#when I got it I grinned so hard my face cramped

[guard-en]

want to go out and fuck up shit with lumberjack. piss off the agency with her

SORRY THIS TOOK A BIT THE MUSES WERE NEGLECTING MY MEATPUTER (brain) +]

[yelenabemylova]

say no more, my queen - regina george x reader

summary: regina taking care of her girlfriend on her period

“What are you doing here, baby?” Regina sat down at her vanity table to take off her rings after she noticed you curled up in her bed after school. She received no response, so she decided to gently pull back the thick duvet covering you.

Snatching it back quickly, you huffed and scowled at her, “leave me alone.” Regina scoffed, “you're in my bed.” You only buried yourself deeper into her sheets, not caring about how your girlfriend could potentially be mad at you for ignoring her.

Regina began to frantically wrack her brain for what could make you feel and act in such a way. She didn't recall you feeling ill recently nor did she think she'd done anything to upset you.

Her mother came upstairs and saw Regina leaning over your figure in bed, quietly leaving a tray of snacks for the both of you. She had let you in before your girlfriend had gotten home and told you to make yourself comfortable upstairs.

The assortment of food that June had left was entirely different to what Regina had been eating before she met you. Ever since you had started to get closer to her, slowly her incessant thoughts about being conscious of her body were replaced by your consistent compliments about how perfect she looked.

Carefully, she rustled a bag of crisps, hoping it would get you to emerge from your cocoon of safety. Wordlessly, your arm reached out from under the blanket, your hand open. Regina placed the bag in your hand and you were quick to begin eating it under the blankets.

Suddenly, it clicked for Regina. She remembered you complaining about PMS a few days prior and how terrible it was making you feel.

Going into full protective girlfriend mode, she quickly ordered pizza and took off her makeup before getting into some comfy pyjamas. She went downstairs to collect the food and a hot water bottle with painkillers, bringing them up to you in a hurry.

She knew that you were always especially hungry when you were on your period but your cramps made it too hard to move to get anything to eat. As she climbed into bed, she set up her laptop with a new reality show playing quietly in the background.

“Baby, food’s here!” she gently shook your arm, which got you to uncover yourself. A small smile was evident on your features as you saw the box of pizza on Regina's bed. “All for you, sweetie,” she opened the box and fed you a slice.

As she continued to feed you, you became more like your normal self, chatting away to your girlfriend as she held the hot water bottle to your lower stomach. After you had eaten, she handed you some ibuprofen and a glass of water, encouraging you to take it so you could nap in peace.

“Is there anything else I can get for you, m’lady?” Regina teased. “You know those chocolate strawberries we made last night?” you sheepishly grinned. “Say no more, my queen,” Regina bowed, making you giggle.

She ran downstairs and retrieved them quickly, “nothing but the best for my perfect, beautiful girl.” You blushed, “thank you Gigi.”

Regina put her arm around you as she got comfortable with you tucked into her side, “so, are you gonna share those?” The expression on your face was priceless, “I am bleeding out of my uterus Regina George and you have the audacity to ask me-”

She chucked quietly as she silently regretted even asking as she listened to your rant.

[mindmelter]

Five Aliens On Board Of Hunks

As the plane hurtled through the air, Victor woke up from his nap. It was early morning, and most passengers were still asleep. Glancing at the time on his phone, he realized there were still three more hours left until landing.

Victor then grabbed the airsick bag that he kept on his side the whole flight. "Hey guys, there's still three more hours left, are you guys doing...ok?" he whispered to the bag, but his heart almost stopped when he noticed that his five tiny alien bugs were nowhere to be found. "Fuck..." Victor sighed. He hated how stubborn they were, he told them not to get out of the airsick bag.

The plane lurched, sending a jolt of panic through his gut. He knew they could get into all sorts of trouble without his supervision. Standing up, he left his seat. The other passengers, oblivious to his urgency, continued to sleep or watch movies. Victor scanned the cabin, his eyes darting from one row to the next, searching for any sign of his tiny alien friends.

Until he saw this huge and muscular blond hunk, he was staring at Victor and then gave him a flex.

The man's biceps were huge, his muscles were straining against his tight white shirt. But it was the mischievous glint in his eye that gave him away. Victor recognized that look anywhere. It was the same look his alien bugs got everytime they were possessing someone.

Victor looked at the hunk's girlfriend sleeping on his side, and with renewed courage, he crossed the aisle, his heart hammering in his chest. He paused for a moment, taking in the sight of the sexy hunk. A smile crept onto his face as he leaned in closer, unable to resist the temptation to touch those biceps. His fingers brushed against the man's hard muscles.

"Which one of you is inside his brain?"

"It's Yinx" The man responded.

"You've been a bad boy, Yinx" Victor whispered not to wake the hunk's girlfriend, his voice barely audible over the drone of the engines. "I gave the five of you strict orders not to get out."

The hunk, or rather, Yinx in the hunk's body, chuckled softly. "Oh, really? You're not going to make me get out of him, are you?" The man said, flexing his arm, making his biceps bulge even more. "Because I was having so much fun here." then his big manly hand drifted lower, caressing his abs under the white shirt.

Victor bit his lip, he loved how Yinx acted when possessing a man. "Well, I suppose I could let you stay inside him, after all, you've already made a hole inside this hunk's brain," Victor said with a grin. "but only if you promise to be a good boy from now on and don't get out of my sight again"

The blond hunk nodded eagerly, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "Deal." With that, they leaned in closer and shared a brief, passionate kiss.

Around them, the other passengers continued to sleep or watch their movies, oblivious to their intimate moment.

With a sly wink, the hunk gestured for Victor to follow him as he stood up and walked confidently toward the bathroom. Victor hesitated for a moment, glancing nervously at the sleeping passengers before quickly following after.

The two of them disappeared into the cramped bathroom, the door closing with a soft click. The sound of the plane's engines seemed to fade away, leaving them in their own private bubble. The hunk turned to face Victor, his gaze intense as he leaned against the sink. "So," he purred, looking down to his own body, "what do you want to do with him?"

Victor's heart raced as he approached Yinx's host. He then helped the hunk to take off his shirt, revealing a smooth, muscular body beneath. He paused for a moment, taking in the sight of the hunk's muscular chest before trailing his fingers downward, unhooking the hunk's pants. He pushed them down and the hunk stepped out, for last Victor pulled down the hunk's underwear, freeing his impressive and thick erection. Victor gazed at it, feeling a mixture of awe and desire. He knelt down before Yinx's host, taking the thick shaft into his hands and marveling at its size. He then wrapped his lips around the tip, tasting the salty precum on his tongue as he began to stroke up and down.

Yinx couldn't stop his host from moaning and his host had a very loud and deep voice. Afraid of being exposed, Victor grabbed the man's white underwear from the floor and stuffed it into the man's mouth, muffling his moans.

He then went back on working on the man's shaft. The man threw his head back as Victor worked him expertly. The hunk's hips began to buck forward burying his thick shaft even deeper into Victor's throat. The bathroom was small, but they didn't seem to care as they lost themselves in the pleasure of the moment.

Victor could feel the head of the host's cock brushing against the back of his throat, and starting spurting loads of cum down his throat.

Two minutes later they both walked out of the bathroom — One at a time to not arouse suspicion. Yinx's host went back to his seat, his girlfriend had already woken up. "You missed me babe?" Victor heard the hunk playfully ask his girlfriend as he kissed her.

As Victor passed by the couple, the hunk gave him a wink and grabbed his bulge.

Victor then went to search for the other aliens, but there were so many people on the plane that it would take forever to find the rest of the bugs, that was until Victor noticed a man shaking and squirming on a seat. Victor found the man really hot, he was wearing a blue tank top that showed some of his hairy chest. The man had his head turned back and swaying from side to side, Victor knew well what that meant, that was a man with an alien insect crawling its way inside his brain.

The man stopped squirming and then smirked at Victor, pulling his tank top and showing him his nipple.

"Hi Master, It's me Echo In control. I picked this one because I know how much Master like a daddy host, this one here has his wife and children sleeping in a near seat" The man spoke, with a deep baritone voice. "Wanna play with these bad boys in the bathroom, Master?"

Victor gulped and just nodded. Once inside the tight bathroom, the man lifted his tank top to behind his neck, exposing his big hairy pecs.

"C'mon, don't be shy, Master. He's only an empty brainless host now, you know he's not gonna judge you. Now go on, suck on this Daddy's tits, I wanna feel your slutty lips sucking on them"

He didn't need to be asked again, Victor was soon taking the hard nipples of the host into his mouth, sucking gently as he stroked the man's growing bulge, and then... he bit one of the nipples.

"Ouch Master!" The man shouted.

"This is for disobeying me." Victor joked. "Now tell me more about this daddy" Victor commanded still nibbling on the man's nipples.

"He was on a...uuurgghhrr... family trip with his wife and children... aarrghh... but now all he cares about is that you have fun with his sexy body" He said flexing each pec at a time. It was too much for Victor.

"Kneel, I want to cum on his chest" Victor ordered.

Echo obeyed his Master and made the hunk kneel in front of him. Victor's strokes intensified and he soon began covering the man's chest with his load, some even landed on the handsome bearded man's face.

"You haven't cum yet, when I twist both his nipples I want you to make your host shoot his load on his hands, you will catch every drop on his hands then I want to see you spread it on his hairy pecs"

"Yes Master"

After a few minutes the man walked out of the bathroom with his nipples red and his chest covered in both his and Victor's cum.

As Victor was back to look for the others, he saw one of them — A black tiny bug crawling on the floor, he tried to follow it but it was too fast. He watched as it crawled under the seat of a sleeping hunk, then he saw it crawling on the man's sholder towards his ear.

He could have stopped it, saved the man of a fate as a brainless host puppet... but he decided not to, how could he? The man was so freaking hot, and he looked even more hot as he started to shake. The man trashed his head back, displaying the veins in his thick muscular neck as his eyes rolled back.

After a few seconds the man went back to "normal" and looked at his arms like it was the first time he was seeing them.

"Wow, look at these veins, this host sure is a bodybuilder" The man said, with a strong Arabic accent.

"What do you think? Do you like my new muscles, Master?" The man then squeezed his own balls through the shorts "His balls are full, I wonder how tasty his man milk is"

Victor then knew right there which of the five bugs was: Grus, he was addicted to cum.

"I really like this host, who is him?" Victor asked taking the empty seat.

The man took a moment to respond and his eyes rolled back for a few seconds as Grus searched for the information.

"He's a bodybuilder from the middle east... a womanizer... wow, this guy really loves pussy... and he is very agressive too"

"Then I'm lucky that you control this pile of muscles now, I just now he would have killed me If I ever did this..." Victor said putting his hand inside the bodybuilder's shorts and grabbing the Arab's massive thick shaft. Victor looked around to make sure no one was looking, when he saw that no one was paying attention to them, he started to stroke the bodybuilder's thick brown cock.

The man let out a deep moan as he started to cum inside his shorts.

"Sshhhhh...Shut your host's mouth please." Victor whispered, his hand was still wrapped around the shaft as it pulsed with every shoot.

The man's muscles bulged and tensed as he tried his best not to moan. Then after his orgasm stopped, the bodybuilder sighed and looked at Victor with a dumb smirk. Victor took his hand out of the man's shorts and looked at his fingers now covered in cum.

"Lick it clean" Victor ordered. The bodybuilder gently took Victor's hand and started to lick his finger clean. "Look at me and make a slutty face while doing it"

Watching that burly manly man licking his fingers clean while looking at him with such needy eyes almost made Victor shoot his own load.

"How does he taste?"

"Fucking delicious." The man responded smirking.

Victor already found three of the bugs, now there was only two left.

He continued looking for them, until he saw a female flight attendant walking towards him. Victor was scared, had he been reported for public indecency by some passenger?

"Are you Victor Sanchez?" she asked. Victor nervously nodded.

"Come with me, please. There's someone in first class that wishes to speak with you. He says it's urgent"

Victor then followed the flight attendant to the first class, she brought him to a seat where this man with the most huge arms he had ever seen was sitting.

"Thank you darling." The man spoke to the attendant, winking at her. She smiled and walked away.

Then the man crossed his arms and fussed, giving Victor a stern look — Victor knew right then which bug was controlling that man; only Sylo was this grumpy.

"You know how boring it is to be inside that small bag for hours? We are not animals you know?" The man said, he then flexed his huge arms and looked at them with a proud look "We prefer to be inside a bag of muscles. And I know you like it as well, Master. How many times you had ordered us to pierce our way through random hunk's brains just so you could have a way with them? We are grateful that you saved us when our egg crashed on Earth, but we would also like to be treated as more than some mere pets"

Victor sighed. Sylo was right, he should stop treating his alien friends like his pets.

"I'm sorry. I will take this into consideration the next time we travel. It's really not fair for you guys to spend the whole flight inside a small sickbag"

The man's stern look softened.

"Apologies accepted, Master" the man said smirking, leaning foward and kissing Victor passionately. The man's two big strong hands grabbed at Victor's neck and he felt the man's strong wet tongue shoving inside his mouth as their tongues played with each other.

Suddendly Victor got a message from an unknow number. They both stopped their make out session, and as Victor opened the message he saw a photo of a handsome man lifting his shirt inside the airplane bathroom.

"I'm waiting for you in the bathroom, Master" Said the text.

There was only one bug left, and it was Quin.

"I have to go check on your brother Quin" Victor said to Sylo. He walked to the bathroom and knocked, the door opened almost instantly and the heartthrob inside grabbed Victor by the shirt and pulled him inside, closing the door.

"Master, I need your help! This host is so freaking horny!"

"And hot" Victor added.

"I know you would like him. He Is a football player and he was going to visit his girlfriend after two months away on a football trip. He was really looking forward to getting laid tonight."

"Well, then let's not ruin his plans, let's just change it a little. Instead of fucking his girlfriend, I want him to fuck me." Victor said pushing down the man's pants and reveiling a long and hard cock with big heavy balls.

He wanted to feel the studly hunk inside him. So he pushed the stud to the toilet seat, and positioned himself turned forwards over the man's legs, as he felt the head pressing against his entrance he started lowering himself down. The man's hands gripped his hips tightly, helping him to guide himself onto the huge member. There was a brief moment of stretching pain as Victor's body adjusted to the size of the football player, but it was quickly replaced by a wave of pleasure that coursed through him as the alien controlled stud began to thrust upwards.

Their bodies slapped together, the sounds of their passion filling the small bathroom. Victor arched his back, digging his fingers into the muscular flesh of the host's shoulders as he felt the thick cock inside him move deeper with each thrust.

The host's breath came in ragged gasps, his eyes rolled back into his head as he lost himself in the sensation of being inside Victor. Their hips moved in perfect harmony, each stroke driving the other toward climax.

He gripped the shoulders tighter as he tried to hold on to the feeling. The host's breath hitched in his throat, his face contorted in a mixture of pain and ecstasy, his hips bucked wildly.

Victor felt the familiar tightening in his gut, the telltale signs that he was close. He arched his back, pressing his ass harder against the host. As his orgasm built, he could feel the muscles in his lower belly tensing, preparing to unleash a torrent of cum. The alien followed suit, his thrusts becoming more urgent as he neared the edge. His cock throbbed inside Victor, a sign he was also close.

Victor, already worried about the moaning of the host, decided to do the same thing he did with the first host and shoved the man's own used white underwear inside his mouth.

And then Victor's orgasm crashed over him like a wave, his body shuddering with pleasure as hot cum spilled down the man's hard abs. The host cried out, his cock pulsing deep inside Victor as he came as well, his moans comming muffled.

Their bodies relaxed, their breath coming in ragged gasps as Victor collapsed against the man's chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heart beneath his ear. He traced idle patterns on the man's abs, enjoying the feeling of their skin pressed together. Their eyes met, and they shared a soft, contented smile.

With a sigh, Victor's hand reached up, gently pulling out the underwear from the man's mouth.

"You know," Victor said, his voice still rough with emotion, "we should probably get back to our seats. I want you to call his girlfriend, tell her he won't make it, her boyfriend have more important things to do now."

[stars4chratt]

Subconscious

Pairing: Matt x fem!reader

Warnings: Again, smut / use of drugs / confessing / cocky to sub!Matt / softdom!reader / high sex (i do not condone this in any way guys, just a fair warning) / praise / stoner!Matt / grinding / handjob / vanilla(ish) / mommy kink / pet names (sweetheart, princess, mommy, etc etc) / a trip (no pun) / aftercare / a lot of swearing

Summary: The reader and Matt have been the best of friends ever since they were eleven. As they got older, the more vulnerable they were to alcohol and drugs. Matt would always be by her side getting high and drunk at desolate and abandoned parks, or maybe even in Matt’s room. Matt and the reader agreed to only stick to natural stuff like weed. But now, they’re taking it up a notch by taking a round and earthy psychedelic.

Author’s Note: stoner Matt > as i’m writing this i have Matt’s recorded twitch streams playing in the back. MY BAD I KEEP ADDING THE SWEETHEART PET NAME WITH MATT I JS LOVE IT SM ESP AFTER THE BAGS TT. Anyways, this wasn’t requested or anything this is something i just really wanted to write because i love it when there's a best friend trope weaved in <3 HOPE YOU ENJOYYYY. From Maxine, with love ♡.

“Are we still friends? Can we be friends?” - ARE WE STILL FRIENDS?, TYLER THE CREATOR

╔══ஓ๑♡๑ஓ══╗

Matt has always had an obsession with spirituality and the 60s. From the posters of Jimi Hendrix on his walls, to the deluxe edition Beatles vinyl records that sit alongside the vintage record player on his hardwood dresser.

Ever since Matt’s dad bought a collection of thrifted CDs for his car when he was only a toddler, he fell in love with psychedelic rock and the whole new era of love and peace and tranquil that came around in the mid to late 20th century.

Whenever he isn’t in his cramped and maximalist abode smoking bubba kush, he’s out going to underground stores which sell abstract and kaleidoscopic clothes and fashion statements in general.

The vibrant colours and the political mindsets and the pure lack of fucks to give during the time period has Matt enamoured. Calling him a big fan would be putting it extremely lightly.

