#like i can do nothing in the game but ride around and vibe and it still will feel like it was time well spent to me

[theguffbin]

Tears of the Kingdom has claimed my free time and attention for almost the past 4 days and counting... It's incredible :')

Like BotW was already a special experience for me and this feels like I'm reliving it all over again 💚💙

[yung-notorious]

I LOVE THE KINKS, B*TCH, PANTIES TO THE SIDE, BAE! I GOTTA SNEAK 'CAUSE YOUR B*TCHES DO NOT LIKE ME!— ♡

— your roommates are gone for the next couple of hours, and you're in the mood for some company...served with a side of tongue of course. you ain't asking for too much. — feat. satoru gojo

+18 MDI. WARNINGS. baddie!reader x college!gojo, excerpt from never lose me chapter 7, porn with plot, situationship, late-night sneaky links, pillow talk, risky unprotected sex, dirty talk & body worship, light spit & cum play, squirting, missionary & backshots, fingering & p*ssy eating, cunnilingus, voice kink, breeding kink, exhibition kink, almost creampie, gojo’s character may be questionable but his stroke game is A1. notes. word count 6k, apart of a larger body of work but can stand alone as a one-shot. you can read the full chapter here: A03 & master post. title: baby keem - pink panties

There’s just something about getting those “I’m outside” texts that makes your heart race and your tummy tingle just enough to have you rushing downstairs with some pep in your step. You thought answering the door wearing tight little Nike Pro shorts would shake him up, but seeing him walk up the front porch steps wearing something as simple as a black slim fit tee is doing you in way worse. 

Wherever he just came from looking this fine, he couldn’t have been up to any good, but fuck it— y’all can get into that later. All that matters now is that he’s here and you’re minutes away from riding him like the little red polo player on his shirt. 

“You took forever~” You say playfully, arms slinging around his neck as he pulls you into a tight hug, his hands coming down to gently hold you at the waist. Maybe you’re too down bad to think straight, but at this moment you truly believe nothing will ever come close to the affect his sweet touches have on you and when he holds you closer, it’s almost like melting into his arms. 

“I got here in an hour like I said.” He lets you go with a kiss to your cheek, then you’re taking his hand into yours just like before, leading him up the steps to the second floor your apartment unit is on. 

“Come on, come on!” His hands come to lift your butt as you climb the stairs in an attempt to push you up the steps further. 

“Stop, before I trip!” You snap, but it comes out as more of a hushed whisper, trying to keep your voice down out of respect for your neighbors. 

“You’re not gonna trip, come on you’re moving too slow!” He says, giving your butt a few playful taps that have a bit of impact behind them that have you giggling and picking up your pace. He should have just carried you up the stairs if he wanted to get you in the bed faster.

“Where’d you park?” You ask, unlocking your door, making room for the both of you to step inside. 

“Like around the corner, there weren't any spots why?” 

“No reason.” You say all cherry to keep things low-key. You might have failed to mention to him that having him here tonight is a bit problematic. You know for a fact the girls will throw a fit if they found out you skipped dinner to sneak him in.

“I’ll take your shoes— put them in my room.” You pick them up; they're New Balances, and you don’t even want to try to guess what size they are. You don’t know when the girls will be back, so you’ll have to hide them with you. 

Following you down the hall to your room, you lock the door behind you. You’re doing it right this time by having the vibes set before he came through. The lighting is dim and you have your oil diffuser going with music playing off your TV. Unsure of what to throw on you chose the first ‘Calm Night’ playlist that came up on Youtube. Young Nudy’s ‘Passion Fruit’ is playing low…which is a choice…but the beat is hot enough for you to freak too so it’ll do.

“Where’s your roommates?” He sits at the edge of your bed, pulling you in by the waist to stand between his legs, your hands coming down to rest on his shoulders as you look down on him. 

“Out eating— Ow stop! I’m ticklish.” His hands come up to rub circles around your lower abdomen.

“Where at, how come you ain’t go?” He lifts you up to take you in his lap, shifting up your bed as he does so, laying back on your pillows— your stuffed animals already tossed to a corner of your room.

“At some Italian place down the street, and because I was tired. Didn’t feel like going out tonight. I already told you this.” You shift to sit more comfortably. “And why are your pants still on?” You move to tug at the waistband of his sweats but he stops you before you can do so, collecting your hands in his then letting them go. 

“Uh-uh, just wait. I wanna talk to you first— I missed you. How your day been, what you been up to?”

“Mmm…I slept most of the day. I was doing homework with my friend when you texted me—” You slide down his body to rest your head on his chest, and he shifts with you, wrapping you in his arms. You’re close enough to hear his heartbeat, his chin resting gently on your head as he holds you.

“You were on campus?”

“No, we did it together over Facetime. She lives in your dorm actually, that’s who I was with yesterday.”

“Do I know her, what’s her name?”

“You don’t know her— and I’m not giving you her name!" You laugh.

“Why? You tryna have spies on me?”

“Yeah, can’t have you know who I got spying on you— Ow! Stop it!” You yelp, feeling him playfully pinch at your side. It doesn’t actually hurt, but it catches you off guard since you’re ticklish there.

“What do you need spies for? You think I’m sneaky?”

“Anyways!” You draw out, dodging the question in an effort to keep the peace.

“After that, I helped Utahime and Shoko get ready for this girl we’re friend’s with birthday dinner.”

“Oh so you ain’t get invited? That’s why you stayed in?” 

“Tsch, No! I stayed back because I found out at the last minute that it was tonight. By that time I didn’t feel like getting dressed to go.”

“You probably should have gone, she invited you because she wants you to be there.”

“I mean yeah— but she’s more Utahime’s friend, not mine. She’ll be alright.”

“I don’t know…” He chuckles, “You know how girls get when it comes to their birthdays. She might stop fucking with you and never talk to you again.”

“Tsch, oh my god it’s not that deep.” You roll your eyes at the dramatics. That girl will be okay!

“Utahime and I got into a whole argument about it too. She tried to call me selfish. You think that’s selfish?” You lift your head to look at him, seeking his opinion. “All because I didn’t wanna go to dinner?”

“Wasn’t just a dinner, it was a birthday dinner. And that isn’t selfish— if you didn’t want to go then you didn’t want to go. Don’t stress about it anymore, it's over with. You can’t do anything about it now.” 

“It’s not always good to be everywhere all the time. I’ll come out once in a blue but I’m inside a lot, my friends know me for that but it’s all cool.” He adds on. 

Aww, see, this is why you like him! If a man can’t take your side even when you’re slightly in the wrong then y’all shouldn’t be fucking! 

“They know I’m here?” He asks, his tone sounding as if he’s caught on to the reason behind your actions back at the front door when he had first walked in. 

“Maybe…” You admit, halfheartedly already caught in your lil scheme.

“No way you got me in here after getting into a fight with your roommates. Let me leave now before they get back, you’re setting me up.”  He laughs and starts to lift you off him to make his exit, but you use your weight to try and keep him down.

“Aht! No! Lay down!” 

“I’m playing, I’m playing.” He lets you go, arms tightening back around you smoothening you into his chest then letting you go.

“And we didn’t fight, we just exchanged a couple cuss words. We’re all good.” You shift onto your side, settling into his embrace with his right hand resting on your shoulder. 

“Uh-oh, I know how your mouth gets, I even get a little scared of you when you’re mad.” 

“Shut up—”

“Auhp! See, there it goes.” He laughs, cutting you off. 

“I swear I’m a nice girl, y’all just make me mad sometimes. Pushing my buttons.”

“Who’s y’all? I already know you’re an angel, you don’t have to keep proving it to me.” 

“So what were you doing that took so long, said you were with your friends?” You ask, trying to take the subject off of you. 

“Uhhh— we got together in one of my mans dorm. Had a conversation,  all of us were just chilling.”

“And that took you an hour?” You ask, genuinely curious.

“They talk a lot.” He says with a snarky laugh.

“Saying what?” You push further. Y’all fuck for real now so you want to know all the tea— where he’s going, coming from, and who he’s been with. It ain’t controlling either, it’s overseeing. 

“Nothing too serious– just a lot of weird shit going on. Nothing for you to worry about though...kid shit.”

“And you had to put on cologne for that?” You question, nipping playfully at his shirt. You’re not entirely buying his story, and you’re also not trying to accuse him of lying, but you can tell he’s leaving out details that are probably going to catch him up on whatever’s actually going on. It’s cool though, you’re going to find out eventually. Trust.

“Baby this a fresh polo tee, came right out of the pack today. I ain’t put on cologne.” He says smoothly. 

“So you just always smell this good, naturally?” You continue teasing. It’s a silly question, but you’re not backing down from this little debate— or whatever it is.

“Yeah, probably? But I also wash up.” He says with a tone that makes it sound like the most obvious thing in the world, and it has you cracking up.

“And when are you gonna repost my story? It only has a few hours left, I’m tryna get more views on it.” He says bringing you closer, turning the topic back on to you.

“What yo!?” You suck your teeth. Out of all the things to talk about, he’s bringing that shit up, and now. Stopping to take in the sound of what’s playing in the background, you see that it’s Tinashe’s newer track ‘Uh-Huh’. You should have picked the music yourself tonight, because you surely would have liked getting crushed to her album ‘Nightride’. 

“What, you ain’t fuck with my post?” He teases.

“You know I ain’t like it, stop playing— and what do you know about some Nardo Wick!?” 

“You were turning up to Sexyy Red at the bar, I had a feeling you’d know that song.”

“Mhm…sure.”

“You still want me to delete it?”

“It’s the end of the day, you might as well leave it up. Don’t know why you thought it was cute to embarrass me like that...” You’re over it, seriously you are. But that doesn’t mean you can’t continue pressing him about it. 

“I ain’t embarrass you. You started it, I ended it for you. Told you I was going to get your goofy ass back.” He pokes your cheek and you swat back at his finger.

“Look—” He shifts to pull his phone out of his pants pocket. Like India at Durk, you’re looking all at his phone screen as he opens up Instagram. “You got all these likes and heart eyes. I got a bunch of DMs from people I know saying I’m capping and that I ain’t pull you.” He taps on his story to show you the reactions on the post you’re tagged in, then scrolling through his DMs quickly. “Look at this one, this my bro from back home. He’s laughing at me, saying you ain’t my girl.”

“See, he can even tell you’re a fan.”

“Fuck them, I don’t care. I’m your biggest fan, and I’m back in your bed. Now what?” He locks his phone and sets it face down on your nightstand— the tell-tale sign of a sneaky hoe.

“Tsch— ughh!” You roll your eyes at the irony of his words though you walked right into that one.

“When are you gonna stop playing hard to get?”

“How am I playing hard to get?” You tease, firing back with the same playfulness he uses on you.

“Oh, so I got you then?” 

“I ain’t say that.” You say smart with a little bit of sass mixed in.

“Damn, so you're still treating me like a hoe? You just called me here for some dick and to rub on your booty, didn’t you?” His hand comes down to squeeze your butt, making you smile. 

“Aww see, you know me so well!” You say sarcastically. 

“Uh-uh, I’m tryna get to know you more.” He says, shifting to hover over you. He plants his hands on either side of your head to support himself, looking down at you. “What you do on the weekends, what you’re into, what makes you laugh, smile. I wanna know all that.” You can feel the heat that’s long started to burn in your stomach rise to your cheeks.

“Mmmm, see there you go again blushing. Don’t try to hide it.”

“You talk too much.” You clap back. What more could you say or do, deny the truth?

“And I can keep talking too— help me take these off you.” He says softly, tugging at the waistband of your shorts. Your que to lift your lower half up for him to pull them down. You’re left in your pink thong once they’re off, the cloth at the middle damp and wedged in between the folds of your pussy. His hand comes down to teasingly stroke at your heat, a ticklish feeling that has you instinctively widening your legs. He might think all his sweet talking softened you up, but the truth is that he had you growing wet the moment you answered the door and his big hands held your waist. 

“What time are your roommates coming back?” 

“Not sure…they won’t know you’re here. What you scared?” You bite your lip, looking up at him with teasing eyes. 

“Not scared of them— just gotta be quiet when they get back.” He grabs at your body tightly, large hands spanning over your hips and thighs. “Turn the music off, gotta listen out for the door.” He says, and you’re reaching for the remote you stuck behind your pillow to turn the TV off entirely. 

“Leave them on for a second.” He says, stopping you from taking off your thong next, mesmerized by how it digs into your hips and how its color perfectly complements your complexion. Slipping your hands under his shirt to run them up his chest, you pepper kisses along the side of his jaw as he pulls your thong to the side. Teasing two digits between your folds and around your clit to gather up slick, you can’t help but to buck up chasing more of the feeling. 

“Relax.” He tells you, a firm hand coming down to your hip. You hadn’t noticed you were tense, too caught up in a hurry trying to chase the sensation his touch brings. His command has you easing up, sinking yourself further into the mattress as he moves closer into your space to hover over you, not once breaking eye contact— eyes that you know better than to try and look away from. 

Dropping your hands to lay at your side, he tucks an arm behind your neck to rest his face in its crook, leaving kisses and soft bites along your skin. Running your fingers up into his hair to cradle him closer, bringing him chest to chest, he begins to drive his two fingers deep into you with each and every curl having you moan out in pleasure, widening your legs more in an attempt to rock up against them, chasing his fingers down to the knuckles.

You love the squish sounds your pussy makes, right along with the wet noise of his mouth as he works down your neck. He’s fully clothed still, and when you get the chance to look down you're sure he’s rock hard with the way he’s tenting his sweats. You’d take him out his pants to give him a helping hand, but with the way his fingers are fucking into you so damn good you’re too blissed out from pleasure to find the strength to do so.

Lifting off you a few good strokes later, he moves to tug his clothes off leaving him in his boxers, and you can’t stop your eyes from watching as he takes them off next. His pretty dick, already so hard and heavy, leaking pre. Taking him into your hand, you give his dick a few tight strokes then move to align him to your entrance. 

“I can’t get a taste first?” He breathes out catching your hand, a soft lustful look in his eyes. Oh he’s such a sweetie, always so eager to please, who are you to deny such a beautiful man? Letting go to maneuver your thong off for you, he shifts further down the bed pushing your thighs to the side, plump lips quickly meeting your pussy to give kisses to your clit.

Maybe it’s the pillow princess in you, but there’s nothing you love more than the view that comes with getting your box ate. His head buried between your thighs and your long acrylic nails gently playing with his hair. Your oil diffuser has been running in the corner this entire time— the light emitting from its LEDs casting a purplish glow onto everything throughout the room, and funny enough his soft white hair now resembles pink cotton candy. 

“Fuck—” You moan out softly with your toes curling, caught off guard by his tongue finding its way inside you. Pulling off to spit on your now sloppy pussy, he takes a thumb to smear it in, rubbing circles on your clit.

“Again.” You whine, dragging an index finger down to widen your pussy as you look down for a closer look when he spits again, this time nearly straight inside you. Watching his fingers push in and out of you afterwards heightening your arousal. It’s nasty, unlike anything you’ve experienced before, but you’re starting to enjoy being nasty for him. If he can be your lil' munch, you’ll happily be his lil' slut. Especially when he holds you this close, grips you just right, savors you up like a delicious treat, and murmurs how amazing you taste, loving how wet you get for him every time. 

“Condom?” He pulls off, coming up to lean over you waiting for your response before proceeding. “No…why you still gotta ask?” You say through a teasing smile. It’s only been him, no one else— can’t he tell? 

“Just wanna make sure…” He whispers, left hand trailing up to your chest to wrap around your neck then planting a kiss to your cheek. 

“‘Cause it’s mine right?” He taunts, with a thumb tracing your lower lip. Moving to aligning himself to your entrance you watch him push in slowly, allowing you to adjust to the stretch of his girt as he sinks deeper into you.  

“Shit—” He draws out coming to a hilt, feeling the way you tighten around him he slowly pulls out then back in to watch the way your pussy grabs back at his dick. Taking ahold of your waist he uses a knee to widen you up more, then begins a slow roll of his hips fucking into you in such a way that has you whimpering in pleasure the moment his thighs meet the backsides of yours. 

It’s not enough though, too slow for your liking. You’re more into when fucks you down onto him rough and uncaring, really letting you feel every inch of his dick. The both of you know he’s got it in him, you hate that he’s holding back. 

“More— harder...” You whine out trying to rut against him, taking your left arm to wrap behind his neck, pushing him closer in effort to spur him on to quicken his pace, your other hand grabbing onto his side. 

“Uh-uh, we don’t have to rush…” He murmurs softly, “…i’m not going anywhere.” He shrugs off the arm that’s wrapped around him, taking a hold of your wrist to lay down at the side of your head then intertwining his hand into yours. 

“Let me make you feel good.” He pulls out again, this time sliding the tip through your folds then tapping it hard onto your pussy, causing an audible slap sound that has you humming in pleasure. 

“Wanna take my time with you— tell me where it feels good, okay?” 

You nod in response, voice stuck in your throat as his words fuel the fire that’s burning in your stomach. Lifting your head up a bit to watch as he slides back in, you bring a hand down taking two fingers to part your folds, fingers fixed in a V shape allowing his dick to thrust between them into you  

“There you go— spread it open for me.” He grunts, hips rolling slow and shallow, wetting his thumb to rub circles into your clit. “That feel good?” 

“Mhm— fuck…deeper.” You nod, he’s only got half his dick in and as much as you love the fact that it’s not even fully in you, yet still has you squirming, you know you can take more— all of it. 

“I got you…” He hushes, right hand taking ahold of your right thigh, folding it in towards the side, the new angle has him fucking deeper into you just the way you like it with the both of you watching as you squeeze around him as he continues thrusting in and out of your pussy.

“Toru…right there— don’t stop....” You moan, your own finger now coming to play at your clit. Pussy becoming even more drenched and your whole body growing hot from the way he’s now hitting directly onto your g-spot. 

“Here?” He gives another deep thrust hitting your cervix and that has your back arching, a hand coming down to his stomach to push him back. 

“Don’t run from it…” He thrusts again, loving the way your mouth parts into an O shape and how tightly you clench down onto him. He spits on your pussy again, looking down you catch a creamy ring starting to form around his dick and that’s turning you on even more. You love this nasty shit, letting him it raw and sloppy, slutting you out this good you’ll do just about anything for him. 

“Hold your legs.” He grunts, and you take a hold of your thighs folding them in, his right hand coming down to rest flat onto your stomach holding you steady as his hips snap faster. “Keep playing with it…” He says, and you let go one thigh, keeping it raised to rub at your clit. 

As much as you love getting fucked from behind, you’re growing to love missionary just as much. Him caging you in, whispering the nastiest shit he comes up with into your ear, holding yourself open for him to thrust deeper into you, watching the way his dick works into you as you play with your clit. You don’t love this boy but you definitely love the way he lays pipe, fucking into you just right as if he’s already learnt the layout of your pussy. Arousal overtaking your entire body you slide a hand under your cami to grab at your boobs. Your thighs are now starting to tremble then the next thing you know you’re leaking wet fluid then squirting all over his dick. Tightening up so much he has to pull out.

“Shit— come back.” You pant, nails drenched along with the finger that was playing with your clit pruning. Sitting up some you move to wipe your hand on your stomach to get most of it off you. Taking his fingers to push through your folds he collects up just enough slick, bringing them to your mouth for you to suck clean and you happily oblige wrapping your lips around his two digits. 

“See how wet you are…” He draws his hand back, coming down to rub small quick circles into your pussy, then a few light taps producing a squish sound it’s wetness. “This how I want you to have it ready for me whenever I come see you.” He leans over to whispers into your ear, you’re then feeling him push back into you causing you to buck your hips up chasing his length and god…just the thought of being in your bedroom playing with your pussy, getting it all nice and wet for him before he comes through is taking you from one hundred to a thousand— it’s about time the slut comes out, no more slow shit, you want to fuck for real now. 

“Fuck me…c’mon…wanna cum.” You whine, and that has him taking a hold of your ass, scooting you down the bed closer to his hips quickening his pace, snapping his hips fast, helped by the curve of his dick hitting your g-spot with damn near perfect precision. 

“There— don’t stop.” You whine, yet your hands still come down to the tops of his thighs to push him back. 

“Stop running.” He collects both wrists into his hands, holding them down above your head as he begins to fuck into your mercifully, hips never stuttering.

“Spit on it again.” You beg, and he does. A fat wad that you feel drip down between your ass. You weren’t into getting your coochie spat on before but fuck it, you’re with all the nasty shit tonight. 

“You nasty baby, ain’t think you’d be into that shit. What else do you like, talk to me.” He pants, looking you straight in the eye as he says it, and you're blown away by how gorgeous he looks despite already looking spent with the front of his hair sweated out against his forehead. 

“Like when you spank m— ahh!” A hard slap then grip to your ass cuts you off, he thrusts into you deeper in response to your moan. “Fuck, do that again— mhmp!” 

Slap!

“Mmmm— what else?”

“Like when you grip me tight— on my waist…there just like that.” You stammer out, a hand coming down to squeeze where you showed him to hold. 

“Like when you put your hands around my neck— mmm like that…don’t choke me.” You moan, his large hand wrapping around your throat without any pressure, and you’re batting your eyes all pretty, biting your lip, clenching down on him in return. 

“You feel so fucking good…love how you fuck me…what it feel like for you?” 

“Feels amazing baby, every single time.” He grunts, deep thrusts followed by each of his last three words. “My pretty girl— you’re so fucking perfect.”

“Swear— not one bitch out here comes close to you.” He says clearly for you to hear— no believe it, and that has you dizzy, clinging onto him and letting out choked up moans that are music to his ears spurring him on.  

“Fuck— cum in me.” You moan, too fucked out to care about how you sound right now. You don’t want him to pull out this time, want him to take you however which way he wants, bury his dick deep and bust all up in you. 

“Mmm— want me too?” He teases, feeling his dick twitch inside you. 

“So bad….” You run a hand up into his hair, gripping his locks to bring him closer towards you.  “…wanna watch it drip out…want you to put it back in so you can keep going then cum in me again.”

“Ooooo— don’t say that…” He chuckles low, you can tell by the way his hips stutter that the thought of it is fucking his head up. 

“Serious…it’s your pussy— ahh!” Another hard slap to your ass cuts you off, “You said it’s mine now?” He grins wickedly, knows he’s got you slipping, can hear it in your voice.

“Been yours.” You spit back, tired of the teasing. “Said I’m your girl right? Treat it like it’s yours then, cum in me.”

“Heh— you don’t know what you’re saying.” He says low, and you hate that look in his eyes, like you’re out of your mind, too dick drunk and fucked stupid to know what you’re asking for. 

“Cum in m— ahh mmmh…t-think about you when you’re not here…want you to fuck me everyday— cum in me as much as you wa— shit ahh!” Another deep thrust that hits your cervix again, making you grip the sheets pressing your heels into the mattress to lower yourself, running from it. 

“Lemme be that girl for you…” You continue powering through, wrapping a leg over his back to lock him in. Your voice is needy and dripping with sex, you don’t care how you sound, you'll say anything to tip him over the edge and spill into you. 

“Stop talking…” His voice shakes, your own having an affect on him as you feel his dick twitch again up inside you. 

“Thought you like it when I talk…” You tease with a smile, he’s getting weak, you can tell you’re about to make him cum. 

“Not when you— stop that…” He pushes a hand down on your stomach as you clench around his dick again in an attempt to pull another reaction out of him.

“I was wrong about you…” He speaks up sounding more collected, taking a thumb to part your lips, then dragging down to take a hold of your chin to raise it up. “…you’re not shy…” He slows his thrusts, coming to a complete stop buried deep in you. Two hands come to caress the side of your face, then down your neck, running all over your chest and back up again as if he’s taking in the softness of your skin. “…you just ain’t ever have somebody turn you out…’least not the way I do.”  

You can’t help but smile at the fucking truth that is, a small giggle that you’re able to hold down almost coming up from within you.

“I’m not nutting in you tonight.” He states plainly, “But I can fuck you like the lil pornstar you’re tryna be…come lick it up real quick...I need a break I don’t wanna nut just yet.” He pulls out of your wrecked pussy, sitting back on his heels holding his dick in his hand ready for you to clean off.  

Lifting up with a breathy groan from how sore your thighs ache, you arch down low in front of him, taking him in your hand and squeezing roughly at the tip just the way he likes it, licking up every bit of yourself off him. 

“Bring it up for me…yeah.” He leans over you to grab your ass, and you’re raising it up higher for him to get a better grip.

“Get the front. Sides. All of it.” You do as he instructs, swirling your tongue as you stroke his dick then you’re wrapping your lips around him. About a minute or so later, once you're sure you’ve cleaned it all up, you’re pulling off with an audible pop and a smile on your face. 

“Turn…” He motions for you to move. You turn around, arching down low as he knees his way up the bed, his hands resting on either side of your ass, aligning his dick to your entrance. “Scoot back closer to me…right here…arch…lower…there you go.” He guides you down into position, hands rubbing up and down your back as he does so. 

Missionary great but backshots are even better. Love how it feels when he pushes in, hands pressing deep into the dimples of your back, dick hard and curving up into you fast, tight grip of his hands on your body working you down to feel every inch of his length.  

You don’t miss the string of curses he lets out as his hips slam up into you either, the sound of your ass clapping his hips as you fuck back onto him. Even the weight you’re putting on him is throwing his rhythm off to where he’s taking a hand to your shoulder to steady himself as he fucks into you like a bully. Just wait till I see you again— yeah that was code for ‘Imma bust your shit open’.

Slap!

“You got it baby— just like that.” He groans against your ear, followed by another hard slap against the underside of your thigh almost making you crawl up the bed. 

Slap!

“Uh-uh come on, keep pushing back.” He calls out, pushing you down further causing your legs to widen for him, giving more access to fuck into you. He’s so deep, degrading thrusts knocking up against your cervix with you panting out in a mix of pain and pleasure yet you love it so much. Love the way he fucks like you’ve got the best pussy he’s ever been in, tearing your shit up like he’s mad at you. 

This ain’t just fucking now, nah this is different, y’all screwing. The type of fucking you shouldn’t be doing with just anybody, likely as to why it feels so damn good this way. He ain’t your man just yet, but he’s definitely becoming your something. 

Arching with your chest completely flat against the mattress, you then bring a hand behind yourself to spread your cheeks apart, holding your pussy open for him with his hand coming to grab you at the wrist tight to hold you back. 

“Whose is it?” 

“Yours!” You cry out, taking your free hand down in between your legs to play at your clit. Face squished into the mattress, you can feel yourself drooling but you don’t care, you need to cum so bad. You’re almost there. 

“Uh-uh, say my name baby. Yours who?”

“Yours Gojo!” 

“Mmmm.” You hear him chuckle, pleased by the way his name sounds coming off your tongue. “What I gotta do, nut in you for you to remember?” 

