun and try their hand at sketching during the ’drawing festival’.

Schedule:

Sign up opens: Marsh 28th, 2024

Sign up closes: April 27th, 2024

Artists receive prompts & giftee: May 4th, 2024 (as a little sw gift 😉)

Writers receive prompts & giftee: June 2nd-4th, 2024

Artists Submissions: June 4th, 2024

Writers Submissions: August 4th 2024

Drawing Festival: August 2024

Have fun!!

Rules and FAQ below the cut

RULES

- This is an Anakin Skywalker | Darth Vader exchange. This character needs to be one of the main characters, or at least have a very strong presence in the artwork/story. Crossovers are accepted.

- Respect your Giftee's Do Not Want (DNW)

- Do not reveal who your Giftee is before the reveal date (June 4th for artists, August 4th for writers). If you have a question, ask as anon through the Giftee's Tumblr or ask one of the event mods (we will serve as intermediary).

- Do not repost your gift content (especially art!) Mind your giftee’s extra request for AI-scraping protection if there is any. If you can, use the ao3 gift function to link to their profile. Otherwise, mention in your work post that this is a gift, with a mention of your giftee username and a link towards their tumblr/ao3/otherwise page, if they gave one.

- Do not use AI to produce your gift, be it to produce the prompts or to produce your art / written work.

- Avoid character bashing, kinkshaming, and ship wars. If one fits in your DNW (ex: You absolutely do not want Obikin content), mention it politely. This is an event for everyone to have fun! The fandom is wide, and there is space for everyone.

If any of the above rules is not respected, mods reserve the right to ban you from this and any future Vaderkin Community events.

By participating in this exchange, you commit yourself to producing one art piece if you sign up as an artist, one written fic if you sign up as writer, or one artwork and one fic if you sign up as both. If you can't complete your work, you must warn one of the mods at least one week before the deadline.

Please don’t forget to comment on your gift, even a small ’thank you’ to the artist/writer is better than nothing and will make everyone very happy!

---

FAQ

Can I draw a comic? Yes, a comic panel will be counted as an art piece.

Can I write a multi chapter story? Sure! Feel free to! But your first chapter must be able to pass as a one shot, and be finished by the writing deadline.

I missed the sign up deadline (27th April), can I still join? No, but you can still join during the Drawing Festival! The final event is open to everyone.

I only joined as an artist/writer but also wanted to participate as the other one. Same answer. The sign up closes in order for us to properly match everyone. But don’t hesitate to join and give gifts for the Drawing Festival!

Someone else also have the same writing prompt/art prompt/giftee as me, is this normal? Yes, this is how we balance the number difference between writers and artists. Prompt interpretation varies from person to person!

Can I do several art/fic works? Sure! In the case of art pieces, it will allow the writer to choose from which picture to draw inspiration from, like receiving several prompts, so several art pieces is highly encouraged!

I cannot finish my work in time, what do I do? Contact us ASAP and tell us your estimated delay. If you are an artist, keep in mind that your gifter cannot begin their writing work before your art piece is published.

I do not wish to participate anymore, what do I do? Contact us ASAP. Please try not to drop out right before the deadline, as we may have to create a work to replace yours.

[beelsnack]

Imperfect - Obey Me! Boys and an MC With Scars

Continuing my trend of hyper-specific self-insert fics lol

This is me projecting a little bit, I have quite a few scars. I'm diabetic, so I don't heal very well. Also, the scenario described in Mammon's part actually happened to me, so...yeah, ya boi is projecting.

There is a part two in the works, I just don't want to make this post too long.

Content Warning: Mention of self-harm in Belphie's part.

-----

Lucifer: “Can I ask you something?”

The two of them were enjoying a rare moment of peace, sipping on hot drinks together in the early morning. Most of the occupants of the House of Lamentation were still asleep, or the ones that were awake were busy doing their own thing. For once, it felt like the world was allowing them to take a break.

Lucifer set his coffee cup down and regarded them with the soft, fond look that he seemed to reserve for them alone. “Of course, my dear.”

“If you could…” the human cleared their throat, shifting their weight around nervously. “If you could get rid of my scars, would you?”

Lucifer’s expression hardened, and for a moment they were worried they had made him angry. An apology was halfway out of their mouth when Lucifer stood, making his way over to their side and cradling their chin in his gloved hand.

“If you wished it, it would be so,” he rubbed a thumb over one of the pock-marks on their cheek. Not only had cystic acne left a constellation of marks across their face, they had always bruised easily so even the mildest of injuries left scars. 

“But you are exactly the way you need to be as you are,” Lucifer continued. “And I wouldn’t change a single thing about you.”

Mammon: “Did it hurt?”

At first the human thought that Mammon was attempting to use a cheesy and potentially blasphemous pick up line on them. But when they looked up from the TV show the two of them were watching while curled up in their bed, they realized that he was looking at the faded red-purple marks adorning their legs.

“Well, it didn’t fucking tickle.”

Mammon flushed. “I didn’t - I mean - uh, shit, um - “

They shoved him good-naturedly. “Don’t worry about it.”

Both of them sat in silence before they decided the awkward tension was too much. “You wanna know how I got these scars?” they asked, in a terrible Joker impression.

“Not if you’re gonna sound like Heath Ledger while telling me.” 