You and Matt first met in 6th grade of middle school. From what you can remember, you were sitting next to him.

He was laser focused on his assignment with big and obvious headphones clasped onto his head.

Bobbing his head slowly to the smooth and flowy melodies, you pat him on the shoulder.

He turns his head and immediately pulls the headphones to the side so one of his ears perks out.

“What music are you listenin’ to?” Matt instantly thinks you’re about to ridicule him. He, for some odd reason, has always been the victim of mockery. You never understood why, he’s such a cool and chilled out kid.

“O-oh…um…” Matt stutters nervously. He was truly unsure of what to say or do in this situation. You could feel the fight or flight trigger in his hard gaze.

“Gimme the headphones! I wanna listen.” Exclaiming with an odd sense of compassion. Matt furrows his eyebrows and looks at you funny but still gives you his headphones anyway.

You whiz the headphones around your ears and onto your head. The hallucinatory notes mixing with the light and staticky voices put you in a heavy but pleasing trance.

You feel a big smile wipe across your face clean as you look back at Matt staring at you impatiently. Silently telling you ‘give me my headphones back, you weirdo.’

“This is so cool! What’s the song called?” You speak enthusiastically, still with a big grin on your profile.

Matt’s eyes light up slightly at you. You can’t tell if it’s because he’s shocked at your interest in this type of thing or because he was alarmed by how bubbly and enthusiastic you are.

“Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds… It’s by the Beatles.” He drawls out, now looking down at the floor and fidgeting with his fingers.

“Siiiiiick. Are there any more songs like this one?” You hand him back his headphones, you start to rock in your chair in anticipation and out of looking for something to do now that you don’t have the sensory fulfilment that is Matt’s music taste.

“Oh of course. They’re a band with a bunch of other songs and albums, kid.” Matt calling you kid after almost instantaneously sparking an acquaintance with you makes you giggle to yourself. What a funny nickname for someone you just met.

“Well, can you show me them? Pretty please?” You utter with an exaggerated pout on your lips as you flutter your eyelashes at him. You intertwine your hands and rest them at the side of your face to hyperbolise the sad puppy look, making Matt chuckle lightly.

“Fine…there are many other bands like them, y’know.”

“Show me those ones too!” Yelling down his ear with eagerness, he flinches at your noisiness and covers his ear you just bellowed in.

“Ugh.” He scoffs in annoyance, whilst you’re sitting across him with the biggest twinkle in your eye.

“Yay! Thank youuuuu.” Your genuine excitement makes his face flush into a deep maroon. He turns his head around in embarrassment, trying not to maintain eye contact.

“Yeah whatever, kid.”

˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗

NINE YEARS LATER

“Wanna try it?”

What Matt has in his hands is a vacuum sealed metallic bag. You could not make out what it is but you knew for sure it was some kind of drug.

“What the fuck is it? I thought we made an agreement that we weren’t gonna do chemical shit. Y’know how I feel about that.” You scrunch your nose in both confusion and disgust. Yet you were still curious as to what Matt was holding in his hand.

“Kid, have you never heard of magic mushrooms before? Jesus, for someone who smokes a fuck ton of wedding cake, you seem to have no clue what these boomers are.”

“I do know what a fucking magic mushroom is, Matt. I just didn’t want it to be a bag of heroin or some shit like that.” Your legs cross whilst you look at him through your eyelashes. You’re genuinely hesitant since you’ve never tried a mushroom before. Yeah, you smoked weed. But this is a whole different thing. This is a literal psychedelic.

“Heroin at mass is sold in baggies or balloons, stupid.” He chortles. “As I was saying, are you gonna try it with me or nah?” He chucks the small pouch at you. 

There’s a small plastic window where you can see the muddy fungi inside. You cringe in distaste, you wonder to yourself where the fuck he got them from. Incredibly skittish, you want to back out. But curiosity and temptation is killing you at the same time.

“I don’t think I wanna try this Matt. It seems stupid.” You scoff. Matt smirks down at you and grabs the bag again.

“Don’t knock it ‘till you try it, kid. It’s just mushrooms, you’re not gonna die.” He waves the sealed bag tantalisingly around your face.

“Fine, fine whatever.” You give him the bird and suck your teeth. He chuckles like a little child at your offensive remarks. He offers you the bag again.

“Ladies first.” He remarks cunningly.

You break open the packet and receive a heavy waft of dirt. You turn your head the other way immediately as a natural reaction. The strong scent makes your face almost turn inside out in repulsion.

“You’re so dramatic.” Matt smirks. You turn back at him with a mean glare.

“You sniff it, then. ‘Cuz you’re soooo tough.” You jitter mockingly right up in his face. Dragging your hand right under his nostrils for him to get a whiff. His eyebrows knit close together and screw his eyes shut.

“Who’s dramatic now? Hm?” Your teasing rhetoric strikes one of his nerves. He immediately plunges his hand in the bag and takes the squishy piece of matter.

“Hey hey, slow down. Let me get one out.” You yell out at him in shock at his lack of hesitancy. He rolls his eyes with impatience while your shivering hand places itself into the plastic bag to pick one out.

“Oh yeah, just so y’know, this could last up to 5 hours.” Matt states super casually. Your eyebrows raise as you look back up at him. You’re not all that surprised though. What were you expecting? It's not plain jane weed, it’s mushrooms.

“I don’t give a fuck anymore, let’s just get this over with.” 

Soon after you said that, you both hastily gulped the abnormal saprophyte down. Both of your faces contort at the peculiar taste and texture.

“Eurgh… that was the worst.” You gag at the displeasure going down your throat and into your digestive system.

“Yeah, this is a one time thing for sure.” Matt affirms with a deep frown. He turns to his queen sized bed with silk sheets and plops down next to you.

“When will these hit?” You quiz him curiously. Tangling and playing with the strands of your hair out of a way to distract yourself from what you just did.

“It's the same principle as an edible, it’ll take a while to hit. So don’t take another one.” He mumbles inconspicuously since his face is half smushed into his soft mattress.

“Shall we smoke some weed while we wait?”

“No, dude. We’d literally die. Let’s not fuckin’ kill ourselves from severe psychosis tonight, yeah?” 

You smile at his stupid banter. It’s what made Matt so appealing to you. His dry humour alongside his ridiculous behaviour when you’re both stoned as shit is like taking a breath of fresh air. Knowing each other for almost ten years and you two still never get tired of each other. Constantly hanging out, doing stupid and reckless shit ever since you two were tweens. True best friends.

˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗

A while has passed, and the both of you are so far out of your heads. Every single time you turn to look at each other, the more distorted everything gets. You see things you don’t actually see, you hear things you don’t actually hear, you smell things you don’t actually smell. The tie dye-like swirls on Matt’s tapestries that hang proud on his walls disfigure and circle around putting you under a strict hypnosis.

“Holy shit…” Matt’s voice rattles through your cochleas, making your head sting from the blare. You move around to see him while your vision oversaturates and wiggles with no rhythm or control. 

“W-what is going on…” The bare echoes of your voice tingles your senses. The soft scent of Matt’s white musk incense blazing in the background fills the crevices of your nostrils and massages your brain, it was the only thing soothing you from the extremity of the situation.

“Matt…I’m scared…What the fuck is going on.” Abruptly, the effects on your voice quickly transitions into a thick static. The sensory overload inflicts the both of you. You feel incredibly overwhelmed and almost spiral into a state of panic.

“I’m here, I promise.” Matt mutters under his breath. His clammy hands take a hold of your wrist firmly. You look up at him to see his pupils viciously dilated while finding it hard to breathe.

“I’m so scared.” You shudder. Pure anxiety soaks you up but is squeezed back out when Matt moves your head to rest on his shoulder. He tilts his head so it lays on top of yours.

“It’s going to be okay, sweetheart. I promise.” Your heartbeat pounds rapidly. You don’t say or do anything both because you’re way too high as well as wanting to savour this moment since you purely assume this will never happen ever again.

Why is Matt being so soft with you? Ever since you two first met, he’s never been the type to call you these names.

“From now on. Weed n’ fuckin’ weed only.” You demand in a serious manner. Matt sighs out a laugh while he strokes your hair in reassurance. “Of course… p-princess.”

You purse your lips as a way to try and hide the excitement from Matt calling you these sudden names. A million thoughts come racing through your mind all at once. You’ve gotten both high and drunk with Matt on several occasions. Are the mushrooms that strong?

Your vision is still eradicated and infused with neon reds and pinks. You want to close your eyes but when you’re in pitch black darkness, the patterns become more prominent and it freaks you out to an extreme.

You hear Matt whisper delicately which makes your ears perk up indefinitely. You twist your neck to look up at him for his gaze to meet yours. His mouth hangs slightly open with his pupils large and his eyebags hang low across his defined cheekbones.

“l-like…you..” He sputters out. He sounds like he has no more control left in the muscles of his face any more. Jesus christ, this shit is strong. 

“...huh…” Rebound of the vowels smushed on your tongue and teeth is elevated by the effects of the drug. Both you and Matt are incredibly discombobulated. You raise yourself from underneath Matt’s figure for you to try your absolute best to attempt to understand what he just said.

Matt’s now looking up at you through the locks of hair that drape over his low and inflamed eyes.

“I really…really like you… like, ‘ver since… I-I got to know you better in 6th grade…I now have a decent excuse for why I’m telling you this... I’m fucking tripping balls.” He laughs it off as if he didn’t just confess his feelings to you off the rip right in front of you, face to face.

You just sit there gazing down at him bewildered with your mouth agape. He clenches his lips shut and frowns slightly, averting his gaze down to the bed in regret of just blurting that out.

“Matt…w-what the fuck…” Immediately after you utter this question, Matt slaps his hand over his mouth and starts to slightly curl himself up into a little ball like a shrivelled raisin. 

“I’m sorry… I’m sorry I-I ruined the experience… I thought you felt the same way and I was thinking too quickly ahead of myself I-I’m really sorry-”

You pat both of Matt’s shoulders and force his head up to look at you.

“Matt, I-It’s okay… I promise you. I-I feel the same. I know we’re both high as fuck right now, but I know for sure t-that I’m telling the truth. I really like you, Matt.”

His body loosens underneath you in reaction to your words. Your thumb rubs softly over his defined cheekbones. The frown on his face turned upside down completely into a large smile. 

Your big and swollen pupils squint down at him. His heavy breaths, his cherry pink lips resting lazily and hanging slightly open, and his frizzy  and dishevelled hair that drapes gracefully over his droopy eyes.

Everything about him, the whole sight of him makes you soaked at your core.

Your thighs clench together in desperation and you grit down onto your bottom lip intensely. The flesh of your hand is still resting on Matt’s face. You can feel the pricklyness of his stubble on your very fingertips.

The two of you just stare at each other, admiring every little thing about one another. In a comfortable but loud silence. The effects of the drug are still sharp around the edge, jabbing and stabbing both of your 5 main senses.

You feel your body start to give in and fall forward into Matt. Your forehead clashes with his. Your large breaths blend together.

Abruptly, he tilts his head up. His lips just graze against yours. You can tell he’s desperate with his eyes full to the brim with lust and eroticism. You pull away lightly with a smirk on your face whilst Matt writhes and squirms. He tries to follow your head so he can make contact with your mouth. He really wants to kiss you.

Seeing him this vulnerable makes you melt. What once was a bad-mouthing, cocky and smug little shit who smoked with you every week was now gone. He’s now tripping on mushrooms underneath you with a throbbing semi.

You manoeuvre yourself over so both of your legs are spread on top of him. You’re in a cowgirl position, with Matt. 

His prick pulses harshly beneath your heat. The only thing stopping the contact between the two of you are your clothes. Matt’s now fully hard, to the point where his dick has developed a tent in his harem pants. 

You start to sway your hips back and forth. Matt’s head flips back fully and his mouth hangs open. His Adam's apple is fully revealed and bobs up and down marginally. His hefty breathing now transitioned into hot and rowdy moans and whimpers.

“Look at me baby, look at me while I grind on your cock.” You finally spoke, after there was nothing but whines and sobs filling the air.

“Y-yes mommy…” You sigh out a sharp laugh. Knowing your arrogant friend who’s always causing a riot with alcohol and dope is now rock hard thanks to you, moaning and whining into your ear like a little bitch fills you with an overwhelming sense of fulfilment.

“Yeah that’s right, be a good boy for me. Keep calling me mommy.” You feel as though you could do anything to him right this second. You had all of the power and control over Matt. Your teeth grit together and the smirk on your face largens.

“You make me feel so good, Mommy. Y-you’re gonna make me cum…” The words come spilling out of his mouth like calm waves of the ocean. What used to be the intense sound of his voice from the drugs now turned silky smooth from the euphoria spooling out from your sensitive nerves.

You stop rocking your hips on top of his cock. Matt looks up at you with his bottom lip concealed fully inside his mouth by his teeth. 

“Take your pants off baby, lemme make you cum properly.” You command him pompously. Immediately, he speedily grasps at his waist band and tugs it down his thighs.

His cock bounces out of the loose fabric. The tip was swollen and pink with precum dripping out thickly. The rhythm of his breath matched with the harsh trembling of blood flow to his dick. 

“Jesus Christ… and I barely did anything to you, not yet anyway.” You tease. Matt’s face jams up with impatience and knuckles his hands into his vibrant sheets.

“P-please just touch me. I really wanna cum mommy.” He pleads eagerly. His eyebrows furrowed deeply into his skin and his face splashed apricot pink. His whole body shivers. Anticipating heavily for your skin to press into his.

You reach out your hand and wrap it loosely around his large and thick cock. You slither down his shaft slowly in a jesting manner. You leer up at Matt to see him gaping down at you, panting stiffly.

Your pace on his dick starts to quicken. Your fingers clench tightly around him making him jolt up into your hand.

Matt loses all control within himself and starts to thrust up and down hastily. Practically fucking your hand. You push him down with your other palm and hold him into place. You shoot him a mean stare as he gulps down what was left of his pride.

“Don’t move.” The stern tone infused in your voice makes Matt quiver. He tugs at the collar of his shirt and pulls it up his face to conceal his severe embarrassment.

What’s happening right now tells you one thing that you never would’ve thought would be the case. Matt loves being controlled. He admires the idea of being dominated. And you are contributing to that fantasy.

The pad of your index and middle finger press onto his fleshy, rosy-red tip faintly. A choked up whine crawls out of his throat and his legs rise upwards but your weight stops them.

“M-mommy… please don't stop... I’m gonna cum.”

“Do it baby. Don’t be shy. Be a good boy for mommy and cum.” You start to go faster and more harsh on his sensitive tip. Matt’s entire body shakes and his hips buck and lock into place.

“Cumming mommy, c-cumming...”

His tip suddenly spurts out long thick strings of his load. Onto your face, your hand, your clothes, your chest, everywhere. Every single time a white rope would come spilling out of his prick, an intense shiver would shoot through his body and his shirt is now crumpled into its original place.

He gasps intimately while you sit there with his seed still dripping down your face. 

Matt’s eyes suddenly widen and he raises his entire figure in a panic to grab the box of tissues on his bedside table.

“No no, don’t worry. I got it.” You disclose to him delicately. You tug out a few sheets of tissue and wipe at his skin from the waist below.

“I’m sorry for making such a mess… I didn’t think it would be that bad.” Matt utters sorrowfully. He pulls his pants back up and you grab more tissues.

He takes hold of your wrist to take the tissues from you. He places his thumb onto your chin to position you as he folds the tissues.

“It’s fine Matt, I enjoyed it. A lot, actually.” You grin compassionately as Matt swipes at your face with the tissues.

“I think that’s the first and last time we’re ever gonna do mushrooms, though.” He snickers, crumpling the dirty tissues and chucking them into the bin lying at the side of the bed.

“Yeah, one time thing.” You rest your head on his stomach, you rise and fall with his breathing.

"Can I braid your hair?" Matt casually inquires. "I have a bunch of charms and hair ties."

You beam a smile from ear to him, your face fills up with a cherry blossom pink.

"Yeah, of course Matt."

╚══ஓ๑♡๑ஓ══╝

Author’s Note No.2: I think this will most definitely have a part 2. I have no complaints with making a series, if you haven’t already noticed with me always bringing up pins n’ needles. This took me a while to write because I’ve been busy with exams and social life. But I finally completed one after 2 weeks!!! Yayyy!! ‘Till next time, pooks.

༝༚༝༚, Maxine.

Taglist: @gamermattsgf @luverboychris @worldlxvlys @chrissystur @chaosisalwayscrying @bellasfavbisexual @luvmxtt @tillies33ssss @breeloveschris

[certifiedfreec]

・❥・close - gojo satoru x f!reader (crossposted on ao3!) ・❥・

⊹ oh nooo you’re trapped in a hotel room with gojo… and there’s only one bed… ahhhhh

⊹ 18+, smut, frenemies to lovers, a ridiculous amount of banter

⊹ word count: 9.8k (i’m so normal about him lol…)

“Well fuck.”

Mouth agape, you stand tiredly beside your overly cheeky partner-in-exorcises, surveying the last available hotel suite that’s closest to your current assignment. Cramped could describe it if you’re feeling generous, as the sparse amenities make the single queen-sized bed in the center of the room look like a California King. The overblown stock photos of generic flowers hanging haphazardly above the bed are nearly mocking the otherwise drab room, and the dim lighting makes it all look more dingy than romantic given the scenario you’re in.

One bed left in this overbooked “hotel…” This has to be a fever dream.

“I call the left side!”

Said partner, Satoru Gojo, is oblivious to your inner turmoil as he languidly steps into the room with his singsong tone, surveying what little it has to offer with an otherwise calm expression. God, this guy gets on your nerves, but not for any pertinent or extravagant reason. Really, he just carries himself a little too cockily for your taste, like he’s used to people fawning over him for doing nothing. While you work well together for the most part, there’s something about his presence that just makes you-

“You can take the whole thing,” you grumble dismissively, carefully moving around him to set your backpack down on the warped work desk. You’d sooner sleep in the bathtub even if it was soaking wet, you think.