“Yeah— go ’head do it.” You whine out looking back at him and holy shit the look on his face has you burning up even more, you can tell he’s trying his hardest to hold back from bussing. You fucked him enough times by now to know he’s close when his brows knit together like that. 

Lifting yourself up to hold onto your headboard for leverage, he comes up closer behind you, your back to his chest as he fucks up into you deep and hurried holding onto your breasts. The creak of your bed frame and squeak of your mattress coils adding to the pants and moans coming from the both of you. 

“Can’t even feel my dick— that’s how wet you are.” He breathes into your ear, your hands coming to cover his own two holding him closer, loving the way they feel grabbing and squeezing your tits.

“You really gonna let me cum in you one day?” He breathes, unsteady too and you love the sound of it— how he’s not shy to show how weak your pussy gets him. 

“Of course—”

“Fuck— I think I heard the door, your roommates might of came back.” He breathes out, yet neitherare stopping as he’s still fucking into you chasing his own orgasm.  

“Your bed is loud…we gotta slow down.” He warns, and you feel his pace start to slow, and that just won’t do— you need him to cum. You don’t give a fuck if your roommates hear, you spent too many nights hearing them get fucked. They can give you a damn pass. 

“Don’t stop— keep going.” You buck back, “ ‘ts your pussy…take it whenever you want…stop fucking worrying about shit.”

“Fuck you want them to hear you?” His hand comes up to your neck, wrapping around your throat a bit tight as he fucks you down onto his length picking his pace back up. 

“I don’t give a f— hmph!” You squeak, not expecting his hand to slap over your mouth to hold back your moans in an attempt to keep you quiet. He’s fucking into you relentlessly now, hips snapping like crazy as he chases his orgasm. Bringing your finger back down to continue rubbing circles into your clit you soon feel that familiar heat rise up your body, then the next thing you know you’re cumming and moaning in pleasure but he doesn’t stop, continuing to fuck up into your tore pussy. 

Dropping his hand from your mouth he presses you back to the mattress and after a few final thrusts he’s pushing off you with his back hitting the mattress, stroking his dick fast then cumming all over his knuckles and chest. 

“Shit— fuck!” He pants, white ropes of hot cum dripping off the side of his toned stomach. “We gotta chill…” He breathes out. “…I almost nutted in you.” He pants, completely fucked out.  

“I know…” You roll onto your back besides him, watching as he gives his dick a couple more strokes, squeezing the last bit of cum out of him, slowly dripping down his dick. 

Post nut clarity is starting to hit. He’s right, y’all need to chill…your ass isn’t on birth control, and you haven’t told him that yet either. You know in your heart he’s the last person you want to have to send a ‘I need to tell you something’ text too.

Reaching around for your phone, you glance at the time to see it’s just past midni— for more, read the rest of the chapter here…

[thevelvetvampyre]

Just Like the Actress - Neil Lewis x Coworker Reader

Summary: After being begged to stay after work to watch a film with the guys from gumshoe video, Neil is shocked to find out you haven’t watched porn during a drunk game of ‘never have I ever’ and is determined to change that, that very night.

Warnings: small age gap (reader is college aged, Neil is early 30’s), face riding, virginity loss, throat fucking, porn watching, Neil is selfish, he cums quick lol, begging , reader is drunk, general adult content, quite long !

Note: I’ve been so obsessed with 70’s/80’s porn music recently and I feel like Neil would be one to watch a porno with a soundtrack not to dissimilar to the vibes the songs give off so i had to add the one I’m obsessed with atm.

Sighing as you pushed the final tape into the comedy section of the shelf you had just filled with the new shipment, you picked up the empty box and headed into the storage room. Walking past Jonathan, Lucien and Neil on the couch, you rolled your eyes at their laziness as they sat there with a beer in hand watching one of the classics Jonathan was obsessing over.

Swinging his arm over the back of the couch as you passed, Lucien’s eyes followed you as you walked over and watched as you bent over to place the box down. Dusting your hands off and turning around he looks up at you and you curl your lips into a tired smile.

“Wanna stay back today and watch a film?” Bringing the can to his lips, he cocks his eyebrows up as you walk past him to the counter.

“I can’t, I need to study tonight.” You reached behind the cashier to pick your bag, swinging it over your shoulder and turning to face Lucien who now had a pout on his lips.

Tearing his eyes off the screen, Neil looked over at you and and furrowed his brows.

“Oh come on…” He groaned out his sentence as he threw his hands in the air.

Getting into your dream school here in New York was nothing more than a miracle, no matter how expensive the tuition or housing may be. Deciding to get a part-time job to keep yourself on your feet throughout your studies, you came across the shabby, indie film shop and decided it was low-key enough to not give you any more stress on top of college. You worked short hours for good pay whenever you were free throughout the week, earning a decent amount of pocket money for the lack of customers you actually had to deal with.

Oblivious to yourself, Neil only hired you as a piece of eye-candy, eroticising the thought of a much younger collage student who was financially dependent on his business. It was like the porno’s he watched, swelling countless erections in his pants as he fantasied you coming in after your shift, begging for a raise and proving him you would do anything to get it.

It started with watching the way your ass stuck out when you bent down in the agonisingly short skirts you wore, his neck pushing back as he tilted his head to get a good look and salivating at the sight of your bare thighs. Then it moved to staring at your plush tits, cock stiffening as he watched them bounce in your thin shirts as you walked through the store. Soon, it became a habit to replace the pornstars face with yours as he stroked himself, cumming on his stomach as he whined out your name wishing he was shoving himself against the back of your cunt instead.

“I have a test in a couple of days… I haven’t studied and I need to pass-“ You were interrupted by Neil standing up and walking towards you.

“Please- just one film…” He stopped in front of you and pouted his lips, clenching his jaw as his cock twitched when you gazed up innocently at him.

Sighing out, you looked over at Jonathan and Lucien who raised their beers to you, giving a hopeful smile. Looking back at Neil, you shook your head and made your way towards the door. He quickly walked besides you and rambled out a sequence of pleas to get you to stay.

“You never stay-“ He whined out in a higher octave than you’ve ever heard him speak at.

“Because I’m in college-“ Logically stating, you rolled your eyes at his lack of understanding. Turning to face him now you watched as his face scrunched as he walked faster to keep up with you, vein protruding in his neck as he breathlessly begged.

“But just one night please I’m-“ His begs were mixed in with the sound of the loud TV, close to overstimulating your senses with the noise pollution that surrounded you.

“No Neil… I have to study-“ You slowly grew annoyed at his persistence. He quickly grabbed your shoulders and forcibly turned you around to face him, stoping you sharp in your tracks just before you managed to get through the door.

“Just one film. Then you go can go back to whatever boring subject your studying.” His eyes widened and you felt the harshness of his fingertips in your arms, trying to shake free of his grasp as the pain was a sharp sting.

He took a small step towards you and you were mere inches apart, his lips and cheeks were flushed a deep red as he let go of your arms and poured his baby blue iris’s into yours. Sighing, you looked back at Jonathan and Lucien who had returned their gaze onto the TV, Neil now so close you could feel the heat radiating off his body and coating your skin.

“Please.” He whispered and you turned back to look at him, his puppy eyes glassy from the beer and tearing up, the bottom of his lip rolling under his tongue as his teeth grazed his baby pink skin.

“Fine…fine.” You nodded and put your hands up in defence. A look of relief washed over his face and his wide eyes turned soft, grabbing your shoulders again and shaking you in aggressive excitement as he lowered his knees to meet your eye level. His now pleading gaze had turned into a toothy smile, the thin dimples of the side of his cheeks showing just how happy he was that you decided to stay.

“Yes! Thank you…” He stopped shaking you and let you go once again, placing his hands on his hips as he sighed a relief with the triumphed smile stuck on his face.

Staring down at you, he felt the heat of his thumping erection from the closeness of you fill his pants, his tip leaking with the idea that you’d be staying to watch a film and giving him more time to assault your body with his eyes. Looking down at you now, he began throbbing at the thought of your eyes exactly like this but smudged black with mascara, saliva spilling out your mouth as you gagged on the base of him.

Breaking away, he snapped his head to the guys and remained smiling through his breaths.

“Jonathan- we need more drinks!” He screamed over to the couch, Jonathan snapping his attention to you and giving you a toothy smile before standing up and vanishing out the door.

————————

“So, how’s you like the film?” Lucien slurs his words as his hand raises and his finger points at you, swaying in small circles with his drink in hand.

“Shit.” You said bluntly, Jonathan coughing up his drink and Neil snapping his head to look at you with his mouth open in shock and his brows furrowed.

“What? Shit- that’s one of the most influential-“ Neil starts to raise his voice but is soon interrupted by Lucien shushing him.

“I’ve had to much to drink to hear about it Neil, please.” He rubs his forehead and placed his elbow onto the arm of the chair. Neil huffs out in shock and holds both hands out towards you with a look of disbelief on his face, looking at Jonathan for backup who just sits there and shrugs his shoulders.

You sat on the sofa facing the TV next to Lucien, Neil and Jonathan sat on the other one facing outwards towards the door next to you. The cheap bottle of vodka Jonathan had bought was almost too perfectly on brand with college students, considering these guys were around twelve years older than you. It sat half drank on the table in front of you and the cup almost finished in your hand.

The heat from the liquid had caused an internal burn on your cheeks, eventually spreading to your chest and causing a pink to spread across your skin. You were feverish and giggly, starting to see double of the TV screen and having to close one eye to focus on whoever was talking to you.

You weren’t the only one, Jonathan stumbled and found it impossible to stand up straight when taking the finished tape out of the player, Lucien half asleep next to you and Neil who was equally as red with a glued arrogant smirk on his face.

With the liquor hitting his lips he found you increasingly arousing, if that was even possible. About halfway through the film his eyes left the TV screen to look at you and never turned back. His breath quickening and his heart pounding as he watched you sit on the sofa oblivious to the fact that your short skirt was revealing the crotch of your white, cotton panties. He imagined himself on his knees, nose pressed to your covered mound as he inhaled your scent with your legs open submissively.

Each time you shifted your arm onto the sofa your tits would ever so slightly spill out the V on your shirt and his cock began spilling tears out his tip. He watched them squish together with each movement, lowly groaning as he pictured them holding his cock so well as he thrusted in between them. Furrowing his brows and biting cuts into the bottom of his lip as he watched you twirl your hair with your finger, he wanted nothing more but to grab your scalp while fucking your tight, wet pussy over the stores sofa and having your residue stick to the fabric.

“Let’s play a game!” Lucien perked up at Jonathans idea and hummed in agreement, Neil finally peeling his eyes off your exposed skin and taking another sip of his drink.

“Never have I ever… but dirty.” He smiled like a schoolboy who’s seen tits for the first time, Lucien spurring out a string of excited agreement.

“Shot if you have… no shot if you have not.” He lent over the table and grabbed the bottle, standing up to pour everyone a poorly estimated ounce and a half of vodka.

Your stomach flipped and you felt your heart beating in your ears. You weren’t a prude by any sorts, spending most nights touching yourself till you came to relieve the stress of college and kissing a couple boys at parties and such. You’d just never experienced anything physically with anyone else yet, not even exploring porn by yourself because watching other people fuck was unknown territory for you. Sexuality didn’t scare you but it never caught your attention either, feeling the pressure at an all time high now you were in college with horny men who only thought with their dicks.

Sitting back down, Jonathan looked at you and smiled before asking the first question.

“Never have I ever…” He trailed off, looking out into the distance “had sex in public.”

Only Jonathan himself and Neil took the shot, wincing their faces and gagging at the dry alcohol hitting their throat. Placing their cups down before high fiving each other, Neil looked up at you as one side of his lips curled and his eyebrows cocked up.

“Huh…” He whispered in his huff. You felt the redness of your cheeks spread like wildfire and looked down at your lap, twiddling your thumbs feeling embarrassed at your lack of shot.

“And I know allllllll about it.” Lucien chuckled before Jonathan screamed an extended, frat like ‘yeah’ and stood up to high five him too.

“Right… who’s next?” Lucien cleared his throat and raised his hand slightly.

“You know… it’s getting late, I should go home.” The words slowly purred out your mouth, feeling a sudden sense of awkwardness that not only were you the only girl playing this, you were playing it with thirty plus year old men.

“No!” Neil screamed almost too quickly, all three of the guys turning to look at you in disappointment.

“Noooo… not yet! It’s only just getting fun!” Lucien wrapped his arm around you and pulled you close to him, holding you close as he started to ask the next question.

“Never have I ever… hooked up with my friends sibling.” Lucien excitedly took his shot and raised his empty glass, so drunk he had no physical response to the alcohol he had just consumed.

Finally letting you go, he lent forward and swiftly filled up his cup, looking around to see everyone else to see if they needed a refill.

“That’s hot.” Neil said, chucking like a schoolboy and rubbing his palms on his thighs.

“Okay, uhm…” Neil looked up and glanced at you. He wanted to ask something that he wanted to know about you, personally.

How much of a whore are you?

He hummed a little longer as his eyes fell all over your body, a sense of vulnerability panging your chest as he started undressing you with his gaze very obviously.

“Never have I ever, taken nude pictures.” The guys all laughed immaturely. “Or… videos.” All of them now nodding and hyping each other up.

One by one the liquids in their cups vanished down their throats and the intense feeling of being left out hit you again.

Oh fuck it. You thought.

The sting of the drink immediately hit your tonsil, your eyes squinting as you swallowed it resisting the antiseptic breath out your nose. Looking at you cringing as the after affects of the drink still heated up the inside of your chest, Neil licked his lips and gulped down, shifting his hips upwards as he widened his knees to bring less attention to the tent in his pants. Ignoring the pulse in his jeans imagining you holding your shirt to your chin, pushing your tits together towards the camera as you posed like a desperate whore, he cleared his throat and grabbed the bottle to fill up everyone’s now empty cup.

“Your turn sweetheart.” Neil barely spoke above a whisper and he slowly poured the transparent regret into your cup. His eyes looked up and met yours, the nickname surprisingly causing another wave of heat to rush over you. Blinking at him rapidly, your bottom lip trembled slightly and your brows knitted together.

“Um…” You thought around the room, unsure what to say. “Never have I ever… masturbated.”

The boys stopped breathing for a second before bursting out laughing, a sense of embarrassment rushed over you and you felt like being sucked up by the floor. Nonetheless, all of them took the shot, you included, and all made noises in reaction to the electric taste of the drink.

“You’re gonna have’s to do- try harder than that.” Lucien lent over and tapped your thigh with his palm.

The alcohol was completely distorting you now, looking over at Neils displeased face with Luciens actions, he was spinning in full circles. As if you were looking out a kaleidoscope, your back dented further into the couch and you weakly raised your hand to rub your face.

“Alright there?” Neil raised his brows as he looked at you with those wide eyes. All you could do was hum in response as the noise started to blur around you and the feeling of your heart beating was the only comfort in the bright lights of the shop.

“Okay… I got one you’ll like princess.” Lucien turned away from you and faced the guys. “Never have I ever, watched porn.” All of the guys started laughing hysterically now, making fun of you for the innocence of your last question.

You watched as all the guys took the shots, noticing how easily the liquid poured down their throat now that they were drunk. Coughing, Neil looked at you as you sat up properly again, swaying in your seat with a satisfied grin on your face knowing you didn’t have to take another shot.

“What?” The sharpness in Neils tone snapped you out of your daze, slowly tilting your head at him and squinting to try and see him straight.

“You’ve never watched porn?” His mouth was open and his face was stunned, genuinely in misbelief that you’d never watched it before. Both the other guys gasped as well, snapping their neck at you waiting for your response.

“Never. Ever. Never.” You raised your hand and wagged your finger with each word, giggling at yourself and placing the cup down. “‘N’more please.”

“Are you being serious?” Lucien whispered in almost disgust. “Never?”

“Ugh…” Your neck rolled as your eyes rolled with it. “No!” You pushed Luciens shoulder as you bounced off the shove.

The shop filled with silence for a while, the guys sharing looks of whatever expression you couldn’t care to understand in this moment before falling back onto the couch again. Humming and giggling quietly to yourself, Jonathan stood up and notioned for Lucien to follow him.

“We’ll go to the Chinese… get food.” He was swaying as he put his coat on, Lucien barely being able to stand up in himself.

“All too… too drunk.” He lifted his chin and pointed at Neil. “Take care of her… kay?” Neil nodded before Jonathan and Lucien stumbled out of the shop to the corner Chinese shop to pick up boxes of drunk food to sober everyone up.

Shifting up to sit properly on the couch once more, you brought your knees to your chest and glanced over at Neil who was already gazing at you in a dazed way. His fingers ran across his fallen bottom lip as his eyes slowly fell from your lips to the slight gap in between your legs that stayed exposing your panties to him.

Standing up and stumbling on the way over, he plopped himself next to you on the couch and stretched his arm over to the back of the couch behind you. Sighing as his eyes scanned your face and proximity of you, you looked up at him and gave him a boop on his nose with your finger. Giving a small chuckle, his cock had already started to harden at the closeness of the pair of you.

“You’ve never watched pornography?” He whispered, feeling his hot breath on your face and inhaling the smell of vodka. His brows raised in curiosity and a smirk grew on his face as the question fell from his lips.

“Nooo… not yet.” You shifted your knees that were linked in your arms towards him now, leaning your head on his forearm that was still up at the back of you.

Batting your eyelashes up at him, he groaned and lulled his head back at the sight of your flushed cheeks and swollen eyes, wanting to face fuck you so hard you’d lose your voice for the days to come. Anything to see those pretty eyes of yours squint as your throat closes around him.

“D’you want to?” He snapped his head up before asking, a look of confusion on your face. A sense of excitement filled his voice that wasn’t previously there.

You shook your head slowly trying to figure out if he was being serious or not.

“You know… we do have a large collection of pornography at the shop.” He pouted at you.

You shook your head faster and covered your mouth while giggling.

“No Neil… I-“ You began smiling through your words.

“Just one video.” Interrupting you, he nodded in encouragement. Furrowing your brows you pushed your neck back and sat up.

“That’s… no I don’t-“

“Come on. Just one.” His eyes remained on yours, the same puppy dog look he had earlier. Only this time, his head swayed slowly as he tried to focus on yours.

“I don’t… feel comfortable doing that.” You said under your breath, the smile dropping from your face as your heart rate became rapid under your chest.

“It’s okay… you’ll like it.” He dropped his arm from the couch back and wrapped it around your shoulder.

“No I-“ You glanced down at where his landed, feeling the prickly heat of his touch over your arm.

“Please.” He whined. Snapping your eyes to look up at him again, you had to admit to yourself you were curious.

“Just one video…” His thumb slowly started stroking small circles on you as he whispered his pleas. “Please.”

Blinking harshly to try and stop seeing double of him, your blurred hearing was filled with strings of slurry pleas and begs, being unable to focus on anything but how fast everything was spinning and the violent beating in your chest.

“I promise- just one. If you don’t like it-“ You were tired of his voice, having it filled the quietness of the empty story as his finger progressively rubbed faster around your arm.

“Okay…” You whispered under your breath.

“Huh? What was that?” He pulled you closer and ducked his head lower to meet your eyes.

“Okay.” You said louder this time. A small smile grew on your face as you felt slightly excited, curious to see what porn was all about and why Neil seemed to be so obsessed with it.

Standing up quickly while losing balance countless times on the way to the pornography isle, he spent a few minutes saying ‘no’ under his breath and sighing before a loud ‘ah!’ was heard and he came round the corner. Not letting you see the cover of the tape, he ducked onto his knees and pressed the tape into the player with his digit.

Rushing back as fast as he could to sit next to you, the weight of him landing on the cushion next to you shook you as you kept your eyes peeled to the screen.

“This one…” He turned to look at you as you brought your knees to your chest again, looking over your shoulder into his eyes. “Is my favourite.” He smiled and nodded towards the screen.

A girl, who seemed quite young in your eyes, was sat at a school desk with a belt thin plaid skirt and a see through short white blouse that ended at her ribs. She held the end of a pencil in between her teeth as she twirled one of her pigtails around her finger and seemingly pondered into the distance.

Shifting next to you, you look over at Neil who’s face was already red and twitching his hips uncomfortably. He glances at you without moving his head and grabs your chin, forcing your face to the front. Still feeling his heat so close to you, a sense of awkwardness in your chest took over your ability to move and you were frozen, staring at the scene unfold on the screen.

A man in a suit, presumingly this young girls teacher, makes his way over to her desk and pulls her chair out. Glaring down at the girl while gripping her cheeks in his hand, his crotch becomes evidently swollen as he shoves his clothed erection into her face. Gasping at his aggressiveness, you turn to face Neil, once more who’s eyebrow has cocked up and mouth has fallen only ajar. Looking back onto the screen, you watch as the man unzips his pants to free his large, throbbing cock in her face. Gasping even louder at this point, you cover your eyes and turn away.

“What’s the matter? Never seen a cock before?” Neil asks sarcastically, chucking at your reaction.

“Nuh-uh.” You say, shaking your head.

“Oh come on… you’ve never seen one before?” His voice sounding irritated.

You loosen the grip on your eyes slowly and look at him through a small gap in your fingers.

“Never.” His mouth falls all the way open now, staring at you in disbelief.

“Are you… are you a virgin?” He whispers the last word, treating it at almost a swear.

You nod your head slowly and his mouth is now on the floor, his eyebrows are knitted together and he sits up. Looking into your eyes, he wanted to devour you right then and there. His cock was now beating in this pants, a hot string of precum leaking down the top of this thigh and his shaft throbbing to be stroked.

“Oh my god…” He whined out.

Slowly turning your attention away from the stunned look on his face, you peak over at the TV and wince at the girl’s mouth being aggressively fucked. You heard the squelching and gagging noises, cringing as her eyes squinted with a mixture of tears and saliva pouring down her face. You felt as Neil fell back into the couch, watching as his knees widened next to you and a small groan left his lips.

“You ever seen a boner?” He placed his hand around the back of you again, sneaking into the small gap between your ass and the couch.

Looking over at him, closing one eye to focus on his face, you shake your head shamefully and look down. Keeping your eyes on his thighs, you watched as his palm raised and hesitantly made it’s way to his crotch. His palm started to slowly rub on his already swollen cock and he sighed out in relief to the pressure.

Widening your eyes, you rapidly blinked as you stared at him palming himself, his hand pressing hard and small, desperate whimpers falling from his lips.

“Would you like to?” He puffs out as his pace fastened on his clothed erection.

You felt a pool of heat build in your panties at his question, your walls clenching around nothing and the air leaving your lungs. After watching him press harder into his crotch for a couple of seconds, your eyes pull up to stare into his. His lips were slightly parted but wet and swollen, a flush of pink that spread to his cheeks and bottom of his eyes. His gaze was slightly squinted and his eyes looked teary, noticing how his eyebrows would twitch simultaneously with each quiet whine that fell off his lips.

You nodded your head and much too quickly, he unzipped his jeans and raised his hips. Hooking his fingers into the top of his jeans, he pushed them fast to his thighs and laid back just as fast as he got up. Sighing out as his back hit the soft cushion, he tilted his head as his palm quickly attacked the bottom of his throbbing cock.

Staring in awe at the size of him, your mouth started to salivate at the risen fabric and a small moan left your lips as his palm pressed down on the tent once more.

“Do you… do you wanna- ugh, touch?” A grunt interrupted him, gulping down the ball in his throat.

Hesitantly, you raised your hand and kept it in the air for a few seconds, unsure of what to do.

“Please.” He grabbed your wrist and pressed your hand onto his erection, twitching his face in discomfort and arching his back at the contact of your hand on him.

Slowly pressing your palm onto him, you tried to imitate how he was doing it earlier. Pushing your hand harder onto himself, he let you go and started heavy breathing to your soft presses. You felt his clothed cock from the tip to his balls, pushing harder with each stroke as you felt him twitch in your hand.

“Oh- yeah… yeah like that.” His head was lulling and his eyes were squinting, slightly opening them to stare down at how you were touching him. His mouth stayed slightly opened as an exit for his whines, his wet lips drying up as his brows stayed knitted together.

Grabbing the back of your neck as his dazed eyes met yours, he pulled you to him and latched his lips onto yours. Slowly pushing and massaging into plush, pink flesh his tongue skilfully and softly pet yours, licking you fast before pulling back into his own mouth once more. Tracing your bottom lip with his muscle, he sighed deeply as he pressed you harder into his mouth, keeping his open as he moaned into yours at your fastening touch on his cock.

Pulling you back by your scalp, he kept you inches away from his face as he began panting. Your pussy leaked at the sight of him, grasping you hard as his mouth was hot and wet, jaw open and eyes building up sockets of tears at the pleasure you were giving him.

“Want you- need you to suck.” He moaned out pathetically as you touched him through his words.

A look of confusion plastered onto your face, his eyes glancing to the TV as his fists grabbed your hair tighter and spun your head to the screen. Once more, you were met with the actress gagging on the mans cock, barely breathing and sobbing at the pain of the lack of oxygen.

“Just like that…” He groaned out lowly. “Just like the actress.” Loosening his grip on your head, he let you reposition yourself onto your stomach.

Keeping your eyes on the screen, you grabbed the base of Neils dick cluelessly and watched what the actress was doing. In all honesty, she wasn’t doing anything other than taking the mans cock like a whore as he thrusted himself into her throat. Still unsure and insecure on your actions, your lips wrapped around Neils angry, red, leaking tip. The slightly salty taste made yourfurrow your brows, unaware that the substance could even have a taste.

“Fuck- suck my cock.” Neil’s fist found it’s way to your hair once more, holding you harshly in place.

You sucked around his tip, eyes still on the screen as you copied the act of moving your lips along his shaft. Moving delicately and slowly, he grunted and rolled his head back. Slowly starting to move his hips for more friction, twitching upwards and forcibly putting more of him in your mouth, you tensed up at the feeling of his large cock slowly making it’s way further into your mouth.

“Just… just relax.” He breathed out. Listening to what he said, you relaxed your mouth and suddenly his thrusts became a lot smoother as he slowly pressed your face simultaneously into him and his hips twitched up. Feeling your throat salivate as his tip finally hit the back of your throat, he let out a loud moan and held your face in place as he began to fuck your mouth faster.

“Oh fuck-fuck yes, yes stay there.” His voice was loud and high, his eyebrows furrowed into one as a hot tear rolled out the corner of his eye as he watched you begin to gag around him.

Thrusting his hips up higher and harshly now, his knees started to wobble as he whimpered in the same rhythm that his cock twitched. Feeling your eyes swell and yourself begin to moan at the lack of air you were receiving, you grabbed the base of his cock roughly and his head shot back in response. He groaned loudly at your rough contact and you felt his cock twitch violently in your mouth.

Using all of his strength to not continue to face fuck you till he came and covered your throat in his cum, he slowed down his pace as his breathing regulated and tightened the grasp on your hair before pulling you off completely.