The human snorted. “It’s not even that cool, honestly. I was helping move some furniture, and the house had a pretty long set of concrete steps. I was going backwards down the steps, lost my footing and ate it from about six feet in the air.”

“Fuckin’ hell,” Mammon hissed, wincing in sympathy.

“I have one on my arm, too, but that one’s a bit more faded,” they held up their forearm. The discolored patch of skin was barely visible in the dim light from the TV, but Mammon could still tell it couldn’t have been a pleasant experience. “Had a split second to chose between bashing my head in or fucking up my arm.”

“...I’m glad you chose your arm?” Mammon shrugged.

“Me too,” they laughed.

Leviathan: He was staring.

The human was starting to get a little uncomfortable with how intensely Levi was looking at their face. They knew the scar on the left side of their face was intense - it had been a constant reminder of the house fire they had survived when they were younger. But Levi didn’t have to stare at it like he was committing it to memory.

“I’m just thinking…”

“Thinking about what?” The human wished they had a hood to hide behind or something, they were starting to get angry. 

Levi must have realized his error, because he suddenly turned bright red and looked away, hand covering the lower half of his face in embarrassment.  The human felt a little bad, but at least Levi wasn’t gawking at them anymore.

“...y’look…lrpzuko…”

“...Come again?” 

“I said you look like Prince Zuko!” Levi blurted before pressing his hand harder against his mouth. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that, I’m just gonna - “

“Wait,” the human pulled up their phone camera. “...I kind of see it, holy shit.”

Satan: “So where did this come from, anyway?”

He knew it probably was committing some sort of social faux pas to ask, but Satan was a curious creature by nature, and he figured that he and the human were close enough. Figuratively and literally, considering they were laying with their head in his lap while the two of them were reading.

When they made an inquisitive noise, he idly drew a clawed finger down the long, jagged scar decorating their forearm. He felt them stiffen against his legs, and when he looked up he saw the apprehension on their face.

“I…God, it’s so stupid…”

“Come on, it can’t be that bad,” Satan urged. They hesitated a bit before sighing.

“I was fighting with this kid in…it was either middle school or early high school. I went to walk away because I was kind of getting sick of arguing with the moron, but when I turned around they shoved me hard enough to knock me over. I kinda like…flung my arm up, to protect my face, y’know? And since it was outside it got all scraped up. Never healed fully, I guess, so now I have this.”

Satan hummed thoughtfully, tracing the outline of the scar. It was faint, barely visible in dim lighting, but it was obvious that the human wished it wasn’t there.

“You fought back, right?”

“Duh.”

Asmo: “You seem very focused there, darling. Don’t quite know your shade?”

The two of them had been standing in the foundation section of the local Dephora for a while now. Asmodeus knew the store like the back of his hand and had already scooped up all of his favorite products in addition to a couple new drops that had made their way onto Devilgram. The human, however, hadn’t moved for about 20 minutes.

“I mean…I know my shade, but…” they hesitated, hand idly drifting towards the side of their neck. “Coverage is more what I’m worried about.” 

Asmo’s brows furrowed. The human had a scar from when they got splashed with hot oil as a child, and they were notoriously self-conscious about it. Aesthetically, Asmo understood - it wasn’t pretty, it looked like it had hurt and if he could he would use every bit of his magical power to get rid of it completely. But it was part of the human, and Asmo loved it regardless.

He slipped a hand overtop of the humans, causing them to look up at him with worried eyes. Asmo’s own eyes softened, and he leaned over to press a gentle kiss to their forehead. “Darling, if you do want to cover it up to boost your confidence, I will gladly help you pick out foundation and concealer. But you know you don’t have to if you truly don’t want to, right? That I’ll love you no matter what?”

The human looked away, but Asmo still caught the shy smile they wore as they leaned into his hand. “I know.”

Beelzebub: “Can I help you?”

Admittedly, the human was a little paranoid about whether or not people were staring at them. But this time, it was very clear that Beelzebub was staring at them, and they weren’t sure how they felt about it. They were cooking dinner, after all, they might not even be the thing that Beel was staring at.

“That mark on your shoulder.” 

Immediately, the human tensed up. They had thought that the shirt they were wearing covered up the conspicuous birthmark on their right shoulder, but apparently not. “What about it?”

Beel paused for a moment. “It looks like a potato.”

They turned to look at him with a raised eyebrow. “Does it? I can’t really see it all that often.”

“Mm,” Beel nodded before unfolding himself from the stool he was sitting on and coming up to hug the human from behind. He leaned down to nuzzle affectionately against the mark, and the human felt their apprehension begin to bleed away. “I like it. It makes you, you.”

They remained silent for a moment before a small smile tugged at the corner of their lips. “Thanks, Beel.”

Belphegor: “Did you do that to yourself?”

It took a minute for the human to realize what Belphie was talking about. They had just changed into their pajamas, and they honestly had thought Belphie was asleep. But apparently he had been awake enough to notice the evenly-spaced cut marks along the insides of their thighs.

“...Yeah,” they muttered, hiding their face in his chest. So much for a peaceful night’s sleep. “A while ago.”

“Why?”

They shrugged. Honestly, thinking about that particular time in their life wasn’t something they did often, at least not consciously. Every time they did, their heart rate increased, their breathing sped up, and it suddenly felt like they were in that dark room again with nothing but their spiraling thoughts - 

“You don’t have to tell me,” Belphe muttered against their hair. “Stay with me, now, okay?”