Your eyes nearly fall out of their sockets with how hard they roll when you hear him let out a feigned hum of disappointment. You can sense him studying your every move, even through that stupid blindfold thing he’s always got on.

“Bummer. You scared you’re gonna catch some cooties? I’m not contagious.” Gojo tuts playfully, shaking his black jacket off and tossing it over the back of the chair. “Guess that means more room for me!” He wastes wastes no time in flopping onto the middle of the stiff mattress with a grin, and part of you can’t help but admire- no, simply notice, you tell yourself- how his shockingly white hair and pale skin contrasts the dull, dated comforter. He’s got a white button down on, and you’re tempted to call him a bloodsucking vampire with how translucent he looks. Humming to himself, he reaches for the remote that practically shrinks in his large hands, clicking the clunky TV on and watching it take a few minutes to whir to life.

You’re unsure what to do with yourself, but you’re determined to put some space between the two of you with whatever happens. It’s unfortunate when you realize that you really might not be successful with that endeavor, given your dwarfed hotel room that could trigger any sane person’s claustrophobia. It didn’t help that this guy already took up most of the lackluster room with just his body, either. Your eyes flicker over to your work partner, who appears unnervingly okay with this turn of events. With a deep sigh, you pull out the creaky chair and slump defeatedly onto the desk. You’re careful to scoot to the edge of the chair so your back doesn’t make contact with his resting jacket, and he doesn’t miss your obvious attempt at distance. It’s known by many that he’s always been a huge fan of himself, and you’d be damned if you ever let him think you were part of that club, too.

“Hey, careful with the outerwear.” Gojo’s selectively ignoring your clear discomfort, opting to poke at you anyway because he just does that. “That’s a pricey jacket, y’know.” His face is serene as he’s clicking through the available channels and making his own little noises when each show is less intriguing than the next.

“Right… I’ll try my best,” you reply disinterestedly with a yawn. You rest your face on the cool wood- anything to mentally take yourself out of the painfully tiny space you and this massive human were expected to share for the evening. It’s been a long day of mundane yet necessary work, and apparently the real work is supposed to happen tomorrow. Being instructed last minute to change your stopping point for the day, you were left with no choice but to call around in a new area until you found an option. Gojo simply shrugged and started searching, not even slightly irritated at the change of plans. It irks you how little your colleague is bothered by, well, anything, because it has to be disingenuous at some point, right? Over time you’ve realized that with him, it truly is a brazen confidence- a kind that you decided was more dangerous than reassuring in reference to your line of work. It’s just unnatural- then again, nothing in your field is, so what’s your real issue with him? The question always leaves you befuddled at your core, and now it’s glaring in your face with the close quarters you’re sharing.

After some time spent listening to Gojo’s disjointed chuckles at whatever was playing, you take out your phone to text Shoko about your dreaded situation. This’ll be a long night, you think, grasping at straws to reason that it’s only temporary and that the smell of his spicy cologne will soon fade away from your senses. You have to say though, the scent fits him pretty well…unlike this miniature room you’re both posted up in.

Your eyes betray you when they briefly flit over again at the man lounging across the bed. It’s quite the spectacle, as the ends of his gangly legs and feet are dangling awkwardly over the edge, yet his expression is serene. The word "cute" passes through your mind and you immediately shush it by reflex, but it’s not as strong as the newfound proximity that prompts you to finally tease him in a dry tone: “Jesus, you’re taking up the whole thing and it’s still not enough.”

“Tell me about it.” He’s quick to react to your statement, and you swear you see his broad chest huff with amusement out of your peripheral. “It must be the price to pay when you’re a dreamy, charming, six foot three Jujutsu Sorcerer,” he adds in a lighthearted tone that seeks feigned sympathy. You’re not looking at him anymore, but you can guess that he’s batting the long white eyelashes that decorate his electric blue eyes. Meanwhile, you’re battling a smile.

Shoko’s not answering your SOS texts, so you actually decide to take the bait in the meantime. “You poor thing,” you coo halfheartedly, “It’s just never enough for you.” You shift, draping your arm over the back of the cheap desk chair that warps under your weight.

“You’re so right! I’m glad someone finally understands.” He points a finger at you, clearly pleased that you’re bantering along, and then he rests that same finger on his pointed chin. “Speaking of nothing ever being enough, I’m starving.” He suddenly sits up, making the bed creak with his movement. It’s apparent that his focus has shifted from the lifeless television show to you. “Who delivers around here?”

Gojo’s nonchalant behavior has the opposite effect on you- it’s disconcerting. At the same time, a very quiet part of you wants to warm up to the idea of finding it endearing. Being annoyed by him was all you knew- how could you ever change now?

The noise that escapes him is pure juvenile glee when you wordlessly open up a delivery app on your phone and sling the device over to him, which he catches with ease before scavenging through the limited number of nearby restaurants. If anything, you’ve never seen him so locked in. You hear him murmur his commentary to himself as he swipes through, picking out his order from his spot on the bed (which is basically the whole thing), and then he abruptly stands up with a matter-of-fact tone in his voice. Without watching him, you hear his steps move somewhere behind your seat.

“Hey, your girlfriend Shoko is texting you. I had no idea I was such a hot subject! Well, maybe I did.”

Oh shit. The heart that previously resided in your chest has plummeted to your stomach. You completely forgot you’d been virtually begging her for moral support when you first arrived at your shoebox of a room.

You muster all your inner strength to maintain a semblance of cool. “Is she on her way to save me?”

The grin on his face is nearly glowing as he reads your screen. “Hah, you wish. It says, and I quote, ’Sorry I’m just now seeing these! How are you and your “Honored One” doing? I promise he’s not as bad as you think he is, LOL.’”

You can feel all the blood in your body rush to your face as Gojo continues to read the message, who is doing everything to refrain from bursting into a fit of laughter. “’At least he’s not the worst looking, and you guys are gonna have to share a bed anyway. Wink emoji, wink emoji.’”

Your world comes screeching to an ugly halt. In this moment, you remind yourself to never text Shoko while you’re in the same room as him- ever again.

“Oh my god… You’re lying. Stop it!” You feel a wave of sickeningly nervous giggles threaten to rack through your body as you fly out of your rickety seat, marching over to the lanky sorcerer and swiping at him for your phone. He tsks, holding the device up from your reach with a mischievous tilt of his head, and you’re sure that you’ve never been this flushed with humiliation before. His muscled arm holds your phone up revealing the chat, and unfortunately, he wasn’t lying. And his voice? It’s smug, obnoxiously so as he taunts you. “This is so much more interesting than ordering food right now. I think I’m gonna answer her. What should I say?”

“Give it back, Satoru Gojo.” You glower up at him, silently knowing your efforts are futile due to your drastic height difference- and that goddamn Infinity ability of his that he loved to show off.

“Oooh, don’t say my full name. It really scares me,” Gojo gasps mockingly before making a show of squinting up at the screen and beginning to type with his other hand. “Let’s try this.” His fingers begin to dance across the screen. “’Shoko, I think I might be falling for Satoru Gojo, all six foot three of him. We’ve had such a romantic evening-‘"

“Jesus Christ, hand it over already!” You’re reaching your limit with tolerating his antics, body teeming in some liminal space between annoyance and mortification. You stretch up again to try and pluck the phone only to make contact with nothing. Fucking showoff. He’s still got his blindfold on, and you’re unable to see how his eyes are completely shimmering with mirth and self-satisfaction.

“Aaand, sent! I think she’ll like that. Anyway, go ahead and add your order to the cart. It’s on me- I remembered to bring the JuJutsu High credit card this time!” Gojo carries on casually like he hasn’t just done the equivalent of planting an explosive in your text messages, feeling incredibly proud of himself as he plops the phone back into your open palm. Glaring up at him and his resilient grin, you are entirely uninterested in eating any kind of food right now. He thinks it’s kind of cute how quickly your face turns ruby red.

You stare at your violated device, blinking in disbelief before looking back up at him. “You’re a real motherfucker, you know that?” You challenge, though your voice isn’t as hostile as it should be.

His large hands fly up defensively. “Whoa, who says I don’t go for daughters either?”

He’s maddening. How do his students stand him? Your free palm has never moved so fast to your face. Resolving into your clunky self-assigned seat, your butt collides firmly with cold wood. “You’re right. Who don’t you go for?” You huff.

Gojo chuckles with his whole chest as he moves to sprawl out over the miniature bed, returning to the original position he was in before he hijacked your text conversation. With blindfolded eyes focused back on the hazy television screen, his hands lock behind his head as he shrugs indifferently. “Never been a big fan of Geminis, to be honest.”

Unreal. He could talk to you in circles like this forever, and only because he knows he gets under your skin that way. You resign, eyeing your phone screen and scrolling through the restaurant he picked to order delivery from. He’s got quite the spread in the cart, complete with an elaborate dessert that could’ve wiped out your savings account.

“Clearly a fan of cheesecake though, holy shit.” The jab doesn’t come out as mean as you intend it to, and honestly, you aren’t sure how much longer you’ll be capable of treating him with this much animosity. You’re already tired, and if you were any more awake you’d realize that your work partner was slowly wearing your guard down, quip by cocky quip.

“Right again. Don’t you just love getting to know me through our intimate time together?”

Shoko is spamming you with an endless barrage of confused and shocked emojis, and you’re far too sleep-deprived to reply. Your entire body flushes at his words as they reverberate in your mind. Intimate is not the right word. No, it shouldn’t be, more like invasive. Right?

“Couldn’t be happier,” you reply curtly, mindlessly picking out whichever menu items are at the top before punching in the room number and credit card info, which was smoothly slid onto the table by Gojo without your prior notice. With your back to him, his gratification is on full display as he pretends to watch whatever crappy show is playing. Winning is his favorite thing in the world, and grating on your nerves is a close second- though really, the two coincide. Part of him wonders how much further he can blur that line.

——————————————————————————————————-

The comically large bag of food is immediately torn open by an eager Gojo the second it lands on the hotel room’s table, and he’s forking together a messy array of sides onto his plate before dragging over a lounge chair from the corner next to yours. He’s sitting far too close for your comfort, but you begrudgingly comply. It wasn’t like he was going to go away anytime soon, even though the night would be so much easier that way. As he shovels his dinner into his mouth, your mind aimlessly ventures as to how he keeps his form so trim with an appetite like that. He’s got to have a strict workout regimen somewhere, though “strict” is a word not often associated with him-

“Hey, your food’s gonna get cold if you keep staring like that.”

Your eyes widen in record time. It’s a hideous realization that you’ve zoned out on watching the renowned sorcerer-turned-temporary-roommate inhale his overpriced dinner, all from being overcome with either exhaustion or acceptance of your cramped situation. At this point, it’s maybe a little of both.

“Sorry,” you mumble, not even caring to articulate a more acidic response. It seems you’re beginning to neutralize into Gojo’s presence, and he mentally takes note of your changing chemistry with him as you quietly stab at your steak bites.

He’s got the perfect opportunity to coo something vain back, like “Don’t apologize, I’d stare too if it were me,” but he doesn’t. He simply keeps eating, sparing you with a less than uncomfortable silence. It’s never been the worst thing between you two given your extensive work history, and you feel yourself soften slightly when the bland hotel room’s air isn’t filled with his assumptive commentary for once. As your plates both get emptier, he feels this sudden need to hold your attention, as you’re less likely to be as combative as you’ve been before. You’re... not so set on hating him.

“You tired?”

Gojo’s two-worded inquiry jars you, almost to the point of choking on your bread. It's something genuine. He closes up one of the empty to-go boxes and shoves it into the takeout bag before pulling out the monstrosity that is his slice of cheesecake. For some reason your heart stammers at how refreshing the possibility of a real conversation with him could actually be.

You’ve got the perfect opportunity to snap something defensive back, like “Yeah, of you,” but you don’t. His shiny eyes shift under the fabric of his blindfold to you, almost prompting you to answer.

“…Yeah, I must be making it pretty obvious,” you say, unintentionally yawning and proving his point. If you were any more relaxed with him, he would’ve told you how cute you looked doing that. You secure your leftovers and start to chuck them into the bag before a large hand suddenly stops you with a “gimme” motion.

“Judging by how easily you’re willing to waste that perfectly good food…it’s not hard to tell,” he prods at you with a grin that you would’ve unnerved you earlier, but at this hour it’s a little more welcoming. Is that a snicker that comes out of you? You hand over the half-eaten order of steak bites to his jubilation, and he’s already popping open the lid to pick one up with his fingers.

Curse your brain in its exhausted state, because it’s nearly hypnotized by his digits. They’re long, dextile, confident somehow. They’re slender and defined, yet capable of serious damage- this you know all too well, and that excites you more than it should. The slice of meat dwarfs in his hold, its shiny reddish myoglobin starting to trickle down his hand and wrist, and it decorates his fine veins and tendons there with its sheen…

No, there’s no way you’re jealous of a piece of meat right now. Did you seriously feel a flutter somewhere that you shouldn’t? Satoru Gojo is literally eating your leftovers with his bare, grubby hands, and you’ve made the fatal error of finding it attractive. Yeah, you’re definitely sleeping in the bathtub tonight before your conflicted mind wanders any further.

He munches on the remainder of your dinner before finally digging into the cheesecake, and you feel blessed for the distraction from your shifting thoughts when you two chat about the mission at hand tomorrow. Is he worried about the curses you’ll be dealing with? No, of course not. According to him, he’s only worried about messing up his hair. Oh, and that expensive jacket you were careful not to touch earlier. With that all that added up, maybe he is nervous about it.

When the conversation dies down, the only sound in the unimpressive hotel room is the game show now playing on the practically vintage television. You quietly scroll your phone while your colleague digs into the soft dessert, stopping suddenly to stick his fork out to you.

“Want a bite? And before you say no, I already told you my cooties aren’t contagious.”

Is this real kindness? You whip your head to face him, studying the glob of caramel-drizzled sweetness, and he’s waving the fork around like a magic wand complete with some convincing “whoosh” sound effects. It’s even more comical with the way he fills his seat, almost like he’s sitting in a doll’s chair. The sight beside you makes you stifle a laugh, and in that moment you realize something: while he constantly irritates you, Satoru Gojo is the brightest, liveliest thing in that damn room. It’s not saying much given the plain wallpaper, dull sheets, and dusty furniture, but it all amounts to him looking pretty good despite your surroundings. If you weren’t sober right now, you’d admit that he looks pretty good just about anywhere. He’s so unfitting, literally, in the drab, cramped space that you almost want to let that very laugh out.

“Eh…I don’t believe you, but even if they weren’t... I couldn’t avoid them in this room anyway,” you joke sleepily, reaching for the fork and pushing the bite of cheesecake past your lips. He’s sitting pretty close, near enough that his spicy cologne still dances in your senses, but if he were any closer you’d swear you could spot him watching how your lips attached so tightly around the plastic silverware. You’re trying desperately to avoid the fact that sharing the fork was like indirectly kissing him, because if you think about it long enough it’ll make you blush all over again. So much for keeping a distance between you two.

You realize something else: he might’ve had a point with his dessert selection. “That is pretty good,” you commentate, handing him back the fork. There’s almost a soft expression on his blindfolded face when he wordlessly pushes the rest of the heaping slice between the two of you, as if the sugary dessert could substitute for a peace treaty. This is how all truces should go, you silently decide.

“Here, have some more in case you die tomorrow,” Gojo tuts with a grin, knowing fully well that you’d be perfectly fine during your assignment the next day. He loves to poke at you, but he can also recognize all the hard work you do. Hell, putting up with him was a full-time job, he could admit.

Your mouth flies open to let out a lighthearted “You asshole,” and you reflexively move to smack his shoulder. You’re even more shocked when your palm actually makes contact with the muscle there..as is he.

Gojo had turned his Infinity off. He must’ve gotten so caught up in wanting to break down your guard this evening that he neglected to remember his own.

“No way, I actually landed a hit on the Satoru Gojo,” you beam. Triumphantly taking another bite of the cheesecake, you feel his gaze train on you. His face-chiseled, you have to say- is conveying something unidentifiable. There’s some surprise and some amusement, but there’s another emotion lingering in the slight rise of his light eyebrows and his relaxed jaw. Something deeper, almost longing. It honestly concerns you for a moment, but he’s quick to recover by slumping backward over the chair, clutching a hand where yours landed just seconds before.

“Abuse! How dare you!” He declares, gripping his shoulder in the throes of his dramatics. “Yaga will be hearing about this. I’m reporting you to the higher-ups!”

“Don’t even. I’ll tell them you sabotaged my technology then,” you counter, waving your phone. “Oh, and that you misused company funds.” You point accusingly at the heap of cheesecake between you both. “And then we’ll both get fired.”

His fists hit the table as he falls forward dramatically. “Ugh…But then we’d end up living here,” he sighs woefully, “and that would be the worst part of all.”

You openly crack up at his refreshing honesty, finally recognizing this room for the shithole that it is, and you feel a newfound warmth spread throughout your chest. “Hmmm… But then we could keep ordering this cheesecake.” Maybe you like bantering with him, you decide.

Gojo chuckles as he stands up from his seat, dragging it back to where it resided in the corner and going along with your bit. “Not if we can’t ‘misuse our funds,’ you tattletale. We better start thinking of a side hustle to keep our lifestyle going.”

There’s a certain weight to “we”s and “our”s that make your heart palpitate just the slightest. It’s like a promise of a future together, a future beyond the uninspiring walls you were forced to rest in tonight. Still in your fit of tired giggles, you close up the remainder of the dessert before sticking it in the hotel room’s loud, antiquated mini fridge. The change of pace between you both is almost freeing, allowing you to consider the idea of actually sleeping somewhat soundly tonight.

“Well, you ponder on that. I’m gonna get ready for bed.” You’re quick to tuck into the bathroom as your laughter dies down, taking your bag with you to switch into the pajamas you packed. All the while, you’re secretly wondering what the sleeping situation is going to look like. You know you’re desperate for rest and given how the evening between you two has warmed a little, the idea of sharing the tiny bed with Gojo is…less than awful to you now. You step out, only to gasp when said man is right outside the door. He’s leaning against the frame with his own bag slung over his shoulder, grinning wickedly and looking all too smug

“My turn, princess. Coming through!”