Looking up at him with smudged mascara, droll falling down your chin you couldn’t help but smile at the look of lust on his face. His hair had fallen in front of his eyes and they stayed squinted, his pink cheeks now wet with tears and a low whine leaving his plumped mouth as he saw the corners of yours turn.

“So pretty.” He whispered, letting your hair go and sitting up. He pat your wet face and slapping noises softly bounced off your cheek.

Quickly undressing himself and throwing his clothes into a pool on the floor, he stayed standing over you with his cock intimidating your face. He reached down and pulled your shirt off, groaning at the sight of your bare tits and your erect nipples bouncing in the cold air.

“No bra?” He smirked, chucking as he glared down at you.

You shook your head no and covered your tits, feeling exposed under his sight in a way you’d never been before.

“Take your skirt and panties off.” He weakly demanded, lips trembling into a smirk as he stayed standing over you as you did so. His dick bounced as it twitched at the sight of your naked body, something he’d been craving to fuck since you first started working there.

Sitting completely naked in front of him, he made his way onto the sofa and laid down horizontally, pulling you on top of him. Laying bare on him he twisted his fingers through your scalp, gently placing wet kisses on your lips as he softly moved his hands down to your ass. Roughly grabbing your asscheeks and pushing your naked body harshly onto his, he groaned as the slight shove caused friction on his desperate cock. Whimpering as his hands had spread you wide, your body shoved forward and you whined your pain into his mouth. Pulling his head back, he looked at you with a dark lust in his eyes as he cupped your face.

“Sit up- sit on me.” His voice trembled out, never breaking eye contact with you as the words fell from his lips.

Doing as you were told, you sat up and felt your warm, wet pussy sit down on the backside of his shaft. Looking at where the pair of you connected, he grabbed the sides of his hips harshly and whimpered at the slight rock you did on top of him, your wetness allowing you to hump him easily with soft movements.

“Come… come up.” He pulled your hips forward and you furrowed your brows confused. He sighed out and rolled his eyes, that familiar blush creeping onto his face as he looked back at you.

“Sit on my face…” He said quietly. “Please?” Your heart skipped a beat and a wave of insecurity washed over you, never even imagining doing such a thing before.

“Please just… sit on my lips.” He pushed his lips forward as his eyebrows twitched with nervousness. His grip grasped tighter on your hips and you could tell he was getting impatient.

Shifting yourself forward, you lower your hips onto his face and look down as his blue eyes looked up at you with desire. Letting go of your hips, he spread your pussy and placed his hot, open mouth onto your mound. His tongue was flat and slowly licked from your entrance to your clit, tensing on your soft spot and circling the tip of his muscle. You twitched your hips uncontrollably as his tongue moved faster, slurping noises filling the room and snapping your head back in pleasure. Loud moans and whimpers fell from your lips as your hips started to circle on his face, fucking his tongue faster than he could move it.

“Oh fuck.” You moaned, mouth open and eyes squeezed shut. You’d never felt anything like this before, uncontrollable pleasure rushing over you.

His harsh grip left your hips and snaked around your tits, grabbing roughly at your flesh and pinching your hard nipples. A whine of pain left your lips and your head twitched at the sensation.

“Oh my- oh my god…” Your cunt was rubbing along his lips as fast as you could move them, desperately chasing something that you weren’t sure of.

His tongue had slivered into your hole, darting in and out in unison with the grabs of your tits, your hips rocking desperately as a warm knot began to build in your stomach.

Looking down at him, a tear had formed in your eye and you started to shake, even with you sitting down your knees were trembling beneath you. His eyes were also furrowed as he seemed to be in great focus, using his tongue skilfully against your dripping cunt.

Aware of what was about to happen, Neil’s hands grabbed your hips strongly to keep you in place, his mouth sucking at your pussy and fucking you with his tongue faster and rougher than before. Moaning against your mound, you started to shake violently underneath him as a white noise buzzed through your skull and a string of incomprehensible swear words and moans fell from your lips.

Slowing down the rock of your hips, he moaned and pulled his mouth off your cunt. Looking down at him, a transparent ooze had spread across his face. Staring at you with an arrogant, proud smirk, he kissed your slit once more and groaned as he massaged your hips.

“What… what was that?” You said innocently, his cock dripping with pre-cum at the sight of you so weak on top of him.

“You came… on my face” He smiled at you, giving you one last peck on your cunt before pushing you off his face.

He sat upright on the couch, shifting you onto his lap as his back laid into the cushion and he lifted his hips to get comfortable. Grabbing at your hips harshly once more, he started rocking your dripping lips against the back of his shaft.

“Do you know how long I’ve wanted to fuck this cunt?” He blatantly says, moving you in unison to his words.

You shake your head no and a small whine leaves your lips, his cock twitching upwards along your slit with your noise.

“So fucking long baby…” He says lowly, staring down at you humping his cock. Lifting you slightly higher, he grabs his base and drags his tip along your hole, collecting your arousal and wetting the rest of his cock. Sighing at the feeling of you, he held one hand strongly against your hip as he pressed slowly into you.

Feeling the small breach of his tip, you whined out and his mouth fell open. His eyes squinted and his breathing began to speed up.

“Sh,sh,sh.” He breathed out, removing his hand from the bottom of himself as his tip began pushing into you.

Grabbing both your hips once more, he started to push upwards and his head fell back and his eyes squeezed shut.

“Ah… fuck.” He winced as he stopped moving, giving you time to adjust. Your legs began to shake at the stretch of him around your walls, your muscles clenching around the small inch of him inside of you. The foreign feeling already had you feeling filled, your pussy warm with a slight sting as his cock was larger than anything you’d put inside of you.

After a few seconds, he pulled your hips into his crotch as he pushed his hips up, forcing the whole of his cock into your cunt and stretching you without warning. Sobbing out at the intrusion, his cock had now completely filled you, feeling his warm tip in your stomach.

Whimpering loudly, his grasp stayed tight on your hips and he quickly pulled out and lifted you up off of him.

“So fucking…” He said breathlessly “tight!” He moaned loudly as he thrusted himself fully into you again.

Your head fell back in pain with him repeating this action over and over again. Slowly, your cunt stretched to his size and mixed with your wetness, his cock started fucking you roughly as quickly as he selfishly began chasing his high.

“Fuck-fuck, fuck! Yes… yes just like that.” His cock hit the back of your walls with each thrust, he sobbed out the words and began crying while he fucked you mercilessly. He’d occasionally look up at the way his cock was splitting you into two, a tear rolling down his cheek as his balls bounced on your ass and a loud slap noise vibrated off your skin with each stroke.

Crying out in pleasure, you were a moaning mess and became weak under his thrust. Fucking you faster and harshly, you felt him twitch inside of you as he cried out in pleasure.

“I’m so close… so-so close.” He whimpered, his thrusts getting sloppier and messier as his pace became erratic.

Suddenly, you felt a warm string shoot up inside of you, coating your walls as you clenched rhythmically around his cumming cock. Leaving dents into the side of your hips, his hands stayed aggressively holding onto you as he felt his balls tense up, emptying themselves completely into the back of you. A sequence of praises, cries and whimpers left his lips, watching as his body shook uncontrollably under you and vibrating from your walls.

Letting you go as you subconsciously started to slowly rock once more, he sighed out and finally opened his eyes, his eyelashes dark and wet as his gaze remained pussy drunk on your face. Looking at you, he cupped your cheeks and pulled you in, slowly placing wet kisses around your face as his softening cock stayed inside of you.

Pulling yourself off of him after you had both caught your breath, you flopped back onto the couch. Suddenly, you were a lot more sober and worn out, a tearing pain seeping from your hole as you curled on the couch.

Breathlessly, he looked over at you and glanced at your red, swollen pussy that leaked his cum onto the sofa. Chuckling, he grabbed an ass cheek and pulled you apart further.

“You’re going to stay to watch movies after work now?” He whispered, a smirk growing on his face.

You looked up and him and hummed, smiling as you nodded. Slapping your ass, he stood up and grabbed your clothes.

“Get dressed. They’ll be back soon.”

[samaraxmorgan]

Crack JJK headcanons based on nothing but vibes:

I never see headcanons that aren’t smut/romance based so I decided to post some of mine that make me laugh!! :) if you have any goofy headcanons pleeeease add them in a rb/reply I would LOVE to read them!!!

Gojo is sick and tired of people telling him he looks like Jack Frost.

Yuuji’s favorite game as a kid was Kirby Air Ride on the GameCube.

Inumaki runs the Dril account on Twitter.

Choso asked Yuki for K-Goth recommendations but she thought he said K-Pop, he ended up unintentionally getting really into BlackPink.

Megumi refuses to tell anyone (especially Gojo) that he likes My Chemical Romance because he already gets called emo enough.

Higuruma had a flip phone until 2016.

Gojo called Geto the n word one time in high school and Meimei still won’t let him live it down.

Choso sends Yuuji sibling TikToks (like “when you and your brother have opposite vibes”) and says “this is us.”

Nobara is the worst driver out of the first years (which is scary because Yuuji can’t shouldn’t drive).

Nobara has an early 2000s bug and she put eyelashes on the headlights.

Yuuji drives a Jeep Wrangler and audibly says “skrrrt” every time he makes a sharp turn even if no one else is in the car.

Nanami never watches the TikToks Gojo sends him (and it offends Gojo so much).

Choso knows how to do trad goth makeup and he’s actually insanely good at it.

Since Gojo can see through his eyelids, sometimes he accidentally sleeps with his eyes open and wakes up with a massive migraine because of it.

Yaga ends every email with “Sent from my iPhone.”

Choso is really interested in watching fish, he could sit in front of a fish tank and just watch a fish swim around for hours like he’s in a trance.

Megumi is a total metal head and goes unexpectedly hard in a mosh pit.

Yuuji was genuinely devastated when mango Juul pods were discontinued.

Gojo has a Bitmoji and uses it constantly (to the point where it’s kinda cringey).

Meimei has a standard poodle.

Whenever someone sends Higuruma a meme he’ll just reply with a thumbs up or thumbs down emoji based on if he thought it was funny or not.

Nobara hit a curb so hard she popped her tire, and Maki had to drive out and change it for her.

[thewintersoldierdisaster]

a/n: remember that poll you guys voted in on what fic i should work on? this is the fic that one 😂 i’ve been wanting to write this one for a minute and had so much fun doing it!! i love the soft vibes and i hope you guys do too 🥰 lots of fun stuff coming up 🤍

word count: 4.9k

tw: a little dirty talk, a little horny making out, nothing crazy

summary: sunrise on the beach with mat becomes your favorite memory

Sleep fades away slowly, a warm hand working its way gently into your hair, fingertips rubbing against your scalp. You hum and press your face into the pillow bunched up under your head.

A familiar chuckle pierces the veil of sleep, fingers continuing their gentle rub. “Hey, come on Sleeping Beauty,” Mat’s voice is low and amused in your ear. “Time for that sunrise.”

You whine and roll over, sleep still clinging stubbornly to your brain. In your hazy half-awake state, you remember that you’d told Mat you wanted to see the sunrise on the beach, but you honestly didn’t think he’d be able to manage to get up this early. “Time’s it?” you mumble around a yawn, eyes still shut and hand groping for Mat’s. He laces his fingers with yours, taking pity on your floundering hand. He rubs his thumb over your knuckles, his palm dry and warm in your own.

“Four ten,” he says, laughing at the outraged noise you make. “Babe, sunrise is at 5:20, had to get you up early.”

One eye cracks open and Mat comes into view, sitting on the edge of the mattress, hair looking a little crazy. He’s got a soft smile on his face even as his lips are tilted up with amusement. “This is cruel and unusual,” you mumble, stretching your legs out under the pile of blankets. Your calf cramps slightly and you flex your foot to relieve the twinge.

Mat’s fingers twitch in yours and he shrugs a little. “You said you wanted to see the sunrise,” he reminds you, tugging at your hand and pulling you into a sitting position. “Not too many more days left on the Island for that to happen.”

He’s not wrong - after the six-game playoff loss to the Canes, you’d hung around the Island so you could spend your birthday with your friends, but you’re leaving in a couple of days to visit Mat’s family before the Bear wedding and then hopping over to Europe for a couple of weeks of vacation. The summer is jam-packed full of fun plans that you’re looking forward to.

“I hate that you’re right,” you sigh, more awake now. Mat leans in and kisses you quickly. He jumps up before you can really kiss him back, making your forehead crease in confusion.

“I’m always right,” he teases, rummaging through your drawers to find you some clothes. You stretch your arms over your head, t-shirt riding up and exposing your stomach to the cool air of your bedroom. You shiver a bit, that full-body shake that’s the result of a really good stretch.

With a scoff, you swing your legs out of bed and mutter, “you weren’t right when you missed the exit and drove us into Staten Island last week, making us very late for dinner.”

Mat blows a raspberry at you. “I thought we weren’t going to bring that up again?” He whines, pouting like a toddler.

You shoot him a cheeky grin over your shoulder and pad to the bathroom to clean up. “I’m bringing that up until the end of time, Mr. I Don’t Need Directions Babe I Know Where I’m Going,” you laugh to yourself before knocking the door shut with your foot so you can have a minute of privacy.

Mat’s got the bedside lamps on when you leave the bathroom, casting your bedroom in soft light that doesn’t hurt your tired eyes. You smile gratefully and flop back down on the bed. “Are you sure we have to do this?” You yawn again. “What about staying in bed and fucking like bunnies? That could be fun.”

Your boyfriend laughs and comes to straddle your legs, knees on the outside of your own, leaning down over you to press a kiss to your forehead. “I think we can do that later,” he mutters against your skin. “Come on, it’ll be fun. Get dressed.”

Looking at him, you notice for the first time that Mat’s already dressed in a navy quarter zip and jeans and you wonder exactly how early he got up. It doesn’t really matter at the end of the day and you change into a comfortably oversized royal blue cashmere sweater and a pair of leggings, ignoring the jeans Mat had pulled out of your drawer. He’s staring blatantly at you as you dress, grinning when he notices that you don’t bother with a bra. You wink at him, teasing, “I know that backseat of yours is very spacious.”

Mat’s laugh is contagious and you giggle along with him. “Babe, I’ll let you do whatever you want in the backseat of my car,” he waggles his eyebrows at you, catching your foot when you kick it up at him to put on your socks. He tickles the arch of your foot gently as he pulls a pair of his own thick Nike socks on your feet and lets them bunch up over your leggings.

You wiggle your toes in the warm socks, squirming when Mat captures your ankle and tugs gently to drag you down the bed. “Whatever I want?” You ask on a breathless giggle, letting him pull you to your feet and crash against his chest.

“Anything but eating Goldfish back there,” Mat shakes his head at you, both of you remembering the time you’d been babysitting the Martin girls and Winnie had asked for her snack sized bag of Goldfish to be squished into crumbs since they “taste better” that way and then had dumped the entire bag out on your lap when she was trying to share.

“That was an accident!” You protest, distracted by Mat’s warm hands snaking under the hem of your sweater and dancing over the soft skin of your lower back. “She was sharing. We’re supposed to be encouraging sharing, Mat!”

Mat snorts. “Only because you asked for a Goldfish,” he kisses your cheek, “now come on. We’re going to miss the sunrise.” He taps against your lower back and you wiggle against him.

You’re awake now, but you still try and convince him to get back in bed, “sure you don’t want to just undress me under the covers instead?”

“Later,” Mat promises, tugging at the waistband of your leggings and spurring you into following him down the stairs. You snag your phone off its charging pad on the way out and nearly fumble the tube of Summer Fridays lip balm when you lunge back at the last second for it too.

Downstairs, Mat grabs his keys out of the little bowl on the hall table and you shove your feet into a battered pair of Ugg Tasmans, going for maximum comfort. Mat pulls on a pair of Nikes and you follow him out the door, sighing when you see how dark it still is.

“Can I guarantee at least two orgasms for myself?” You ask, climbing into the passenger seat of Mat’s Defender. “It’s criminally early.”

You look over your shoulder and see that Mat’s already pushed down the second row of seats and the car is full of pillows and blankets to nest in while you watch the sunrise. A delighted smile curls your lips and Mat laughs at you when he gets behind the wheel.

“You literally begged me to take you to see the sunrise,” he reminds you, starting the car and pulling out of the driveway. He plays with the radio, finding your preset Taylor Swift Sirius station and you smile happily, kicking off your Uggs and pulling your feet up onto the seat.

“I forget it’s so early in the summer,” you laugh lightly, humming along to ‘Paper Rings.’ You reach your arm out and rest your hand on the nape of Mat’s neck, scratching your nails lightly into his hair, letting the silky strands curl around your fingers. He hasn’t cut it yet and you begged him to let it grow a little longer during the summer, just until Ethan’s wedding in July. Luckily for you, Mat agreed, mostly because he loves when you tangle your fingers in his hair and pull when he’s going down on you. Now, Mat’s shoulders drop and you can feel his body relax under your touch. “Where are we going, by the way?”

“Robert Moses,” Mat replies, merging onto the Meadowbrook. Despite the early hour, a car nearly sideswipes you as you merge in and Mat lays on the horn, shouting through the closed window. You wince, fingers freezing in place on Mat’s neck.

“I hate the Meadowbrook,” you mutter. “Meanwhile, where was he going? It’s literally five in the morning.”

“It’s also Monday,” Mat reminds you, grinning when you resume scratching at his scalp. “People are going to work.”

You hum a little laugh, “right, the employed, upstanding citizens making the rest of us bums look bad.” The parkway opens up now though, the road clear in front of you and you zone out a bit while staring at the sky as it lightens. The music changes and you mumble-sing along, tapping your socked foot against the leather seat. Mat’s fingers alternate between tapping against the steering wheel and clenching it so hard his knuckles go white. You turn your head to look at him, studying the line of his jaw and the stubble that he’s letting grow in for a few days before he’ll decide to shave again. His hair curls around his ears and you run your fingers through it, brushing your fingertips over the hinge of his jaw.

His lips tilt up in a smile even as his eyes stay on the road. “Enjoying the view?” He teases and you giggle.

“Yeah, actually I am,” you murmur. “Call it sleep deprivation, but I can’t stop staring at you right now.” You angle your body towards Mat’s, still studying his face. “I love you,” you say on a little sigh, never tired of the way his ears go a little pink when you say those three words.

“Fuck yeah, same,” he replies, smirking a bit before laughing at the inside joke. You wrinkle your nose at him, thinking about that first confession - both of you drunk out of your minds, Mat holding you up while you danced on the beach, half of his teammates partying around you in the late July warmth. Influenced by High Noons and beers mixed with too much tequila, your hangover the next day had only been worsened when you remembered the way you slurred the three words into his ear and his response, three different words. But tangled together on the oversized couch in Matt and Sydney’s Hamptons home, with the sunlight nearly blinding you and the sounds of the waves breaking, Mat had pulled you close to his chest and buried his face in your hair and mumbled, “for the record, I love you too.”

From there it had been a wild year, so much fun and excitement, mingled with the heartbreak of missing the playoffs and the month-long break you’d taken after a blowup fight.

Before you can linger too much on the past, Mat pulls off the Meadowbrook and navigates the traffic circle to merge onto Ocean Parkway. You roll down the window to get the ocean breeze into the car, inhaling deeply. “God, I love the smell of the ocean,” you sigh, wiggling happily in your seat. “I miss the days they would prescribe going to the shore for your health.”

Mat’s laugh fills the car, “you already spend more time at the beach than any other person I know! Who takes four mile walks on the sand in the middle of January?”

“I’m a summer baby, Mathew,” you sniff haughtily, tugging gently on the piece of hair twirled around your fingers. “I need my designated beach time to thrive.”

“You’re crazy, that’s what you are,” Mat says, but his tone is laced with affection. “Hopefully this morning fills the quota for when we’re up in Vancouver.”

“We’ll see,” you laugh, the car bouncing slightly as Mat takes the turn off the road and navigates the Defender into the sand. The sky is lightening slowly and you’re still ten minutes away from actual sunrise, so it’s perfect timing. He situates the car so the front is facing west and turns it off, turning to grin at you.

“Ready for a show?” He asks, tossing the keys into the cup holder and reaching up to lace his fingers with yours.

You nod, wide awake now and excited to cross something off your summer bucket list. “Let’s get cozy,” you lean over the console and press your lips to his in a quick kiss before shifting onto your knees and climbing over the console into the back of the car, head first and nearly kicking Mat in the head with a stray foot. He’s laughing behind you, tugging at your ankles.

“Wouldn’t it have been easier to get out of the car?” He’s opening his door, half out onto the sand as he talks.

You’re perched happily in the pile of blankets when May pulls open the hatch, exposing the full view of the beach and eastern horizon. He’s backlit by the rising sun and you reach for him, wiggling your fingers to encourage him to climb into the expanded backseat with you. “My way was more fun,” you chirp when he climbs in, kicking his sneakers off and leaving them in the sand.

“Crazy,” he mutters, scooting you to the side so he can wedge in behind you. His elbow bangs against something and makes a sort of thunking noise.

“What’s that?” You settle in between Mat’s legs, resting your back against his chest.

He leans a little to the side and tugs at one of the blankets, exposing the Yeti cooler that usually lives in your garage while it waits for summertime. “Breakfast,” he says and you can hear the smile in his voice.

“Ohhh,” you grin, angling your head back so you can see Mat’s face, “you’re really gunning for boyfriend of the year, huh?”

“How’re my odds looking?” Mat flips open the lid of the cooler and pulls out a snack sized bottle of Tropicana, holding the bottle in front of you while he cracks the top. You take it from him with a quiet, ‘thanks’ and sip at it. His thighs are firm against the outside of yours, warmth radiating off his body.

“Holding onto a solid second place,” you tease, knocking your knee against his.

Mat cracks open his own bottle of orange juice and knocks back half off it before replying, “second? Jesus, what’s my competition like?”

You shift a little, angling so your shoulder is slightly pressed against his chest and Mat’s left arm is draped over your shoulder, one big hand inching closer to cupping your breast. “Well,” you hum, tapping the lid of your orange juice against your lower lip, “Andrew Price did save the last cherry BlowPop for me back in first grade. I thought that was very gentlemanly.”

“You’re a menace,” Mat grumbles against the top of your head, flicking at the side of your breast with his index finger. You jolt and giggle, bringing your hand up to play with his fingers.

“Yeah, and?” Mat’s foot hooks over yours and you lean to the side, resting your elbow against one of the pillows piled around your bodies. “You planned all this, so you must love me.”

“Against my better judgement,” Mat teases. You look up at him again, pouting and wrinkling your nose, making him smile and lean down to plant a quick kiss on your pout. Humming happily, you rest your cheek against his arm and go quiet, watching the sun slowly rise over the horizon, coloring the sky in gorgeous pastels. Mat’s chin rests on the top of your head and his other arm comes around to wrap around your stomach, keeping you held tightly against his chest.

The waves crash against the sand and you zone out a little watching them, breathing in the ocean air and feeling your entire body relax. Your stomach grumbles quietly, a little vibration that you hope Mat can’t hear. He chuckles and you roll your eyes. “You can move up the boyfriend rankings if you’ve got a cherry BlowPop in that cooler,” you murmur.

Mat shifts behind you, unwrapping his arm from a round your stomach and leaning to the side, taking your body with him. “Even better,” he says, the crinkling of a bag echoing in the small space. You look over just as he withdraws the cream and gold pastry bag from one of your favorite bakeries. “Almond croissant from French Workshop,” he continues, displaying the bag in front of your face with a flourish.

“Ooh!” You perk up, leaning forward to pluck the bag from Mat’s hand. You can smell the buttery pastry and your stomach grumbles again. “Okay, you’re officially in the number one boyfriend spot. I don’t think there’s anything better than almond croissants at sunrise on the beach.”

Mat pulls a second bag from the cooler and you sniff out the scent of Nutella, which only widens your grin. Mat doesn’t have too much of a sweet tooth, except when it comes to Nutella. You’re constantly buying the little snack packs for him to get a quick energy hit.

“Nothing at all?” Mat teases you while you shift in his lap, turning so your back is resting against the side of the car and your legs are draped over his thigh. He takes a bite of his croissant, flaky crumbs landing on your leggings before he brushes them off with a casual hand.

Around a bite of your own treat, you hum. “Nothing I can think of,” you retort cheekily after swallowing.

You shriek and wriggle around when Mat’s fingers tickle your side, your stomach hurting as you laugh loudly and wildly. Mat’s body is on top of yours, nearly flat against the floor of the trunk, croissant crumbs all around you. “Mat, no! Stooop,” you whine, laughing and trying to fight off the onslaught.

“Take it back,” he laughs, peppering your cheeks and neck with kisses. “Say I’m better than breakfast pastries.” He nips at the edge of your jaw.

You hook your legs around Mat’s waist and bump your hips up against his, trying to distract him but all it does is make you hotter for him, heat flushing up your chest. Mat grins against your neck, fingers slowing a little, but still pressing into all the spots that he knows are vulnerable.

“Mercy,” you choke out on a laugh, tugging at Mat’s hair, breathless.

He presses a final kiss to the pulse point on your neck and then his fingers are smoothing over your skin, fingertips gentle as they draw goosebumps in their wake. “I’m taking that as a win,” he informs you, leaning on his forearm so his full weight isn’t on top of you.

You lean up and capture his lower lip between your teeth, biting down a little sharply and tugging. Mat groans into your mouth and you shiver, the noise vibrating down your spine. “Only,” you pull away, your back resting on the floor of the trunk again, “because you play with dirty tactics.”

“Gotta take the wins where I can get them, Squeaks,” he laughs, rolling back onto his side and then sitting up, taking you with him so you’re straddling his lap, the top of your head grazing the roof of the car. You lean down and graze your lips over Mat’s, grinding down a little on his half-hard cock. He grunts in the back of his throat, gripping your hips to keep you in place.

“I’m missing the sunrise,” you chirp, pecking him quickly before wiggling off his lap and settling against his chest again. “You distracted me, back down to number two boyfriend.”

By now, the sun is mostly over the horizon, the sky bright and promising a gorgeous weather day ahead. You pull your legs up to your chest, wrapping an arm around your knees, while you watch the sky change colors. It’s so peaceful and your shoulders relax, the stress of the last few weeks of the regular season and the first round of playoffs dissipating. You’re looking forward to the summer, to getting to spend some real time with Mat. He shifts behind you - you sway to the side a little when he reaches for the cooler again and then back when he adjusts his position, his legs bending at the knee to bracket your body. A breeze off the ocean makes you shiver and press harder against Mat’s body, the hard ridge of his collarbone pressing against the back of your head.

He hums in your ear, breath kissing your cheek when he murmurs, “number two boyfriend, but how about number one fiancé?”

