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justrustandstardust · 3 months

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*✧:*one, two, three (it's not only you and me)*:･✧*:

@ryuqzn on X

"what suguru is trying to avoid saying is the whole cliché of 'we saw you from across the bar and we really like your vibe'," the white-haired man says, gaze flickering down your body. he looks back up, making eye contact.

"but it's true, so we were wondering if you'd like to join us for some fun," he says casually, blue eyes piercing.

after you get stood up, you're ready to cut your losses and head home. when a couple approaches you at the bar with a proposition, you just might end up changing your mind.

MDNI: i'm not joking, this is utter filth and minors should steer clear of it like they're teenage boys and this is a decent haircut.

pairing: geto/gojo/you

a/n: this is for someone special. you know who you are.

important: afab reader, she/her pronouns

word count: 16k (i know, i fucking know)

because i'm clinically insane, i've created a playlist to enchance your listening ~pleasure. here's the spotify version, and here's the youtube version. this is purely for the girls, gays and theys. i hope you have as much fun reading this as i did writing it. (͡ ͡° ͜ つ ͡͡°)

the clock's just struck nine, and you sigh, glancing down at your phone for the umpteenth time that evening. you suppose it's your fault for having such shit taste in men, anyways, for agreeing to meet a loser that didn't even bother to show.

swirling the straw around your drink, you kick your legs out from your seat on the barstool and ponder whether or not to ask the bartender for another. this is already your third drink; you're no lightweight but even you aren't impervious to the effects of three whiskey neats.

sighing again, you decide to cut your losses and call it a night. fuck men, you think distastefully, reaching into your bag for your wallet. literally and figuratively. you got all dressed up for some asshole that couldn't even bother to take you to bed tonight.

you're rooting around in your purse for your wallet when there’s a sudden tap on your shoulder. you glance up, and are met with the faces of possibly the two most beautiful men you've ever seen before in your life. they tower over you, and though you're sitting, you know that even if you stood up they'd easily have several inches on you. the dark-haired man is sporting a half-up half-down hairstyle, the contours of his chest and broad shoulders barely hidden by a fitted dress shirt and leather jacket.

you glance at the other man, who's light-haired and blue-eyed. his waist is so impossibly small in his dress shirt that you almost reach out to wrap your hands around it, just to see if they could fit. they're looking at you like they're seeing through you, and you blink, heady from both the alcohol and weight of their gaze.

"sorry to interrupt, but are you heading out?" the dark-haired man asks politely, leaning forward slightly. you nod slowly, unsure of what he's going to say next.

he chuckles, ducking his head. "ah, that's too bad. my partner and i were wondering if you'd like to come out with us tonight."

"come out?" you say, raising an eyebrow. the white-haired man rolls his eyes, pushing at the dark-haired man's arm.

"what suguru is trying to avoid saying is the whole cliché of 'we saw you from across the bar and we really like your vibe'," he says, making direct eye contact with you.

"but it's true, so we were wondering if you'd like to join us for some fun," he says casually, gaze unwavering. your eyes nearly bulge out of your head and you glance between them, watching as the dark-haired man —suguru?— pushes back, swatting the white-haired man on the shoulder.

"you'll have to forgive satoru, he's a bit upfront. but yes, we would love to get to know you better, if you're interested," he says purposefully, dark eyes meeting yours.

"no pressure, of course. we'd be just as happy to call you a taxi to make sure you get home safe and leave it at that," he adds, nodding at the door. your tongue feels heavy in your mouth, and you glance between them, at the cocksure expression on the white-haired man's face and the carefully open one on his partner's.

"can i know your names?" you manage, and the dark-haired man smiles, eyes crinkling at the corners.

"you can call me geto. this is gojo," he says, gesturing to the white-haired man, who boisterously sticks out his tongue and flashes a peace sign.

you tell them your name in return and geto smiles again, glancing at gojo.

"that's a beautiful name. we'd be happy to do whatever you'd like to do tonight— it's totally up to you. we'll be happy with any choice you make, even if that means our acquaintanceship ends here," geto says kindly but meaningfully, looking into your eyes so you know he's serious. gojo nods beside him, and then smirks.

"wherever you're headed won't be nearly as exciting as us, though," he intones liltingly, brow raised in challenge. geto smacks him upside the head and he winces, pouting at the abuse.

"satoru is just joking," geto says, glancing sharply at gojo. "we are completely okay with whatever you want to do. we just want to make our interest in you very, very clear."

you haven't moved for the entirety of this interaction. you glance between them again, at these two heaven-sent men on a night you were basically begging to be dicked down only to be disappointed by the universe (read: a random loser whose name you can't even remember). swallowing hard, you think that you made your choice as soon as the words left geto's lips.