He ran a hand up and down their back soothingly, and it would never surprise them how gentle Belphegor could be for a demon.

“You want to know what I think?” Belphie allowed his fingers to trace the marks along their thighs, but the touch was distinctly platonic. 

“Mm?”

“I think,” he pressed a kiss to the crown of their head. “That you were going through a lot, and those scars are proof that you made it through.”

The human stilled, processing, before they snuggled deeper into Belphie’s embrace. “You think so?”

“Mm-hm,” he hummed sleepily, hand stilling against the small of their back. “Not that I’m glad you have them, mind you, but nobody goes through hell completely unscathed and you shouldn’t feel ashamed of them.”

[stevetonyisendgame]

A Second Chance: The Steve/Tony Endgame Prompt Fest

Whether you took part in the exchange and miss SteveTony already or missed out last time and wish you joined in, this prompt fest is a second chance <3

The prompt fest will run from July 7 to December 31, 2023. There are no minimum work requirements, and sign-ups are not required: you can submit prompts and fill prompts as you please! 😊

Here’s how it works:

To submit a prompt, send it through our prompt form and it’ll appear in the Prompt Collection sheet for others to see (the form and sheet will be opened on July 7). You can only submit one prompt each time, but you can submit as many forms as your heart desires. If you aren’t sure what your prompt should look like, take a look at the sheet for examples or ask us for help!

To fill a prompt, just post it to the AO3 collection when it’s complete! There is no formal claiming process; just make sure to include the prompt number and/or quote the prompt you filled in your author’s note or summary.

Both the prompt form and the AO3 collection will be open for the entire duration of the event (July 7 to December 31). During this time, you can send in prompts, view prompts in the Prompt Collection, and post fills to the AO3 collection.

Rules & Guidelines

There is no minimum work requirement, and any work type goes!

When you post your work, please include the prompt number and/or quote the prompt you filled in your author’s note or summary.

All prompts and fills must be Endgame-adjacent. Canon divergence and post-canon are welcome!

All prompts and fills must center on Steve and Tony's relationship, whether romantic or platonic. Since this is a Steve/Tony event, we ask that you do not prompt or fill poly relationships involving them and others, and Steve/Tony cannot be a side ship.

You must be at least 18 years old to participate, as some prompts may contain mature themes.

The foremost rule of our exchange applies to the prompt fest as well: This is a Steve and Tony friendly event! ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ We will not accept any character bashing or painting either character in a negative light. Any prompts or fills that do not respect this rule will be removed from the collection. Remember this is supposed to be a fun event celebrating their love!

FAQ

Multiple people can collaborate on one fill.

Gifting your fill to the prompter is encouraged but not required.

Combining multiple prompts into one fill is allowed, just remember to specify which ones.

You can submit and fill as many prompts as you want—there is no limit.

You do not need to fill a prompt in order to submit one, and vice versa.

Crossposts with other events are allowed as long as the rules of that event permit it too.

The collection will be unmoderated, so mods cannot guarantee real-time fill status updates in the Prompt Collection, but we’ll do our best!!

As always, if you have any questions or concerns, don’t hesitate to DM us, drop us an ask, or email us at stevetonyisendgame@gmail.com!

Love,

A Second Chance Mods

[uravitypng]

𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐎𝐍 𝐌𝐘 𝐃𝐄𝐒𝐈𝐑𝐄

kinktober day five: corruption

pairing: megumi fushiguro x reader

word count: 850

a/n: okay i know this is shorter than my other kinktober posts, and it's also like 8 days late but its better than nothing. i like this quite a lot tbh, it's under 1k words shorter than i normally write and it's not explicit but it's still good ‧₊˚✩‧₊˚♡‧₊˚

warnings: corruption kink (obvs), trusting reader, friend!megumi, suggestive, reader is shy, drinking(only a bit though), praise, one mention of megumi being taller than reader but older megumi is real tall so he'll always be taller +18 mdni

Megumi overhears you talking to Maki that you haven't had your first kiss yet and he thinks his brain short circuits. He knows you keep to yourself most of the time, you're not exactly an outgoing person, that's what drew him to you, neither of you engage with your other friends antics. He hates to admit is but he's so intrigued, it's not like you remove yourself from conversations about sex with Nobara and Yuji you always stay with them and listen, even when he's had enough and leaves.

He's never really thought of you more than a friend, he knows you're pretty and he understands while Nobara makes the odd flirty comment at you but he's never thought of you more than that. At least until now. There is something so desirable about how innocent you are. He's not the most experienced person in the world himself, but hearing you talk made him want to take that innocence away, he could teach you.

Megumi tries to not to think about it, he shouldn't think of you like that, it's wrong. But he likes the idea of it wrong. He wants to kiss you, to touch you, to ruin you. He wants to take away your innocence. He aches for you and he's decided that he's going to act on his desire.

Some people have met up to go out for the night, it's so rare to get everyone's schedules free nowadays. After a few drinks it was a general good night, with Megumi's buzz he was less irritated when Yuji insisted to sing karaoke at the top of his voice. Megumi isn't the biggest drinker in the world and neither are you, typically because you get drunk quickly and can't handle alcohol. Both of you are a little tipsy while walking back home and Megumi takes his chance to see how shy you'll act when he pushes the boundary of your friendship, even in the slightest.