You blink, your brain processing the words, and he reaching around your body to rest his hand on your knee, a black velvet box held loosely in his fingers. You stare at the little box, barely comprehending what’s happening. Mat’s thumb taps carefully against the seam between the two halves of the box, his thumbnail wedged into the spot so he can flick it open at any second.

“What?” The syllable is barely a breath, your heart pounding in your chest. You can feel his cheeks rise with a smile against your temple. “Mat…” your voice is shaky, nervous excitement making your tone higher pitched than usual.

He taps the box against your knee and you immediately move, turning so you’re facing Mat, kneeling in between his legs. He’s got your favorite crooked smile on his face and when his features go a little blurry, you realize you’ve got tears in your eyes.

When he starts talking, Mat’s voice is a little wobbly too. He clears his throat twice before he manages to say, “you know I, uh, usually have a lot to say.”

A laugh slips out of your mouth and you cover your lips with a trembling hand. He grins at you even wider, showing off all his teeth.

“But,” he continues, fingers fidgeting with the box, “I thought about what I wanted to say, what I wanted to tell you, and I… couldn’t think of anything.”

Your heart pounds behind your ribs, tears falling freely down your cheeks.

“There was just too much I wanted to tell you,” he says, leaning up on his knees so you’re both kneeling in the trunk of the car. His hair rubs against the roof of the car and gets a little staticky, sticking up in all directions. “Every single time I tried to come up with a speech, all I could get down was how much I fucking love you. Every single day that you’ve been in my life, you’ve made it better. Even on my worst days, you’re the bright spot.”

“Mat,” you gasp his name softly, mouth still covered by your hands. “Oh my god!”

“I want to have a million more days with you,” he says softly, leaning forward and popping the lid open on the ring box. You were so focused on what he was saying, you barely realized that he hadn’t even shown you the ring. It’s gorgeous, a big oval diamond sparkling in the early morning light filtering in through the windows and open trunk. No smaller diamonds surrounding it on the band so the focus is just on how perfect the diamond is. You cry harder because it’s perfect, simple and stunning and everything that you’ve ever wanted in an engagement ring.

Mat cups your cheek with his free hand and you look up at him, nodding and laughing and babbling an answer to a question he technically hasn’t even asked yet.

Off of his own laughter, because he realizes that you’re giving him the answer he was expecting, Mat asks, “will you marry me? Give me all the best days and -“

He’s cut off when you shout a ‘yes!’ and throw yourself against his chest, arms around his neck and mouth covering his in fervent, excited kisses. In between peppering his face in kisses, you keep repeating “yes, yes, oh my god! Mat! I love you so much.”

Mat’s arms are tight around your back, keeping you held close to his chest, and he laughs against your mouth, entire face scrunched up with happiness while you kiss him. “Want your ring?” He mumbles the question, words muffled by your mouth on his.

You lean back in his arms, eyes wide and still glassy with tears, nodding eagerly. “Yes, please!” You hold out your left hand and Mat slides the ring home - a perfect fit. The sunlight glitters off the diamond as you twist your hand in the air, a stupid grin on your face. “Mat, god, it’s gorgeous. Holy shit, I love you.”

His laughter fills the air and he presses a sweet kiss to the corner of your mouth. “Aren’t you glad I woke you up this morning?” He teases, bracing an arm around your lower back so he can sit back on his ass and you can straddle his lap. No chance you’re letting go of him just yet.

“Oh yeah,” you nod like a bobble head, still looking at the ring on your finger. It’s surreal, you’re engaged to Mat, you’re going to be his wife! He’s going to be your husband! “Best reason for an early morning wake up.” A wild giggle bubbles up in your chest. “I can’t believe it, we’re engaged!”

You cup his cheeks with both of your hands and pull his face to yours for a kiss, your lips turned up in a permanent grin. Mat rests his forehead against yours when you break apart, your hands still holding his face.

“One more surprise,” he tells you.

“There’s a bottle of champagne in that cooler?” You joke, brushing the tip of your nose against his.

“Okay,” Mat chuckles, “two more surprises.”

“Lay it on me, you big romantic,” you wiggle happily on his lap, the fizzy excitement of Mat’s proposal making you feel a little lightheaded.

Mat’s hands trace a lazy path up and down your sides, slipping under your sweater and ghosting over your warm skin until his fingertips are brushing the undersides of your breasts, making you inhale sharply and arch into his touch. “Y’know how we’re going to visit my parents in a few days?” He asks, turning his head so he can kiss your palm.

It’s hard to concentrate with his hands on your body, but you manage a faint nod.

“We’re taking a little detour to Punta Cana first,” Mat says, punctuating his words with a kiss to your lips. “I wanted to make sure I got to see my gorgeous fiancée in a skimpy little white bikini as soon as possible after proposing.”

“Oh, do you?” You giggle, kissing his cheek. “When do we leave?”

Mat lifts his left wrist up so he can look at his watch. He squints at the face and you can see him doing the mental math before he says, “like thirteen hours?”

“Seriously?” You lean back, face scrunched up, shocked at the quick departure. “You must’ve been really convinced that I was going to say yes,” you tease.

“I know that you’re nuts for me,” Mat smirks, leaning forward to kiss the argument right out of your mouth, his fingers expertly twisting over your nipple and making you melt in his lap, pliant and horny. He licks into your mouth and you lean closer against his chest, pressing Mat back against the back of the passenger seat, the heat of his cock pressing against your core while you rock over his lap.

While you’re making out like horny teenagers, Mat’s phone vibrates incessantly in the cup holder in the center console. Mat laughs into your mouth and breaks away with a gasp, “that’ll be everyone waiting to see what you said.”

Licking at your swollen, chapped lips, you reach around Mat and grab his phone, the screen lit up with dozens of messages. “Did you tell everyone that you were proposing?” You ask, scanning the messages from the guys and spotting a few from Sydney too.

“Uh, yeah?” Mat plucks his phone from your hands. “I needed Syd and Holly to pack your bag for you and I liked the positive encouragement. You would not believe how many wife guys are in that locker room.”

“I believe it,” you assure him, beaming and holding your left hand up by your face when he turns the camera on you. “Selfie time, Mr. Barzal.”

You smush your cheek right next to his, matching cheesy grins on your faces when Mat snaps the picture, sending it off to the group chat. You tuck your face into Mat’s neck, breathing quietly and inhaling the familiar scent of his cologne.

“Hey,” you murmur against his skin, getting his attention, “I’m really excited to be your wife.”

Mat’s chin knocks gently against your forehead. “I’m really excited to be your husband,” he replies, hugging you to his chest. “Ready to start FaceTiming everyone?”

“Hmm,” you hum, brushing your nose against Mat’s neck, “can it just be us for a few more minutes?”

“Yeah, it can,” Mat agrees, tossing his phone back into the driver’s seat and tangling his legs with yours. He plays with the ring on your finger, running his thumb over the band. The diamond catches the sunlight and you watch it sparkle, casting rainbows on the roof of the car.

The waves keep crashing and now there are some seagulls making noise outside too.

Mat’s heart beats steadily at your back and it’s the perfect way to start the next chapter in your lives.

[green-tea-in-absinthe-bottle]

BLADE NSFW ALPHABET

My first time writing NSFW alphabet, enjoy. + 18 content under cut. Who should I do next?

GENERAL MASTERLIST

Aftercare

Blade is a bit awkward during aftercare, he is very touch deprived person and most people don't even dare to look him in the eye, afraid of his criminal record and mara. Still, he cares about your wellbeing so if you tell him to clean you up or bring you a glass of water he will do so immediately. He just needs to learn how to take care of somebody properly once again.

He will let you do whatever you want with his body tho, you can cuddle him (don't worry about his initial stiffness, he will relax if you massage his scalp), give him kisses, even braid his hair. He very rarely allows somebody to get into his inner circle but once you are there he is very lenient person overall. He got very distrustful and aloof with age, he is too tired to sleep around with people he doesn't have emotional connection to if he can just rub one off in need instead of being vulnerable in front of a stranger. To get anywhere close to his body you need to get through his defences first, and once you do he gets kinda soft for you.

You know how he allows Stellaron Hunters to use his phone, accepted Kafka's nickname for him, listens to Silver Wolf yapping about games etc.? Now you have that privilege to annoy him as well.

Body part

He feels very detached from his body, to the point of objectifying himself as a Blade. He doesn't like any part of his body in particular but he is entertained by your reaction to his chest. When you swoon over it, cuddle his boobs or suck on them he definitely is amused. Might even pat your head when you push your face in it.

On you he absolutely adores your face and all the cute expressions he can observe on it. He especially likes it when your eyes light up at his sight and when your gaze gets clouded with desire.

Cum

He doesn't mind making a mess at all, but if you prefer it inside of your holes he will do as you wish. He doesn't care much about that, he's not disgusted by yours or his bodily fluids with one exception. If it lands on your face anywhere besides your lips and chin he will wipe it down in a second, he doesn't want to feel like he disrespects you.

Dirty secret

So Blade is a very flexible, fit man...Once during jerking off he realised he can bend and lick the tip of his pretty long dick. He came instantly.

Experience

I believe his experience as Blade is limited to occasional quickie with Kafka, just to release some tension in between missions. I don't see them as proper lovers, more of a coworkers with occasional benefits, of course he respects her and cares about her but nothing else. Once he got committed to you he stopped sleeping with her. Kafka isn't bitter about that cause she has many options but if she finds you cute she might suggest threesome sometimes.

As Yingxing his situation was much more interesting. I don't necessarily see High Cloud Quintet as a polycule, but you can't convince me that him and Dan Heng didn't play around a bit, even now their fates are intertwined in special way and they reference each other. They just give divorced couple vibes, sorry not sorry. The way Blade refers to Baiheng so tenderly makes me believe he had a certain past with her as well, I ship her with Jingliu but I think Blade was in love with Baiheng at some point. His feeling were probably unreciprocated.

It's just my headcanon so don't cancel me pls.

Fav position

He likes it when you ride him, doesn't matter of it's his face, thigh or dick... He wants you to get yourself off on him in selfish way. When he gets on top he likes missionary cause he loves your lewd expressions so much.

Goofy

Blade takes intimate situations very siriously, it's not easy for him to show you his scars and he prefers to not joke around during sex. If he feels like it, he might tease you a little bit after it but that's it.

Hair

Just like in case of his beard, he takes good care of it. It's not completely shaved like his face but it's soft and clean.

Intimacy

For him to turn into your service switch you need to make him feel very safe and accepted, it makes him very vulnerable to give himself like that. It's important for him that you don't want to change him and appreciate him with all his scars. He can't be fixed and if you understand this and you don't mind - it's a very good beginning.

He might not be the most affectionate man out there but he will hold you like you are his greatest treasure, carress your hair and kiss your forehead so you feel safe in his arms.

Jack off

He doesn't get horny often if his sex partner isn't around to arouse him, after 800 years he doesn't see much appeal in jerking off. Still, he will do that to put himself to clear his mind and put himself to sleep faster. His hands are stiff and get tired fast so he masturbates by pounding into a fleshlight.

Kink

To me he is a switch (leaning sub) so I will split kinks into sub and dom. As a sub:

This man calls himself a Blade. It's easier to go through all the pain as a cold weapon without soul than as a shadow of his former self, genius who lost his ability to create and his main ambition. So he gave himself a new purpose, objectifying himself in the process of becoming his last masterpiece.

The thing about swords is they are meant to be used, directed by hand of their owner. Centuries of self-objectification messed with the way he perceives his body, also during sex. He wants to be used by you to please yourself and he needs to know he does good job as your toy. He has heavy praise kink, please tell him how great he feels and how he fulfills all your needs.

His extended life lost spark centuries ago, he craves intense sex to feel something. Blade has a high pain tolerance, he likes it rough. While he might be a bit skeptical towards typical tools used on masochists like whips or paddles, scratch his back really hard when he pounds into you and he will go crazy. He will mock you if you try to give him love bites but secretly will enjoy the sensation.

As a dom:

He is still obsessed with being used for your pleasure, but this time he takes matters into his own hands. He will figure out how to give you best sex of your life, even at the cost of overstimulating you. Trust me, he's very observant. He will use every trick known to him to fulfill you with his fingers, tongue and cock until there is not a single coherent thought left in your brain.

Sometimes he feels like this is not enough to ruin you properly. He will use toys to play with you even more, on a rare occasion he might think about threesome but he is very picky about who can touch you and he has one strict rule - nobody but him can slide into your tight hole. He will let Kafka satisfy you with her mouth and scissor/grind into you tho, if you are fine with it.

If you want to see the dominant side of him more often you just need to ask or to misbehave a bit, he is a natural brat-tamer. Loves to show you your place and fuck the attitude out of you, sight of submissive look in your teary eyes makes him very hard. Knowing he earned this look from you feeds his pride.

Location

He needs to feel safe and in control of his surroundings. Sorry, the only places he can unwind in are his room and his car. Don't worry, he made sure the backsits are extra comfortable and warmed up.

Motivation

In the past he used to have sex to get his mind off certain things from his past, but with a regular sex partner he will most likely be turned on by the thought of his body being the source of pleasure instead of pain for once. He wants to be nothing more but a weapon, tool of destruction, so why does he feel so proud when you let him know nobody could satisfy you like he can?

No

He will never ever approach you during his mara attacks, he can't bear the thought of hurting you. Fetishizing his condition in any way will result in getting kicked out of his life so no feral mara-struck beast Bladie for ya.

While I see him as a bit poly and I believe under certain circumstances he could rarely share you with Kafka, I also think he doesn't trust people so easily anymore, he is very protective about his closed social circle (it's literally just you and Stellaron Hunters) and he won't take it well if you suggest threesome with somebody whom he doesn't know very well or with one of his old friends from Quintet. His reaction depends on who do you suggest tho, if it's Jing Yuan you will receive cold shoulder for many nights but if it's Jingliu or Dan Heng - instant break up.

Oral

He wants you to ride his face and is proud of all the things he can do with his skilled mouth, especially in contrast to his long and beautiful but stiff fingers. He hollows his cheeks when he sucks on your clit/dick, looking you straight in the eye all the time and forgets to breathe when he french kisses your hole. Does he even need to breathe as an immortal?

When he receives head he likes the sounds you make the most, gagging on his length, salivating around it, kissing up his vein... Lick right under his foreskin and watch him lose control over his body.

Pace

He can go very fast and hard when he wants to fuck the brains out of both of you or he can go so gently it breaks your heart. Nothing in between. When it comes to your pace he wants you to do it however is the most comfortable for you.

Quickie

He would only indulge in them if he uses sex as a distraction, this elder prefers to take his time with you and take care of you thoroughly. He especially dislikes skipping foreplay, cause getting in the mood is very important to him.

Risk

With his fighting skills he could totally do risky stuff and come out of this with no trouble but to him sex is a time to relax and feel good, not to give himself more stress. He might do such things if you really, really want them, but it's not his style and he would rather not to be honest.

Stamina

His physical stamina is almost endless, with his self-healing and regenerating abilities he is capable of lasting for much longer than any mortal, but his emotional and mental exhaustion influences his stamina. If he gets overwhelmed at any point he will stop. Just hold him tightly and tell him it's alright. Otherwise he has no problem lasting for the whole night.

Toys

He will use toys on your nipples and clit to give you even more pleasure but no dildos or anything that could penetrate you cause that's his job and you don't need anything but him in your pretty holes.

Unfair

He teases you only if you have been a brat before. He doesn't like to deprive you of pleasure, that's not what he wants do to. But if you behave like you need to be tamed, for example smile a bit too much at another man, don't expect him to go easy on you. Once you've been too friendly during your trip on Astral Express and Blade edged you five times before you fainted.

Dont think you can tease him too much either, this man is very old and very patient when he gets petty. Just look at how long he holds on too grudges. He will tease you back and make you swallow all your words. You can't win this game with him.

Volume

Not a loud man, you can hear a few grunt here and there, quiet moan rarely and that's it. Let's just say he prefers to use his mouth differently in bed. It's not much but you know those sounds are genuine so you appreciate them. Also, who wouldn't get weak being praised in that husky voice of his?

Wild card

You surely heard of people having sex rooms in their places, but have you ever heard of making one in the car?

He lives in Stellaron Hunters headquaters and as much as you guys like to spend spicy time in his room, collection of toys you guys keep in there is nothing compared to the one he has in his car. He knows the rest of Hunters can hear you two so you need to keep quiet when you are at home, but in the garage you can moan his name as loud as you want to. He takes you out on dates in secluded spots like empty beaches or near the lake so you can enjoy each other's bodies while connecting with nature (but you guys stay in car during the do so he feels secure, comfortable and covered) . He lived in wilderness for years before joining Stellaron Hunters so if you encounter animals he will know how to behave.

Backsits are warmed up, they can be extended so you guys can lay down almost like in the bed, Blade carries you favourite blankets with himself. Locked up together with you toybox, so none of his coworkers can find those things when he gives them a ride.

How did he manage to get warmed up sits in such an old car? Well, this man was hella good at mechanics during his previous life as Yingxing. His memory and hands got worse but his brain is as sharp as it was when it comes to such things.

X - ray

Very long but not so thick, not overly prominent veins, very fragile head and base. His balls don't hang too much. Sorry, I never know what to write in this cathegory.

Yearning

He's an old guy, his libido went down with age to certain extent. He doesn't have the best relation with his body, doing physical things isn't something he does just for the sake of it.

He usually has sex for one of two reasons. To get stress out of his body and distract himself from his flashbacks or when he is deeply attracted to somebody and being in their company turns him on. Since he met you his libido woke up again after years and if you spend quality time with him on a daily basis you will have regular sex.

Sometimes he just wants to be left alone but it's not about you, he needs to deal with demons of his past on his own from time to time. There are nights when he just needs to be held, he will be grateful if you stay for him.

If you want to turn him on the easiest way to do this is first making sure he's relaxed and relatively in good mood at the moment, sometimes you can improve it with massages and hugs, sometimes you need to give him space. Then, sit or lay down very close to him, initiate a slow make out session and he will get hard in no time.

Tip: His ears and neck (especially on the back) are very fragile. Tease them well and see what happens.

Zzz

Blade needs a lot of sleep, you have to let that senior citizen rest his eyes in peace. He usually falls asleep surprisingly quickly, especially when he can smell your perfume and make sure you are safe and content, but he wakes up as soon as he hears anything suspicious, even if it's as quiet as leaf crushed under shoe. That makes him a great bodyguard. Also he can fall asleep while standing, with his eyes still open, holding onto his sword. He looks like a Halloween decoration when this happens.

There are nights when ghosts of the past and pain from mara won't let him sleep. He likes to watch over you on those nights, finding peace in slow rhythm of your breathing.

Face he makes when you sext him on his public cellphone:

[luceafarul-de-dimineata]

Do you have any headcannons for the paradise lost gang? I'm dying for more of my healers.

Paradise Lost is my favorite set of character, of course I have hcs about them. My beloved disfunctional sitcom family that's somehow a hospital <3

Paradise Lost hcs

Everyone in Paradise Lost is on something. There's no way Morax can be so chill without some weed in his system

The only Paradise Lost citizen that graduated high-school was Bathin and he left

Lucifer was born in his 30s, he was born with a doctorate in every major

Becoming a citizen in Paradise Lost is almost impossible. Both Lucifer and Gamigin need to give you a vibe check and you have to learn healing magic.

Since Paradise Lost was founded after Lilith's disapearance, there are no native Paradise Lost citizens, the closest being Gamigin and Jjok

During Sundays where nobody in Paradise Lost works, each of the nobles has to come up with a fun family activity.

Be it board-games, movie marathons, walks through the forest, anything, they have to all do it together during Sunday

Lucifer has a picture of God or Jesus in every room of his castle because he is a true Orthodox Christian

Even though Lucifer has his own room in his own castle, he preferes sleeping in Gamigin's bed with him. He likes cuddling with the young dragon

Marbas is allowed untied whenever he's not dealing with patients, but he sometimes keeps the restraints on even when he's off duty

Lucifer sees everyone else as being beneath him, but he cares for them like they were children or pets

Lucifer never goes to meetings with the other kings because he doesn't like how often they happen and how little is actually done with them.

Morax has a facebook account where he posts low quality edits of him and the other people in Paradise Lost. They always get one like and it's from Lucifer.

Marbas has a brick phone because it's the only one he can't break with his bare hands. He sometimes calls his 'friends' from other regions with it, but he has no phone attiquit. He would call someone and just ask them for stuff with no hello, no small talk, no nothing

Buer is the best with phones in the whole country. He also didn't pass 5th grade tech lessons about how to make a folder on Windows. He has what used to be the latest phone model when he left Tartaros, but he only uses it to call patients.

Gamigin doesn't have a phone and Lucifer prohibited him from touching the internet. But Lucifer does give Gamigin his phone to play on during breaks or stuff

Lucifer has a fancy phone that he only uses to like Morax's posts on facebook and ignore the mail the kings give him

Depending on the type of meeting and the availability of his staff he will either take Gamigin or Morax with him during diplomatic travels.

He takes Gamigin most of the time, but if the subject is mainly about the atrocities of war he brings Morax. Morax is an airhead with no self preservation, he's used to seing people dying left and right in gruesome manners, but Lucifer would prefere to protect Gamigin from the sort of trauma

Everyone in Paradise Lost is devoted to Lucifer, but Gamigin fluctuates between "wow, he's so cool, I need to impress him" and "my king can beat your king in a fist fight"

Gamigin's also the noble that Lucifer spoils the most. He lets Gamigin do basicly what he wants around the country and he even lets him touch his angelic body.

Whenever there's a long ride from Paradise Lost to a different country, Lucifer sits Gamigin on his lap and let's him sleep there. If anyone speaks louder than a whisper, Lucifer will glare them down.

Gamigin is the favorite kid and by a lot

It's bordering on platonic yandere, but we'll keep it light for this post (unless you want some darker stuff, feel free to ask 👀)

I've said this before and I'll say it again: there is no official uniform in Paradise Lost, Marbas just hates Buer in particular (and he wants to rip the clothes off him)

Lucifer has a photo album of all the memories he had with his brothers. There are some photos with Gabriel, Michael and Raphael in there as well

[hoshigray]

So here's the scenario: Toji is your hot dilf apartment neighbor. You moved in next door to him, and you two hit it off as good neighbors ought to be. You're already in a relationship, but that "unfortunately" leads to a rocky end. But have no fear because Toji is here!

A/n: Just a lil' smthn I have to write out for a fic I'm about to write and not post bc I'm hella busy this week;;;w;;; But anyways, here we go, and I hope you enjoy! This was a lil rushed so sorry for typos or incorrect grammar!!

Cw: soft dom! Toji x fem! reader - it gets cute the first half but smutty the next, so minors DNI - makeout session - daddy kink - pet names (baby, good girl, mama/ma, sweetheart, sweetie, princess) - praise - missionary position - his dick touches your cervix - mention of violence and blood on Toji's end.

Wc: 1.7k

Dilf! Neighbor Toji...

...who rolls his eyes when he realizes someone will live next door to his unit. You first meet him on the day you move, happily introducing yourself to the tall man. Once he saw you, Toji was captivated by your kind tone and inviting atmosphere.

...who slowly but surely gets to know you as the days go on. You share moments of your life, and he shares some of his. You find out about his children, Tsumiki and Megumi, who you propose to babysit if he ever needs it, which is considered. Toji is told about your boyfriend whom you've been seeing for a long while. He pulls back from this information, but that doesn't mean he can't look at you when he pleases.

...whose children are the sweetest around you. Tsumiki enjoys playing and being around you, while her younger brother, Megumi, practically follows your every move like a baby duck. The more you spend time with them, the more you play a role in their life, and Toji can't help and think what if you were in their lives.

...who briefly meets your boyfriend and immediately catches a bad vibe from him. When he doesn't call or text you back after literal days go by, when he doesn't give you a ride to work even though you'd do so for him, even Toji's kids avoid him when he's around.

Oh, but the worse case of all was when Toji caught that little devil bringing another woman inside your apartment.

He wanted to do nothing but screw that man's face down, painting the hall with his blood. But he knows you'd be horrified, or worse, faint at the petrifying scene. So now, he stays quiet and waits for the perfect time.

...who loves the beautiful sound of your angry voice through the walls, with your door bursting open and your boyfriend's feet scampering down the stairs. Toji opens his door to see you breathing heavily, tears leaking on your face that's hot with anger and shame.

It hurts him to see you so broken, so he brings you inside for a cup of tea. It's up to you whether to talk about the issue; he knew you only needed company.

...who notices you hang out with him and his family without having to invite you over. Rather than going to your own apartment, you spend more time in his, playing games with his kids and making lunch for them or watching over the place while he's off doing hitmen business (which you don't know about yet).

He's not complaining at all, though. He welcomes you and would rather you be by his side than some other bastard who'd break your heart again.

...who enjoys it when it's just you two. The two of you are watching a movie together at Toji's, and the kids are at a sleepover.

You're lying next to him, your head resting on his shoulder with his hand stationed on yours. The television had your attention for quite some time until you felt someone's eyes looming into you. As you turn to see Toji, his gaze captures your eyes, and a smirk is thrown your way.

"What are you smiling about?" You raise a brow at him and chuckle.

A brow is raised in return. "Ya know you're very pretty, right?"

You bashfully look away from him. "Oh, stop it," you mumble as you can feel your face get a little hot. Toji snickers, the rise and fall of his chest causes your stomach to do flips.

"C'mon, don't be like that." He grips your shoulder to bring you closer, and his free hand gently pulls your face back to him. "I mean it, sweetheart. You're so fuckin' beautiful. You don't know what you do to me."

Your breathing goes slower, and your eyes can't seem to leave his green orbs. "What do I do to you?" Your voice drops down into a whisper.

There are no words. The two of you stare at one another as the movie fills the silence.

Toji's eyes don't leave yours, gaze so sharp as if you aren't allowed to either. The uncomfortable lack of response was gnawing you alive, and all you could do was hope for something to end this.

And then something does happen. Toji moves his face close enough for your nose to lightly brush his. Your body went rigid.

His chuckles were too low for your brain to function in this situation. "Nervous, huh? Close your eyes, baby. I'll take care of you."

You blink. Is this really happening right now?

Hesitation is present, yet your eyelids curtain your eyes. Toji grins harder in satisfaction and fulfills your silent request as his lips land on your anticipating plump ones.

Jerking a little, you reciprocate and kiss him back, your hands placed on his chest for some support. He brings one hand down to your back while the other holds the back of your neck, deepening the kiss as his tongue governs over yours.

The kiss is broken, in addition to the shaky breaths you inhale to steady yourself. Toji peers at you through a haze, drinking in your soft expression and the cute whimpers.

He grins at you. "So beautiful fr' me, sweetie, so fuckin' beautiful." He kisses you again, and the sound you make when he bites your lip has him wanting more. "Damn..." Toji grabs the TV remote to mute the television and cups your face with his big hands. " C'mere, mama," he says, his lips taking control with lustful haste.