The novel nickname flutters through your system as he squeezes past you, closing the door in your face with another low chuckle. God, he’s an idiot, you think with a smile, opting to perch in the seat he used for dinner until he returns to the room.

You’re playing a mindless game on your phone when you hear the bathroom door squeak closed, and Gojo plops back into the stiff bed. There’s no shirt on his sculpted body, only a baggy pair of black pajama pants whose waistband barely kisses his narrow hips. Humbled is an understatement when you try not to ogle at the sorcerer before you, whose murder you were secretly plotting just hours before. The skin on your face is akin to the Sun’s surface as you summon every ounce of will not to stare, but his Six Eyes promptly detects the sheepish change in your demeanor.

“So, you sharing this thing with me or what?” He looks over at you in the chair as he stretches over the traverse of the mattress, head propped on one hand while the other toys with his blindfold. “Since you don’t seem to care about my cooties anymore.” The repeated movement of those long, deft fingers looping around the fabric is enough to conjure a flashback to him eating those damn steak bites, and you feel hot all over again. It shouldn’t be suggestive, it really shouldn’t, but the way he’s talking makes it seem like he wants you beside him.

You rest your chin in your hand as you reply with a frown, pretending to think, “Hmmm. That’s gonna be a tight fit.” He snorts in response, something devious but expected on the tip of his tongue, and you realize it as soon as you answer. “Don’t even say it, Gojo.”

He feigns surprise, scooting over and patting the pillow beside him. “Pffft. When have I been known to say anything out of pocket?” He can’t deny the thought of fitting tightly somewhere else, his aqua eyes flashing with a desire he’s never allowed himself to feel for a long time. “Listen princess, you’ve only got two choices for tonight, so pick wisely. There’s somewhere tight-“ he pats the pillow again, -“or somewhere wet.” The thumb previously tugging on the fabric around his eyes jabs toward the bathroom door.

There’s that nickname again. “How erotic,” you snicker, wordlessly complying and letting your exhaustion guide the way to the empty side of the bed. It’s not a ton of space, but you’ll do your best to make it work. Carefully, you slide in to avoid touching him, realizing just how difficult that task is going to be in your limited amount of territory. Should you make a pillow border between you two? No, because then that would take up even more precious space. Maybe if you bunched up some of your blanket-

“Alright! Wait till Shoko hears about this!”

Gojo visibly approves of your choice as he watches you timidly sidle in next to him, wearing that stupidly eager grin on his face and whooping like a sports game attendee. Shooting him a playful glare and an “Oh, enough with you, Six Eyes,” you feel the cool sheets hit your skin, and your body erupts in goosebumps through your thin-ish shirt and shorts. You quickly face the opposite way as him, but not before stealing another glance at his ridiculously toned chest and stomach as he reaches to turn the bedside lamp off. God, he smells so good, like minty toothpaste and his cologne. Darkness abruptly envelops you as your heart pounds, and you have a horrible thought: Who said I wouldn’t be wet sleeping here?

You hear Gojo release a barely audible sigh, almost as if he’s tentative to fall asleep beside you too. He’s not sure who to trust less, you or himself, but he hides his apprehension with a couple more quips as you settle into the compact mattress.

“You have any idea how many people would pay to be where you are right now? You are so lucky.”

He could talk in circles with you again for hours if it meant prolonging the inevitable vulnerability that is unconsciousness beside another person- though a deeper part of him reasons there’s nothing to worry about. Maybe there are other things you could do instead of talk, he thinks, doing little to shake the idea away. It’s kind of nice, way more than nice, the image of you all spread out below him-

The eye roll you respond with is felt by him but not seen in the lightless room. Clouded by an atypical hunger and pure fatigue, you murmur back, “Don’t worry, I tip well,” and a smug smile forms on your face. It’s kind of fun getting to poke back at him. That’s all it is, right? Harmless banter. Gojo senses your intentions on a level unbeknownst to you, though- and he’s not entirely upset at them.

“Listen to you! That was smooth. I just might give you a discount for that.” You hear the sheets rustle beside you, and you slowly turn. He’s fully facing you, boyishly propping his head up on his fist with his near-glowing eyes now exposed. You notice that his blindfold has now been placed neatly on the outdated nightstand. He’s keenly tuned in on you, finding your pajamas a little too cute for a pre-mission night of sleep. It’s clearly getting more difficult for him to deny how entertained he is by the sight of you all snuggled in on your diminutive side of the crappy hotel bed.

You pretend to cover your eyes after seeing his finally revealed to you, feeling thoroughly proud of yourself for matching his energy now. “Put those LEDs away, good lord,” you joke, allowing yourself to let out a sleepy laugh as you pull up the covers to give your bumpy skin some salvation. His intentful gaze is already doing plenty to send heat throughout your limbs though, and the act of grabbing the blanket is an effort in vain. As your eyelids flutter with the weight of tiredness, you understand just how close you two are in the moment. Mentally, you were so much farther away earlier in the evening than you are now- and it takes a second for you to process that you actually like the change.

Gojo laughs softly, and you can hear the late hour begin to seep into his tone. It grows more throaty, lower than before, and it’s entirely too pleasant. Part of you wonders if he’d consider the proposition of reading you a bedtime story. There’s a lingering tension in the air, nearly tangible, and it shifts when you note how his eyes flicker all over your face. Eyes, lips, back to eyes, back to lips.

“Maybe I wanna look at you a little longer. Are you gonna report me to the higher-ups for that, too?” Gojo bats his icy white lashes, his oaky scent further settling into the sheets. The only light in the shoddy room comes from his vibrant irises, and they’re spotlighting on you with piqued interest. The light has always come from him, and it’s an epiphany that has you scooting an inch closer.

“If those things blind me, I will.” You exhale through your nose, partially wishing you could reach out to the heat that radiates off his halfway bare body.

He blinks, and you swear the room flashes dark again for that split second. “Well, y’know, that might be a good thing,” he tries to reason lightheartedly, in a volume just above a whisper. “You wouldn’t have to look at this ugly room anymore.” You watch his hand- the same one you nearly salivated over earlier- land in the limited space between you two, almost as if it wants to cross that border. It takes the most willpower you’ve ever needed not to stare at it, feeling your face flush with a sick anticipation. “I’d be saving you.” Maybe it’s what he’s always wanted to do all along, you both think, and it encourages you to be just as coy back.

In this moment, you feel bold enough to say something you thought would never leave your mouth: “But then I wouldn’t get to look at all six foot three of you.” You pout sarcastically, and Gojo gets the urge to kiss it right off your face. His grin is proud; it’s everything he never knew he wanted to hear.

Your teasing is like a silent permission for his hand to move closer to you, and your entire body stills when you feel it land gently on your lower thigh to play with the frilled hem of your shorts. Must be a pattern of his, you realize. He chuckles, and the sound is so low that you can practically feel it.

“Hmm… You’re right. Again.” Your work partner’s head tilts down slightly at you, and his expression is overcome with what can only be described as relief. “Guess I need to save you some other way.” He notices the goosebumps adorning your figure, and suddenly you’re pressed up against his broad chest. God, he’s so warm, you don’t even realize the way you’re curling right up into him. Somehow, despite your height difference, you fit perfectly along his lanky frame.

“Better?”

You are tired, fatigued beyond belief, but you’d be stupid not to stay awake to experience Satoru Gojo letting his guard down for you. Perhaps this dismal hotel room was a test of will for you two, and while you’re not entirely sure what denotes passing or failing, you do know one thing: Satoru Gojo is unbelievably comfortable to cuddle with.

Still…you wonder what would unfold if you pushed further.

“Hmmm… still not warm enough.” The words leave you before you can tame them, and the unspoken invitation behind them makes his eyebrows raise. The hand playing with the fabric of your shorts squeezes into your skin just the slightest, prompting you to look up at him where you see no reserves on his handsome (God, it’s good to admit that) face. His soft pink lips hover inches from your own, drawing closer like magnets.

“Really.” You feel a thumb rub slow circles along your outer thigh. “I can fix that for you, yeah?” His words shoot straight to your core as his head ducks a little lower, just breaths away from yours.

Well, you’re definitely not tired anymore.

“If you’re still offering that discount…” you breathe out. A rush of smugness allows you to bring your hands to his toned chest, traveling up to trace his defined collarbone. His skin is soft, almost velvety, most likely from years of keeping his perimeter so trained to avoid any unnecessary contact, and the act of smoothing your fingers over it becomes soothing.

Gojo’s lopsided grin conveys the desire he’s suppressed for so long, seemingly caught up in this new dynamic with you. “Nah, we’ll put it on the credit card,” he finally laughs before confidently pressing his lips to yours.

He is an entirely new taste, and you’re not able to reference his movements to anything or anyone; it’s another level of tact and precision. Did he plan this? His kisses are the perfect mix of messy and firm, and it’s clear he’s doing all but holding back. Something unlocks as he goes through the motions, maybe the realization of the snapped tension or maybe the feeling of you kissing back just as passionately, and his mouth soon scatters everywhere from your lips to your jaw to your neck in a flurry of teeth and tongue. He’s somehow magically in tune with your most sensitive areas of the exposed skin as his lips wander, leaving you to grab his firm bicep and cling as if he’s grounding you to the earth. The details of the dingy hotel room are completely abandoned as you feel your senses envelop, finally, with all that is Satoru Gojo, and there was truly no beauty greater than that.

Chest heaving, you almost let out a laugh at how rapidly the night has shifted. His well-trained hands travel, one squeezing the tissue of your breast over your thin shirt while the other dances just below the leg of your shorts. With all walls down, it’s pointless to hide the effect his touch has on you. If his hand moved any higher, he’d discover how wet you were- part of you dreaded how inflated his ego would become after that, but the other, hungrier part of you needed him to do it.

“Anyone ever told you-“ Gojo breathes out between his attack, brushing a thumb over your hardened nipple, “how pretty you are?” He is all too focused on drinking in your features, finding your weakest and favorite points. Your back arches ridiculously easily into his touch as you struggle to find the words to answer him.

“N-no one else that’s mattered.”

You’re sure his ego will balloon rapidly upon that little admission, but you partly didn’t care- not when he was capable of making you feel so unbelievably good.

He’s rightfully amused at how blatant your desire is now. “Oh? So I do matter to you then.” His other hand roams up your thigh, threatening to reach where you wanted it most. You snicker before a shudder erupts from you when a long, hot stripe is licked down your neck and over your shoulder, and it’s all you need to swing your leg over his, straddling him on the stiff, narrow mattress. The flex of his abs as he sits up to accommodate you is nothing short of poetic, and you find more prose in the clouded, desperate fog of his azure eyes when he watches you with curiosity. He immediately rests his grip on your waist, pressing you down gently onto what can only be described as a monster underneath his sweats. You understand now why he carries himself the way that he does: He’s fucking huge.

You push your chest against his, unable to stop the twitch of your hips when you feel Gojo’s hardness brush against your heat. The wetness of your arousal is sure to be felt through the fabric, and he’d be silly to halt your admittedly cute display of attempts in chasing just an ounce of pleasure. Your flushed face, furrowed eyebrows, small noises, it’s motion picture to him. However, he selfishly wants to be that pleasure for you, and he’s quick to slide a hand down your body to cup your pussy through your pajamas.

Your jaw goes slack as Gojo’s hand makes contact with your most sensitive area over your shorts, and the circles he rubs help him collect some of the condensation from the fabric. It feels good, but not good enough, and you can’t help but huff at the restricted movement. He is all too cocky when his hand pulls away, eyeing it with an intense mirth.

“Damn, waterworks, you always get this wet?” He’s half-amazed and half-amused as he studies his glistening fingers, his other hand gripping at your ass. “That’s so hot.”

“Shut up, Satoru.” You smack his bare shoulder before burying your face into it, feeling your cheeks turn crimson. He chuckles, finding you adorable when you’re embarrassed yet hating that you feel that way. He knows just how to help you get over that, and he starts by slowly sliding his body down, holding your thighs spread as he maneuvers his head onto the flat-ish pillow. You glare down confusedly at him in his newfound position, only to meet with eager cerulean eyes that are practically begging to pull you closer.

“Fine then, I’ve got other stuff I wanna do with my mouth anyway,” you hear him murmur from between your thighs, and his hand brushes over your clothed, throbbing cunt again. “Now sit, princess.”

“Huh? No, you won’t be able to breathe, I can’t.” Your head shakes vigorously in disapproval. Not that you didn’t want them there, but there was no way… you’d probably end up suffocating the guy, and while you had a more murderous urge to do that earlier this evening you’d much rather-

“Fine with me, now lemme taste you,” Gojo insists with almost a whine in his tone, not letting you respond before pulling the soaked crotch of your shorts to the side and licking a long, forceful line from your hole to your clit. You moan when he does it again, and again, feeling your knees weaken to finally sink yourself onto his mouth. The groan that vibrates against your nerve endings makes you look down, only to see his frosty white lashes flutter as you fill his senses. This was well worth the hours of wearing down your resolve this evening.

His movements become frantic, desperate to experience you now that he’s let his guard down this long with no dire consequences. You feel his tongue lap at your sensitive clit, and his lips kiss in your heat so loudly and wetly that it sounds like a porn scene. Your hands fly to his ivory hair, gripping till his scalp stings. This makes him groan again, and you can barely control the way your hips start to rock along his mouth.

Gojo breaks away for a split second, tongue dragging along your inner thigh with his cock nearly in pain because of he’s got you where he wants you. “Just like that, baby, ride my face,” he huffs quickly before returning to flattening his tongue along your clit. You feel him squeeze the cheeks of your ass, forcing you onto the hot muscle and encouraging you to continue.

He seems to be breathing just fine, you realize- which of course he is, he’s Satoru fucking Gojo- he could handle just about anything. It gives you the confidence to rut your hips forward, moaning louder when his lips wrap around your overstimulated nerve and suck hard. You earn a playful smack on your ass when his name slips out of your mouth, and the stinging sends you further into your frenzy for pleasure as you start to build up a pace. It’s addicting, really, the way he’s lapping and sucking at your aching cunt like it’s his favorite dessert, and you’re suddenly thankful that he has the appetite that he does. He breaks away for a second to spit into your heat, spreading your slick folds wide with those deft fingers of his, and that only has you rocking harder along his mouth when he reattaches himself. To him, you are so much better than any sweet he’s had.

You don’t even realize you’re doing it, but you’re tugging Gojo’s snowy tresses in shallow efforts to further bury his face in your cunt as you ride it, and he’s all too happy that you’re using him in this way. As his tongue prods up into your tight entrance, he feels his cock throb again at the prospect of how it would feel inside of you. He groans at the thought, and you feel it all the way up in your ribcage. He’s already picked up on the fact that you’re close, judging by how your frantic movements have sped up and the way you’re babbling incoherent praises that only make him ache more.

“Fuck, Satoru, feels so- good- please…”

When Gojo lets out a little laugh at that, you feel your slick dribble messily down your thighs. That hot, blinding pressure grows stronger under your navel when you grind harder on his tongue, threatening to spill over when he starts to flick it along your clit to match your pace. It all feels so deliciously good that you pay no mind to his nails digging into your flesh, his own way of ensuring he’s leaving a mark- as if he hasn’t decorated your neck in shades of blotchy fuchsia already.

“I’m-so-close….”

He gives your ass another smack with your breathy cry, looking up at you with eyes that nearly beam. You look down while your hips continue to drag along his tongue, finding him just so damn pretty while he’s eating you so good, and you ease your fingers in his hair. That impending sensation grows stronger, and he quickly parts from your lips to murmur confidently:

“I know, princess, I got you. Lemme have it.”

His choice of words and the way he immediately goes back to lapping at your heat are both more than enough to have you coming apart around his tongue in mere seconds. There is nothing in your mind’s eye but Gojo as your high overtakes you, fizzling through your being and prompting you to cry out his name as if it’s a chant. He soaks it all in, helping you ride out your release before slowing to kiss his way back up your body. You’ve never come that hard- and somehow, he senses this too. Your legs feel like jelly when he’s finally face-to-face with you, and his is glistening with your arousal. If he wasn’t desperate to be inside of you right now he could do that for hours, he thinks.

You lean in, capturing your lips with Gojo’s and wrapping your arms around his neck to kiss him deeply. Your own taste on your lips does little to dissuade you from him, and for the next few moments, you both feverishly rip off whatever clothing is still unfortunately on your bodies. He, as gracefully as he can given the annoyingly small hotel bed, maneuvers you onto the pillow so you’re lying on your back, and you feel his heavy cock hit your stomach. He pauses for a second to study your features, finding that every inch of you is worth burning to memory. You’re stunning like this, all sticky and flushed and needy, and it’s all because of his efforts. He’s only more gratified when your mouth flies open at his impressive size.

“You're kidding. That's not gonna fit,” You sputter, still in your post-orgasm daze, but you feel your hole clench around nothing when you notice the filmy drops of pre beading around his thick tip.

His laugh is genuine, almost melodic as he pumps himself a few times. “Such a downer. We’ll make it fit, ‘kay?” Gojo promises with a goofy grin, letting his hand wander along your bare nipples and stomach before eventually revisiting your now sore cunt. You hiss in delight when he slides one of his long fingers in, and your legs spread automatically at the intrusion. Even in the most cramped bed ever, you’d realize you’d make room for him anywhere. You reach out, dragging your hand along his chiseled stomach, nearly in awe at how firm the muscles are there. He’s like if art was living, breathing, unrestricted from a canvas or frame.

Your hand slides further, silently encouraging his own to move so you can take over stroking his hardened cock as his finger curls along your hot walls. You moan quietly, watching his breath hitch in his broad chest- he’s not sure whether to watch your face or your movements, and there’s an eagerness within him that amplifies when he sees how tightly you’re sucking in just a digit of his. His hips jut forward slightly when your thumb brushes his sensitive tip, and he finally decides to look into your eyes. You stare back, wanting to say so much about how his are the perfect shade of blue.

“Y’know why I harass you so much?” He asks in a tone that reaches a new level of softness for him, and you entertain his question as he slowly introduces a second finger. The stretch is delicious, though you think it’s doing little to prep for the monstrosity that awaits you.