Megumi brushes his hand against yours nearly holding your hand, then carries on like nothing has happened. Most people would brush it off and ignore it, it could of been seen as an accident, but in the corner of his eye he knew that it affected you more than it would someone else. You looked so cute, with a flush creeping across your cheeks, all wide eyed, bashful, and not looking at him. So so so cute. He has to see you underneath him, he has to see what you'd look like.

Lucky for him he lives near you so you can walk back together, while everyone else walks away, it must be a sign.

The walk back is too short in his opinion, it's mostly in silence and sometimes a little comment here or there but he's reached your door before he knows it. He sees you saying goodbye but he can't hear it over his thoughts, to busy thinking. Megumi decides he needs to do something while he has the chance, he steps closer to you.

Megumi can't contain his smile when you cock your head to side looking confused. He reaches you and fixes your collar, his hands momentarily lingering on the neck. A shiver runs down your spine as you freeze and can't speak. "Your collar was up" Megumi says, making direct eye contact with you, making you even more fluttery. "Can i come in baby?" the new nickname filled your stomach full of butterflies and you become speechless. Nodding shyly, you guide him inside.

He keeps his composure as you lead him in, all he wants to do is grab you and take you but he knows he has to take it slow. You look out of place and don't really know what to do, he decides to take pity on you and lend you a helping hand. "Should we have a cup of tea?" You look up at him and he realises how small you are in comparison to him, making him get hard, hoping that you don't notice. He's taller than nearly everyone he knows, he towers over you and it does something to him.

After you've both had something to drink you've relaxed and felt less overwhelmed, you're thankful that Megumi is so kind to you and always puts you at ease.

You show Megumi to your room but stood at the entrance, figuring out how to go about this. You know you want this. You're scared you will let him down, you're a virgin and has never done anything like this before, what if you do it wrong? Luckily Megumi takes charge and moves you onto the bed, slowly unbuttoning your shirt and greedily taking you in. He tells you how cute you are and how you're doing so good for him, you become giddy at the comments and lay down on the bed, you know Megumi will look after you.

Megumi is going to have a good night.

[dadsbongos]

the end of evangelion - s.geto & s.gojo & s.ieiri

part of the jjk movie marathon event / movie selection … warnings - children being traumatized by toji, you are killed and then revived :) , plasma vessel arc spoilers, i fucking love tragic character relationships <3 word count - 3.8 K / rating - PG-13

Satoru notices three things before him. Bangs. Mole. Bug eyes.

He doesn’t really remember their names, he supposes he probably should if he wants to seem polite.

But he wasn’t good at any of that, so he simply places his hand over his chest and proudly declares, “Gojo, Satoru, and I hope none of you think I plan on carrying the class.”

The one staring with wide, bashful eyes suddenly sours, glaring at him from beside the girl with the mole. A quiet laugh rumbles from the chest of the pretty boy with his bangs hanging over his eye. Satoru’s teacher sighs quietly before clapping him on the shoulder, the large hand heavy on his bony shoulder.

“Please, take a seat by Geto and we can begin.”

Satoru pauses, hands jammed in his pockets. His eyes are narrowed behind pitch-black, square lenses. Geto, Geto, Geto…

“Which one was that?”

The big-eyed one guffaws while the girl with the mole snorts. The both of them turn to the other boy. Ah, so it must be him, then.

“Geto, here,” the one with the bangs raises his hand, eyes straying towards the door as if he’s already prepared to bolt.

Yaga waits for Satoru to find his seat before standing in front of his four first-years. He looks out at them and sees two very different paths. One full of bountiful success; First Grade sorcerers chock-full of household names in the jujutsu world. And one of shameful failures, a crew barely able to work together long enough in the Kyoto exchange event let alone actually operate missions as a team.

Though, he watches as you and Shoko re-introduce yourselves to Satoru. The six-eyes user, surprisingly, nods along and seems to genuinely retain the information. Yaga feels hope bloom in his chest.

With such unique techniques gathered in one room, there is real potential here for a fruitful future.

“Just one more, c’mon!” Satoru nuzzles his warm cheek between yours and Suguru’s, and begs as if he doesn’t have you both trapped beneath his arms. For such a scrawny guy, he sure does have a good grip.

“We’ve been here for hours, ‘Toru!” you whine, but your body is already completely lax against his side.

Suguru hums along to your point with a gentle nod, “Yaga-sensei still has a reservation we need to get to, Satoru.”

“Aw, let the prince have this!” Shoko, for once, sides with the wonder boy beside you. She holds up her camera and grins, “One more and then dinner!”

“Quickly, please?!” Yaga calls from over the girl’s shoulder, “If we’re late, one of you has to pay for the replacement dinner!”

“Not it!” you call at the same time Suguru purrs it. Satoru rolls his eyes, arms squeezing even tighter around both of your necks.

“As if it would’ve been anyone else.”

“Alright, smiles!” Shoko glares over the lens of her camera, lashes narrowed, despite the uptilt of her rosy lips, “And hold up the awards - Yu and I worked hard on those!”