You yelp into his mouth when you lose your balance, and Toji takes the initiative to lay you on the couch. Comfortable with the new position, your hands can roam around his back that hides under the black turtleneck, and your legs hold onto his waist as he rocks into your throbbing core.

Toji is absolutely relishing this moment. All this time, he could only watch and respect your prior relationship. But the more you smiled at him, played and cared for his children, wished him luck on his missions, and even visited his late wife's grave to pay respects, his resistance was hanging by a thread bound to snap.

And now that he has you in his grasp, mewling and squirming under him and softly gasping out his name in ecstasy, Toji would be even more idiotic than your ex if he let such a darling like you whisk away after all you've done for him.

It took a few moments for the makeout session to end, the two of you gasping for air instantly. You look at Toji, only to be met with the most breathtaking picture of your life.

The light from the TV highlights a side of his face, with his lips a little swollen and red from all the kissing that transpired. Strands of his slick black hair gravitate downwards away from his forehead. His emerald eyes are hooded softly, but the intense gaze isn't hindered as the feeling of hunger is portrayed through them.

You chew the bottom of your lip in anxiousness, and Toji laughs breathlessly.

"See?" He caresses your cheek. "Told you I'd take care of you, princess."

...who can hear the vibration of your phone ringing on the bedroom floor, with the caller ID titled your ex's name. But it doesn't matter to Toji. No, sir. Because at this moment in time is when you deserve his full attention as you're crying and panting heavily under his bow, your figure pressed into the bed as he drives his cock deep inside of you.

Salty tears on your face are wiped away by his calloused fingers. "Hnnngh, shit, shit, shit," curses fly out through gritted teeth as he slows his pace down. "Haaaah, damn, baby. You're grippin' me so hard, I ain't goin' nowhere."

He has you under him in missionary, but it wasn't the first position of the night. You're in your third round, and your body is aching. Your lips are swollen and plump, your legs twitch around his sweaty body, and your abused vulva is now a slick-covered mess extending to your inner thighs. The base of his cock has formed a creamy ring, evidence of the connection between your sexes, along with the sounds of skin slapping against each other.

"Ahhhh, haaaah, Daddy, please—Mmmph!!" You feel the tip of his length brush your cervix, you clamp into him harder, and Toji hisses at your inner grasp around him.

His sultry voice is weighed with exhaustion, but his tone still affects you. "Fuck, ma, I'm gonna— Aishhhh, oh fuck," his groans fill your ears, and a shiver is sent down your spine. "Where do you want it, sweetie?"

"I-I'll take the pill! Ahhaaa, please, Daddy, inside, inside!" Your words are slurred, but you choke them out for him to hear your demands.

"Heh, of course, for being such a good girl fr' me, mama." Toji's thrusts get erratically faster and harsher, your poor cervix being abused by the merciless intrusion of his dick.

Your eyes roll upwards as you let yourself go. You spasm around his girth and wait for him to finish. Toji hammers into you a few more cruel thrusts and then exhales out of heavy groan, eyebrows scrunched together as he releases himself into you.

Once you two come down from your high, he slowly moves off you and pulls his cock out. The cold feeling of cum and slick mixed together dripping out of your puffy cunt has you gasping.

Toji presses his forehead against yours and praises you for being such a good girl. You let out a worn-out chuckle and kissed his nose. The two of you lay together for a bit, harnessing the sense of bliss and peace as your bodies sink into the mattress when sleep succumbs to you both.

...who looks forward to you moving into his unit permanently, as well as Tsumiki and Megumi, counting the days for you to always be beside them. You fit the role of a family member by bringing them together. Toji realizes this and enjoys the thought of you being with his family, especially when the worst comes to worst. And even then, he'd lay down his life for your and his family's sake.

When the time comes, maybe another little being can join this happy union you've created, and Toji will be fully prepared.

[bcitisthelight]

hey remember when we were discussing how weird the whole cliegg thing is in AOTC. and you had thoughts, feelings and emotions. tell me about those XOXO

(Big TW for this post - I discuss human trafficking, sex trafficking, rape, child abuse, slavery, and PTSD in this post. It's about the realities of slavery and Tatooine and how it involves the Skywalkers.) Something that I almost never see in any discussion on the Lars family is how sharply the fanon headcanons and characterizations of diverge from the ones we get in the moves. Like, particularly Cliegg and the prequel trilogy. Like - I feel like there's this automatic assumption that the Lars loved Shmi and that they cared for Luke out of dedication to her and her family, and it's this huge found family vibe but like can I be real. Can I be super real right now. It’s something that I find kind of baffling, because when I watched Attack of the Clones, and on every rewatch since (and there have been many), it always seems kind of obvious to me that Cliegg bought Shmi as a slave, presumably as a house slave, if not outright as a part of sex trafficking. And I don't mean in one of those "He bought her to free her, he's a good guy, etc etc". I mean, he bought her as a slave with the original intention of keeping her as a slave. And what's really interesting, is you can get pretty much all the clues about that from the exchanges between Anakin has with Watto, his and Shmi's former master.

Again, I want to stress that, because I think it's crucial that we see this for what it is - not an exchange between a former employee and his boss, not an exchange between a kid and a member of his former community. His former slavemaster. The man who won him and his mother in a gambling game like so many fancy necklaces. The source and object of Anakin's childhood enslavement. Watto would have beaten them. He made Anakin, a child of 9 - and I read somewhere once that Anakin started in the races at 6 - ride in a pod race that no human has ever won before, with the full expectation that he would die. This is a being whose entire life has revolved around the certainty that society is not only capable of functioning, but functions best, when sentient beings can be bought and sold like property. And, to be real with you, because this is a thing that happens to people who suffer enslavement, he very likely loaned them out temporarily for sex trafficking purposes for a quick buck - a practice that is noted historically in virtually every society that operated on a system involving slaves.

It's important to recap that, because I do think it's impossible to understand how deeply horrifying the conversation they have is without that context. Like, let's look at how he tells Anakin about Shmi -

This scene is....so telling to me. From the outset, Watto said he sold her as a slave. Like, it was a slave exchange. Watto heard about her freedom later - clearly, Cliegg bought her, and behaved in a way - intentional or not - that Watto believed he was buying her as a slave to own as a slave. That part is not subtext, that's just actual text.

"But Mikhayla" some will say "he freed her the second he bought her - he bought her in order to free her." Except....there is genuinely nothing in the movies, and off the top of my head, the wider narrative, that ever indicates that that's true. In fact it makes no sense in that case, for Watto to have not known that Cliegg was buying her in order to free her. Why would he have to hide that? Watto presumably doesnt care what happens to her, because he's selling her. In the larger materials, its said that his shop fell on hard times, and in the movies, we can see the proof. The script says he's sitting outside his shop, but at that point it resembles more of a kind of beaten down stand. He's still selling junk, but less and of poorer quality - presumably, he's spent all his money on gambling debts. And the thing is, slaves are expensive. He sold her years prior, and I bet he fed himself on that money for a very long time - he was a very motivated seller, as barbaric as that language is to use about a transaction involving a human person. He's not going to be fussy over why the person buying her wants to buy her. There's also the fact that this is a society that vastly runs on slavery, and large plantation owners would often "rent" out slaves to smaller but still profitable farms. And Cliegg is a moisture farmer with presumably a large tract of land for water vaporizers. If anything, I can see Watto having rented Shmi to her, Cliegg taking a liking to her, and then approaching Watto to buy her. I mean, if he's profitable enough to just buy a slave, then he clearly had at least some money. "He spent his whole savings!" Show me that in the text. "He loved her from the start!" Show me that in the text. "But Mikhayla," yet others will say, "he did free her! And then married her! He clearly meant from the start to free her, and only bought her to get her away from Watto. He could have never seen her as property. Who would marry their slave?" Except, in the real world, this is...another thing we see across multiple historical records, masters buying women as slaves and then later freeing them in order to legally marry them. PARTICULARLY in societies that operate so heavily on an entire caste system involving slaves - we can look to the Roman Empire, for example. Countless Roman officials, merchants, and military officials bought women, fell in love with them, and freed them in order to marry them. "But maybe she said yes!" (I know these are not your objections, but as you know, I'm an attorney, which means I constantly have to find an argument to fight against). So, to this imaginary detractor I say: I feel like it should be rather obvious, but I'll say it just in case - it is impossible for a slave to consent to any action they perform at the request of a slave master. It cannot happen. A woman who is enslaved cannot consent to marrying the man who bought her, and who has very likely been raping her up until this point, and wants to now marry her - usually, to make any children he had by her legally his children, and therefore citizens, rather than slaves themselves.

So really, whether or not Cliegg had a change of heart doesn't actually change my mind about his actions towards Shmi. I don't care if Cliegg DID love her - in fact, I'm sure he DID love her. People can and have convinced themselves of all kinds of moral superiority, people can claim to love someone while owning them as property! Shmi could never consent to marrying a man who held her as a slave. Even if he freed her, and she willing chose to stay there for a few years, and then he asked her to marry him. In my head, you can't overcome that power imbalance. Cliegg will never not be a man who once believed Shmi was a thing to be owned. He will never be a man who didn't see her as property. Like, at some point, it actually becomes kind of more and more unlikely that this is a guy who took up this transaction for non-malicious purposes. Because we simply do not see it in the movie. What I see in the movie is a slave owner saying he fell on hard times and sold his slave to a farmer who probably needed help on his land or in his house - he has no wife, so the latter is probably more likely. I see him saying that at the time of the transaction, he had no idea that Cliegg intended to free her. And for all that Cliegg calls Shmi his darling, his love, his wife - not once do we ever hear of any evidence that Shmi saw this as a love match. In fact, the only thing we find out about her daily life with the Lars family is that in the mornings, she wakes up early and goes to pick mushrooms. You know. A task for the house. An unpleasant task, done before everyone else is awake, that she does absolutely alone. I'm just saying. These implications are not good ones. I will say though, for all this, do you know what really sells me on the idea that the relationship between Shmi and Cliegg is is not a consensual one, is Anakin's reaction to it. This is a boy whose entire hopes and dreams have revolved around his mother's freedom. You have more excellent writing than me on this, but the moral injury Anakin suffers leaving his mother behind is. Intense. All he wants is to one day free her. In a way, a part of him is always that tiny boy who couldn't bear the idea of leaving behind his mom, who swore, the last time he saw her, that he would free her. And at this moment, all of his dreams have seemingly come true! His mother is free. According to Watto, she's found love, and married. For all he knows, she's had other children. Maybe that could involve SOME complicated emotions, but mostly you would expect that he would feel, at the very least, relieved. Happy. Interested, curious. Instead, this is his reaction:

He's grim, business like. He is not happy. He is not relieved. He doesn't even seem to acknowledge that she's still alive - the way he reacts is not a man who thinks his mother is out of danger. To Anakin, who grew up enslaved until 9 and knows how this society works, it seems almost immediately apparent that the Lars are just a different kind of danger. There's also this rather interesting detail:

This is a boy who bleeds, every second of every day, longing for a family. He basically begs at obi-wan's feet day and night, to be acknowledged as a son. His reaction to his wife's pregnancy is radiant joy - his reaction to know she could die, profound existential horror. I mean good god, he basically turns Palpatine aka Satan Himself into a father figure, because he's that desperate for one. And here, this man is claiming him as his family. He's talked about being excited to see him. He talks about planning with Shmi to meet him. He calls him "son". And Anakin doesn't give him another moment of his time, the second those words are out of his mouth. It's silence. For a boy who is so starved for intimacy he genuinely falls in love with the very first girl who was ever nice to him, to react to a claim of relationship this way. It's bizarrely out of character for him. Unless it isn't. UNLESS he's disgusted by that claim, instead of relieved by it. If he thinks his mother has been bought and then forced into marriage, of course he hates Cliegg. I remember when we were watching the movie together, and remember I said to you "You can just tell Anakin is thinking, 'Call me son one more fucking time'" And can I be real, I have so much more to say about this. As you know, I actually have essays of opinions and feelings about Shmi Skywalker and her horrible life, and how Anakin was the one bright point she had in that horrible life. I have feelings about how she gave away her only happiness, because she knew he did not deserve the life of a slave. I had ideas about how you could turn this into a way to actually fix AOTC and make it better, a way you could use it as an excuse to get rid of the Tusken arc entirely without losing the tragedy of his mother's death. But this post is already so fucking long and I'm sure you're tired of me talking xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo

[soft-persephone]

An Easily Avoidable Accident (But I Needed it so Bad)

Sub!Nick Miller x Black!Fem!Reader

I do write with Black Women in mind, but my fics can be read by any woman.

AN: Thank you to my friends that helped me with this fic! It means so much to me and I am so grateful for your generosity! I truly hope you all enjoy this final product!

MDNI // Rating: Explicit // WC 3.8k // Warnings: light Sub!Dom vibes, mild exhibition kink, biting, marking, thing for sounds, extra light hand kink // masterlist

Nick and You had the entire loft to yourselves.

That meant you two had time for anything. No prying eyes and no need to be quiet or fear of being caught by anyone.

Naturally, that meant they had a no pants day.

Nick could free ball it in his boxers and you could wear that little tank top you liked to sleep in and walk around in your underwear.

“I’m pretty sure you were a man in your past life.” Nick joked as you excitedly shimmied out of your sweats and threw them on the other side of the couch.

“There is nothing wrong with me wanting to do this as bad as you! This is normal for all human beings!” You defended yourself with a huff.

“Yes, lots of people enjoy wearing less clothes at home, but you are excited about it in a man way. I can’t explain how, I’m just saying. . . It takes one to know one.”

You smushed his face with a hand and walked past him to the kitchen.

“Fuck you,” you playfully scoffed, “what do you want for breakfast?”

The rest of the day was pleasantly uneventful. As the day went by and the evening wined down, Nick had put his loose sweats back on.

They were old, thin, and ratty. He definitely could not wear them in public anymore.

“You might as well just not wear any pants.” You smiled at him, more out of shock than anything else. You weren’t sure what to think about such a horrible piece of clothing.

“They’re house pants!”

“Your dick is right there!” You yelled back. “It’s like if boxers came in pants size!”

He threw a pillow at you and you threw one back before he wrestled you onto the couch.

Excitement aside.

He was in his favorite spot on the couch, but in an even better way! He could prop his legs up and lean back as comfortable as he wanted to be.

He was a fucking king on his throne and he couldn’t be happier.

You were still walking around in your skimpy underwear and tank top.

He would have wanted you to go throw some pants before the guys come back, but hopefully it was one of those nights where they all found some women to hook up with and stay the night, or just fuck off somewhere.

Instead, he was too comfortable with your ass on his lap and you laying the opposite way on top of him, on your stomach, typing away on your laptop and shifting a hoard of papers to and fro, taking the moment of spare time to get ahead on some work while he lazily watched the game.

Or at least tied to.

God bless them, but he didn’t give a fuck about the Lions and who they were playing.

On any other given day he would have, but it’s hard to remember his love for sports when your hips keep sliding back and forth on him whenever you sit up real quick to get a better look at a paper, your hips pushed forward, right over his dick. Once you finally highlight or read whatever you were trying to read carefully, your hips moved back toward his chest and over his dick once again, leaving him to think of nothing but of how sexy you were.

It wasn’t hard to imagine a more intimate setting.

Hell, even at this moment.

You two in this loft alone, on this very couch in this very moment, naked for no one but God to see, you riding him just like this giving him no choice but to take whatever you gave him.

He brought a hand to his mouth and bit his finger, hard. Willing himself to stay still and not thrust his hips up onto your clothed pussy.

He needed a distraction, but football wasn’t working. You moving your hips and shuffling every five minutes wasn’t working either. Why were you suddenly moving your hips up and down on him like that?.

You slid your hips forward before sighing in frustration and moving them back until his dick was crushed under the weight of your stomach.

Were you trying to kill him? Did you somehow not notice his growing erection?

You sat up, quickly dragging your hips forward, again! But this time it wasn’t where he needed it. This time he needed you on his cock, desperately at that.

“Nick, you okay?” You turned your head back, putting down a paper. The movement causes you to push your glasses back on your nose.

Fuck, you were cute. He hoped you ran out of your contacts forever.

He cleared his throat and rubbed at his chest to hide the sound of his moan.

“Nick?”

“Y—yeah.. yeah I’m good. . “ he managed to mumble out.

Solid cover dumbass.

He couldn’t help going back to the thought of you both naked. You turning around to look at him with a different look on your face.

“You got so tense all of a sudden.” You continued before turning around back to your work. “And I know you don’t care about the Lions losing, so I wanted to make sure it wasn’t anything serious.”

“N…no.”

Oh, he was just making it worse, but you were a bigger dumbass than him, apparently. He says it lovingly, but how did you not know?!?!? Were you that into your work?

“Well, just let me know if anything changes.”

You give a quick wink before you turn around, and he moans.

His hips cant up with such force you bounce up and back down on him, and he couldn’t stop the whimper in time.

He covered his face, letting the sounds come out.

“Nick?” Your voice was in a fucking panic and it was embarrassing to say the least.

You try to move but he quickly grasps your hips. His nails are almost digging into your skin.

“Nonodontmove!” He slurs, his voice rising at a higher octave that makes you throb. “Stay,” he was panting now, his chest rising and falling as you put your hands over his,” please,” he openly whined, not holding back or caring anymore,” stay.”

Oh fuck…

You licked your lips and fought against the panic. “Yeah?”

“Can you just wait a little bit longer for me? I Promise to do something as soon as i'm done.”

“Okay,” he licked his lips, his eyes growing full and watery in such a way you wanted to hold your breath.

He looked at you with such adoration and emotion you swore you would die if you didn't look away. They were softer now, much softer. He looked more calm. A stranger to how desperate and wild they were seconds ago, but you weren't fooled.

No, there was a deeper, more sinister side to this yearning gaze.

While he saved putting his heart on his sleeve for rare tender moments, it was also a fucking weapon. A weapon created for your own demise. You fought the urge to give in, to throw her papers aside and everything she’s been working on to give him whatever he wanted.

But you couldn't. No matter how bad you needed it, you couldn’t.

You were emailing back and forth with a client and Xaiviar was cc’d on it as well. He was the lead lawyer on a case and you were helping him with it. The client was about to drop the case altogether, but you managed to find some evidence that would ensure the jury was siding in her favor.

If she was patient and held out, she would get everything she deserved and the bastard that hurt her could pay.

You just needed some fucking time!

Nick found a documentary about gorillas.

Nice!

As much as he loved them and tried to bring up the essay he wrote on them one morning after doing a bunch of mystery pills that he took one night, he could care less about them right now. He loved you just a tiny bit more.

He bit his lip and tried to let his better nature take hold of him.

Nick's hands were gliding across your skin. Smoothing and kneading the plump flesh of your thighs before coming up to rest at your hips for while, but it didn’t last. He soon became antsy, needing to touch you.

Hoping that just the feel of you in his hands would be enough to distract him from how hard he was. That it wouldn’t make anything worse for him.

But it was making it worse for you.

You could hardly concentrate.

After rediscovering every curve and dip of your body. Every scar, bump, and blemish of your smooth supple skin. It always held a subtle glow, bringing attention to your more than lovely over and undertones. He wanted to put you on display so everyone could see this much of your skin.

The world deserve to know how beautiful your skin was. How beautiful you were.

He decided to test puting his hands on your thighs to see if that would help. His fingers gently graze against your inner thighs. Going up and up until he was too close to your center, daring not to get too close, and moving them back towards your knee. He couldn't stop.

It was mindless action, hypnotizing even.

“Nick,” your tone was bitter in your mouth, sounding harsh to your owne ears, “stop it.”

You snapped around to face him with a glare.

Where these emotions were coming from was a mystery to you, but the foreign feeling twisted your stomach with anticipation.

Nick's eyes were half lidded and struggling to stay open. He gurgled out a moan, the action making him cover his face with his hands.

“Nick. . .” You absentmindedly licked your lips, “let me see your face.”

Nick's chest had been moving up and down erratically since you turned around. His soft pants spurred you on.

Your mind was racing with what to possibly say or do next.

Nick slowly placed his hands on his chest, rubbing at it in circles with his left hand. A sign that usually meant he was anxious.

Every part of him was strained in concentration towards you as if the mere thought of looking away would hurt too much. His eyes were dark, wet, and needy.

Your mouth fell open in a silent o, and you ground your hips down in one fluid motion causing you both to moan.

You both were so fucked.

A wave of something was washing over you. It crashed and crashed against your entire being and the anxiety bubbled in fear of it taking you under, whatever this was. The foreign lightning of it all cracked and crackled in your veins.

Your laptop quipped out a short sound. Then, and only then, you notice how quiet the room was.

You momentarily turned, checking the message in your email.

Dear Ms, I am sorry for getting so indecisive at such a crucial time in the case. Everything has just been so stressful. I wanted it all to be over as quickly as possible, adn i got in the way of you adn your firm doing the job that I, myself hired you to do. I am so terribly sorry. I would liek to see this man put behind bars for good or worse.

Thank you again for everything. I leave my fate in your hands.

Thank, God!

You said a quick prayer, and emailed your client back, making sure to cc Xaiviar.

You closed your laptop and shuffled your papers back into a bifold, tossing them along the further end of the couch, but not so far that they’d fall.

Keeping your position, you turned slightly, moving Nicks shirt up as high as it could go. You eyed his chest, the wide expanse of hair there you’ve obsessed over from time to time, the happy trail that was also a favorite of yours.

Nick’s body moved with the flow of your hand.

“Please,” his voice was higher and strained as stuttered the words out, “please, I’ll be so good please. Just please.”

You ground your hips on his, masking are you were positioned in just the right spot. The feeling of him through your underwear just felt to good. Your movements were slow and steady. Just enough to drive you both crazy, but not nearly enough for either of you.

The anticipation of it was thrilling. Your heads grew headier and headier with each sound he made. With every stutter, pant, and moan he made

The door clicked and you both froze.

“What pray tell is going on in here?” A voice boomed.

Nick cleared his throat and put his hands in a more casual position at your waist. Squeezing lightly just to keep you still.

“Hey, Coach.” It came out gravely but natural.

You were surprised, thinking about how he sounded like he was going to explode just a few moments earlier.

“Don’t, “hey Coach me. You weirdo.” He scoffed. “Go have sex in your room like the rest of us! Just because you're having sex with the same girl every night doesn’t make it okay to play exhibitionist!”

“Nick and his girl is doing what!” Winston slammed the door. “That’s disgusting!”

“Mhmm.” Coach sassily added.

“Oh. My. God.” Nick covered his face with his hands.

Needless to say. All the sexual tension was sucked out of the room. Sitting like this on Nick‘’a lap was starting to make you feel overexposed and awkward.

He reached over and stretched to pull the blanket usually strown accross the couch to cover your body with. You silently thanked him, and avoided looking Coach or Winston in the eye.

“You,” Coach pointed at you,” I am very disappointed in.”

“But, Ernie—“ you pouted.

“—No!” He interrupted. “No Earnie! From now on you call me Coach just like everyone else!”

“Bu—“

“No buts! You have to earn your way back up to calling me my name! “ he shook his head at you with so much disgust it felt absurd.

He was really mad at you. . .

“Now you two go to your room and think about what you did!”

“Mh mh mh.” Winston shook his head with an equal amount of distaste.

Needless to say you both retreated into Nick's room for a very awkward and short walk of shame.

-

“Please. . . Oh, wait. . . Fuck.” Nick moaned before whimpering out your name.

You made him cum with your hand twice, then three times with your mouth, and one more time after that because you just couldn’t help yourself.

His hands were gripping the sheets so tight his knuckles were white.

You had your hands braced against his chest and you slowly sat on his cock. He was stretching you wide with how thick he was. In this new position, it felt even thicker, making it harder than normal.

“Please,” his voice several octaves higher, letting you know just how close he was. “Let me help. Let me touch you.” He strained out before gritting his teeth.

“I.. got it.” You had to fight your instinct to tense your whole body once you had finally taken all of him in. He was so big and thick you could just feel him pressing against your spot already, making you breathless in the process.

You massaged his chest. Starting with his shoulders, and moving down to his pecs. You squeezed them, reveling in the feeling of his pliant flesh in your hands. In another time or setting you would have liked to bend down and suck on one. Biting and relishing the feeling is him in your mouth, so hard he’d bruise for weeks, fading until stray marks of your teeth were implanted into his skin.

Keeping your hands there for balance, you slowly rose up until only his tip was inside before grinding down slowly until all of him was inside of you again.

“Your doing so good baby.”

His cock twitched inside of you at the praise, making your mouth fall open in a silent moan.

You quickened your pace ever so lightly. Nick’s hands fisting the sheets. Each one spurred you on further, filling you with an unbearable heat. It seers through every pore of your body. Opening up every space of your skin, consuming every part of Nick as possible.

His whines, his pants, and his moans. The way his skin turned an angry red all over. Proudly displaying the evidence that you both were on fire.

“Touch me” You moaned softly.

He was on you in an instant. He pushed himself up by his elbows. His hands, his massive warm hands roamed every inch of your skin. Burning you in their haste to feel your waist, the expense of your back, and the peaks of your breast. He pulled, squeezed, and tweaked them until you had to push his hands away.

“Not nice is it?” He huffed in your face with a short laugh. The warmth of his breath mingled with yours. Where his began and yours stopped was indistinguishable as you both panted in the sliver of space between one another.

He leaned in for a kiss, and you pulled your head back slightly out of his reach with similar amusement.

“I never gave you permission to kiss me.”

His eyes grew wide and blown out. His brown irises drowned in the pools of his pupils as he looked at you with such reverence.

He quickly pivoted and moved to mouthing at your neck, biting you hard as he whined into your flesh.

“You're such a good boy Nick,” his hips thrust up into yours, hard. “Oh, you're so so good.” He did it again this time before squeezing his fingers into you. His nails were sure to leave little moons into your skin for weeks.

You laughed. It was breath, trained, and cruel.

“Ah, ah, ah,” You grabbed his hair tightly, pulling his mouth off of you. “I wanna hear you baby. I thought you were my good boy?”

“I am! I am, please!” He whimpered into your skin, keeping his head underneath your chin, his mouth open and close to you. Because if he couldn’t keep his mouth on you, he’d find a way to get as close to it as possible without disobeying you.

“You gotta let me hear every sound that comes out of your mouth baby, okay?”

His fingers adjusted their grip on your hips, pulling and stretching at your skin as tight as it could go, making hissed in response. Even when his brain was fuzzy with arousal and he was overwhelmed with praise or reprimand from you, he could still do the little things that drove you wild. Whether he was in control or not, he could bite, mark, and rough you up in all the ways you loved.

He’s going to drive you mad. You're sure of it now.