“‘Cause you’re Satoru Gojo?” You reply before letting out a hiss at a particularly sensitive spot he hits within you.

He snorts. “Well, yeah, and ‘cause I think you’re pretty. Inside and out. Gorgeous, actually.”

You blush a little at how he turns a silly banter into a very real confession, and you watch his eyelids flutter again. Actually, you feel kind of bad for being so lighthearted while he was being serious- that was his thing, anyway. Times like these were what made his bluntness endearing, and he continues, beginning to align his length with your dripping entrance after slowly removing his fingers.

“So, lemme prove it.”

Feeling all kinds of giddy you nod, angling your thighs so his hips can fit between them. His spongy tip drags through your slick folds, and it’s the most you’ve ever felt another person focus so directly on you. You look up at him, bringing your hands up his stomach and to his defined shoulders as his tip sinks into you just the slightest.

“Well, you’re pretty too, like otherworldly handsome,” you admit back with a timid smile, clearly trying to regain your breath. “Just couldn’t tell you ‘cause you were too busy harassing me.” You exhale when he submerges himself a little more, and he smiles back with his pearly white teeth. “You’re fucking huge, too… oh my god…” you add, moaning a little at how his cock feels nothing like his fingers. You hate to admit it, but it’s clear he’s set to wreck you.

“Naturally.” He’s using every ounce of strength to control himself from pounding into you, responding to your praise and your criticism all at once. Gojo slowly and gently pushes in until his hips are flush with yours, and it feels as if he’s tearing you from the inside. Your face is scrunched at the intrusion, and he has to cover his own mouth to stop a moan at how tight you feel. There’s no other convincing needed by him that your pussy was practically made for him, he thinks, and he studies your features for any indication of stopping.

“Look at you,” he coos, nearly mesmerized by how your cunt has already swallowed him whole. His hand slides down his face to tweak at one of your hardened nipples. “And you said I wouldn’t fit. Takin’ it like a pro, princess.” His lighthearted motivation makes you snicker a little, and it eases some of the stinging from the stretch he’s causing. He gives you a few shallow thrusts, and his eyes practically roll to the back of his head when your hot walls grip around him. It takes a few moments for you to adjust to his size, and when finally you do, you give him the silent go-ahead by softening your expression. His grin could blind a room full of people when he thrusts deeper, not only reaching that same sensitive spot but finding another, and it makes your head loll back to the pillow.

That reminds him. He pauses for a second to slide one of the cheap hotel pillows under your tailbone, and suddenly his cock feels like it’s colliding with your guts when he continues his movements. Your mouth couldn’t fall any more open as he starts to establish a pace, filling you so masterfully yet harshly with every stroke.

“Sa-to-ru…” you pant, digging your nails into Gojo’s sculpted back, and this only motivates him more. You have a realization that could either be horrible or amazing: How could you ever fuck anyone else again? Again and again he’s thrusting into that magical spot till the sounds of your wetness fill the otherwise lackluster room, spoiling you for any other and reassuring you that yes, he really is the strongest. Part of him knows how skilled he is, and he has to refrain from laughing- no one would ever be enough once he was done with you. Then again, he never wants to be done with you.

You feel his tactful hands roam your body aimlessly, a visible sign of his enrapture with how you receive him. He wants to focus on watching his cock slam into your cunt over and over, but he also wants to watch your face as you writhe and cry out his name- he’s clearly conflicted.

The little breathy noises slipping out of him aren’t helping your cause, and the way he abruptly throws one of your legs over his broad shoulder doesn’t either. He’s now rutting into your tight heat relentlessly, a stark contrast from how delicately he’s kissing up the thigh that’s pressed into his chest.

“Your pussy is...perfect,” you hear Gojo groan, drawing the words out, and his kisses along your thigh become animalistic as they turn into bites. You whimper, back arching with all the sensations filling your system, and that heady feeling in your tummy begins to strengthen again. “Wanna-fuck you- forever…”

“Please,” you agree as your ability to form sentences leaves you. “Don’t ever- stop…”

In a perfect world, he wouldn’t. As one hand holds your thigh to his chest and the other travels to your overstimulated clit, his shiny blue eyes watch your contorting face, smiling proudly when you moan at how his fingers rub tight circles along your nerves. He can feel his release approaching alongside yours, and your slick walls flutter around his cock as he pummels into you.

“Want another one, princess,” Gojo pants, making your skin smack against his as your orgasm builds up in your tummy. “Go on, come on- my cock…”

His wish is your command. You quickly lean forward, mashing your lips with his when the pleasure fizzles out of you all over again. You feel the tips of your toes burn at how powerfully your release hits you, wracking your body with an almost overwhelming amount of pleasure. You’re reduced to a heaving, shaking mess, convulsing around his length and left only able to babble his name against his mouth in your state of bliss. His hand cradles the back of your head as he fucks you through the aftershock and kisses you roughly, only to follow close behind just moments later. His movements falter before your name falls from his lips, and his hips stutter as you feel yourself start to fill with his thick seed.

Holy shit. Who would’ve guessed that this was how your evening would turn out? Just mere hours ago you wanted to claw at his throat, and instead you clawed at his back because of how good he was dicking you down. Your mind swims as Gojo slowly withdraws, slipping out of your sore cunt to collapse beside you in what little space the hotel bed offered. He’s even gorgeous like this, maybe more than ever actually. You’re observing how his ivory hair sticks to his forehead and his back glistens with the thinnest layer of sweat from his efforts, the muscles there decorated with thin red indents from your nails. It’s a sight worth recreating an infinite number of times.

Not having him envelop all your senses anymore forces you back into reality, where a mission lies just hours ahead of you and your shared hotel room isn’t any prettier. And unbelievably, those things don’t even matter anymore. All you can perceive and recognize in your afterglow is Satoru Gojo, who is already regaining his breath while you lie there like a fucked-out mess. Beautiful.

Gojo turns to face you, watching your chest rise and fall as you regulate yourself, and his delighted grin is all too perfect for someone who just obliterated you.

“So…you warm enough now?”

Your sticky body shifts to face him, vibrating with laughter as you answer “For now, yes…” and your head hits the pillow exhaustedly. That’s right- you were already tired before this “development” even happened.

His whole being is pure elation as he languidly drapes an arm over your bare figure. “Does that mean we get to do that again? I think she really likes me.” His hand brushes over your abused cunt, and your body flares at his touch yet again. It was a sick epiphany that he could destroy you and you’d still want more.

You snicker. “Yes, but she is super sore right now.” The sleepiness from earlier seeps into your brain, and you find yourself curling back into his lanky frame. He accepts you openly, resting a hand on your ass as he scoops you closer.

“I can kiss her better,” he pipes up quietly, already thinking of all the ways he could keep touching you. Even though you feel that droning buzz of want again, you tiredly shake your head, regretfully reminding him “Noooo, we’ve gotta get up in a few hours. Maybe after our mission.” You swear his eyes desaturate a shade before he sighs.

“Yeah yeah yeah. You’re gonna be tired and sore anyway.”

“Oh, and you’re not?”

“Nah.” Gojo moves to press a fresh batch of kisses all over your neck, and you shudder. He did have a point- you were already planning on shotgunning whatever energy drinks were in the dingy hotel lobby’s vending machine in the morning, as if they even had one. “I could go all night if you wanted, princess. Give you more of my cooties.”

You laugh freely, realizing he probably wasn’t exaggerating. It’s quite the offer from the one who just wrecked you so good- and you’d be silly to refuse despite your tiredness. You feeling your limbs tangle into each other’s, returning thoughts of the hazardous hotel drifting away once more, and your arousal slowly revisits you. What an incredible way to forget about your surroundings. You tug playfully on his icy tresses, you decide that this might be your new favorite kind of exhaustion. “As long as you don’t share your cooties with anyone else.”

Snickering, Gojo keenly zeroes on spreading your aching legs so he can see the aftermath from earlier, and he’s hardening again at the sight of his thick cum barely trickling out onto your thighs. With a mischievous smile, he assures you, “Never. This is just too pretty. Plus, you said you were gonna tip well.”

His hands trace you, and there’s not a more discernible indicator of your new bond with him than when you look down at his length, answering him in a familiarly cheeky tone, “Well, you already did.” He laughs, the warmest he's ever allowed himself, and it's certain he's keeping his promise.

Turns out, Shoko was right about him.

[rogueddie]

Runner / End Of Beginning

Steve has never seen his father as upset, as furious, as he was when he got home with his final exam results. He'd known- suspected- that his father would flip when his results came in...

His father got angry at small things. Hearing that he'd had a party while they were away, that a girl went missing at that party, had been the closest Steve thought he'd ever get to recieving a beating.

But when he came home with his grades... when his father realized that his son, his supposed prodigy, barely passed...

Steve has never ran as fast as he currently is.

As soon as he'd seen an openning, a clear line to the door, he'd stumbled to his feet and bolted. He'd picked a random direction and ran. He isn't going to stop running until he physically has to stop, knowing that his father is most likely in his car, trying to find him.

He can't stop. He has to keep running.

Eventually, he has to pause. He has to catch his breath.

He leans against a trailer, panting. He prays that no one thinks to look outside and spot him. He prays that no one will-

"Harrington?"

"Fuck." He hisses, squinting up at- "Munson?"

"What the fuck happened to you?" He says, eyes widenning when he finally gets a look at his face. "Second round with Hargrove, or what?"

"Nothing happened, I'm fine."

Munson eyes him for a moment, frowning. "Is someone after you?"

"What do you care?" Steve heaves a deep breath, forcing himself to stand up straight. He brings his knees up in a few knee highs, gearing up for another sprint.

"Ugh. Just- you can come into my trailer," Munson says, sounding as though Steve is forcing him to make the suggestion. "No one would think to look for you there. You can, like... I don't know. Drink some water? You jocks do that, right?"

"Wh- I don't need your help!"

"I'm not waiting for you all day, come on, let's go!" He makes a wide, exaggerated gesture for Steve to follow.

"You just assume I'm gonna follow?"

"Yeah."

He sounds so confident, so sure, that Steve can't think to do anything other thank blink and say, "fuck it, yeah, alright."

Steve is a little surprised at how much space Eddies trailer has. It's cramped, but in a nice way- the way a home gets when people actually live in it. When the people inside are actually happy and chase those joys.

Munson does get him a glass of water, mumbling at him to "sit anywhere", before flopping onto the sofa himself. He turns the TV on, focusing on that.

"Thanks," Steve eventually mutters, awkwardly sitting down.

"Wanna talk about it?"

"Nothing to talk about."

"Sure."

"There isn't," he insists, despite how casual and accepting Munson is acting. "It's my fault, anyway. I deserved it."

"Did you?" Munson turns to him, eyebrow raised. "All us freaks and losers can talk about these days is your change of heart. King of Hawkins High turned lame boytoy."

"Thanks, that makes me feel so much better," Steve sneers.

"Even Jeff thinks you're alright now," he barrels on. "Said he bumped into you, pretty hard, knocked all your shit down, and you apologized. Said his coffee ended up on an essay, or something. Thought he was about to get his ass kicked and you just..."

He waves his hand at him, as though that's explination enough.

Steve doesn't know a Jeff, but he's pretty sure he knows who Munson is talking about, and; "I wasn't looking where I was going. If anything, we were both at fault."

"See?" Munson waves his hand at him again, a little more pointed. "Don't doubt you've got a long way to go, but you're not half-bad. You didn't deserve whatever the fuck happened to your face."

"Whatever."

They fall quiet, both pretending to watch whatever is on the TV. Steve is so zoned out that, when someone clears their throat, he flinchs.

"Sorry to startle you boys," the man chuckles. But the humor quickly teeters out, once he gets a good look at Steve. "You alright, kid?"

"I'm fine."

"He's not," Munson grins wide when Steve glares at him.

"Staying the night?" The man continues, only looking at Eddie now.

"If I can convince him," Munson shrugs.

"I can't stay the night," Steve tries.

"Good," the man nods, as though Steve hadn't said anything. "I'll start making us all some dinner." He finally looks to Steve. "You got any allergies?"

"I can't stay," Steve tries again, insisting.

"No," Munson answers for him. "No problems with meat either."

The man gives Munson a thumbs up, heading through to the kitchen.

"I can't stay," Steve repeats, turning to Munson. "Really. I have to go back or... I have to go back."

"What will happen if you don't go back?"

Steve grimaces. "Nothing. Just- I can't stay here."

"Why not? They gonna hit me too?"

"You know what, Munson? Yeah, probably. And your- your dad?"

"Uncle," Munson snorts, standing, stretching. "No one messes with us though. We're too scary." He wiggles his fingers in Steves face as he passes by. "And call me Eddie."

"Why?"

"It's my name."

Steve awkwardly follows him to the kitchen, hovering a good distance from the two of them, watch how they move around each other with so much comfort and ease. It makes something in Steves chest ache.

"Oh, hey, you like football right?" Eddie asks, pointing to him.

"Uh, yeah, kinda. Not enough to have, like, a team." Steve shrugs.

Wayne turns around slowly, eyebrows raised. "You don't got a team?"

Talking football with Wayne is so easy that, until he's halfway through the dinner he cooked, Steve doesn't notice how fast the time is going. He can't bring himself to be bothered though. It's too nice.

Plus, Eddie is almost bouncing with joy at how well Steve and Wayne are getting along.

Someone starts banging on the door, loud and aggressive, as they make their way to the kitchen.

"Alright!" Wayne calls, rolling his eyes. "Hold your horses."

Steves stomach drops when the door opens and his father is on the other side. He smiles at Steve, sickly sweet and dangerously calm.

"Oh, thank God," he sighs. "Steve, your mother and I have been looking all over for you. When you didn't get home-"

Wayne blocks his way when he tries to step inside. "Who are you?"

"Robert Harrington," Steves dad sniffs, leaning back so he can physically look down at Wayne. "I'm here for my son."

"He ain't here."

Robert Harrington splutters, face tinting red with anger and frustration. He points to Steve, voice raising as he says, "he's right there! And he's coming with me."

Wayne turns, slow and casual. "Huh. That's odd. Don't see him."

"Steve," he snaps his fingers at Steve, like he's a dog. "Come on. We're going home."

Eddie shifts so he's standing slightly in front of him.

It's enough reassurance for him to finally snap back; "I'm not going anywhere with you."

"Steven-"

"Get off my property," Wayne snaps.

His father glares at them, waiting, as though he expects them to back down. When he doesn't, he snarls; "this is kidnapping."

"He's 18," Eddie drawls.

Grumbling, he stomps off.

"Asshole," Wayne mutters. He shuts and locks the door, sliding on the chain too.

Steve has to sit down, with how much his legs are shaking.

"You alright?" Eddie asks, hesitantly sitting beside him.

"Yeah," Steve says. He's surprised to find he means it. "Yeah, I'm good."

"You can stay here, long as you need," Wayne offers. "You'll have to bunk with Eds though. Not a lot of room."

"Why can't he use the sofa when you're-"

"Nope," Wayne cuts him off. There's a glint of mischief in his eyes that has Steve squinting in suspicion. "And you'll need those cuts looking at. Eddie, why don't you go with him. Medkits in the bathroom."

Steve goes ahead when Eddie points the way to the bathroom.

Eddie tries to give Wayne a warning look but he's unbothered and, with Steves back turned, he gives Eddie an encouraging wink.

[jd07201990]

I shouldn't have opened my mouth. All I had to do was just walk away, and I'd have been fine. Now, It takes 3 showers a day, and a can of Axe a week, just to control the apocalyptic funk of athlete that pours from my pits... and feet... ok, ok I just stink, ok?! And its all because I tried to stop Pops, a local Gym Owner, from bullying one of his regulars.

The massive man was absolutely raging, as he berated a Jock for skipping sessions, despite the young man explaining desperately that he couldn't miss any more assignments or he'd lose his scholarship. It didn't seem to quell Pops's anger, as I watched the man drag the boy to a bench, and force him to lift rep after rep, until the Jock was panting, begging for a break, promising not to miss any more sessions. 

I'd been walking on the treadmill the whole time, and decided to get involved. My first mistake. Walking up to Pops, I cleared my throat, and told him to lay off, that clearly the Jock was exhausted. Pops grabbed my collar and hoisted me up off the ground, before I could react, his face nearly against mine as he went off, first about my nosing about, then about how ridiculously thin I am. I stammered, my legs dangling, until Pops put me down, and smirked.

"You know, a little meat on those bones wouldn't hurt. Maybe with a few pounds, those big, sweaty dawgs you've got wouldn't look so clownish!"

My jaw dropped, a squirmed under his gaze, as a shiver went down my spine, and a dull, warm itch began in my feet. I don't know where he'd gotten the idea that my feet were clownish, I'm 5'7" with size 9.5s! But suddenly, my sneakers felt cramped, warm, with a dull humid dampness making it feel as if I'd stuffed my foot into a wet towel.

Then, I groaned, as a sharp pain shot down my ankles, and my sneakers burst open, revealing wide, reeking Jock-feet, at least size 13. A dense funk rose, and I gagged, the intense reek of Athlete poured from my torn shoes. Pops laughed heartily, then sneered. 

"And those pits! You'd think with hairy, sweaty pits like those, you'd be top of the roster! Not even Big Billy has pits as bad as yours! There's a bull inside you, just waiting to come out!"

Again, that cold shiver ran down my back, and my armpits felt as if fire ants were biting them. Hundreds of itchy bumps formed, then, hair sprouted, filling in and dampening until the stink of the locker room oozed out from them. I whimpered as I caught the scent. Looking up at Pops, I begged.

"Please! Don't do this! You gotta undo this! I'm not a Jock!"

Pops laughed, taking both my shoulders in his massive rough hands, and pushed me down onto a bench, taking my arms and forcing them up onto the bar. My pits were fully on display as he growled.

"Lift. Don't stop until I come back, or those pits and feet will be the least of your worries."

I believed him, and tried to pull the bar down, barely moving the weights. Pops facepalmed, moved to a backpack next to a mountainous young brute lifting what had to be the weight of a small car. He fished out a protein shake, pressed the nozzle to my lips, and forced me to guzzle a few mouthfuls, pulling it away as I heard my stomach gurgle. 