You, Satoru, and Suguru display the thin, crinkle-edged papers with crudely drawn-on golden trim and sky blue ribbon. In large black crayon scrawls are your names over the front with ‘OFFICIAL FIRST GRADER’ below. It must’ve taken less than a minute each, but you’re already mentally plotting where exactly you want to hang yours in your dorm. Maybe you could even goad Satoru into buying you each matching frames.

“Alright, alright,” Yaga calls, checking his watch for the umpteenth time since Shoko called for another picture, “Let’s go! Goddamn!”

“Okay,” Shoko lowers the camera, flicking through the many photos she’d collected over the evening, “There may be some actual salvageable ones in here.”

“At least you can’t tell when ‘Toru blinks,” you bounce over to her side, carefully cradling the homemade paper award to your chest.

“No,” Shoko pouts suddenly, staring into the sharp glare in Satoru’s glasses, “Dammit - you can see me in those stupid shades!”

“Good!” you lean over to follow her gaze, “That way everybody who sees it will know you were here, too.”

“But I look goofy…”

Suguru towers over the brunette’s back to look at the photo, “Yeah, you do.”

“Hey!”

“He’s right,” Satoru snickers, having not even glanced at the camera screen.

“Hey!”

All three Grade One Tokyo branch students sent as escorts are fatally injured. Two dead. Both later revived.

You can feel it all down your neck. Cold and prickly and squeezing. The base of your throat cinches, heart banging against every bone rung in your chest - trying desperately to free itself. Instinctively, your shoulders bunch up towards your neck; the tips of your fingers go numb, and the numbness spreads up your hands. As if your body itself is trying to shut down. Some unfair, automatic reaction in the face of a bigger predator.

Your knees buckle.

Toji has a hand on his hip, head tilting with a lazy grin, “You’re not on the list, y’know?”

You swallow thickly, eyes scrambling hurriedly over the hulking form before you. Broad shoulders and muscles, at least three times the size of your head, doused in midnight black. You think you make fists.

“You can run, kid,” Toji raises both brows high along his forehead, “If you don’t think you’ll win, you can run.”

It’s cold. So cold it burns. Your jaw clenches. Air fails to reach the hull of your lungs before it’s all punched back out.

“I do it,” Toji jerks the sword in his hand.

Snapped third blade.

Maroon handle.

It’s shiny. Blinding.

Your eyes flicker from the blade to Toji. The blade. It’s familiar. You’ve seen it in a picture. It has a name. The blade glints, sunlight sliding across the metal. Your stare shoots back up to Toji. Toji Fushiguro.

Your legs are going numb now.

Toji’s eyes glide downward, your own snapping to where he glances. Your hands are balled into fists. They’re shaking. Is it fear? Is it anger?

Or are you just tensing too harshly?

Your eyes fall past your hands. Lingering on the concrete beneath your shifting feet.

“I…” your throat tightens, choking off your words. No saliva is willing to slip down and coat the dryness, but you try again, “I won’t run…”

Toji laughs. Head thrown back. Hand still on his hip, Toji twists the blade in his grasp, nodding to himself, “Alright.”

It’s humiliating.

The way your legs tremble as you try to attack. The way your arms lock into place as you barely manage to meet Toji’s eyes.

It’s humiliating: the way you’re on your back so soon.

Toji’s eyes are still, steady in their hold on your own. However, you don’t return his simple gaze. Darting from Toji’s face to the blade above your chest to the gate Suguru and Riko had run through. The blade plunges down.

Your whole body starts to tingle. Deadening. You hear a crack right below your ear. Sunlight dancing off the sword in Toji’s big hands, it’s a lot brighter up close in your chest.

Air startles in your throat, and you cough. Crimson bubbles up with it. Somewhere in the back of your head, you know what this means. A punctured lung. Severed thoracic artery. But that isn’t your main focus.

Toji rips the sword from your chest, his palm pressing against your throat to keep your body down as he pulls the cursed tool free.

You and Shoko had to do a report on that tool back in your first year.

The Inverted Spear of Heaven. Cuts through any technique.

She’d probably laugh that you got attacked with it if she didn’t know you were dying. If she knew that she’d probably try healing you.

Toji turns his back to you, stuffing the Inverted Spear into the worm looming around his body. His hands go into his pockets. Jaw unhinging in a heavy yawn while he approaches the main chamber of Tengen’s tomb. You don’t think he hears you giggle. It probably wouldn’t matter anyway.

The blood is warm against your cheeks. Pooling beneath your head and soaking into your hair.

You giggle, remembering how childishly your stoic friend described the complicated nature of her reverse cursed technique.

How was it again?

Fwoy… then hiyo?

Your eyelids droop. Gaze unfocused on the sky.

Fwoy. Then hiyo.

“How do you feel?” Shoko scrubs her thumb over the smooth surface of her Zippo lighter within her pocket. Her tongue dances over her bottom lip, chapped and rough. She briefly wonders where her chapstick tube is before returning to the present, “Stronger?”

Satoru snickers, an arm draped over your shoulders loosely. It feels odd, somehow an indent against the back of your uniform and yet entirely weightless. He shrugs, “Nah. I was already the strongest, anyway.”

“No more bragging,” you nudge an elbow into his side, but the hit fails to connect, “Your ego has been fed enough for tonight. Don’t you think, Suguru?”

“Hm?” the boy’s hair flutters around his shoulders, head jerking into attention. His arms are folded across his chest and it takes an awfully silent pause before he responds, “Yeah,” he steps closer, blinking up at Satoru, “No more ego-feeding, now you get to feed us, hm?”