“I need your help baby?” You moved so you both would be eye to eye with one another. “I need you fuck me now.” You cupped both sides of his face. “I can’t get us both where we need to be.” You kissed him all over. His cheeks, his forehead, up and down his neck, before you bit down in several places, sucking harder than you ever had. He let out a soft meek sound you didn’t think was possible. Almost gentle if his voice wasn’t such a low raspy thing. Almost gravely sometimes when it wasn’t smooth and addicting.

The closest thing you could describe it as would be a mewl of some kind. It was a sound only you could pull out of him. A side of him only you were privy to. No one else.

Your walls clenched around him at the sound. He did it again.

“Fuck, baby.” Your chest heaved. “I’m not gonna last much longer, I need you to fuck me, now.” You pulled his hair for emphasis.

He didn’t need to be told twice.

He rutted his hips into yours at a hard, brutal pace. And with every high pitched murmur of good boy, your so good, your so perfect for me, he thrust up into you harder.

“Love you baby,” you nibbled into his ear, “love how good you feel inside me. It's like you were made for me.” You kissed him as hard as you could without getting lost of how he was sliding in and out of you. The loud wet slaps of his hips hitting yours were filling the room, driving you both crazy. “You're mine. My baby boy, so good for me.”

He whimpered again, mewling into your ear as he cradled your neck with one final grip as he came. Filling you up. It was so so much. Your legs grew tight, your muscles squeezing past their limit before you followed him soon after.

He pulled out laying you down on your back. Peppering your skin with soft kisses.

“You're amazing!” His eyes sparkled.

“Was that really your first time doing something like that?” You grabbed at the sheets to hide your face. It was hot and burning even more so after the sex you just had. You did not want to talk about it.

“Hey, hey,” he uncovered your face and moved to straddle your lap. He grabbed your hands and put them over your head. “Please,” he looked into your eyes again,. “Don’t hide from me. I really want to know.”

It was what you two did.

When things were too tough to talk about. . . Or weird and embarrassing. Eye contact just worked. It made you both feel safer and calmer to see the other person wasn’t judging you. That they were genuine in whatever way they wanted to support you.

You nodded weakly. Not trusting your words.

“Well you're a natural.”

“Nick we gotta—“

“—Don’t worry. I will buy a planb for you tomorrow. We got a little carried away and forgot about condoms.” He waved his free hand in dismissal before smiling. “It’s okay. I got it handled.”

“I was going to ask if you could let me go now.”

“Let you go.” He tightened his grip on your hands. He still wore his charming smile, but his eyes were growing dark and cloudy, pooling with desire. “Now why would I let you go when I have to pay you back for every time you wouldn’t let me kiss or touch you.”

He suddenly thrust his thick very hard cock into you, still wet from both of you.

“I'm not done with you yet.”

Tags: @notapradagurl7 @megamindsecretlair @headcannonxgalore @cottonpuffmouse @crispysublimecupcake @jellyreblogs @blowmymbackout

Please let me know if you ever want to be tagged on my fics! It’s no trouble at all and I would be honored to do so!

[kiruamon]

Crossover - Minish AU

You are the strangest mouse Moon has ever seen. My brain after watching one episode of Zelda The Minish Cap on Youtube - and gosh do I still love this game even after all these years - was like: "What if the DCA would find a tiny Y/N? Maybe a Burrower from the movie The Burrowers or Arrietty. Or just straight up a Minish from the game itself." And with that a Minish it was.

Y/N who had settled down inside the Pizza Plex was still fairly new to the area when he was found one month after his arrival by Moon who at first glance had thought he had seen a mouse scurrying around. Since that would have been quiet troublesome, because of the health code regulations inside the daycare he catched the little thing. Just to find out that you were not a mouse at all. Luckily for you Moon and Sun where both pretty nice once you talked with them about your situation and that you would stay hidden during the opening hours.

Sun really adores you. You are pretty much the cutest little thing he has ever seen and he will constantly call you his Little Friend. He will also carry you around and lift you up to places that you can't reach by yourself. It's a lot of fun for you to freely explore the daycare with them after closing time.

Moon playfully teases you sometimes. Calling you Little Thief when you take some lost items or other things with you. Nothing big. A pretty button, a few scraps of the colorful paper that where lying around or the stub of a pencil that was already too short to use for the children. Even while he teases you he won't stop you from taking those things.

With time passing by you might even become friends with some of the Mini Music Men that run around the vents and follow you around sometimes.

Also I thought about the fact that there are different kinds of Minish in the game and manga soooo... take your pick. You can be a forest Minish, a mountain Minish or one of the town Minish. (I myself am just a really big fan of the forest Minish. But they are all really cute.)

It's also a lot of fun to imagine how it would be for Y/N to explore the Pizza Plex as such a tiny being. Mostly going on with their own buisness just to make themself at home there while becoming closer with the Sun and Moon. The AU could be fully just cute and silly comforting vibes or even go in the direction where you witness the events from the game unfolding over time. How would a small Minish like you be able to help your friends to get ride from the glitch? Could you sneak around to find out what's going on? But how much can you do when you are so small? It could be fairly dangerous for you. Well I think I have rambled enough for now. Hope you enjoyed the ideas and sketches for this crossover au.

[jjsmaybank20]

Bitchy is my Type

Leighton Murray x Fem!Reader

Summary: Reader is a motorcycle riding, tattoos, badass type. What happens when there is a new volunteer at the Women's Center who is just her type, but instead of getting along, they become enemies? But what if those hateful feelings turn out to be something more? Or Enemies to friends to lovers.

Warnings: Language

Word Count: 1.5k

Pt. 1  Pt. 2

navigation  the sex lives of college girls masterlist

---

“Hey, Y/N! Just so you know, we have a new volunteer coming in tomorrow. Her name is… Leighton Murray? She’s a freshman. She got drunk and threw a bottle at a statue, and then ran away from campus police. Seems like just your type.” Alicia, your co-head of volunteering, says to you as you walk towards your motorcycle. 

“She seems fun. I’ll be in tomorrow to help get her settled, but I might be a tiny bit late. My shift at Sips cuts in a little.” You call over your shoulder. She shoots you a thumbs up and you mount your bike. This Leighton sounds familiar. Oh shit! This is your coworker Kimberly’s roommate! You drive off, looking forward to putting a name to a face.

{The next day} 

You approach Lila and Kimberly just in time to hear Lila ask, “So is there something going on between you and the hot French tutor?” You add, “Yeah, the one who is your roommate's brother? I mean, I’m a lesbian, but even I think he’s hot.”

Kimberly splutters back. “No. Why? Did he ask about me or something when he ordered his coffee yesterday?” Lila smirks before replying, “Yeah. He-- He asked me if you were seeing anyone.”

You laugh when you see Kimberly completely falling for it. “Stop. Really?!” Lila cackles. “Nah, he didn't. He couldn't care less. But maybe he will, 'cause he's walking in right now.”

Kimberly shoots her a glare, unknowing that Nico is right behind her. “Oh, ha ha! That's so funny. Yeah, I'm sure he's walking in right now.” She turns around and sees him, quickly covering for herself. “Hey!”

Nico grins before asking, “How's it going?” Kimberly turns bright red. “Uh, I'm just working. Nothing much. Definitely not talking about anything specific.”

Lila stares at him for a second before saying, “You have a face to write songs about. Thank you.” You shove her shoulder before looking back at Nico and saying, “Sorry about her. She kind of says whatever comes into her mind.” You hold out your hand for a handshake. “I’m Y/N Y/L/N. Kimberly’s coworker. And you must be the french tutor.”

Nico laughs before grabbing your hand. “Yeah, that's me. I’m Nico Murray. I’ve seen you around campus. You have that dope ass motorcycle that always somehow has a girl on it.” Now it's your turn to laugh. “Yep. What can I say, ladies dig the vibe.” Nico pulls out his phone. “You seem cool. Could I get your number? Theta is always looking for more people to hang out with.”

You nod and pull out your phone. “Yeah man. As long as you're down for some intense game watching and very long nights partying.” He grins and nods. “Always.”

Kimberly grabs his attention after he finishes putting your number in his phone. “So, what brings you in? Did you want a drink? Or a café au lait?” Nico smiles before saying, “Hey, good pronunciation. But no, I just stopped in to see you. I was thinking, for our next tutoring session, we could watch "Golden Girls" in French, the way I learned with my au pair. Maybe tonight?”

Kimberly nods enthusiastically. “Yeah. Yes. Yeah. I think that sounds both educational and entertaining. You're such a good tutor.” Nico gives her a weird look before shaking it off. “Great. I'll see you tonight.” Kimberly sighs, “Okay.” 

You and Lila share a look before you teasingly say, “You're staring.” Lila adds, “At his butt.” 

“Lila! Y/N! God!” Kimberly exclaims before stomping off. You snort and start wiping down a table. You pause for a second before you say, “Hey, Lila? Do you know where Canaan is? I haven’t seen him all day.” 

Lila glances over at you, and then says in a teasing voice, “Oh my god! You two spent a whole day apart? I never thought I would see the best friends separated from each other.” You roll your eyes at her, and she finally says, “He’s probably just chilling at the KJ house. You know how he is sometimes.” 

You nod in agreement, before looking at the time. “Shit! I have to go. Do you think you can finish up these tables for me?” Lila nods, and you quickly take off your apron and run to your bike.

---

When you pull up to the Women's Center, you see that Alicia had parked her car right where you normally park your bike. You storm inside and start talking, not noticing the new person that you are interrupting. 

“Alicia! How many times do I have to say this! That is my damn parking space. You have one literally two spots down.” You heard a ding from the safe space bell. “Sorry, Ginger. I heard it.”

When you finally look around, you see a new person. “ Well you must be Leighton. I’m Y/N. She, her, hers. I hope everyone has introduced themselves to you.”    

The others quickly scramble to introduce themselves. 

“I'm Ginger. She, her, hers.” 

“Lindsay. She, her, hers.”

“Alicia. She, her, hers.” 

“Tova. They, them, theirs.”

Leighton makes a non-committal noise and states, “Oh, right. Sure. Well, I'm she. Obviously.” You restrain yourself from rolling your eyes. She’s one of those people. Sensing the tension, Alicia pipes up. “Cool. I oversee all the volunteers.”

“So do I. I do scheduling and sign off on hours, while Alicia recruits and organizes events so that volunteers can volunteer.” Leighton sighs and says, “Oh, great. Should we talk about scheduling? Um, I was thinking that I would work mornings from 9:30 to 10:15-ish, and then, you know, round that up to an hour, for timesheet purposes.”

You can’t help but roll your eyes this time. “Yeah, that's not how this works. I'll tell you when we need help, and that's when you'll be here. Like tomorrow from 5:00 to 10:00, you'll be helping with our feminist poetry group.”

Leighton sighs and puts on a fake sympathetic voice. “As tempting as that sounds, I'm kind of busy on Fridays.” You snap back. “Shit, I didn't realize that. Maybe we should just shut down the whole place till you're free.”

Leighton lets out an astonished laugh. “Okay, I am from New York, so I can tell that you're being sarcastic.” Ginger waves to get your attention. “Hey, this is, uh, getting a little tense. I'm gonna hit the Safe Space Bell.” You nod, and she dings the bell.

Leighton looks around, confused. “What? Why does she keep hitting that stupid bell?” This time, Alicia answers her question. “It's a bell that we hit when we think it'd be good to have a safe space.” 

Leighton scoffs. “Uh, isn't this already a safe space? Okay. I'm just saying that maybe we've gotten a little bit too sensitive as a society if even a safe space isn't-- Oh, my God!” Ginger hit the bell again. 

Alicia waves Ginger off. “It's all good, Ginger. What we do here, whether it seems stupid to you or not, really does help people. So we're not looking for your feedback at the moment, okay?”

You add, “Oh, and don't say your pronouns are obvious. That makes you suck. Suggesting that you don't have to use your pronouns when other people do makes you sound like a really dumb, cis bitch.” Ginger hits the bell one more time. “I heard it, Ginger! Welcome to the Women's Center, Leighton. See you at poetry night.”

You watch Leighton storm out before walking into the Women's Center office with Alicia in tow. “Jesus Christ! Could she get any more entitled? I mean, she’s hot as fuck, but my god. You know, I met her brother today during my shift at Sips. He’s a really nice guy. The looks definitely run in the family. If she wasn’t so straight, I would totally go for her.”

“Damn, Y/N. You definitely have a type. You like bitchy girls. But I do agree with you on this one, she is hot.” Alicia exclaims. You sigh and sit down at the desk in the office. You need to figure out how to handle Leighton without blowing up on her. This was going to be harder than you thought.

---

Later that evening, you were helping Alicia get set up for poetry night. Once people started to file in, you put out the sign up list to figure out the order in which people would be going. You hear boots clicking on the floor, and then see a shadow come over you. 

Without looking up you say, “Hey, Leighton.” She lets out a surprised noise and asks, “How did you know it was me?” You roll your eyes and finally look up. “Because you are the only person who comes to this Center wearing Louboutin boots.”

She scoffs and says, “Surprised you know what they are. Didn’t take you for a shoe person.” You laugh at that and state, “I’m not, but I have dated many girls who are. Funny thing is, you are exactly my type. Beautiful, bitchy, stylish. One little problem. I don’t date assholes.”

“Another little problem. I’m straight.” She states in a slightly shaky voice, which she internally curses herself for. 

You smirk at her, not missing the tremor in her voice. “That hasn’t stopped me before.”

---

Join my taglist!

[da-birb-writes-sometimes]

Hello hello! May I request a Floyd drabble taking inspiration place in the original disney's classic (where honest John and Gideon are based of) version of playful land "pleasure island" (except they don't turn into donkeys there, maybe just wood puppets).

But basically on what he would do there ^^

I'll wait til next time requests are open to ask for jade too since there is a character limit, also so you don't overwork yourself!

Thanks!

Nothing More Fun than Friends

Content; Fluff, gender-neutral reader

Word Count; 550+

Author's Note; I haven't watched any translations, so this is just my own guess at what's in the park (I did look into the wiki for Pleasure Island, which is ... interesting).

Do not put my work into AI, I can and will turn you into a puppet   Link to Masterlist

Bright lights, flashing, blinking, spinning. These lights reminded Floyd of fireworks, just with the loud bang of gunpowder replaced with cheery and fast-paced music.

There were games all around, and countless fast rides that were bound to get his blood racing. 

And there were no rules.

No adults are here to enforce them. 

There was no Azul to remind him how to act, and Jade was elsewhere amusing himself.

So Floyd was alone, alone with all of the fun choices he could pick from. Yet, none were all that enticing.

Yes, they would be fun in the moment, but he knew that after the second or third time, he would grow bored of it, moving to the next thing. Plus, he was getting a vibe from that Honest guy; he knew a schemer when he saw one. He knew to not trust him, so his guard was up, and his mood dour.

“Like a reef,” he grumbled, looking up at the bright lights. 

His analogy wasn’t far off; although it may be bright and full of life, a reef is home to many dangers, it just looks more safe from the abundance of it. And much like many reef fish, those two (Fellow and Gidel) were most likely hiding something up their sleeve.

Game knew game, and he knew they were fishing for something.

He slowly walked up to one of the many games, eyeing the prizes. None of them really screamed to him, but he just wanted something to do.

But there was no one manning the game. Floyd could just steal one of the prizes, but that was no fun and too easy.

Eh, wonder where Shrimpy is? They could make this place more fun.

Floyd’s eyes lit up; yes, even in a place called Playful Land there was no one more amusing than pestering you.

“Shrimpyyyyy~,” he called out and ran up to you once he found you, wearing a wide smile. “Heyya!”

You jerked in surprise, but sighed once your brain registered that hey, it’s just Floyd. “Heyya yourself,” you chuckled. “Did you find anything fun?”

Floyd’s smile briefly flattered, “No. This place is a dump.”

A dump? I thought he would be all over this place? Huh, guess I was wrong then. Weird. 

“Nothing?”

Floyd shrugged, looking around at everything with boredom. “Nah. Plus none of this is any fun without someone tagging along.”

So he was lonely? “Well, wanna join me on this ride?” You asked him, nodding your head towards an empty line for the drop tower.

Floyd looked towards the ride, and back towards you, his face lighting up. He grabbed your hand and marched over to the ride. “Okay, Shrimpy!”

The buckles magically did themselves up, and slowly, the two of you made the slow trip upwards. Everything started shrinking, getting smaller and smaller until it stopped at the top.

Floyd was laughing loudly, but he was holding onto his supports for dear life, knuckles turning white. “Isn’t this great?!”

“Dropping in three–”

You gulped, looking down briefly. 

“Two—”

You closed your eyes.

“One!”

And you and Floyd screamed at the top of your lungs as you both raced towards the bottom.

“AGAIN!” Floyd said in between his laughter, out of breath.

This was the first time he was truly having fun here, and he was intent on riding this high for as long as he could.

...

...

...

...

Tags; @azulashengrottospiano @bloomstruck @eynnwwyjth @hydra-sea @identity-theft-101 @ithseem @krenenbaker @lucid-stories @officialdaydreamer00 @syrenkitsune @the-v-lociraptor @twistwonderlanddevotee @xxoomiii

[marchiekana]

Human heater anon here, I'll just call myself Anon H,I know you're not back from your camping which I really hope you're enjoying, camping is amazing if done right. Kinda makes me wanna do it. Anyways ! I'll leave this idea here, take it or leave it ! I just need to get this out to someone.

Ahem, I had the sudden thought of a reader who's just the most chill, laid back and nonchalant person. Someone is being annoying ? Reader doesn't care and and just keeps going. Alone ? Just Vibing. Someone disagrees with them intensely ? It's cool mate. Though it sometimes attracts people to diminish the reader because they know the reader won't care so they lash out their pent up frustration. They also annoy the characters (I'll mention them after), as in they're just TOO laid back it can be a pain. I think Silver Wolf, Serval and Kafka could be neat for that. Thanks for reading my little rant.

I'm back ehehe

But anyways this prompt made me kick my legs and giggle 🤭

Also there might be some grammer or spelling mistakes cause I typed this in like half an hour

I feel like kafka would share a similar energy too but hers is more... calculated? She'd definitely try to mess with you and make bets with the other members to see who makes you angry first(which she miserably failed at ).

Oh but she loves how you are sometimes( she loves u all the time). Your laid back attitude when someone is angry with you and seeing your nonchalant answers anger the person in front of you is free entertainment for her and the best thing is the snarky comments you give each other when you're having an argument. She'd purposefully try making you angry (which she'd, again, fail to do so)

But! Sometimes, just sometimes, she doesn't really like how you don't take things very serious. Especially when you've come back hurt from a mission or fighting with someone. or if you just fell down on the stairs. She hates how you don't take your injuries seriously and that annoys her a lot. Would subtly scold you in a soft tone but even after you shrug it off and tell her that you're fine or remark on how funny it was that this happened to you, she would raise her voice and tell you how she feels about what you're doing. But no worries after a little fight she'd apologize and tell you to take care of yourself and makes sure you do so.

But if someone really tried to hurt you both physically or with their words, that person better pray for themselves.

Now for Silver Wolf, she'd.....do nothing. She doesn't care much honestly. She likes how calm and friendly you are. Loves how you don't disturb her during her gaming sessions and will be ready to teach you any game you want. And the thing is, you're the only one who doesn't make her angry while she's teaching you cause you're pretty fast learner. Unlike a certain few.

And the way you fight is quite amusing too her. You're both very similar in that. A smug, expression and taunting words. Would definitely enjoy seeing you fight while she's on the sidelines.

Serval is an absolute tease about it. No intentions of making you angry, she just thinks it's cute.

But if, by any chance you get hurt while fighting or you happened to break one of her precious games, you better get ready cause you're in for a little ride around tantrum town. She doesn't like that you just say that you'll buy her a new one or tell her that she's overreacting with that stupid smug smile of yours. Its like You're not really sorry when you really are. Your expressions just don't match Your feeling and that causes a misunderstanding and then you're gonna get silent treatment for about three days and few death glares here and there. And maybe a few petty fights....but that's ok cause she'll forgive you in the end and tell you to atleast care about her feelings.

She absolutely loves your nonchalant smile/smug! You just look so good! She likes how cool headed you are and how well you handle situations, it could be an angry customer at her shop or anyone to say the least. Its not like she can't handle the customer herself, she wants to watch you do it, with that pretty little smug on your.

But just imagine, one day you broke her favourite trinkets given to her by her brother and she was already having a bad and then sees the condition of the trinket and an awkward smile on your face as you apologize to her. On that day, you saw a Serval that was a whole different person. She scolded you, you got angry and again, with that smug, taunting smile of yours, say something to piss her off more and she leaves. You better go ask her sorry after this and buy her some flower.

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

Idk buf Kafka seems a bit too ooc in the end, honestly all of them do but oh well. thanks for listening to my rant too lol 😆

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© marchiekana do not repost, copy, translate or plagiarize my work!

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

[puckpocketed]

about

deepest and sincerest apologies if you came here because I was posting about one or more of your guys. this is a Sharks blog first and foremost! I do, however, follow a lot of teams. navigation + tierlist below

This is a part-time Australian Ice Hockey League blog that follows the CBR Brave! I take photos of home games when I can, find them under -> #puck!cam Otherwise, feel free to filter #auspuck.

When not LARPing as my local team’s socmed manager:

I write essays about hockey -> #my writing

all gifs i've made filed under -> #puck!gif specific team tags will look like this: #p!gif:[team abbreviation] eg. #p!gif:sharks, #p!gif:wings

transcripts -> #puck!script

gif requests -> #p!gif:req

I also gif my guys and their goals, passing sequences, poke checks, plays that go nowhere, little things I think are super cool -> #puckpocketed details series

I poke around at prospects and produce very unserious vibe checks, filed under -> #puckscouting

I also paint once in a blue moon. watch out!!!!

TIERLIST & politics

Sharks Hockey first always forever ! <3

keeping things light. no enemies only babygirls i havent met!

The most narratively satisfying things are tragedies and tragicomedies!!! All Things Through Her (The Bit)

players aren’t their orgs. If I say I like a team, this doesn’t mean I like every player, and vice versa!!

The narratives are lying to you!!! LOOK PAST THEM. THE HOCKEY TELLS THE TRUTH!!!!!

I love hockey SO much !! Love of the game comes before ANYTHING, including teams!!! Talk to me about strategy. Show me spinoramas and ankle breaking dekes and head fakes and set plays. Talk to me about face-offs and your favourite underrated blorbo.

no seriously please send me propaganda i love propaganda i am a hair trigger away from adopting new guys. i've done it mid-game and id do it again!!!!!!!!!!!

Team rivalries don’t matter to me. My girls are beating the hell out of each other? The beautiful gaeme ...

i’m here for a laff and it truly aint that serious <3

Do Not expect me to have any couth about the CBR Brave!! I keep things light with the NHL but all that doesn’t apply here — I WILL be spiteful and unhinged!! im sorry the sports nationalism got to me!!!

that being said: CALIFORNIA SWEEEP!

housekeeping

hey please dont be weird in the tags of my posts about teams/players i clearly like. yeah even That Team. i don't want to hear about how you hope someone "escapes" or how much you hate xyz player. make your own post.

this is a non-rpf blog. I might lean into the narratives but tbh I’m not into men and don’t get much out of romantic shipping. Nothing against it though! I think everyone should engage with hockey however they like as long as it does no harm to themselves or others. Ride that ship into the sunset my loves we are holding fins 👍

gifs, videos, memes, photos by me will come described with alt text. I try my best as someone who has used a screenreader in the past, but please let me know if I miss anything.

30/07/2024 sources for any media i post will be linked to a live site + using the wayback machine when I can, or just live websites when I can't (in the case of youtube videos). yeah ok i finally gave in @ that one anon calling this wikipedia editor behaviour you are correct and WHAT OF IT!!!!!!!

5/08/2024 - NOTE live website links always precede archive links whether I label them or not. if there is no link 'pair' it means the wayback machine can't snapshot the link i put up. In the case of twitter/instagram and other such sites that require a logged in device to view certain pages i will do my best to grab the direct img link and archive that.

[ link 1, archive link // link 2, archive link ] <- self explanatory, long form.

[ x, x ] <- single source of media, will use for aesthetic purposes on gifsets and formal web weaving. same with: [ x || y // x || y ] <- "//" double slash denotes a new source, x is the live link, y is the archive link.

if a link or source is not immediately obvious I may have: 1) done an in-line link, click any underlined or bold-underlined text; 2) I might have missed it by mistake, please be patient and maybe shoot me a flag about it in my inbox/dms if you want !!! we are all human and I'm doing my best <3

I'm aware this is not the most fastidious archival practice! my goal isn't to be the arbiter of archival standards for sourcing. I don't know how long I'll love hockey or these teams, how long tumblr will be around, but going from here I'd just like this blog to be a place where fans years from now can come back to and not have to do as much digging as I did to source media.

[ugh-yoongi]

threw a punch in a bar | knj

(or, nothing good happens when a man you’d accidentally knocked out in a bar fight tells you to run.)

→ pairing: namjoon x f. reader → genre: zombie!au | crack, smut → rating: explicit. minors dni. → warnings: swearing, alcohol, a guy gets pushy in a bar, this results in a bar fight (mentioned broken bones, but nothing is described in explicit detail), vague american setting in order to drag the us healthcare system, side vmin, taehyung has klepto tendencies but he steals from wal-mart so it’s fine, really mid smut including: kissing, very slight dom!joon, grinding/thigh riding, implied oral (f. receiving), fingering, reader drops a bryce harper quote during sex, namjoon’s dick is big but we knew that, this is cancelled out by his horrible dirty talk, unprotected sex, vmin’s dumpling fight but make it settlers of catan. this is technically a zombie fic, but the circumstances are 99% in the background. there is nothing gory here, just sort of found family vibes centered around an apocalypse. also when i said the smut is mid i meant it. everyone has himbo tendencies except yoonjin. → wordcount: 11k → a/n: started this forever ago after doing one of those twt pause games on who i’d be stuck with in the zombie apocalypse. my result was vmin & namjoon, which birthed the idea of vmin spending the entire apocalypse subtly trying to convince you to sacrifice yourself for them. i was going to publish the draft of this on halloween but decided to finish it, went into a trance, and added 9k words, so please accept my late and humble offering. → thank yous: lauren, bee, and jess as always for all of their help: beta’ing, general feedback, constructive criticism, telling me when my shit doesn’t make sense. @effortandmore​ / @hot-soop​ / @the-boy-meets-evil​

Any bartender worth their salt knows you don’t mix tequila and brandy.

Jimin, apparently, is only worth enough salt to rim a margarita glass.

All because he’s chaos incarnate: an absolute hellion of a person who causes problems just because. The type of person who calls a drink something innocuous like Tipsy Meow because it sounds sweet and he knows it’ll get people to order it. Sometimes he even serves them in glasses with cats painted on them, which is really cute and endearing and gets people to order that drink in the cute cat glass despite the fact that that drink in the cute cat glass is tequila and brandy.