I hiccuped, then burped, as my body seemed to warm, sweat forming, soaking down my shirt. Then, muscle began to swell under my skin, not huge, round bulk, but enough to look as if I'd been hitting the gym for several months, not days. When it settled, I must've gained 10 lbs, all of it hard muscle. When I pulled the bar down this time, it wasn't easy, but I wasn't lifted off the seat this time. Again and again I tested my new size, and Pops grinned. giving my thicker shoulder a punch. 

"I'll make an athlete out of you yet. Like it or not, you're gonna be one of Pops's boys! No one mouth's off to pop, unless they've earned it here at my gym! got it!"

I wanted to be defiant, to insult him, or run, but the look in his eye told me if I so much as thought about leaving, I'd be waddling out of here, sideways through the door, looking like the Behemoth that Pops had taken the shake from! I gulped, looked down, and forced myself to lift. Maybe if Pops is happy, he'll at least tone down the absolute fog of stink that screams, "Big Dumb Jock" from a mile away!

[justatypicalwizard]

A scrap from your book

Bakugo x reader, aged up, college! au, quirks don't matter, no warnings, just heartwarming

Roommate Bakugo who is forced to share a room with you for about three months due to unexpected construction works in the college apartment he occupied. The whole Bakusquad was moved to random rooms. To make it worse they were all shared ones. You agreed to take in a male occupant.

Roommate Bakugo who tries to spend as much time outside of the cramped college room as possible. He feels like he's kinda invading your privacy as well as just finding the whole situation uneasy.

Roommate Bakugo who has to complete a bunch of assignments but the library is packed in the late afternoon hours, the air thick with gossip, stress, sweat and annoyance. Bakugo finally wandered off to the dorm room to find some peace for his work.

Roommate Bakugo who spotts you always turn off your lamp and tune down the brightness on your laptop when he tells you he's going to sleep.

"You don't have to do that." He grunts, already wrapped up in heavy covers.

"I don't mind, you do the same." Because he does.

Roommate Bakugo who walks on you watching a film he loves. At first he just circles the small room mindlessly, more interested in the unwrapping dialogue between his two favourite characters than the laundry he's picking up.

"You wanna watch?" You ask, pausing the movie.

"No. I was going to do my laundry."

"I can wait, I can buy some snacks in the meantime, I was looking for an excuse to do it anyway."

So the two of you ended up finishing the film together, sitting on your bed.

Roommate Bakugo who talks to you more, geting used to the situation faster than he thought he would. You both sit by your desks working on the boring college stuff. He spotted you were trying hard, not slacking around and keeping most of your deadlines. Even if he didn't want to admitt it, he was impressed. Not that he didn't do the same, it's just rare to find a person who actually cares.

Roommate Bakugo who didn't know how to phrase a sentence. He was working on a piece of paper for the last two hours after an intense day of workout and his brain refused to cooperate anymore.

"Can I ask you for a favour?" Your face appeared from behind your laptop screen.

"Depends on what is it."

"I finished a short essay and I wanted to ask if you could read it and tell me if it makes sense."

Might as well take a break to refresh his mind. Bakugo read through the text and came to the conclusion that you were a good writer. A very good writer in fact.

"How would you say that in other words?" He asked after you were happy with your work, your laptop tossed aside as you lay on your bed scrolling through your phone.

You skipped to him, read through the sentence and gave him a paraphrase, one that he wouldn't think of himself.

"Thanks."

Roommate Bakugo who was eying you book collection for some time. You had a bunch. When he asked the two of you started talking and in went on and on and on. Finally, you stood up on your bed, the sheets dipping in where you stretched out to reach the highest shelve. Picking out a book you handed it to him.

"My favourite."

So he started to read it.

Roommate Bakugo who got a text from you that you wouldn't be back in the dorms for the night. After a shower he laid down in his bed, shirtless, with your book in hand. It was definitely worth it and he was way past the half already. Suddednly the doors opened only to reveal you, eying him up and down.

"The fuck you doing here?" Suddenly Bakugo felt a tad bit embarassed about his bare chest and lose sweatpants.

"My friend cancelled, sorry, you have someone over?" A small sly grin appeared on yoru lips.

"Jeez no, I'm just half naked."

"I don't mind." You shrugged, throwing your bag on the bed.

And what was that supposed to mean?

Nevermind. Bakugo wanted to get back to the story when he spotted something horrific. His hand gripped a nice chunk of the page, torn out of the book. He must have done it when you startled him with the grand entrance. It was readable as he only torn the cream white but it still looked nasty.

"Shit, I'm sorry." He didn't even look at you, opting on eying the damage, embarassement creaping up his cheeks for destroying someone's else belonging. One of yoru favourite belongings.

You came over, looked at the book and started to laugh.

"What's so fucking funny?" From embarassed Bakugo quickly merged into defensive.

"You look as if you killed my grandma. It's just a book." You saw that it didn't make him feel better, in fact the frown in his brows deepened. "I like my books being used. Lets treat it as a memory of you reading it. Give me the torn piece, please." Your hand reached out and he put the scrap into your open palm.

You skribbled something down on it using a pen fished out of your drawer. When you gave it back to him, the paper read 'Don't stress so much, dummy.'

"You can keep it." A smile brightened your face as you turned around to do other things.

Roommate Bakugo who would never admitt to anyone that he kept that scrap in the back of his phonecase at all times.

Roommate Bakugo who would never admitt to anyone that it took you roughly two months to steal his rock-like heart away.

[narraboths]

i'd like to think you could just walk into a diner in national city and see supergirl (costume and all, no fucks given) and lena luthor making out like teenagers in a corner booth

[Ao3]

The first time Supergirl comes to The Intergalactic, she’s thrown straight through its glass doors by a giant space lizard.

It’s really not how Ellie imagined meeting the city’s superhero. It’s not that she thought she’d actually ever meet Supergirl, least of all at work. Tucked away in a side-street near National City University and surviving in a cramped space, with minimal staff, and decor left from the beginning of the Space Age, The Intergalactic mostly sees harried college students and late-night party-goers in need of some fuel. Alien attacks and billowing capes are usually not on the menu.

She has no time to be disappointed by the circumstances of their chance meeting, though. She cannot feel anything beyond absolute terror, really, given the giant space lizard that just made the Girl of Steel demolish their sleepy burger joint’s entrance.

But then, Supergirl climbs back to her feet as she always does, shoulders squared, arms raised, ready to fight. She winces a little at the damage, shooting an apologetic smile towards Ellie before she’d fly up up and away, dragging the lizard into the sky with her. The sight of it is so fucking cool that for a second, Ellie is even distracted from the absolute wreckage around her.

(Then, her shoes almost catch fire and she’s brought back to the cold, hard, rubble-covered ground of reality.)

Later, when the news reports are loud with praise for another successful Super-save, and Ellie has managed to sweep up most of the broken glass and endured a hysterical call from her boss, Supergirl touches down in front of their doors again.

“Hello,” she waves with a little smile. She still has soot marks on her face, but she stands tall, impossibly dashing. “I’m very sorry for the commotion,” she says, before Ellie could even process the fact that the hero of National City is at her doorstep, again, engaging with her in casual conversation. “I just wanted to check in and see if everyone here was alright.”

“You just fought with an alien lizard,” Ellie blurts out, and Supergirl shrugs, in a hey, just another day on the job kinda way.

“Dracokardosian, actually. Doesn’t matter,” she adds quickly, then plants her hands on her hips. The Super-pose. It makes her shoulders seem even wider, the fabric of her suit straining against her upper arms. Ellie feels giddy. “Listen, I’ll make sure you’ll be reimbursed for the damage, but can I lend a hand with anything?”

“We’re fine, I think. It’s only the storefront that got hit– that you hit. No great damage, no injuries.” Supergirl smiles with palpable relief, and Ellie feels the need to ramble on, to keep her there, to bask in the glory of the superhero a little longer. The smell of still-hot frying oil wafting from the kitchen gives her the prompt before she’d even think about it. “Would you like a burger?”

Supergirl looks at her with a confused frown.

“Aren’t you guys closed up yet?”

“I mean, it’s not like we can really close right now,” Ellie shrugs, gesturing towards the gaping hole where the diner’s entrance used to be. It earns an amused little snort from Supergirl, just enough of a boost for Ellie to press on, heart beating in her throat. “Plus, you’re the only reason the place is still standing at all and I’d really like to be able to brag about having served Supergirl, like how many places get to do that?“

“Well, there’s this great patisserie on Lamarr Ave,” Supergirl says, forehead crinkling in concentration as she mulls over the answer. “And then my regular Chinese place, and this café in Paris–” She cuts herself off with a grin. “Okay, point taken. I would love one. But mind if I fix your door in the meantime?”

Ellie nods so vehemently that she gives herself a headrush.

“It’s a deal.”

Supergirl touches a hand to her earpiece, speaking low and incomprehensible before she’d speed away again and Ellie saunters off to the kitchen.

Inside, Jay is half-napping over the sink. He wakes from his slumber with dark, bleary eyes and stares in disbelief as Ellie rattles off the order, until she tells him it’s for Supergirl. He laughs first (yeah, and I’m the Virgin Mary), then takes a peek outside where Supergirl now busy welding the new doors using her heat vision, with a swarm of nanites hovering nearby for assistance. She stops for a second to wave at them: Ellie feels her heart fluttering and Jay gets all red and sweaty, rushing back to the kitchen and getting to it with such dedication as if the diner making it into the Michelin Guide depended on it.

By the time he’s done, The Intergalactic is sporting a brand new, shiny pair of doors, and Supergirl is sitting in a booth, excitedly drumming on a table with her fingers. Then, one burger swiftly turns into three, plus six sides of fries, two milkshakes, and some fried onions for good measure, Supergirl wolfing it all down at a speed fitting her superhuman appetite. She still finds the time to entertain Ellie and Jay with details of her fight between bites (his name is Spike, he was just scared), joking around with them with such geniality that makes her seem more like one of the nicer jocks from NCU, not a demigod in a supersuit. She’s sunshine personified. She compliments the food about half a dozen times (Jay blushes so hard that his face ends up looking like a ripe tomato), leaves a tip large enough to foot the bill twice, and even though it’s nearing midnight by the time she steps outside, Ellie feels a heavy pang in her heart to watch her leave. Supergirl smiles and waves them goodbye, and Ellie manages to run outside just as she takes off, yelling after her: 

“See you again!”

She thinks she can see Supergirl wink at her before she speeds away.

-

The second time Supergirl visits the diner, it’s been well over a month since the space lizard incident, and Ellie has honestly given up on ever seeing the Girl of Steel in person again. It’s just past the mid-day rush, the diner mostly emptied out, the staff finally getting a breather. She’s busy cleaning the tables in the back when Lev walks up to her, poking her arm.

“Hey, am I tripping, or is that really Supergirl?”

Ellie turns around at lightning speed, just in time to catch Supergirl leaning against the empty counter with a friendly smile.

"Can I get a booth?” She asks, courteously ignoring the way Lev’s jaw is hanging wide open. “Your burgers smell so fantastic, my mouth has been watering all the way from Metropolis.”

Ellie’s shaking with so much nervous energy that she thinks she might start vibrating like the Flash.

“Make yourself comfortable wherever, I’ll be right with you!”

-

Supergirl is, well, just super. 

Her visits to The Intergalactic are infrequent enough that the place doesn’t get hounded by paps, or Super-fans, or any villain of the week; arriving almost always in off-hours, when the place is almost as empty as the street outside. But her appearances are plenty enough for every single member of the staff to fall head over heels in love with her. She turns out to be just as ridiculously kind and nice as the CatCo fluff pieces would have the public believe: always praising the food, being as courteous with the staff as she is game to take selfies with them. She chats with Lev about their college studies, gives Ellie an air-lift when her car breaks down one night. She makes people smile just by walking through the door.

She’s the best part of the job.

-

When Supergirl turns up with Lena Luthor at her side one day, Ellie’s already so used to the outlandishness of their superhero regular that she’s only moderately shaken to see the most notorious public figure of National City striding into the diner with her.

She still almost bites down on her tongue and trips over, because holy shit, Lena Luthor is a sight. There’s always a touch of unreal about Supergirl’s appearance – maybe it’s the suit, maybe it’s the knowledge that she’s an alien, maybe it’s the fact that she always looks like she’s glowing from the inside. Her towering physique and artfully drawn features are awing, but they also seem just right for a superhero.

But Lena Luthor is only an ordinary human, and no ordinary human, all-powerful CEO or not, should look like a Greek goddess personified.

Ellie is so engrossed that she doesn’t even notice at first how Supergirl’s hand is resting on the small of Miss Luthor’s back, how they’re standing so close that their shoulders brush together, Lena Luthor leaning just slightly against the hero.

“Quaint,” she murmurs, low and amused, and though there’s nothing unkind about it, Ellie’s suddenly very aware of how pristine she looks in the middle of their greasy little diner. (Shit, her clothes must be worth more than the whole place.) But then, before she could get flustered, Supergirl snorts, bumping Miss Luthor’s shoulder with a grin.

“Don’t knock it till you try it.”

Their rapport is so charming that at first, it doesn’t even register with Ellie how downright smitten Lena Luthor’s smile is in response to Supergirl’s teasing.

-

Lena Luthor turns out to be super in her own ways. She’s more reserved than Supergirl, more guarded about her appearances, too, but disarmingly nice all the same. The tabloid headlines screaming ice queen and megalomaniac seem more and more ridiculous with every visit – there’s very little that says Mad Luthor about the small, overworked young woman who makes a point of asking about her day and leaves large enough tips that they can refit the whole kitchen with it and fix up the back room.

They keep odd hours those days, though, popping in for early morning coffees, or late, late night snacks. They share a plate more often than not, and the sight of Supergirl stealing a bite off of Lena Luthor’s fork becomes somewhat of a regular occurrence. (In no particular order, so does the following: Lena Luthor’s head resting on Supergirl’s shoulders, eyes fluttered shut; Supergirl leaning forward a little so Lena Luthor can press a goodbye kiss to her cheek before the superhero would fly off with a grin; Lena Luthor wiping some grease from the corner of Supergirl’s mouth with an indescribably fond smile).

It starts feeling like something that’s just meant to be.

-

Ellie doesn’t know whether it’s their first kiss or not when she witnesses it.

She’d never want to pry, either. It’s only by accident that she sees it happen at all. But she does see it, late one night, when Supergirl and Miss Luthor are huddled together in one of the booths in the back.

They look a little tired now – Supergirl’s cape is half off her shoulder, Lena Luthor’s hair let down and a touch messy, jarringly for her usually so put-together appearance – but sweet, too, as they always do, and utterly enamored. Supergirl’s hand is cradling Lena’s chin, Lena’s hands are buried in her golden mane, their lips pressing together gently, both of them smiling radiantly, lost in their own world. Then Lena presses forward a little, pushing Supergirl against her seat, and Ellie turns away with a burning face and starts scrubbing a table so hard that she risks putting a hole through the damn thing, trying to pretend she didn’t hear the breathless, overjoyed laugh echoing through the empty room.

-

It is, strictly speaking, not an issue that National City’s power couple has picked your place of work to be their makeout spot. Supergirl’s still the nicest person alive and Miss Luthor’s tipping habits have only grown more generous. They just take the booth that’s the farthest in the back, Ellie tries not to bother them too much, and if someone catches a glimpse of a red cape or a striking jawline, an emphatic glare and Just be cool, man usually does the trick.

Heroes, they’re just like us.

[f1nalboys]

Did You Mean It? - Bo Sinclair

Bo Sinclair x Fem!AFAB!Reader

WORD COUNT: 819

WARNINGS: nsfw, breeding, dubcon, daddy kink (bo refers to himself as daddy multiple times), mommy kink (bo refers to reader as mommy once but not sexually, just in reference to becoming a mom), talk about getting pregnant (bc duhhh), some teasing from bo. kinda proofread. lmk if i missed any tags!

Bo’s tongue runs along the warm flesh of your neck as he pumps his cock inside you. Your body was beginning to ache, your leg muscles cramping from the position he’s held you in for the last half an hour. “F-fuck,” Bo grunts, his breath warm. His voice cracks as he speaks, his hips sputtering. “You’re so fuckin’ tight, sweetheart, gonna cum nice and deep inside you.”

You wince at a particularly deep thrust, your hole clenching tightly around him, and he mistakes it for affection. He always did. You did too sometimes. You feel the hot breath of his laughter before you feel it rumble from his chest, your legs thrown over his shoulders. “Yeah, that’s right, darlin’. Daddys got you, he’s gonna fill you up nice and full, let you carry around his seed. You want that, right?” He asks and you cry out, the stretch of his cock almost too much. You’re not sure why it still hurts after all this time, but a part of you wonders if you like the pain a little too much to accommodate it. “You wanna carry my baby, darlin’?”

Your eyes widen as he asks, feeling his cock twitch inside you. He never spoke like this. In the entire time of you being here in Ambrose - was it weeks or months? Maybe a year? - Bo avoided the topic of family like the plague. You remember asking him once if he ever wanted children, and you remember how hard it was to sit afterwards. His thrusts speed up and you cry out in pain, his cock ramming into you with renewed fervor. Your cunt squeezes around him tightly and he grunts, the noise low in his throat. A growl. A sharp reminder of who he is. 

“Yeah? You fuckin’ want it too, don’t you? Right, Y/N?” He asks, grunting in between each word. He moves his head from the crook of your neck, a flash of appreciation in his eyes as he takes in the hickies and bite marks he had littered across your skin. His blue eyes are dark when he looks at you, sweat glistening off his forehead. “Say it. Say you want my baby and I’ll fuckin’ give it to ya’.” He says and you know he’s close.

You realize you are, too. It was so much easier to feel your own pleasure when you knew Bo was feeling it too. 