“Fine,” Satoru groans, as if that hadn’t been the plan since you all knew he was being promoted, “We have to be quick finding a place, though,” he tugs at the collar of his uniform stiffly, “I didn’t exactly call anywhere ahead.”

“You’re Gojo, Satoru,” Shoko jams a hand in her other pocket, searching for her missing chapstick, “You’ll get us anywhere.”

“So irresponsible,” you muse.

“Well! This is my night, you know?! Why am I supposed to be the event planner?”

“Just ‘cuz Yaga-sensei isn’t here,” Suguru ‘tsk’s, waggling a finger at his friend, “For shame, Satoru.”

The overhead neons and flashing bulbs cast menacing shadows over the pale plains of Suguru’s face. Shadows falling under the bags beneath his eyes.

You contemplate asking.

You know it’ll be pointless.

“Hey, have you been okay?” you whisper against Suguru’s side. His body is warm and tense beneath his loose, hanging, boring beige shirt.

His faraway stare sparks suddenly, shortening back to where you stand beside him. He smiles down at you, it doesn’t reach his eyes so he manually crinkles them shut. He nods curtly, “Yeah…” and then nods again, “Yeah.”

Special Grade is sent as a replacement.

“You’ll be okay,” your hands are cupped over the searing, jagged incision in Kento’s stomach, blood pooling around your fingers and knuckles, “You’ll be okay, right?”

Kento can’t hear you very well, just the bland rolls of your voice. Crackling and raspy from the pressure of screaming.

“Oh, God, Shoko- “ you look around the morgue, trying desperately to unlock that flame from last month. The one you harnessed to save yourself, now desperate to save your friend, “Haibara… God, oh God,” you want to reach out and cradle the other boy, “Nanami, please don’t die.”

The blond blinks up at you, and you’re not even sure he understood your weak plea.

You need to keep your hands on Kento’s wound, but you want to take Yu into your arms. If there is any chance that he could still be living, you want his last moments to be warm and loving. Yu is not someone that should die, but if he has to - it should be kindly. And this was not kindly.

“I’m here!” Shoko barges into the cold morgue, skin bristling with the chilled air. The metal door clangs loudly against the wall, her body moves swiftly through the area as if she’s done this countless times. She almost crashes into the steel table that Yu rests on, “I’m here, I’m here, I’m here…” she lays her hands on his cheeks, wiping at the blood splattered up his neck and chin, “I’m here…”

She cannot bring herself to look down at where the cloth over his body suddenly dips.

“Shoko,” your arms shake, “Shoko, you need to take care of Nanami.”

Her shoulders are tensed up to her bobbed hair. She steps back from Yu and joins your side at Kento’s body. Her hands overtake yours and you withdraw. The blood flows down your fingers and drips onto the floor.

“You,” Shoko whispers, shoulders still high, “Thank you.”

“I could only keep him alive,” you’re not nearly as adept at reverse cursed energy as Shoko, but you hope it was enough to at least save one friend tonight.

“Thank you,” she whispers, staring at Yu’s bisected corpse.

Satoru and Shoko are on opposite sides of Japan. Satoru is in Osaka, and Shoko is in Yamagata. Yaga-sensei is in Kyoto for the next week. You and Suguru are in Tokyo. You clasp his hand in yours.

“I’m really proud of you.”

Suguru brings you closer, his hand is warm. And large, “You’re Special Grade, too.”

“But I’m proud of you.”

He can still remember you as you were brought to him by Satoru. Blood drying and muddying in the weeds of your hair to your skull, crimson dyeing the cracks in your lips. Chest still and unbeating. No warmth in your veins. You would soon be ice cold.

You could have been.

And then you coughed and sputtered and shot up in Satoru’s arms, throwing him entirely off balance. The both of you had fallen over and you were the only one laughing it off.

You haven’t laughed like that since it sunk in what the darkness you saw before waking up was.

He remembers the anger he felt when he wasn’t able to maim Toji himself. The anger he felt over Toji being allowed to live into adulthood at all. That he could breed and eat and love like he was some kind of person. He should be dumb and drooling and helpless under Suguru’s palm like any other wild animal. That anger was so palpable that he couldn’t sleep for the next two days.

Then there was the mourning.

He never wants to see you like that again. Not to a bare-fisted, feral monkey. And not to a curse.

He’s sick at the thought.

“I’m proud of you, too,” he squeezes your hand. The lights of Tokyo continue to do his gaunt face no justice. Pale skin stretched over aching bone. He smiles, and he does not bother trying to make his eyes squint up.

He wishes that you being a fellow Special Grade could ease his worries. But even as you walk hand-in-hand back to the dorms, that image of you - still and cold - refuses to go down.

“I just want you to hear it from me. I know what I’ve done. I’m in my right mind. I just couldn’t let them… this village was full of non-sorcerers who tortured two girls with cursed energy. I have to make this world better for… I can’t sit back and let them form curses and kill us off. I can’t let a corrupt world continue to cut away at everyone I love. Do with this as you will, I won’t be mad if it becomes evidence against me. Just… don’t show Satoru. If I can keep some sort of reputation with him, then for now I’d like to. But I don’t regret it. I just regret not being able to say this in person.”