In any other bar, that drink would be called something appropriate and applicable, like a Knockout.

Because that’s what it does—starts bar fights.

Which Jimin knows, because he’s actually a very competent bartender, but he likes to cause problems on purpose, especially on Tuesday nights when there’s not much else going on.

“Why did you do that?” Yoongi asks, watching some poor, unsuspecting woman practically skip back to her table with two Tipsy Meows in hand.

Jimin just smiles and shrugs. “Because,” he answers, eyes twinkling with something underhanded, “that tall guy at the high-top? He’s been eyeing her all night. She wouldn’t go for it on a good day, but after one of those?” A low whistle under his breath.

Yoongi just stares. He’s known Jimin a long time, going on six years now, so he’s never truly surprised at how duplicitous he can be, but sometimes he pretends for appearance’s sake. “Evil.”

“Not evil,” Jimin retorts, eyes rolled, “just bored.”

Snorting, Yoongi whips the towel off his shoulder and starts wiping down the bar. “Then do a fucking crossword puzzle.”

Jimin waves him away. “I’m not good at them. I’m good at this.”

“Getting people to fight in our bar?” Yoongi clarifies. Jimin nods. They stare at each other for a minute before Yoongi shrugs and finds some menial task to busy himself with. “Whatever. You’re on clean-up duty, though. The last time you pulled this shit, I was sweeping up glass for three fuckin’ days.”

Because he’s chaos incarnate, Jimin’s response is a sarcastic salute, two fingers pressed to his forehead as Yoongi flips him off in return.

Something is wrong.

You’ve been to this bar countless times, have always ordered the same thing. Always made sure to stick to your limits, because college had been both an exercise in adulting and maintaining a functioning liver.

Maybe it’s because the mint-haired guy didn’t make your drinks this time. Truthfully, you’ve been wary of him for a while, convinced he’s been watering them down just to get you to buy more. Not that you’re complaining. In all the years you’ve been coming here, you’ve never made a fool of yourself.

Now, though?

Now you’re very rapidly approaching find the nearest trashcan ASAP territory. I’m going to regret this in the morning territory. This hasn’t happened since that frat party sophomore year territory.

Yeah, that party. You’d drank something god-awful that night, too. Got roped into a game of strip poker in a seedy basement and walked away with $2,000, three nickels, and a half-used KFC gift card, only down a sock. Some douchebag frat bro hadn’t liked that very much, accused you of cheating and gave you a real hard time about it. Long story short, you’d been fueled by too many of the suspicious drinks and knocked him out.

This feels a lot like that.

Because you’re drunk, yes, but there’s something else lurking beneath the surface. Something that’s itching for a fight. Something that’s been dormant for a long time.

(This is a startling realization, because you’re not a violent person, despite all evidence to the contrary. You’ve only ever thrown one punch in your life. It’s really not your fault that it wound up being the punch heard ‘round the world.)

Those who cannot remember the past are doomed to repeat it. Your sixth grade history teacher had that quote hung on the wall and you haven’t thought about it until now. Because there’s a guy approaching your table—probably six-foot, wearing an expensive watch and polished shoes—and he’s been eyeing your friend all night. Had made a few crude comments to his buddies that you’d regretfully overheard, and you’re all out of sorts because the mint-haired bartender hadn’t made your drinks, so he’s nearly got his elbows on the table when you say—

“Fuck off, asshole.”

Both your friend and the guy look equally shocked. “Excuse me?” he says, looking back to the idiots at his table in disbelief.

You roll your eyes, blood beginning to boil. “I said fuck off. She’s not interested.”

“And she can’t speak for herself?” he retorts, all faux-chivalry now that everyone’s attention is on him, even though the bar is practically deserted at nine o’clock on a Tuesday. “Your friend’s a little uptight, huh?” he says, shifting his attention fully away from you.

God, you always do this—befriend the most wholesome people in the room. The ones who always assume the best in others; the ones who can’t say no; the ones who feel guilty speaking up. This friend is no different. Looks at you like a deer about to get rearranged by a car, all wide, panicked eyes and a tight-lipped smile, only polite out of obligation.

What happens next is shocking to everyone except Jimin and Yoongi. Safe behind the bar, the two of them watch as you tell the man to fuck off one more time. He refuses, his attention still laser-focused on your friend, reaching for her. Someone appears to his left—another stranger, this one taller and wider in all the right places and exuding far less scumbag energy—and places a large hand on his shoulder. Leans down to say something to him that you don’t catch. Whatever it is, you’re assuming it’s said in that brand of tense politeness men use with other men before they threaten to knock them out.

Regardless of what’s said, the original douchebag just snorts derisively, jutting his shoulder backwards to get the stranger’s hand off of him. This really bothers you, for all the obvious reasons. Why can’t this idiot take no for an answer? What’s his fucking deal?

Apparently you voice the latter out loud, and the bastard is laughing again, lips turned upwards in an ugly little sneer. Far too quickly, you go from bothered but mostly in control to seeing red and cocking back. All because the mint-haired bartender hadn’t mixed your drinks. Now you’re punching some pushy asshole in the jaw and are probably going to get arrested.

“Oh shit,” you hear, but it sounds like you’re underwater. It’s certainly not a voice you recognize, but you only know one person in this bar and you just punched someone to make sure she didn’t get harassed by some asshole who couldn’t take a fucking hint.

Pain erupts in your hand. There’s probably something broken, maybe multiple somethings, but you don’t have much time to dwell on it before someone’s grabbing you by the elbow and dragging you out of the bar.

A shame, you think; you’d really like to see how much of a pissbaby that guy turns into when he catches sight of his own blood.

“I hope you’re proud of yourself.”

You groan. Whatever room you’re in is far too bright and far too loud, which means you’re probably at home already being lectured by Hoseok. You crack an eye open, and—yep, that’s Hoseok, usual human embodiment of sunshine who is now staring at you like a grumpy little rain cloud. “What’re you talking about?” you grumble, fingers flying to your temples to ease some of the throbbing pain.

Hoseok must be pretty pissed, because he just watches you clutch at your aching head and doesn’t say a word. Usually you can guilt trip him into making you coffee and buttered toast. Grabbing you some pain killers, at the very least, but he’s not budging. You swallow hard.

“Do you remember anything from last night?”

“Not really,” you answer. You’ve been awake for approximately three seconds and your two brain cells haven’t connected to form a rational thought yet, let alone conjure up whatever shenanigans you got into the night before. “I think I went out for drinks with the new hire from work, but that’s it.”

“Mehmehmeh but that’s it,” Hoseok mimics under his breath, voice pitched far too high to ever pass as yours, looking more and more incensed by the second. Everyone told you he’d be too neurotic to live with. You should’ve listened. “Do you remember drinking too much and punching a guy?”

Ah, that would explain why your hand is fifty shades of purple, you think. “Ah, that would explain why my hand is fifty shades of purple,” you say.

Hoseok looks like he’s ready to explode. “Can you fucking take this seriously,” he seethes. “You’re too old to be getting wasted and starting bar fights! What in the actual fuck is wrong with you? You broke a man’s nose, you fucking maniac! What if he calls the cops? God, what if he sues you? Do you have lawsuit money? Because I sure as fuck don’t, not that I would bail you out of jail for this, anyway, because you don’t deserve it—”

“I broke someone’s nose?” Far too late, you realize you should’ve kept that proud wonder out of your voice.

Hoseok’s up and screeching before you can plug your ears. “You are un-fucking-believable! I have to leave. I can’t sit here another second and listen to this.” He’s fussing over his clothes and hair as soon as he’s on his feet, distress seeping out of every pore. “There’s fresh coffee in the pot and I made sure to save you two slices of bread,” he grits out, as if it’s causing him immense pain to be nice to you right now, before adding, “and there’s also aspirin and water on your nightstand. I would not recommend taking it on an empty stomach.”

And then he’s gone.

You microwave the mug of coffee and choke down the toast that’s grown suspiciously hard. You swallow two aspirin with coffee even though you know better and should be drinking the water, but the water has been sitting out for god knows how long and probably has dust particles and other gross things in it. You take a long shower to wash away the bar grime and hangover remnants and nearly crumble to the floor in pain when you try to wash your hair.

Right, your hand.

It’d been easy enough to ignore when you were focusing on not vomiting and taking your painkillers, but not so much anymore. Even if Hoseok hadn’t told you you’d punched someone, you could’ve pieced that much together—the bruising is severe and the swelling even more so. Trying to bend your fingers feels like a fate worse than death, so you salvage your shower as best you can before getting dressed one-handed and ordering an Uber to the nearest urgent care.

Which, much to your horror, is packed.

Every seat is taken except for one next to a man with a baseball cap pulled low and a thawed-out ice pack in his hand. He doesn’t acknowledge you when you sit next to him, and you’re almost offended until you spot the AirPods in his ears. God, he must’ve been here forever if he’s brave enough to plug his ears in a place that unashamedly sends you to the back of the line if you don’t answer when your name is called.

You need to know what you’re getting into, so you tap him on the shoulder and ask, “Hey, how long have you been here?”

The man seems flustered. He reaches for his phone and sends it plummeting to the floor, and when he retrieves it you notice the screen is cracked to hell so this must be a common occurrence. “Oh, uh. I’m not sure,” he says, voice all nasally like he’s got a bad cold. “Maybe two hours or so?”

You groan. “Two hours? Are you for real?” He just nods, still not meeting your eye. You pull out your phone, too, then, and put in the web address for the hospital. “D’you think the wait times are less shitty at the ER?”

“Maybe.”

“You didn’t look? No offense, but you sound pretty awful. I figured you’d want to get whatever it is taken care of sooner rather than later.”

The man snorts. Sounds painful. “Yeah, well. I work at a shitty nonprofit and the only insurance tier I could afford had a two-thousand-dollar deductible, so I’ll take my chances here.”

You hum in sympathy. “Do you believe in karma and reincarnation and all that? Because I do, and I think I must’ve been pretty fucking terrible in a past life to be born in a country without free healthcare in this lifetime.” The man beside you grunts in agreement. “Like, shit. What if I was Norwegian in a past life? Or, like, Canadian?”

“Only worth being Canadian if you’re not Indigenous.”

“Hm, yeah, that’s true. What human rights violations have the Norwegians committed?”

“No clue.”

“I’m gonna Google it,” you decide. Then, a second later, “Not great being Indigenous in Norway, either.”

“Is everyone shitty?” the man asks, pressing the warm ice pack back to his face. You wince on his behalf.

“Yeah.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you watch him pause his music. An album cover you don’t recognize, because this guy definitely strikes you as the underground type: paid Spotify account with immaculate playlists full of artists no one else has heard of, either. Probably imports half of his own shit, too, so his playlists only work on his own phone and everyone yells at him when they try to play his playlists and get nothing but silence.

“What about you?” he asks, and it’s a question that should sound greasy but just sounds really sad with his clogged nose. “Are you shitty?”

“Yep,” you answer instantly, holding up your hand. You’d managed to wrangle an elastic bandage around it, but the bruising is obvious and not easily hidden.

The man whistles. “Damn, how’d you do that?”

“Punched a guy in a bar fight, apparently.”

In hindsight, it should be obvious, the cruel joke the universe is playing on you: you, with your mottled, probably-broken hand; the man next to you, with a black eye and an ice pack pressed to his nose. Right church, wrong pew, your mother always used to say about you, and you’d taken it then as a nod to your creativity and ingenuity, but now you’re thinking you might just be fucking stupid.

Because the atmosphere immediately shifts. The man goes stiff, pauses, tenses his shoulders. Then he asks, “Yeah? What bar? I might’ve heard about it.”

And you might be fucking stupid but you’re not dumb, so you just shrug. “Oh, I don’t know,” you reply, doing your best impression of a person with nothing between their ears. “My coworker dragged me out, and I like her fine, y’know, but if I’m being honest, I don’t know how long she’s gonna last. I think she’s too nice. Well, I thought she was too nice, but then she invited me out for drinks and invited me to this crazy bar with horrible, violent people—”

“And you punched someone,” the man finishes for you, cutting short your tirade.

“Supposedly punched someone,” you correct. “I have no recollection of it, but that’s what my roommate said. He was shrieking and used his Serious Mom Voice so I’m inclined to believe him, though.” You try to wiggle your fingers and have to suppress a scream. “Plus I can’t move my hand, so there’s that.”

This is the part where you get yelled at. You can feel it. The man beside you is about to blow up, demand your name and phone number so he can report you for assault, probably also demand some money because he’d just talked about his god-awful insurance and you’re the entire reason he’s here, but the universe may be cruel but it’s also fair, because—

“Nam…joon?” a bored medical assistant calls out. The man startles, curses under his breath that no one even attempts to pronounce his name correctly, drops his phone again, and if you weren’t glued to your chair in fear you might’ve picked it up for him.

Namjoon stands—he’s fucking massive, and if this is the guy you actually punched, you’ll spare a second later to marvel at yourself—and looks down at you. Sends you the meanest, most murderous glare he can muster, clenched jaw and all, and then he’s disappearing behind a door.

You… feel bad.

It’s not like you’d meant to punch him. You hadn’t wanted to punch anyone! And that has to count for something, so when he comes back out you’ll plead your case and offer to buy him a late lunch, because if he’d been waiting hours you’ll be waiting longer, and maybe he’ll find you just endearing enough to forget that you’d broken his nose and the two of you will become friends. You’ll do the Best Person speech at his wedding and laugh about the time you’d punched him, or maybe you’d be marrying him and—

Pump the brakes.

You love a good enemies-to-lovers, but maybe not so much in real life.

  The wait is torturous.

An hour ticks by. You text Hoseok, tell him about the man you’d met and ask if he thinks it’s The Guy, and Hoseok writes back with a very pointed, I fucking hope it is. You’re not sure what that means. Does he hope Namjoon is the guy so you can apologize? So you can make sure he’s okay? Surely he wouldn’t be hoping for Namjoon to even the score and break your nose, too, but he was really mad this morning so you wouldn’t put it past him.

Another half hour. If you’d been paying attention, you would’ve realized how eerily quiet the waiting room has grown. No idle chatter, no coughing, no pained groans. People seem to be going in but not coming out, and you’ve been paying attention to that much, at least, so you can catch Namjoon.

And then the door slams open.

Namjoon stands there, nose stuffed with a cartoonish amount of gauze and a large splint across the bridge. He’s breathing hard. Looks like he’d just ran a marathon, which doesn’t make sense because how large can the backend of an urgent care really be, but then his eyes found you and—

“Run,” is all he says.

Nothing good happens when a man you’d accidentally knocked out in a bar fight tells you to run. Fucking stupid but not dumb, though, so you’re up and out of your seat before he can repeat himself.

Although you’re not sure where you’re supposed to go. You’d taken an Uber, and you can’t really order an emergency one of those. Besides, all Namjoon had said was run but not why, so you’re also not sure if it even is an emergency.

So here you are, standing in the middle of the parking lot like a bozo while Namjoon fumbles with the keys to a pickup truck. “Hey!” you call out, stomping towards him. “Are you gonna tell me what the fuck’s going on?”

Namjoon looks up only long enough to catch your eye. “You need to get out of here,” is all he says. Which is supremely and deservedly unhelpful.

“Why? I ca—I took an Uber here, I don’t have a car. I don’t know where I’m supposed to go or why I had to run out of there or if this is DEFCON 5 or DEFCON 1—”

“One,” Namjoon answers. “It’s definitely DEFCON 1.” Door unlocked, Namjoon meets your gaze again, deadly serious. “I’m not fucking around. You need to get out of here. Right now.”

This has to be a joke. He’s mad you’d broken his nose and now he’s getting his revenge. Still, you’re not all that keen to pay hundreds of dollars in medical bills for them to tell you something you already know, so you’ll play along. “Fine. Can I get a ride, then?”

“No.”

“So it’s an emergency but you won’t give me a ride.”

Namjoon glares at you. “You broke my fucking nose!”

“But I also broke my own hand, so we’re even.” It’s absolutely not a fair trade, but Namjoon seems to chew it over nonetheless. “Hey, c’mon, you wouldn’t leave me here! You’d feel too guilty.”

“How would you know?”

“Because you work at a nonprofit and care about human rights violations, and I am a human with rights, and it’d definitely be a violation to leave me here in a DEFCON 1-level emergency when I don’t even know what’s going on—”

Namjoon slaps a hand over your mouth. A large hand. A very, very large hand that easily covers half of your face. You’ll blame your pathetic whimper on fear. “I saw some shit in there, okay?”

“What kind of shit, though. Urgent cares are weird. Ominous little vortexes where reality is altered. You ever been in one at night? Like 28 Days Later vibes—”

“Yes!” Namjoon snaps his fingers. “Yes, that! Exactly like that!”

Your relief is palpable. You sag a little. “Oh! So it was just weird in there? What, did you get a creepy doctor or something?”

“No.” He groans. Runs his hands down his face. “Not the vibes part, the—”

“The zombie part?” you whisper.

Just then, the entrance slams open, people pouring into the parking lot. Most are screaming, which prompts you to scream in response, so Namjoon screams too and drops his keys. You’re picking them up before you can think twice, pulling the door open and pushing him inside of the truck. There’s something to be said about the way you manhandle him, how ripped his back feels through the thin fabric of his t-shirt and the view of his ass as he climbs over the center and into the passenger seat, but whatever weird shit is going on takes precedence.

You climb in behind him. Shut the door and lock it, and then you’re rolling down the window to adjust the side mirrors while Namjoon just shoots you an exasperated look. “We don’t have time for this!”

“Do you want us to crash and die? I’ve seen movies like this, okay, and someone always dies some stupid, avoidable death because they forget something obvious.”

“Yeah, it’s usually don’t read the weird Latin incantation in that book or don’t go outside to investigate weird noises, not checking your mirrors!” He pauses. “Hey, wait! They’re not even your mirrors! You’re fucking up all my shit!”

You roll your eyes. “Shut up. I’m getting us out of here.”

During Namjoon’s stunned silence, you turn the ignition and peel out of the parking lot as best you can with one good hand, tailspinning onto the main road, tires squealing. “That was… kind of hot.”

“What, me telling you to shut up or my driving?”

“...Both?”

“I—yeah, that’s fair. You’re big, but you seem like the type to enjoy getting pushed around.” Namjoon stays quiet, and when you dare a glance over at him, his cheeks are red. “Did you get a boner when I punched you?”

That actually gets a laugh out of him. “Don’t go there.” You shrug.

The two of you drive for a while. There’s nothing in the rearview mirror. No one behind you. Really, the world around you seems normal, quiet, still. It almost has you second-guessing everything you’d seen, all the things Namjoon had said. And you don’t know him beyond breaking his nose, but everything in you is screaming to trust him.

So you do.

“Hey, do you mind if we swing by my place? It’s, like, two minutes away, and I should probably grab some stuff.”

Namjoon just shrugs.

Surprisingly, there’s very little time to panic. Namjoon sets about grabbing whatever he can from the kitchen and the bathroom while you shove clothes into a large duffel. You grab your laptop and chargers and Namjoon’s scoff is loud when you ask if you should bring your vibrator, too, but he doesn’t say no, so into the bag it goes.

Hoseok comes home in the midst of your ransacking. You meet him in the living room and, aside from the small look of confusion, he seems much happier to see you than he’d been this morning. “Hi,” he says. Sounds normal, too. Doesn’t sound like he’d seen some weird apocalypse shit outside. “Where is there a tall man in our kitchen shoving all our food into bags?”

“Ah, right, that.” You suck in a breath. “Hobi, go pack up whatever you care about and meet us back here in five minutes. There’s some Train to Busan shit going on and we’ve gotta get moving.”

“Yo, what the fuck!” Namjoon yells from the kitchen. “Are you just saying that because I’m Korean?”

Hoseok had looked dubious before, but seems to fall into blind trust upon hearing the strange, tall man in his kitchen is also Korean. “Hey, me too!” When Namjoon comes skittering into the living room, they shoot matching finger guns at one another and do a weird bro-dap. “Oh!” Hoseok says, recognition blooming. “Are you the guy? The nose guy?”

Namjoon just glares at you.

“That’s him,” you answer instead. “Go pack, please. I’m serious.”

Hoseok is scared of everything: spiders, his shadow, carousel animals, your neighbor’s dog because it’s fifteen years old and blind and lost half its fur. He once had nightmares for a week after you’d made him watch the first Goosebumps movie and insisted on sleeping in your room. Had nightmares again after he saw a particularly sinister Squishmallow at Wal-Mart. So, yeah. It’s imperative you convince him to come with you because he stands no chance on his own.

You don’t expect him to shrug and go off to pack.

“Hey, did one of you grab any ibuprofen?”

“Yeah, got it,” Namjoon replies.

“What about allergy medicine? I get really bad sinus headaches so I’ll be miserable without it, but if it’s too much I guess I could—”

“Pack it,” you shout back.

There’s a loud crash from his room. Another smaller one seconds later. “I’m fine!” he calls out. “Hey, cool! I found a bag of Twizzlers!”

“Hoseok—”

“Bring the Twizzlers, please!” Namjoon says, cheeks warming again. “What? I like them.”

It’s your turn to glare. “If I get eaten over some goddamn Twizzlers.”

“At least you’d be strawberry flavored?” Namjoon offers, as unhelpful as ever. Then, before you can respond, “Hey, man, are you almost ready? I texted my roommate and he’s good to go but I still need to pack up all my shit, too.”

“One sec!”

Approximately fifteen seconds later, Hoseok reappears in your living room with a bookbag, a duffel bag, and an oversized rolling suitcase.

“This isn’t a vacation, Hobi,” you deadpan.

He looks at you like you’re a moron. Fucking stupid but not dumb, you remind yourself. “Okay, but I’m not leaving all my nice clothes here to get eaten by zombie moths or whatever. There’s Off-White in here.”

Namjoon nods in understanding. “Valid.”

It’s not worth the argument. The three of you pile back into Namjoon’s truck, you stuck in the middle of the bench seat this time while Namjoon drives. Hoseok babbles the entire way, seemingly unfazed by this bizarre situation in which you’ve found yourselves. He tells you about the cafe he’d met a friend at, the latte he ordered and didn’t like. You can only tell he’s starting to get nervous because he devolves into more and more unhinged chatter. One second he’s telling you about a dog he saw wearing a little sweater and the next he’s rattling off the digits to his social security number.

“Forget you heard that,” you say to Namjoon.

He looks pained as he replies, “Unfortunately I have a god-tier echoic memory so I am physically incapable of doing that.” He feels your stare. “I’m really sorry, I can’t help it! Tell me something else so I forget it!”

“Okay: I think you’re about to run over that guy.”

Namjoon jerks his eyes back to the road and gasps, hitting the brakes so hard Hobi nearly goes flying into the dashboard. He’s moaning, bitching about his seatbelt probably breaking a few ribs, and the tiny man standing in the road in front of you hasn’t budged an inch. Stared death right in the eye and dared it to take him.

“Fucking Jimin,” Namjoon curses. At both your and Hoseok’s blank stares, he clarifies, “My roommate.”

“Is that seriously your roommate?” Hoseok asks, still pressing against his ribs to check for fractures.

Namjoon, huffing and puffing and finally at a complete stop, just nods. “Yeah.”

Hoseok is finally silent. Then, “That tiny, terrifying little man is your roommate and you managed to get knocked out in a bar fight? What, was he busy that night?”

There’s an obvious reply on the tip of Namjoon’s tongue, but before he can spit it out the tiny man is banging his fist against the window. “I’m gonna fucking kill you!” he screams. “Open the door so I can kill you! Did you not see me? I told you I’d be waiting by the mailbox! I even packed all your shit for you and this is how you repay me, by almost hitting me with your stupid truck? You’re fucking cra—wait, who are these people?”

Hoseok, obviously scared shitless, grimaces as he waves hesitantly. “Hi!” you say, though Namjoon’s roommate probably can’t hear you through the thick glass. “I’m the person who broke his nose!”

Then the roommate is smiling. “Oh, that was you? You look different than I remember.”

When you look to Namjoon for answers, you find him slumped against the steering wheel. “Jimin’s a bartender,” is the only explanation you get.

You look out the window again. Small, but no mint-colored hair. “Ah, I had my suspicions about him. …I think.”

Namjoon cranks down the window just enough to tell Jimin he’ll have to hop in the bed with all the luggage, and then the four of you are off again. There’s one more stop, to Jimin’s boyfriend’s place to pick up him and his roommate, and all you can do is hope one of them has a larger vehicle.

Just like before, this drive is suspiciously unremarkable. You’ve long since resigned yourself to believing Namjoon and what little he’d told you, but you can tell Hoseok’s skeptical. Along for the ride, of course, because there’s always the small chance you hadn’t been lying and then he would’ve been knee-deep in shit, but skeptical nonetheless.

“Can I just ask—are you sure about this?” He’s looking out the window. Looking at all the normal cars and houses and businesses. Nothing about the outside world screams looming zombie apocalypse at all. “It seems pretty quiet.”

Namjoon sighs. Grips the steering wheel a little tighter, knuckles flashing white, but he seems okay. Adrenaline, maybe. It’ll hit later. “Yeah, I’m sure.”

“You saw something?” Hoseok prods.

“I—” He nudges you. “Did you notice how most of the people in the waiting room just seemed to have bad colds? Sneezing, coughing, all that?” You nod. “I didn’t really think anything of it since it’s still flu season, but once I got called back, everything just felt… off.”

He sucks in a breath. Keeps driving. Keeps talking. The nurse who’d taken his vitals seemed exhausted. Cracked some joke about being glad Namjoon was there for a broken nose and not whatever respiratory thing was going around. Told him a doctor would be in shortly to patch him up, and when she left his room she hadn’t shut the door all the way. Left enough of a crack for Namjoon to see what was going on: frazzled nurses and doctors and techs huddled around, panicking. Namjoon thinks someone called for an ambulance.

True to her word, a doctor did come in to pack and splint his nose. Then, in the middle of jotting down the name and phone number of his pharmacy, a scream.

“An old man came in. I saw him when they took me back. He was just sitting on a bed because it was so crowded, wasn’t in a room. I guess at some point he passed out. Didn’t have a pulse. I think he was who they called the ambulance for, but while I was waiting for the doctor I kept hearing this weird moaning.”

Hoseok shudders. “Yeah, I know where this is going.”

“Right. So the doctor comes in, fixes me up, and next thing I know, someone’s screaming. Guess that old dude wasn’t as dead as they thought he was.”

“Could they have been wrong?” you ask tentatively. It’s so quiet outside, maybe everyone had just—

“No,” Namjoon says, and he does it with so much conviction you don’t argue further. Jimin bangs on the back windshield, holding his phone up to it so you can see.

It’s all over Twitter. Not even Facebook, where you’d expect a zombie apocalypse conspiracy to begin. No, there are posts all over Twitter and Instagram and even the local news station’s website. Hoseok looks a little green.