“I… I want your baby, Bo. Please.” You stammer out, panting. It felt like the pleasure had hit you out of nowhere, knocking the wind out of you, making you feel all of it at once. There was no growing pit in your stomach and no warning. “Holy shit,” you say, eyes widening as you look up at him. He smiles and you wonder briefly if you’ve ever told him how handsome he was. “I-I’m gonna cum.”

Bo moans, his hands grabbing ahold of your face to keep you looking at him. “Good. Fuck, fuck yeah, cum around my cock, sweetheart, milk me.” He shudders, his eyes squeezing shut. “A-Always heard that it sticks better when you cum too.” He says before he groans loudly, pushing the entire length of his cock inside you as he cums. You feel him spill inside you, gasping at the sheer amount, before your own orgasm rips through you. He whimpers, a noise you rarely got from him, as your pussy clenches around him, making sure you got every drop. “Fuck, you’re so god damn tight.”

Bo catches his breath as you ride out your high, grinning down at you in a way that makes you close your eyes, embarrassed at the intensity. You grunt when he moves your legs off of his shoulders, your muscles tense as they flop back against the bed, his cock still stuffed inside you. “Did you mean it?” You ask quietly, your voice unsure in the dark room. You don’t need to open your eyes to see Bo tilt his head to the side, humming. “About… about giving me your baby?”

His laugh makes you shiver. His finger runs down your cheek as he tsks, mocking. “Aww, are you worried I was lying, darlin’? Worried daddy wasn’t gonna make you a mommy, that I wasn’t gonna give you a baby?” He asks, his voice cruel and low. Your eyes open to look up at him and they widen slightly; you had expected a cruel and teasing grin, but the look on his face was far softer than you had come to know. His usual frown lines were smoothed over, a small smile on his face. He leans down, kissing gently along your cheek and jaw before he settles them right next to your ear. “I meant it, sweetheart. And I’m not done just yet.”

His hips rock forwards slightly and you whimper from overstimulation, your cunt pulsing.

“I’m gonna make sure it takes.”

[moonstruckme]

if you're okay with smut requests at the moment, giggly sex with james? like they're both just so happy to be with each other that they can barely kiss between their moans AND laughter

Thanks for requesting!

cw: smut, mdni

James Potter x fem!reader ♡ 930 words

James is upon you the second you get through the door, and between the two of you, you’ve got most of your clothes off not a minute after. 

“Missed you,” he professes, words all smushed up against your mouth as you knock into his glasses with the bridge of your nose. “M’never letting you leave again.” 

“Yeah? What’re you gonna do, tie me to the bed?” You feel a bit like being a tease, but then his hands grip your ass, heaving you up against him, and any thoughts of restraint fall away as a moan escapes you. “Wow,” you say at the hard bulge that’s now slotted conveniently between your legs. “You did miss me.”

James snickers and walks you towards the bed, kissing you harder when you grind against him, desperate for the remaining layer of your underwear to be out of your way. “You’re full of bad jokes today.” His lips are curved against yours as he sets you on the mattress, your legs spreading for him automatically. You lean back, and he bends to follow you. “Why don’t you leave comedy for the comedians, sweetheart.” 

“Oh, fuck you,” you laugh, arching up into his kiss. A big hand snakes in between your back and the bed, and a second later the clasp of your bra comes undone. “Fuck, you’re so fucking good at that.” You’d say you’d almost forgotten how skilled your boyfriend is at undressing you, but you haven’t. 

“Lots of practice.” James waggles his thick, deceptively deft, fingers in front of your face before sliding them down to their preferred spot at your waistline. Your preferred spot too. You sigh blissfully as his big palm drags up and down your side, thumb just barely skimming the skin beneath your breast. “Plus motivation.” He grins, dotting a kiss on the corner of your lips. “I’ve been waiting for this all week.” 

“You’ve been waiting all week for this?” Your eyes nearly roll back in your head when he moves his hips on top of yours, your giggle tinged with delirium. “No ‘how was home, babe?’ ‘how’s your family doing?’” Your goading is interrupted by a small whimper as James’ hand slips beneath the band of your underwear, palming your already slick cunt. “My mom’s doing well, thanks for asking.” 

He slides the moisture up to your clit, tracing tiny circles around the bead that have you fisting your hands in the covers and taking tiny, gasping breaths. “I’d rather not talk about your mum right this moment, if that’s alright with you.” 

Laughter erupts from you, catching in James’ chest too until you’re both dizzy with it. “Guess you’re right,” you admit, letting go of the sheets to tangle both hands in his hair. You pull him closer. “I missed you too,” you tell him between kisses, your teeth clacking together. He tastes all that much sweeter for it. “Missed you so much, Jamie. For more than just this, if that wasn’t clear.” 

“I know.” He nips lovingly at your jaw, stinging with his teeth before soothing with his tongue. “Whatever crimes you try to pin on me, I missed you for more too,” he says, and then his deliciously thick fingers slip inside you. “You did miss me for this too, though, didn’t you angel?” 

“Fuck.” You bite his lip as he works those blessed fingers into you, middle and marriage testing the waters before beginning to scissor gently. James laughs at your reaction, and you both flinch back when his teeth clank against yours. 

“Sorry,” he says, shoulders shaking as he cups the back of your head. “I’m sorry, baby.” 

“Fucking just—ahh—just chip my tooth while you’re at it.” You’re bordering on nonsensical and part of you knows it, your stomach nearly cramping as you laugh through the building pressure in your core. 

James curls his fingers inside you, and if you had enough working brain cells left, you’d wonder how he does it through the giggle fit that’s seized him. “Hey, you started it.” There’s not a lick of malice in his tone as he presses sloppy kisses to your cheek, still laughing. “Nearly bit my lip off.”

“I knew—you could take it,” you pant.  

“Oh yeah?” James’ fingers slip out of you, and you look down as he works your underwear down your legs. They’re sopping wet. “Wanna talk about what you can take, angel?”

“Now who’s the one with the bad jokes,” you mutter, and his laughter is booming even as he slips his hands under your ass, angling himself into you. 

He pushes inside you and bends over you instantly, pecking insistently at your lips. “You,” he snarls playfully, emphatic (and, you think, happy beyond belief if his hard dick and giant smile are decent enough indicators). “You’re impossible, you know that?” 

“I think—” you gasp as he shifts inside you. “You know what? Shut up.” 

James’ guffaw is ecstatic, but he actually complies, kissing you from chin to temple as he pushes slowly in and out of you. You laugh giddily as you mouth underneath his jaw in return, your hands sliding over the broad expanse of his shoulders while his work diligently at your breasts in that incredible way he knows how. 

Your giggling subsides until you’re just breathing together, your kisses turning more languid, and you’ve almost gotten your shit together, almost found your rhythm, when James’ thumb brushes over your nipple and a breathy fuck slips past your lips. 

“Well, I’m trying to, if you’d stop interrupting.” 

And you both crack up all over again. 

[teeskzagain]

original post got taken down unfortunately😔😔, here is the updated version

Anonymous asked:

I keep imagining Mingi forcing you to cockwarm him at a movie theatre AHHHHHHSHSHH and like he teases you by occasionally thrusting up to hit all the right places and saying it was just him “getting comfy” or “he had a cramp” when he really just enjoys seeing you try to keep everything together 👹 I also feel like he’d whisper in your ear like “pay attention Angel, I didn’t spend money on these tickets for nothing” WITH HIS DEEP ASS VOICE AHHHHHH IK GENUINELY TWEAKING RN- 🙏🧎‍♀️AHEM- He would also SO massage your thighs and hips (IMAGINE THROWING YOUR HEAD BACK AND HE STARTS PEPPERING YOUR NECK WITH KISSESHSJSHSHHSJSGRRRRRRRRR)

There are so many “also’s” in that sentence 💀 BUT WHATEVER YOU GET THE POINT HOPEFULLY 🤡 don’t feel at all obligated to make anything of this especially since idek if you take requests 😭 I just thought that this is such a YUMMY Drabble prompt 😀 and HAD to share it <3 take care pookemssss

OHH??? uh first off I would like to say I'D LOVE TO TAKE REQUESTS (you're actually the first to provide me with a prompt) and second this is so absolutely delicious.

warnings: smut (COCKWARMING, exhibition, semi-public, teasing, kissing) 18+

wc: 1.2k

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this probably wouldn’t even be the first time you found yourself in this situation. no, it’d be a regular occurrence at this point, a developmental game if you must. that’s why bf!mingi absolutely loves the movies, because that’s when he get’s to play his favorite game.

‘how long are you gonna last this time around?’

imagine bf!mingi, who’s caressing your thigh tenderly with the backs of his fingers, shushing you and mumbling sweetly into your hair while your ass continues to squirm against his pelvis. getting situated always took the longest. so tedious, finding that perfect spot where you can just slide down and onto his lap, your walls gripping his cock and swallowing it whole.

he sits idly and unmoving, allowing you to move around for a bit. because at some point, bf!mingi’s gonna start the fun part of the game. the part that really tests your strength.

and once you finally achieve that perfect spot, the sensation makes your face scrunch pleasantly and a soft sigh floats out of you. so entranced, you almost don’t notice the pretty pink blanket, draped over the both of you, slip just slightly down your leg.

“shhhh…okay baby, i need you keep still,” he’d tell you, and a part of him almost doesn’t want to go reposition it. what if he left you out and exposed? imagine, someone walking up and discovering the disgusting scene. it’s exciting him, these thoughts, but soon enough he’s lowering himself down and recovers you two, all the while holding back a smile. it’s enjoyable for him, just the riskiness of it all.

how the dark theatre somehow shadows your lewd actions, yet the monumental screen ahead provides illumination onto your struggling face, “if you wanna win, you know you can’t move.”

after many weeks of playing, you haven’t won a single round. not once. you would get so close, but then luck out whenever bf!mingi would buck a bit too hard, or your own desires began to consume you. every, single round, a loser had been made out of you.

“last time, you couldn’t even make it through the previews before you fucking came all over my legs,” he reminds you, a slow and sick grin spreading wide, “you gonna try harder? wanna get your prize tonight?” it’s pathetic how you have to bite back a mewl from his words.

this is always the hardest part for you: the taunting. it kills you every time.

at the start of the movie, it’s through his teasing voice; his low, grumble of a tone that buzzes perfectly into your head.

“see? already made it through the trailers,” he’d laugh. as a reward the aimless touch he provided earlier turns into a hard grab, kneading at the flesh of your thighs with a quiet groan, “one step closer. just needa make it through the movie.”

then, it’s through his touches.

as you become more conscious of your ragged breaths, his hand trails from your leg and drags up towards your shirt. teasing your breasts through the fabric, he grazes absentmindedly before running then back down your stomach, only stopping when he meets your bare pussy. it takes his full strength to not end the game by just simply fingering the orgasm out of you. but if that were the case, then he wouldn’t be able to see you whither. and that’s always his most favored part.

the most you could do is shut your eyes and pray your body doesn’t betray you. but even that doesn’t get you far, with just a few minutes into the movie, friction starts to build within you. while bf!mingi rests his back against the plush seat, grateful for his top view of the movie theatre, a slow thrust of his hips find a rhythm in your core.

it's torturous. the intentional, unhurried movements, leisurely rocking in and out of you. it's like he's rubbing himself inside you, and you're forced to seal your mouth.

"you holding up okay, angel?" he mutters and you give him a brisk nod, turning to the side momentarily. he finds that comical. your desire to always win. the need to prove him wrong.

but he knows you. he knows you're slipping with every second his leaking cock stays within you, radiating the pleasure you so desperately seek. he knows you're crumbling. you’re gonna unravel soon.

right when you think you've conquered this section of the challenge, a quick shift from underneath you has your eyes vibrating, a small gasp leaving you as bf!mingi practically buries himself closer to your cervix.

"ah, oops, sorry...just need to.." he moves around some more, adjusting his position, along with you, before halting once again, "alright, there we go. i feel much better. how about you?"

the angle he’s now hitting feels like it’s splitting you open and a strained yet airy moan tupples from your lips. with no more strength, your head falls down into the space between his shoulder and neck, eyes shut and brows furrowed, "i can't- i can't do it-"

"mmm, baby, no," he wraps an arm around your torso to reach your cheeks, clasping them together with a smush then forcing you back forward, "baby, you gotta keep your eyes open."

he drops his hand but that doesn't stop your whining, you sobbing out a, "no- i can't-"

"shhh y/n what did i say?,” he locks onto your inner thighs and widens them, “you know i didn't spend money on these damn tickets for nothing. come on, watch the movie."

as you feel him start up again with his quiet thrusts, you loll your head back with a grimace and hooded eyes, little noises now spilling out. your neck fully exposed, bf!mingi takes initiative to lean up and bring his lips to the vast area, nipping and kissing at it. he suctions onto your skin which sends a jolt throughout your core.

and just like that, you're done for.

"you're so close, i can feel it." he whispers on your neck as a devilish smirk overtakes his kisses, "i fucking knew it. i knew you would lose."

his words nearly egg you on as you accept defeat, allowing yourself to succumb to the slow pace of his length sliding against your insides. your fingers curl with the repeated motion, a continuous build up until eventually you burst and your orgasm hits you hard.

it causes you to wriggle against him, contracting your body so tightly you’re shaking then releases you, repeating this over and over again all the while bf!mingi keeps his kisses coming on your neck.

like said, this is always his favorite part of the game. the thing he looks most forward to. because no matter how hard you've tried, it always ends the same.

"aww," he notices your high coming down, excluding the occasional body twitches, "and the movie was almost over."

"you're awful." you could hardly muster that sentence, your back resting on top of his chest while you regain your composure. your cunt still pulsed every now and then around him.

he supplies a silent laugh before going in your ear once more, "well, look at it this way. now we can go home and play your favorite game."

while bf!mingi returns back to his seat, bringing you with him, a small whimper is produced by you. because absolutely not what was to come, your favorite game. in fact, it felt merely like an extension of this game.

‘how many different ways are you gonna make bf!mingi cum tonight?’

[ramblingoak]

Could I please request a kiss goodnight with Copia dearest Oak?

A Kiss Goodnight

Copia x Reader

Warnings: little bit of dirty talk but otherwise just a sweet moment between you and Copia, nsfw just in case so 18+ only, mdni, 1100 words (thank you to @gothdaddyissues for the dividers and @foxybouquet for the Italian help!)

He had fallen asleep again.

You couldn’t blame him though, he had been touring for three months straight now with two more to go.  Their tour bus was nice but it was still a bus and not the most comfortable place to sleep.  Plus add eight ghouls and well…things were cramped.  There were a lot of clashing personalities shoved into a small space and at this point in the tour nerves were frayed and everyone was on edge.  On edge and exhausted.

Copia muttered something too soft for you to hear before snorting and jerking awake.  Your view of him tumbled as he knocked his phone from its perch on the pillow next to him.  When he came back into view you had to stifle a laugh seeing the pillow creases on one side of his face.  There was still makeup tucked into the wrinkles you loved so much and his hair was wild, the salt and pepper strands sticking up aggressively.  

Your heart ached with how much love you had for this man.

“You should go to bed, Papa.  There’s another show tomorrow, yeah?”

“Si, tomorrow and the next day.”  He reached a bare hand up and rubbed at his eyes, smearing the makeup that was still there around some more.  “But I’m good, mi sento bene.  I want to hear about your day.”

It was hard to stifle your grin because you had actually told him about your day already.  He had just been so out of it he was half asleep when you’d started and snoring by the time you were done.  You decided to humor him though, clearing your throat and starting an abridged version of things.

“Well, Terzo and Secondo were summoning more ghouls but apparently they got into an argument half way through the ritual.”  Copia rolled his eyes and dropped his head back onto his pillow with a laugh.  “Next thing I know, Primo is running down the hall screaming about hell hounds.”

“Hell hounds?!  Quegli idioti, is everyone ok?”  

“Oh yes, Alpha and Omega were able to keep them contained in the summoning circle.  When Primo showed up he banished your brothers into the hall and then the hounds back to their home.”

“Lucifero, those two are going to burn the abbey down some day.” 

You were both quiet for a moment, Copia’s eyes were drooping again and you just smiled softly as you watched the lines of worry smooth out as he relaxed.  Hopefully next tour he would let you tag along.  These nightly video calls were nice but you missed seeing him in the flesh.  You missed holding him close and burying your nose against his neck to smell his cologne.  You missed his touch, the way the leather of his gloves felt on your skin.

You missed his kisses.

“Amore?”  It was your turn to startle and you gave him a sheepish smile, half hiding your face behind your blanket.  He had a look of amusement on his face, his eyes suddenly a bit brighter and more awake then they were a moment ago.  “Thinking of anything in particular?”

“You.”  He grinned as he brought his phone closer to his face while you did the same.  “It’s always you.  Idiota.”

“How cruel you are to me, I should punish you.”

“Punish?  And how will you do that from so far away, Papa?”

“Hmm, maybe tomorrow night I’ll be too tired to call.  You’ll have to go to sleep without seeing my handsome face.”

“Oh that would be cruel.”  You bit your lip before you decided to take this a bit further, letting out a little grunt as you stretched out in the bed.  “I’ll have to find something else to occupy my time in this big bed of yours.”

“Like what?”  Copia’s voice had gotten a little deeper, his eyes not leaving yours as he stared at you through the phone screen.  “Tell your Papa what you would do.”

“Hmm, I think I’ll slip into your bed naked.  These sheets feel so good against my skin.”  He groaned a little before you continued,  “If I can’t talk to you I’ll just have to pretend you're here next to me.  Touching me in all the places I like to be touched.”

“I do enjoy touching you,”  He groaned a little louder and you shushed him, not wanting him to draw the attention of the ghouls.  Copia ignored you though and you watched as his shoulder shifted, his arm no doubt moving so he could touch himself instead.  “With my hands and my mouth.”

“I enjoy that too, Papa.”  You let your hand travel down your body, your fingers dipping into your underwear so you could touch yourself.  “I love your mouth on me.”

“Fuck, yes.  I’d taste you everywhere.”  Copia’s arm began to move faster and he let out a feral sounding groan before he spoke again,  “Want to dip my tongue as far into you as I ca–”

“No phone sex on the bus!”