You play the voicemail again.

And again.

And again.

And you don’t show Satoru. Or Yaga. Or Gakuganji.

It was a simple job. Get in. Exorcize a curse from a dead-end 9-5 office. Get out. You and Satoru were quick enough - got in and exorcized the curse in the dead-end 9-5 office - and now to get out.

You watch your janky, funhouse reflection in the steel elevator doors. It’s a blurry and stretched thing, but it’s you. You look up and watch the floors tick, tick, tick down.

Satoru is leaning against the wall to your right, his left leg is bent out with his shoe jammed rudely against the wall. His eyes pierce the back of your head. He can’t tell if you’re intentionally ignoring him or just that dense; either way, he hates it.

He scoffs, “I don’t get it.”

“Get what, Satoru?”

Satoru folds his arms - he can't pinpoint it, but these days you make him sick - “He just left. Like it was that easy. Like…”

He wants to see you react. He wants to watch you clench your fists and bow your head, but you don’t. Instead, you say, “It was that easy for him. He hated how the school does things, so he left. He hated that village, so he got rid of it.”

Kicking himself off the wall, Satoru throws his arms out for emphasis. Too bad you’re still staring at that damn floor counter, “So just picking up and leaving us was that easy? He could’ve called us! He could’ve said how he was feeling!”

You swallow thickly, heat clings to the back of your neck.

“But he didn’t,” your hands are limp at your sides, voice shallow, “Trying to find purpose in things you’ll never know the answer to will drive you insane. He left - he isn’t coming back. And if he does, it’ll be to die.”

“We could’ve done something!” Satoru’s voice cracks in the middle, his nails stabbing into his palms.

“But we didn’t. And now we can’t.”

“Why aren’t you angry?!” he shoves you from behind. His hands are neither hot nor cold. Not soft or rough. The space of his infinity doesn’t feel like anything even though it still stubs against your uniform, “Dammit, don’t you care?!”

You stumble from the force of his push, quickly regaining balance and turning to look at Satoru. Your brows crinkle just slightly, lips tugging down at the corners, “Trying to find answers for something you’ll never know will drive you crazy. It’s best to just let it go.”

There’s a flame behind those crystalline eyes, his fists dig into his thighs, “How can you do that?”

“What? Move on?”

“Not care.”

“I care.”

“You don’t,” his throat bobs, white eyelashes batting shut and chin tucking down to his chest. His voice wavers, “Suguru was the only other person that could understand my every thought. He wasn’t someone you could find just anywhere. He was someone I couldn’t imagine going a day without, and now every day is one without him. He never told us what was going on, and he left without so much as a goodbye. And you don’t care! Why don’t you care?!”

“Suguru had his reasons,” you reach out, fingers brushing against the sheer nothingness of his infinity and entwining your hand with his. It isn’t hot or cold. Just imperceivable space between your palms, “I’ll never know them, not like he did. So I can’t waste my time pretending that one day I will. It hurts that he’s gone, and I wish I could’ve done more. But I didn’t. And I can’t. Suguru isn’t coming back, and if he does it’s to die,” you lean down to try and catch Satoru’s eyes through the pitch-black shades of his glasses, “We might even have to be the ones that kill him. I’m letting it go before I go crazy.”

“You already are,” he sniffs, “That’s why you don’t cry when your friend goes off to die.”

“And you’re too obsessive over it,” you release his hand, winding your grip into the front of Satoru’s uniform and yanking him close, “That’s why you’re so blinded by Suguru leaving that you can’t see me and Shoko still on the sidelines. Have you even asked how Shoko is?”

Satoru snatches your wrist. The pressure is intense and unmistakably inhuman, “Let go of me.”

“Or what?”

Despite not being too far from the colored flushes of busy Shibuya in Tokyo, Jujutsu Tech has a grandiose view of the stars. Especially if you sneak up onto the roof of the dorms, edging slightly past the lower hanging trees. You can stare up at the endless void of space and get an eyeful of the stars blinking down at you without having to squint through gaps in leaves. You can sit quietly and feel the gentle breeze caress over your exposed skin. And you could pretend you are alone until the creaking of a second pair of feet echoes behind you.

There’s no need to turn, having already known who the second pair of skittish feet belong to. And knowing that, means knowing what you want to say first,

“I don’t know how to do this for the rest of my life.”

“You don’t have to. Sorcerers don’t usually live long enough for it to matter.”

“It should matter!” Satoru snaps, he glares at you sharply, “I should’ve been able to be a kid! We should’ve been able to be kids!”

You sigh quietly, looking off to the side, afraid that staring too deeply into Satoru’s uncovered eyes may have the same effect as the sun, “The life of a sorcerer is pointless. An under-manned army that gets no thanks. You can accept that and come back, or don’t. Don’t, and go live a more fulfilling life, knowing that you are the strongest and knowing that you made a choice unlike any other sorcerer before you. But someone else will have to take your place.”

Satoru blinks up at you slowly. His long white lashes frame his eyes, his cheeks are sunken and thin. Eggshell, almost, in color. His chest rises, a loud inhale flowing with the movement before he blows it out just as noisily, “That’s bleak.”

“Right?”

“You sound like you’re guilt-tripping me.”

“Maybe a little.”

Because maybe you are. But you mean every word you say.