“Okay, so it’s definitely real and this is definitely happening,” you mutter. “Does anyone have a plan?”

There’s no plan.

Not even in a hyperbolic, we say we have no plan, but somehow we’ve conveniently got a small arsenal of weapons, kind of way. There’s simply no plan.

Jimin’s boyfriend is named Taehyung. They have a needlessly tearful reunion, and you wait in Taehyung’s tiny kitchen for twenty minutes while he packs. He’s roommates with the mint-haired bartender that you like. His name is Yoongi. He has all his stuff packed and waiting by the front door, and you like him so much more for it.

“Should I pack condoms?” Taehyung yells from his bedroom.

“Are you fucking ser—” Yoongi starts, then seems to come to a realization. “Yeah. Yes, you absolutely should.”

“‘Kay! Be out in a sec!”

Namjoon appears then, in the midst of shoving his battered phone in his pocket. He looks around the room, taking stock, and his eyebrows knit in confusion. Fuck, he’s so hot and you’re taking the express train to hell for thinking it. “Hey, has anyone seen Jimin?”

Jimin and Taehyung are gone. There are weird noises coming from the direction of Taehyung’s room. Yoongi looks positively haunted. “Sorry!” Jimin calls out. “Be out in a sec!”

“Tae said that exact thing five minutes ago!”

“Are you calling him a liar?” Jimin yells back. Sounds genuinely angry and genuinely prepared to defend Taehyung’s honor. You’ve never met a tinier, scarier person.

“I’m calling you both zombie food!”

Hoseok sidles up next to you. “Is it just me or is that other tiny man really hot?”

“His name’s Yoongi,” you tell him.

Hoseok just sighs, like he’s carrying all of the world’s burdens on his thin shoulders. “I’m learning a lot about myself.”

You watch him mentally tabulate through all the stages of grief while Namjoon and Yoongi think up a plan. Namjoon’s large but clumsy and mostly useless, and Yoongi is small and deadly. You can hold your own, they decide, so Yoongi adopts Hoseok and Namjoon becomes your problem.

“Wait a second,” Hoseok almost wails. “Why can’t I stay with her? She’s my roommate!”

Yoongi looks offended. Probably is. “You don’t think I can defend you?”

Hoseok flushes crimson. “I-I didn’t say that…”

He’s halfway through a stuttered, awkward apology when Jimin and Taehyung appear, not at all looking like they’d just been getting off together. Sure, Jimin’s hair is a little mussed, but Taehyung—

Taehyung is only holding a box.

Yoongi pinches the bridge of his nose. “Taehyung.”

“Please don’t use that tone of voice with me,” Taehyung whines. “You know this is my emotional support jigsaw puzzle.”

“All you’re bringing is a jigsaw puzzle?”

“And condoms!”

“You’re not bringing any clothes? Medicine? Food?” Namjoon asks, because he might not be the oldest but he has the most overworked single mother energy out of all of you. “Jimin, go help him pack a bag of clothes, at least. Yoongi, can you grab any extra house stuff and toiletries you have laying around? Laundry detergent, soap, shampoo.”

Taehyung scoffs, sound dissipating as he disappears back down the hallway. “We can just steal that stuff.”

Hoseok looks like he’s about to pass out. “I am not turning into a criminal!”

He does.

You all do.

The six of you pile into two separate vehicles—you and Hoseok with Namjoon again in his truck, and Jimin and Taehyung behind you in Yoongi’s beater car. The plan is to drive to Namjoon’s cousin’s house in the middle of nowhere and bunker down there for a while. It’s plenty big—“His parents are politicians, so he’s got money,” was Namjoon’s explanation—and far enough outside of the city that it should buy you enough time to come up with something better.

Step one, though: Wal-Mart.

“Don’t worry, I steal from here all the time,” Taehyung says, breezing to the front of the pack like he’s leading the rest of you into war. Yoongi throws his hands up. Jimin looks lovestruck.

Hoseok hangs back by the cars, still traumatized from the Squishmallow experience, and you stay with him. You’ve seen Zombieland, and you won’t be able to do much fighting with a broken hand. At best you’d be able to fire a gun or whack someone with a pipe, but you’re not trying to go kamikaze mode on some innocent bastard in a Wal-Mart who’s also just trying to survive.

You’ve known Hoseok for a long time—since your sophomore year of college, when he was failing the stats class you shared and you took pity on him and offered some tutoring—so you’ve seen him in various states of distress. You know all of his tells, and the way he’s gnawing at his cuticles is a glaring one.

“Hobi, hey,” you say, moving to gently pull his hand away from his mouth. “Try to relax, okay? Don’t make yourself bleed.”

“I feel like I’m gonna be sick,” he replies. Anguish is clear on his face. “Everything feels fucking overwhelming and scary.”

“I know. I know it does, but if we’re gonna get through this we’re gonna need you, all right?” He nods but he’s shaking, still looking tormented and green around the edges. You pull him into a hug that has him nearly sagging in defeat.

Slowly, your shoulder grows wet and warm. Hoseok’s crying, body shaking from the weight of all his fear, and all you can do is hold him. “You’re my best friend, Hoseok,” you whisper into his hair. “I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”

You feel him nod. Then, in the smallest voice, “Yoongi too?”

Figures. Hoseok’s a horny little demon at the best of times—the thin walls of your apartment can attest to that—so it makes sense that impending doom would exacerbate it. “Sure, Hobi,” you assure him, scratching softly at his scalp.

You get him calmed down. Tucked into the backseat of Yoongi’s car so he can lay down. He’s asleep not long after, fatigue finally catching up, and you just stay. Park your ass at the edge of the seat, leave the door open, waiting. There’s a gentle, warm breeze, and you wish you could bottle it. Wish you could do more in this moment than just experience it, because it’s the last chance you’ll have at something resembling normalcy.

You might never be able to hug Hoseok in a parking lot again.

“We’re back!”

You look up, not at all surprised to see Taehyung skipping towards you, arms full of stolen goods. “I see that. What’d you get?”

“Oh, a lot of stuff,” he answers. Yoongi pops the trunk of his car and they set about shoving it all inside. “It was packed in there! Felt like Black Friday, except everyone was fighting over bread instead of ultra hi-def TVs.”

Wary, you look over your motley crew. “Are you all okay?”

“Yeah,” Yoongi answers, voice gruff. “It was mostly civilized. Don’t think people really realize what’s going on yet. Is Hoseok sleeping?”

You nod. “He, uh—had a moment? He got really upset, so he’s sleeping it off… if that’s okay?”

Yoongi just shrugs. “Yeah, whatever. Who’s riding with me?”

“Me,” Jimin says. “I’m not taking the bitch seat in the truck.” Taehyung immediately pouts, some unspoken bond clearly broken now, and Jimin scoffs. “Don’t pout at me. You know my ass requires a full seat.”

“But—”

Namjoon pointedly slams Yoongi’s trunk closed. Hoseok doesn’t stir an inch. “Jin’s expecting us so we need to get moving. Taehyung, shut up and get in the truck.” Then, to you: “Guess you’re with me again.”

Fine by you, especially since Namjoon ripped the sleeves off his shirt.

Not even Namjoon’s arms can salvage this drive.

Taehyung fiddles with the radio the whole time. Flips between radio stations that are all depressing carbon copies of one another. Complains that Namjoon’s truck is too old to have a CD player and that he doesn’t know how to work cassette tapes. Complains endlessly about Namjoon’s driving, too, although you can’t really blame him for that one.

“Hey,” he eventually says, elbowing you a little too hard in your side. “I don’t wanna be rude or anything, but—”

Namjoon tries to snort and immediately regrets it. “I don’t wanna be rude or anything, but I’m about to say something extremely rude.”

“I was not!” Taehyung defends, but when you quirk an eyebrow at him to continue, he says, “Are you willing to sacrifice yourself for me and Jimin in the unlikely event that the three of us are cornered by a zombie and are facing imminent death and only two will survive? Because I think you should be.”

You blink. “Um.”

“It just makes the most sense logically,” he continues, as if he hadn’t just volunteered you to be a zombie chew toy. “Jimin and I are soulmates. Platonic and romantic. And you’re—” He pauses. “Um. New. And Jimin might not look like it because he’s small, but he’s scrappy and can easily protect me, which means you’re redundant. Not to mention your hand is broken, so.”

You study him. “So, what are you bringing to the table?” you ask. Taehyung looks at you like you’re stupid. “I’m just saying, if Jimin and I can both defend ourselves, why wouldn’t we team up in the name of long-term survival and ditch the weakest link, which would be you?”

Namjoon laughs loudly beside you. His whole body shakes with it, a sound somewhere between a guffaw and a dog panting, and it’s a nice contrast to the death glare Taehyung’s sending you. “Jimin wouldn’t do that to me.”

“People are unpredictable when they’re staring death in the face.”

Taehyung’s silent the rest of the way.

It hurts to admit it, but you’re rethinking your all-politicians-are-evil, eat-the-rich stance, because it starts like—

(Seokjin’s parents’ place is truly in the middle of nowhere and safeguarded to the nth degree, harder to get close to than Area 51. The house itself is deceptively large and modern, clapped in black-stained red cedar. Single-level. Expansive windows you’d thought were an oversight until you got closer and realized they were made of armored glass.

“Shit, is all of this really necessary?” you ask, stepping inside. There’s definitely insider trading going on here. “Are these people on the goddamn Supreme Court?”

“That’s not funny,” Namjoon says.

“Are you sure? Because I’m pretty sure that”—you point to a nondescript door with an ominous symbol on it—”is some kind of rich people bomb shelter and the only politicians I know that would require this level of security are the I just voted to strip half the country of the ability to make their own reproductive decisions kind.”

Namjoon chokes.

“Gross,” a voice chimes from behind you. “Please don’t debase and sully my parents’ good name by even joking that they’re conservatives.”

Jesus, is everyone in this family stupidly attractive? The man before you is shorter than Namjoon but still tall, legs as long as his shoulders are wide. Hair styled neat but dyed blond. Kind eyes and plush lips, and there’s the Kim family resemblance.

“Hi, I’m Seokjin,” he says, offering you his hand. Definitely raised in a family of politicians. “I hear you’re the one who broke my cousin’s nose.”

“I, uh, might’ve done that, yeah.”

Seokjin smiles. “Cool. Welcome. Please make yourself at home and we’ll chat strategy later.”)

Which becomes—

(Later turns into days.

For the most part, life proceeds normally. Seokjin gets periodic updates from his parents who have left the country entirely—(“Damn, they just left you here?” someone asks, and that’s how you meet Jungkook)—about the government response, or lack thereof, along with whatever useless psychobabble the CDC is sending out. None of it bodes well for the future, so you spend most of your time trying to stay in the present. Right now, you’re okay. Right now, you’re with a group of people hellbent on staying alive. Right now, you have enough food and shelter in a house in the middle of nowhere with armored glass windows and a bomb shelter.

The eight of you eat meals together and play games and talk about your Before lives. You already knew Namjoon worked at a nonprofit and that Jimin and Yoongi owned a bar, but you learn Taehyung was in grad school for art therapy. Hoseok, of course, split his time between the dance studio and the streetwear boutique his sister owned. Seokjin was some bigwig corporate attorney.

Jungkook, of all things, played minor league baseball.

Needless to say there won’t be any scientific breakthroughs from any of you.

“I was supposed to go pro this year,” Jungkook huffs, forcefully grabbing the microphone for the karaoke machine. He’s been singing “I Will Survive” by Gloria Gaynor for four days.

All things considered, you somehow managed to fall into the best possible outcome, even if one of Taehyung or Jimin still tries to convince you to sacrifice yourself at least six times a day.)

Which culminates in the one possible downside—

“Yoongi wants Hoseok to move into my room,” Namjoon says, appearing in the doorway of your (now-solo, apparently) room. He takes up nearly the entire frame. It makes you feel a little lightheaded.

“Oh,” you reply stupidly. “Okay. Are you here for his stuff?”

“No, I’m here to ask if I can move in with you. I’m not really interested in spending the rest of the zombie apocalypse third-wheeling.”

Sarcasm seems like your best defense. “Wow, after all we’ve been through. We’ve got a real enemies to lovers vibe going on. I’m pretty into it.”

Namjoon flushes down to his toes. “Haaa, what? We’re—that’s not—we’re not even lovers yet.”

You give him a second, but he doesn’t seem to realize what he’s said, so you can’t help but smirk, to press on the bruise just to watch him squeal. “Yet?”

Now he turns full-on crimson. “That’s not what I meant.”

Somehow he’s still cute, even with the yellow-green bruising beneath his eyes and his sheepish, hunched posture. Namjoon is the kind of guy that makes you feel bold, makes you want to mess him up, but he’s also the kind of cute that has you relenting, easing off.

“Sure,” you finally say. “You can move your stuff in here.”

He smiles, dimples flashing, and he’s only gone a few minutes so you have no time to catch your breath before he’s back, dumping his clothes on the bed to put them in the dresser. He doesn’t mention sleeping arrangements because there’s no point: all of the bedrooms have single, queen-sized beds. Naturally, you and Hoseok had bunked together with little fuss, having fallen asleep in each other’s beds a million times after years spent living together. You assume it’d been the same for Namjoon and Yoongi and their decades of friendship.

You’d joked about being enemies to lovers; clearly you’d chosen the wrong trope.

“How’s your nose?” you ask, wordlessly moving to help sort and refold the t-shirts as best you can. They smell nice: something soft and clean and inherently Namjoon.

“Still sore,” he answers. Says a small thank you when you push a stack of black tees towards him. “Jungkook’s been helping me with the packing.”

“He’s had a lot of broken noses?”

“He’s had a lot of broken everything.”

It hits you, then, how much of an outsider you are. That the six of them are all connected, have history. And Namjoon must notice, because he grows serious. Gets shy all over again when he says, “Hey, we’re all glad you and Hoseok are here.”

You snort. “Yeah, as a sacrifice.”

Namjoon laughs a little, too. “Taehyung’s only so insistent because he’s useless. He accidentally stepped on a stink bug once and cried. He’s not really built for something like this.”

“Are any of us?”

“You are, I think,” he says immediately, no hesitation. “You’ve been really calm, haven’t panicked at all. It’s helped me a lot—all of us, really.”

Oh, you’re embarrassed. “I have to be, living with someone like Hobi.” Why are you embarrassed? “One time he saw the red light on the coffee machine and slept in my room for a week because he thought there was a demon in our apartment.”

Namjoon can’t help himself. “Was there?”

You sigh, over-dramatic and theatrical. “No, just me.”

He laughs, loud and unashamed, but it sounds a lot more like everything’s going to be fine.

Hoseok had been a cuddler.

You’d always wake up with him wound around you like a snake, limbs akimbo as he snored quietly. But, like all things Hoseok did and does, there was grace in it. He kept a normal body temperature. He didn’t hog too much of the bed or the duvet. He didn’t kick you or elbow you in the side of the head. Aside from the cuddling, which has never really been your thing, Hoseok was a perfect bed-sharing partner.

The same cannot be said for Namjoon.

His broken nose has him snoring at obscene levels. It doesn’t lessen when you shove a pillow over your head, either, which is not the way you fantasized about going lightheaded in bed with him. Not to mention his stupidly large body is stupidly large and requires a lot of space. What had started as a clean split down the middle has you grasping to the edge, trying desperately not to fall off. Every time you try to inch closer to the center, Namjoon unconsciously protests and sends elbows flying, and arms that size can do a lot of damage. He sleeps so hot you always wake up in a thin sheen of sweat just from the proximity.

You’re not sure you sleep at all for the first three days.

And then things start to shift. Like your roommate, Namjoon is a cuddler too, but in vastly different ways. Hoseok’s would be subconscious—he never dared to touch you when he was awake out of respect for boundaries and personal space, but Namjoon doesn’t have those hangups. He climbs into bed one night and immediately fits himself to your back before asking if it’s okay, and yeah, of course it is. You couldn’t have waterboarded Hoseok into touching you purposely the way Namjoon does casually, so unthinking, just does what he wants.

It makes you ache.

So you become sleepless for other, new reasons.

His snoring lessens, gives way to these breathy little sounds that border on soft moans. Still obscene. He stops forcing you to the edge of the mattress and instead presses you into it, the weight of his massive body leaving you with nowhere else to go. Every time he touches you, either knowingly or not, he leaves trails of heat in his wake.

Even in sleep, Namjoon is a tease.

Sometimes his hands will drift—too close, too far, both simultaneously—and you feel your breath hitch, wondering if he’s awake, if he’s doing it on purpose. Sometimes you wake up with him wrapped around you, hard cock pressing into your ass, the small of your back. Sometimes he’ll rut once, twice, and come to and disappear to the opposite side of the bed in shame and embarrassment, leaving you frustrated and pretending to be asleep.

Because you’re not… sure.

You know you’re attracted to Namjoon. You know he’s some degree of attracted to you in return. But the outside world is so volatile, the situation you’re in so unstable, that you’re afraid to push. Afraid the delicate house of cards will come tumbling down, that you two will fuck to get it out of your systems and make things horribly awkward, ruin the good thing you’ve got going.

But you can only take so much, is the thing. There’s a very large man with a very large cock at your back and you’ve had enough of this game.

“Namjoon,” you say, rolling in his arms so you’re face to face. You poke him in the stomach when he doesn’t stir. “Namjoon.”

He jolts awake, hands immediately moving to you—checking that you’re still there, that you’re safe. “Wha’?” he slurs, voice thick with sleep, deeper than you’ve ever heard it. “Wha’ happened?”

Now you feel awkward. He’s concerned with your safety in the midst of a fucking apocalypse and you’re just horny. Still, sometimes the only way out is through, so you blurt out, “Do you want to fuck me?”

That grabs his attention. He’s fully awake now, propped up on one elbow, gazing down at you like you’ve completely lost your mind. Fucking stupid but not dumb, like a mantra. “Uh.” He pauses. Swallows. Pushes sweaty hair off his forehead. “Did—did you, uh, get bit? Are you feeling okay?”

You glare, though it’s useless in the dark. “I’m fine. How’s your dick?” You dare a glance downward. Still hard is the answer.

Namjoon embarrasses easily in a way that is both horribly endearing and horribly inconvenient, because instead of feeding you some greasy line like want to find out? he’s reaching down to adjust himself in his sleep shorts, stumbling over apologies as he goes. “Shit, fuck, I’m so sorry, this is so awkward, I’m sorry—”

“Can you answer my question, please?”

Namjoon stills. Puts that giant brain to use. “Um. Which one? You asked me two.”

“Well, I can clearly see that your dick is still very hard, so let’s start with the first one.”

There’s a sound that you think is meant to sound like a laugh. A pained a-haaa that sounds more like Namjoon begging for divine intervention in the form of death. “The, uh, doIwanttofuckyou question?”

“That would be the one, yes.”

“Is… is there a wrong answer?”

“No.”

He nods, tongue darting out to wet his lips. It’s lewd, a cruel and unusual punishment for your fleeting moment of horny delirium. Gets even worse when he tugs the plush bottom one between his teeth, staring at you all the while. Sizing you up, it feels like. Deciding between what he wants to do and what he’s actually going to do.

Just like the last week of your life, everything goes from zero to one hundred in a split-second.

“Do you wanna talk about this first?” he asks. You’re just staring at one another and he already sounds fucked out. Obscene.

“What’s there to talk about?”

He reaches for you. Two fingers beneath your chin and a thumb on the hinge of your jaw to keep you where he wants you. “What you want.” Leans in, his lips so close to your ear. “What you don’t.”

Around you, the world narrows. Nothing exists outside of this bed. Not the weird house in the middle of the woods. Not the apocalypse. Not a goddamn thing except Namjoon and his big hands and the way he’s touching you. “Tell me what you want,” he says, words skimming along the column of your throat, “and I’ll do it.”

You wonder if he’s talking about big-picture shit or just sex. If he’s someone who needs something concrete to hold onto before he fucks or if it even matters anymore. Would he still want to sleep with you if you’d met under different circumstances that night at the bar, or is it just something to pass the time while you wait out the end of the world?

Although, you feel like the world might end if you don’t finally fuck this man, so maybe it doesn’t matter.

“I’m clean and I have an IUD I’ll have to figure out how to remove in three years if I live that long. I’m down for mostly anything as long as you ask first but I draw the line at most bodily fluids. Oh, also—don’t kiss me if your tongue goes anywhere near my ass. I think that’s it, though. What about you?”

Momentarily stunned, Namjoon’s hands stop moving. “I’ve never eaten ass before.”

“Oh. I mean, we totally can if you want to, but—really?”

“Why do you sound so surprised?”

“Because your lips are pornographic,” you admit, completely void of shame. “Like, you have the kind of mouth that looks like it’s done a lot of dirty things.”

Namjoon laughs. “You also said I look like I like getting pushed around.”

You cock an eyebrow. “Do you?”

He’s growing bold. His response is a low chuckle, more vibration than anything, and he reaches for you again. Seems like he can’t keep his hands off of you, needs to be touching you always, even before when it was harmless, and this time he goes for your hips. Fits his large hands to your waist, the tops of your thighs, presses his thumbs into your hip bones. “Most people don’t try.”

“Yeah, that tracks,” you reply dazedly.

His lips move to your neck, trace the neckline of your sleep shirt, dip below to nip at your collarbone. “Where’s your hand, baby?” he speaks into your skin. Finds what he’s looking for and pins your arm above your head, gently like you’ll break. You think you might. “You can push me around when you’re healed. Can I kiss you?”

You must nod, because Namjoon drags his lips from your throat to your jaw to the corner of your mouth, and then he’s pressing them to your own. This is gentle too, Namjoon careful with his own injury, and it’s not lost on you that this is your fault. You’re not going to get the filthy, primal fucking you want because you’d thrown a punch in a bar, but this isn’t a bad consolation prize, you think.

Because Namjoon is good at this. He’s easy to rile up but rock-solid once he pushes past it. And, sure, he kisses you gently, but he means it. Whimpers into your mouth like you’re doing him a favor, and you think you might be able to do this, just this, forever.

Your free hand fists the thin cotton of his shirt as he licks into your mouth. It should be gross, because it’s the middle of the night and you no longer have the luxury of your favorite toothpaste, but you find it hard to care when he drops his weight, that massive body of his pressing into you, against you in all the right ways. This time it’s you who whines, and it’s a small sound but it seems to drive Namjoon a little crazy.

“Wanna hear you,” he says, pulling back, and you’re about to ask him what that means, if he just wants you to start moaning like some bad porn, but then he’s grabbing your leg to wrap it around his waist and pressing his hips to you harder.

“Oh fuck,” you sigh. Even through his sleep shorts you can tell he’s big—big and really fucking hard. Forget a zombie apocalypse, you’re not sure you’ll survive this right here.

What Namjoon wants, Namjoon gets. You’re unabashed as he grinds his cock against your core, careless about your volume. You’ve suffered through almost everyone in this house either fucking or jerking off, and you can take a little ribbing, so you’re going to enjoy this. What’s the point in modesty if you’re all going to die, anyway?

So you just keep babbling, words spilling out of your mouth before you can filter them, writhing and whining all the while. “I know, baby,” Namjoon says, hands all over, mouth not far behind. “Keep going,” he urges, hands to your hips to move you the way he wants.

“Thigh,” you say, barely able to get the word out of your mouth with the way he’s moving against you. “Wan-wanna ride your thigh.”

He keens. “Shit, yeah, okay.”

Namjoon fucks like it’s the end of the world.

You get off on his thigh but he deems it not enough. Strips you bare and situates himself between your legs. Puts that sinful mouth to use and gets you off again. Asks you when the last time you had sex was and laughs at your answer, all condescending heat, and he uses the slick from you and his mouth to stretch you on three of his fingers.

You’re going to ruin this man’s hair once you have two working hands. Maybe just ruin him in general.

The build-up is dizzying. One second he’s slow and sensual, content to take you apart, continuously bring you to the edge just to yank you back—and the next is all feral urgency. He can’t make you come, can’t kick his shorts off, can’t peel his briefs down those thick thighs fast enough.

“Will you ride me?” he asks, so intent on taking your one rule to heart. As long as you ask first. But some things don’t need to be questioned, like when Hobi asks if you want to take an edible and watch the Spice Girls movie and will you sit on Namjoon’s massive dick.

You huff, already halfway in his lap. “Clown question, bro.”

As you sink down onto him, you understand why he’d laughed when you said it’d been awhile, why he got a little cocky. Three fingers hadn’t been anywhere near enough, but the stretch, the overwhelming fullness, is delicious.

“I was go—ah, fuck—gonna suggest you don’t ca-call me bro, but I don’t think I care when you feel this fucking good.”

“Yeah?” you stupidly ask, and you’re usually better at dirty talk, but there’s not much you can do when all of your brainpower is going towards riding the best cock you’ve ever had in your life. “Tell me.”

Namjoon moans, grips your hips to move you again. Back and forth at a steady, torturous pace. “Baby,” he whines. “Feels like one of those wa-water wiggler toys—”

Okay, so clearly neither of you are at your best right now.

And that’s how it goes. You brace yourself on Namjoon’s chest, nails of your good hand digging into his pec, your broken one held in his. Time seems to drag on forever and stop all at once, and you’re oversensitive and admittedly a little in pain and a lot exhausted so you’re probably not going to come again, but you find yourself dangerously close watching Namjoon chase his own orgasm.

Head tilted back, neck on display, mouth dropped open. You want to shove your fingers inside, so you do.

He comes immediately.

Namjoon kisses you as the two of you come down, whispering more praise in between each one. Tells you how good you are, how beautiful, that he’s glad you broke his nose. Then he realizes the dumb thing that has come out of his mouth and pauses, looking confused and delicate. He’s so cute you kiss him first this time.

And then you pull back and realize he’s got blood all over his face, gushing from the nose he’s so glad you broke, and he’s out of the bed and into the bathroom before you can blink.

“You can’t do that, we’re soulmates!”

Jimin scoffs, placing the Robber on Taehyung’s hex tile anyway, ruthless as he watches his boyfriend miserably discard half his hand. “Your fault for building a city there. I’m coming for your ore tile next.”

You roll your lips to keep from laughing. You hadn’t expected the house’s sardonically-named Royal Couple to be on the brink of disaster twenty minutes into a game of Catan, but you’re safe for now in your small part of the world, surrounded by all of these people you’ve come to love, Namjoon especially, so you’ll take all the manufactured, external drama you can get.

“Told you he’d turn on you, Tae,” you chime. He gives you the finger. “You can’t trust Libra men.”

“What about virgins!” Jungkook calls from the kitchen, where Yoongi has convinced him to drink tequila and brandy to see if he can get him to punch Namjoon, too, and Seokjin laughs so hard he looks like he’s about to keel over and die.

Yeah, you think you’re going to be fine.