You and Copia both yelled out at the sound of Swiss’s voice.  Your cheeks flamed and you slammed your phone face down onto the bed.  Their voices were muffled but you could hear Swiss and Copia yelling at each other.  You didn’t move until the noise had quieted down and you heard Copia’s voice softly calling out your name.  When you grabbed your phone to look at him again he had a sheepish look on his face.

“Eh, I forgot I made this rule after the first week of the tour.  There was an incident with Cirrus you see and,”  Copia trailed off and shrugged.  “Maybe one of these nights I’ll get a hotel room so we can try this again.”

“Sounds like a plan, Papa.”  He smiled softly, his face once more showing how tired he was.  It was time to say goodnight so you both could get some sleep.  “What will we do for tonight though?”

“Tonight?  Uh, I’m not sure I can stay quiet enough…”

“Can I at least get a goodnight kiss?”

“It would be my pleasure.”

You couldn’t help yourself and reached out to gently touch your screen with your finger, the yearning to actually be able to touch him so strong you wanted to cry.  He brought his phone up to his face, waiting for you to do the same, the both of you gently pressing your lips to them at the same time.  When he started whispering something soft in Italian you pulled away, your eyes trying to trace every part of his face before you said goodnight.

“Same time tomorrow?”

“Yes, Papa.  I’ll be here.”

“Naked in my bed?”  He laughed when you rolled your eyes, reaching up to get ready to flick the light switch.  “Buonanotte, amore.”

“Goodnight, Copia.”

You let a few tears fall after the call ended and you quickly buried yourself in the sheets to surround yourself with his smell.  Two more months without him was too long and you decided then and there to see about that hotel room first thing tomorrow.

And a plane ticket so you could share it with him.

If you'd like to be added/removed from the tag list (or if I accidentally left your name off) of this fic or any of my others please leave a comment or send me a dm! Thank you 💙

My Masterlist ~ My Archive of our Own ~ My Ko-Fi Tip Jar

[pjoxreader]

PJO Boys Helping With Reader's Period

Leo Valdez

-This man is a mechanical genius, he would make you anything and everything. Just say the word.

-So when he sees you hesitating about asking him for something he pokes and prods until you cave in, asking him to make you a heating pad.

-It takes a few seconds for the gears in his brain to turn before he gets it. “Ohhh! Yeah! Yeah! That’s no problem, I’m sure I can cook something up! Just give me a night!”

-There’s no way he wouldn’t drop everything if he knew your comfort was on the line. 

-He’d go around and ask the other girls in camp about the sort of things that helped them with cramps. 

-Sure enough the next morning he’d bring you a horribly wrapped gift with a sleepy grin, offering you the heating pad he made. It not only had different heat levels and wrapped around your entire body to help with lower back cramps, it also had multiple massaging functions.

-Please take a nap with him, after all that work he’d want nothing more. 

Frank Zhang

-He tries so hard to be helpful. He really tries. It isn’t his fault that all the women in his family were very strong and independent. 

-You once asked him to get you some pads. He ended up coming back with six different boxes and some tampons just in case.

-”...Frank…” you complain as he sets the all down on your bed, you could see his hesitance as he tries to figure out what he did wrong.

-”Did… Did I not get enough?” You can’t stay mad at him since he looked like a worried puppy. 

-He ends up working on some basic tasks instead like getting your craving for you. That? That he can do.

-He’ll bring you anything from Hot coco, to your favorite chocolate or sweet. And if it’s very specific he’ll go to Nico to ask if he could shadow travel for it. 

-He also keeps a little stash of some of your favorite snacks, just in case he isn’t able to get what you’re craving in time.

Percy Jackson

-Sally Jackson raised this man right. SHE RAISED HIM RIGHT.

-He carries around both tampons and pads, no questions asked for anyone who needs it.  Not only is he naturally charming, he's genuinely a sweet guy.

-You accidently bleed through onto his bed? No worries he can just wash it. It isn’t the first time he’s had to get blood out of something.

-He’ll give you massages to help with your cramps. It doesn’t matter how long it takes as long as it helps you feel better.

-He claims it’s a good workout so he doesn’t mind doing it. 

-Don’t expect to get anything yourself during your period. You need food? He’s on his way. Water? Already got it. 

-When it’s time to sleep he’ll hold you close and gently rub circles into your hip and side, whispering loving words of affirmation. He knows your emotions could get a bit wild during this time of the month. He’s the best boyfriend you could ask for.

Jason Grace

-He’s clueless. He was raised by wolves after all and the time he was with his family he was too young to be informed about… That.

-At least the look of utter horror on his face is amusing. He looks down there as if you’d start spurting blood, face utterly pale.

-”But… Won’t you like… Bleed out or something?” he asks in utter concern.

-You have to try so hard to not laugh at him. Please set him down and borrow one of the Apollo kids books on the subject.

-He will 100% be staring in utter horror as if you’re explaining to him how to commit murder but he’s at least listening.

-He has a new respect for women now and to be honest he’ll be a bit scared of them for a while.

-He’ll go to the other girls of Argo ll to make sure that you weren’t just messing with him.

~Masterlist & Rules~

Like my writing? Please consider sending me a Ko-fi! ☕

[skunkox]

Darlin's Jacket Headcanon

Been sitting on this for weeks , so just hear me out rq.

Dalrin's jacket was a gift from Asher. It was a present to cheer them up while they were on punishment when they were young. Possibly a birthday? Grades? Faught a kid? Embarrased their parents in front of the pack? Havent worked out the details.

It's a letterman jacket from a band they were really into. But the issue? It's a gooddam Unisex XXL, and the twerp of a Tank is like, barley 14 with not real muscle mass yet. My Tank at least is 13 when they make the move and join the pack in Dahlia while the main shaw pack kids are 14.

▪︎■▪︎■▪︎■▪︎

"Ash. Remind me again why you dragged us to Hot Topic." Milo asked, reluctantly following a brace faced Asher into the cramped, and dim lit store.

"Cause Half-pint, your comrad in short arms has been looking miserable. Or at least, more so than normal." Asher snickered, slowly getting more, and more side tracked as he wandered farther into the store. It wasn't long before David grabbed the boy by his collar and dragged him to the back of the store. Milo flashed him a cocky grin while Asher stumbled behind David.

"We got a problem. You said it was this one, right? It's too big." David released Asher to nealty pick up the jacket. "I mean, I know it's the thought that counts, but it's just not practical, Ash."

Asher was already looking through the piles. Wanting to be 100% sure they weren't missing anything. Starting to feel defeated. There was no way Asher was going to ask the clerk if there would be another shipment. Nor would he be willing to wait for a possible restock. Milo looked at his friend. He could tell those puppy dog eyes were gonna start bulging soon. A huff escaped his lips, and he stood straight with his hands on his hips. Trying to seem cool and a little bit taller.

"It's not like they're done growin'. And a jackets a jacket. If it's coverin', it's good." Milo couldn't stop the noogie barreling his way.

•●•●•●•

The handoff was swift. Just as the troublemaker was mounting their skateboard outside their middle school's gate, a familiar truck rolled up. From the truck's bed, Asher gave a quick "Heads up!" Before giving the equivalent of a basketball pass with a heavy black bag. A cackle could be heard, and the truck road off. Leaving them bamboozled.

It wasn't until Tank got home that they viewed the contents of the bag. The biggest, and goofiest smile spread across their face. They couldn't give two fucks about the size. It was from their favorite band. It was a gift. Someone cared enough to gift them something. Anything. But the fact that the few times they did speak, they were actually listened too. It nearly brought the runt to tears. It did. They won't admit it though. That's just embarrassing.

Really embarrassing. They were given a jacket by a boy. An upper classmen boy. A boy who was a part of their pack. Who they'd have to face on a regular basis. They did the jacket at the back of their closet. Still in it bag.

The disappointment in Asher's face really couldn't be hidden. Mostly for the fact that though the week of quick pass bys,they didn't wear the jacket. But he noticed at their next pack meeting, they'd give small waves now. Small smiles were attempted. This continued until Tank would inevitably start sitting near Asher during meetings. Or willingly go on group outing. This snowballed to the occasional video game or movie hangouts.

Still mostly lingering around Ash, or him leaning on them. When he did so, Tank would get flustered. But in true Tank fashion, would give his sides a punch or his legs a kick. Never hard enough to leave heavy bruises. What can I say? They play hard.

As oblivious to this Asher was, it was almost too embarrassing a site for the other second gen pack members. Cristian would poke his fun while Asher was away before Amanda could put him in check. Milo genuinely wanted to see how things would play out. David called them the "Disaster Duo" for a long while.

In true 2008 middle schooler cringe, Tank was convinced that the might have had the tiniest crush on Asher. But they denied it. Denied it so much that the others couldn't be convinced it wasn't true. There were lots of little arguments that summer. But Tank would immediately shut up when ever Asher came around.

•●•●•●•

Freshman year was something......

The teasing started to get out of hand. Asher would definitely hear the snickers and teasing. Especially now that it was directed towards him by his classmates. Asher would deny it during classes and lunches that they were just his "Lil Buddy." It's not like he really helped the situation. Hitting a growthspurt over the summer, it was easy to see him from down the hall. He'd wave and call Tank's name out into the crowd. His little buddy was drawing in a sea of students.

He'd elped them get to their classes by becoming a meat shield. Tank was just barely able to keep up. Asher once thought I'd be funny if he could heave them over his shoulder like a cheap, stringed gym bag. Tank was flustered but kicked and punched all the same.

The teasing one again grew when Tank finally decided to wear the damn jacket during school pictures. Not wanting to be remembered in the preppy outfit their parent picked out for then, they stowed the jacket away in their backpack.

The little smile on Asher's face couldn't have been bigger when he saw them in it. He was on his way to take pictures, and Tank was headed back to class. He pulled them off to the side of a couple half functioning vending machines.

"Sooooo? How're liking the jacket? I know it's too big but you said you like listening to the band. That, and I've never not seen it in your discman. I'm sorry I got it so big. It was t-." Asher's lip got stuck on a braces bracket, and he began to fumble his words. Quickly second-guessing if Tank even really liked the damn thing.

Giggling could be heard from a couple kids passing by. A light shove was made by another to Ash. A quick "Dork." was thrown his way. Heat rose in his face. In Tank's too. But out of frustration. Asher didn't do anything wrong. He was just trying to be a good friend.

And it clicked for the freshman. Why overthink and cause trouble for Asher if they could be a friend? That could be comfortable. They wouldn't have to avoid him like an unwanted puppy. He'd been their friend. Or at least trying to be. Shit didn't have to be weird.

"Hell yeah, bro! It really saved my ass today. My parents wanted me to look like some sort of outstanding citizen or some shit. Can't wait till I can bulk up some, though. I'll totally be able to take on David one on one." Tank beamed and jabbedAsher in the arm with quick fist. This was the loudest they had ever been as far as he knew. His goofy ass grin was back on his face. Before Asher could get out a word, Tank ran past him.

"Thanks dude!" They called out from the crowd, not looking back and focusing on making it through the herd of upper classmem.

•●•●•●•

The following years, Tank continued being bro-y with Asher. He laid off of a lot of physical contact in turn. But this was comfortable for them. Not real close like he was with the others but it was what Tank wanted. They seemed happier that way.

Tank absolutely wore the jacket every chance they got. Around their waist if need be. Ruined absolutely every single yearbook photo. Every pack meeting. Every fight. Even when they felt there was no one to run to for comfort. That jacket had been through hell and back. However, you can only stich fabric so many times.

It looks ratty, but there is no way they're giving it up any time soon. Even if hugs are always offered or dare I say mandatory.

Tank was now yelling at Asher for kicking their controller from their hands during their match of Mario Kart. Hands were thrown, but carefully so. The group of 8 were hanging out at David and Angel's after all. There was no way either of the two were willing to take beating from David. At the very least, another ban from the house. Laugher roared in the home from all sides. Of course, Sweetheart, being an opertunist, took first place of that round.

David and Sam had been in the kitchen, taking a break from the roundy bunch. He had asked Tank about the jacket on multiple occasions, but never gave a straight answer. He'd at least wanted to get it professionally fixed up. Tank had gotten used to all the stains and tears. Saying it was like "The scar that protected their scars." And was proud of it for always being there.

David was willing once again, shed a little light on the troublemaker. Sam let out a chuckle. The next round was starting, and he wanted to make sure he wouldn't be playing doctor that night. The two men returned. David taking his corner seat next to Angel. Same made his way to the recliner. His Darlin' not missing a beat, taking a seat on the beanbag they claimed earlier in the night between their mate's legs. All the while, raspberries were exchanges between them and Asher from across the room. His own mate laughing at their childsh antics.

This was all the comfort they could ask for.

▪︎■▪︎■▪︎■▪︎

Jacket really be a security blanket, tho. Sorry for the shit grammar. Caught some kind of cold, and my vision is absolute shit.

Bromance anyone?

[maxsimagination]

alannah kennedy smut pleaseeee

𝙨𝙣𝙚𝙖𝙠𝙮, 𝙨𝙣𝙚𝙖𝙠𝙮 - 𝙖.𝙠𝙚𝙣𝙣𝙚𝙙𝙮

warnings: smut. mirror sex. 18+ under the cut.

a/n: not even kidding, this thing deleted itself three times before i could post it.

------

it was a travelling day today, the team had an away game against united. it was the manchester derby.

i was the on call physio, so naturally i had to go with them. when we got to our designated hotel, the coach started handing out room assignments. there was 22 players included in the travelling team so each of them had a roommate. that left me with no one.

not that i was complaining though, alanna always found her way to my room anyway.

as if on cue, there was a light tap on the door before it creaked open and in poked my girlfriends head with a giant grin plastered on it.

“lani, what are you doing?”

“i’ve come to see my girlfriend. and my leg has a cramp.”

i sighed at that. she always knew what to say to get me.

“what leg is it?”

“my left one.”

so with that i instructed her to lie down on my bed, face down, while i grabbed my massaging oil. i dropped some on my hands and started lightly rubbing at alanna’s calf. she sighed contently at my movements. perks of having a physio girlfriend i guess.

after a while, alanna started shuffling her legs, specifically her thighs which she kept trying to rub together. i had a fair idea of what she wanted, deciding to test the waters.

my hands moved up from her calf, to her thigh. along the hem of her shorts, and alanna shifted her thighs again. i stopped massaging then, slowly moving one of my hands under her shorts, and finding her damp underwear. i dipped a finger into her soaking folds before pulling out.

much to the displeasure of alanna.

but i hooked my fingers on the waist and of her shorts then.

“can i take them off?”

“yes, god please, take them off.”

she was desperate, begging for me to do something. i pulled them down, along with her underwear.

my finger around their way back to her dripping cunt, circling her clit once before making their way back towards her hole, then pushing in. only two fingers first, setting a steady pace.

my other hand found her clit and started rubbing small circles around it. alanna let out a string of moans, pushing her ass back to meet my fingers in their thrust.

“faster please- oh, please.”

i quickened my pace, almost pounding into her at this point, and rubbing her clit with more pleasure. i could tell she was close, i could feel her hole clenching around my fingers faster and faster.

with a couple more thrusts, alanna was moaning out again.

“i’m gonna- gonna cum, y/n.”

“cum for me, lani.”

not even a second later she was cumming all over my fingers, while i slowed down my thrusts and eventually pulled out of her. when she’d come down off her high, she flipped over to lie on her back.

i licked her juices off of my fingers and looked down at her. she was already standing up and walking towards me.

“how’s your cramp now, lani?”

i smirked at her and she only laughed.

“it’s better now thanks, doc. i think you need a reward for all your hard work though.”

“oh yeah? what do you have in mind?”

she walked over to my bedside table, opening the drawer and pulling out the black bag that was in there. i blushed immediately, as she pulled out a large black strap.

“how’d you know i packed that?”

she didn’t answer, only stepped into the harness, tightening it before walking up to me again.

“you want your reward?”

i nodded vigorously, already slipping my shirt off.

“pants and underwear off as well.”

she commanded. i obeyed, stood butt naked in front of a semi naked alanna.

she turned me around to face to the mirror wardrobe. her hand snaked around to my stomach and slowly trailed down to my clit. i could feel myself getting wetter by the second, then her finger was dipping through my folds.

she pulled it back up to draw small circles on my clit, watching me intently.

it didn’t take her long to bring me to the edge, a few more strokes and i’d be cumming.

“lani, can i cum please?”

i moaned out and she responded to me with a pinch on my nipple.

“come for me princess.”

i did as she said, cumming for the first time that night. alanna dragged her fingers through my wetness again, spreading my juices all over my folds.

“you ready for my cock, baby?”

“yes, lani.”

she reaches down behind me to guide her strap where she wanted it. lining it up with my hole, i feel her push the tip in, and i moan at the stretch. she pushes further, until she’s bottomed out in me.

she waits a beat before pulling out almost all the way then thrusting back in. her strong hands on my hips guide me up and down, essentially fucking me onto her dick.

“watch the mirror princess. look how pretty you look, stuffed with my cock.”

i moan at her words, reaching my own hand down to my clit to add to the pleasure.

“mmm, don’t stop lani. please, keep fucking my pussy.”

my words must’ve made her go feral, as she thruster harder and faster, her owns hands replacing my own on my clit. she rubs harsh circles, demanding the bundle of nerves to bring me to the edge.

“that’s it princess, look at your tits bounce while you get fucked by my cock.”

“lani, i’m close. don’t stop, please.”

i shut my eyes, praying she doesn’t stop. she doesn’t, keeps thrusting into my pussy at her quickened pace. her fast circles on my clit add to the already tight coil in my stomach. i can feel myself getting closer and closer, but the pressure felt different.

it was heavier, a bigger build up, and with some more thrusts from alanna i could feel myself let go of that pressure.

the sound of gushing liquid making me open my closed eyes to see clear liquid squirting out of my pussy like a waterfall.

it stops after a bit and i go limp, alanna’s arms being the only thing from stopping me collapsing. she brings us to lie down in the bed, discarding the strap on the bedside table and grabbing a wet cloth to clean me up.

“did i make you squirt princess?

“mmh hmm.”

i can’t manage much else, all my energy spent on our previous activities.

“that was so hot, doc.”