Satoru can make any decision he wants, but he will have to wake up knowing there are many lives he could’ve saved. And he’ll pretend it doesn’t haunt him the same way Suguru tried to. And he will fail the same way Suguru did.

“Whatever you pick, just remember that Shoko and I are still your friends,” you sit beside him and lean into his side, “We were friends with Sugu’, too.”

“I know. It’s just hard.”

His skin is warm and flush against yours. His head leans onto yours. Hair soft and tickling your forehead.

“Then let it be hard, but don’t pretend you’re all alone.”

And Satoru can’t very well leave you and Shoko and Kento to die as the only remaining students at Jujutsu Tech, so he will return and doom himself to the life of a sorcerer. And he will kill Suguru so that you do not have to.

[twogyuu]

seventeen for the holidays

pairing: svt x reader (?) (me tbh lmfao)

synopsis: would my family approve of svt if i brought them home for the holidays?

a/n: delulu hours open 24 hours today!!!! ✨

'tis the season to be lonely and single for the holidays once again, so i wrote this for shits and giggles. mostly pertains to my family dynamics (both nuclear and extended). completely self-indulgent. don't take anything seriously please! will likely delete later lol. im embarrassed fjksdlfj

. . . .

seungcheol:

imma be honest - i think my mom would be a smidge SUS of him at first, but eventually warm up to him. a little too good to be true (i mean aren't they all LOL), a little too pretty yet somehow handsome, very cordial, a little too clingy when she knows i don't like clingy- it doesn't make sense, but when she sees him taking care of me and getting along with everyone else, she'll approve. the asian aunties would be ALL OVER him fr fr. my uncles would think he's a respectful young man and give the approving nods/grunts. my cousins would think he's cool. all around, just a great guy 💓

. . . .

jeonghan:

confused - that's it. everyone would be confused. lots of questions about how we met would be asked before giving approval (or the lack thereof). as beautiful as he is, jeonghan isn't the type i usually go for. he'd just be so left field lol.

. . . .

joshua:

model boyfriend™️ - probably would wonder if i ordered him some underground ai manufacturer until he's hanging out with younger cousins and starts doing his 'love shot' grandpa dancing during karaoke with my drunk younger auntie.

. . . .

jun:

yes - what more do i need to say? he's like what they said in 'goldilocks and the three bears': just right 💙

. . . .

soonyoung:

he is very shy around people he doesn't know, so at least for the first few hours of the gathering, i'd expect him to be kinda bashful but so fucking endearingly so. i think people would ADORE him though, especially my older aunties. my uncles might be a little off-put and brush him off. my cousins would be confused, but maybe less so than jeonghan. they'd all be fooled into thinking he's some sweet boy my straightforward ass coerced into a relationship 😭 my mom might be a little questioning at first because he's so shy and got that kinda corny and innocent/childish feel to him, but ultimately decide he's a nice boy and approve 🫶🏻 honestly the only member of bias line i think she'd approve of- by the end of gathering, everyone will be wondering why my cousin's two-year-old is crawling around growling, holding her hands out like she's a tiger.

. . . .

wonwoo:

in some ways, i feel like wonwoo is the type of guy my entire family would expect me to date. he has that black cat energy that matches my own, also a very mature, polite, serious, quiet confidence kind of presentation (not that he is or isn't - but the he carries himself if that makes sense), they think i'm into. not that it's a bad thing - he's just not . . . my type??? they don't know i don't go for guys like this dkfjslkdf so if i did bring him home, no one would be fazed at all.

. . . .

jihoon:

scared af - does he like us? does he hate us? the world will never know until he releases a diss track about this holiday party-. would be considered tall in my family and fit in just right :D

. . . .

minghao:

HONESTLY ID LOVE TO BRING HIM TO A FAMILY GATHERING HAHAHAHA. ppl need a slice of his sassiness and judgment - looking at you cranky aunties, uncles, and cousins who keep trying to hook me up with your distant nephews/cousins 🥲

. . . .

seokmin:

1000000% - a perfect blend of sugar, spice, and everything nice. the fam would LOVE this man to pieces, except maybe my mom - she'd be hard to crack because that's just her personality, but i think seokmin can do it. as long as we keep the alcohol away-💀

. . . .

mingyu:

mingyu? with me? wwwwhhhhhaaatttt???? HAHAHAHA THIS MUST BE A JOKE - SAY SIKE RN AND TELL US YOU'RE FAKE DATING. impossible. most of my aunties would be too enamored by his handsomeness and boyish charms. would do the classic toxic auntie, "he's too handsome for you" and "y'all don't match" comments :') on the contrary, my mom and brothers would be extra SUS of him. might whisper to me that he's a red flag and warned me about boys like this lmfao because he's sugaring up the aunties a little too much to be normal (but he's just being mingyu really) and show him the door when we get home LOL.

. . . .

seungkwan:

most definitely!!! 🥰 equally sassy - would wonder how we haven't bickered/bantered the roof off the house yet, but they love him anyways.

. . . .

vernon:

it makes sense, but it also doesn't. iykyk 👁️👄👁️

. . . .

chan:

i'm the most undecided on him 🤔 on one hand, he's such a grandma's boy, i feel like my family would love him. on the other hand, it also depends on his mood, what he wears, if he's feeling his inner pi cheol in - so many factors to consider . . .