"i'll come with you," is what finally comes out of your mouth, throat dry. geto's lips quirk upwards and gojo grins, extending a hand to help you down from the barstool.

"just let me pay for these drinks first," you say, going for your purse. geto shakes his head and steps forward, catching your wrist in one hand and guiding it away from your bag.

"i don't think so," he says simply, releasing your wrist and reaching into his back pocket. he throws way too many bills onto the counter and you're trying not to gape as gojo snickers, urging you to take his hand. his palm is warm to the touch as he helps you down from the barstool, geto bringing up the rear with a featherlight touch to the small of your back.

you were right. even with heels, they tower over you. flanked on either side, they walk you to the door, geto pushing it open and gesturing for you to go through. as you pass him, you catch a whiff of versace's eau fraiche, the distinct notes of rosewood filtering through your nostrils. gojo follows behind you, tapping on his phone.

it's cold, and you didn't bring a jacket. you're trying to appear like you're not shivering but geto notices anyways, shrugging off his own leather jacket to drape around your shoulders. gojo steps away, raising his phone to his ear.

"where are we going?" you ask, geto's cologne enveloping you along with his residual body heat. geto glances at gojo, who's speaking quietly to someone on the phone.

"somewhere private," he says, brushing his bangs away from his forehead. he looks at you, something darkening in his gaze. "somewhere no one will disturb us."

gojo hangs up the phone, stepping off the curb into the street. seconds later, a sleek black SUV pulls up, windows tinted. gojo goes around the other side and geto opens the door for you, holding out a hand to help you inside. it's easily the most expensive car you've ever been in, the seats plush and the interior unbelievably spacious. there are four seats facing each other, the front of the car partitioned so the driver isn't visible. gojo takes the seat opposite you, kicking up his feet and folding his hands behind his head.

geto sits down beside you, reaching into a small compartment that evaded your notice to produce a chilled bottle of water.

"so you can sober up," he explains, unscrewing the cap. "we don't want you intoxicated for what's coming next."

"what's coming next?" you parrot, taking the water. gojo snickers again, pulling a lollipop out from god knows where and popping it between his teeth. he sucks, cheeks hollowing around the candy, eyes never leaving yours.

"we're down to do whatever you want to do," geto says, turning to face you. his features are open, honest. "we just need to know what's on the table."

"everything," you reply too quickly, answer coming out instantly. geto chuckles good-naturedly, gesturing to the water.

"then you'll have to get started on that."

you've never chugged water so hastily in your life. the drive is short, ten minutes at best, and the three of you sit in comfortable silence, tempered by the sounds of smooth rnb filtering through the car's speakers. the car pulls up beside a skyscraper, endlessly tall against the city skies. gojo takes the empty bottle from your hand and carelessly tosses it aside, stepping outside and taking your hand in his to help you out of the car. geto goes around the other way, nodding at the driver as the car rolls away from the curb.

the building is locked, and you watch as gojo pulls out a black card, flashing it in front of a sensor. the doors part to reveal an immaculate marble lobby, scaffolded by floor-to-ceiling windows that are at least three stories high. building staff are positioned discreetly behind tall counters, none of whom pay gojo and geto any mind as the three of you make their way through to the elevators. your heels are clacking on the polished floor, geto's jacket snug around your shoulders.

there are eight elevators, but only one with a sensor. gojo flashes his card again, the elevator doors sliding open. geto holds the door for you as you step inside, taking gojo's proffered arm. he presses the only button on the wall —labelled PH— as geto follows you inside, the doors closing behind him. you're still holding onto gojo's arm as the elevator rises, and rises, and rises. it moves silently, the only sound the clack of the lollipop against gojo's teeth. it's been at least two full minutes and you're starting to wonder if you're genuinely in the stratosphere when there's a quiet ping and the elevator slows to a stop.

geto steps out, motioning at you to go ahead. gojo leads you down the hall to what appears to be the only suite on the entire floor. expecting the black card again, you're surprised when he presses his palm to a large, flat pad, which scans his hand and flashes green. the door clicks open and gojo heads inside, geto once again bringing up the rear.

you're confronted by the most stunning residence you've ever seen. the architecture is open-concept, with two stories connected by a spiral staircase. the same floor-to-ceiling windows from the lobby showcase the glittering city skyline, lights twinkling just below the clouds. everywhere you look, there's sleek leather and white marble, outfitted with tasteful minimal decor and modern art.

"where am i?" is all you're able to say, struggling to pick your jaw up from the floor. gojo laughs, sliding his jacket off and tossing it onto a chaise in the living room.

"don't worry about it," he winks, pulling the lollipop from between his lips and ignoring geto's subsequent eyerolling. "life is better when you get it to live it in 3D."

"he's a nepo baby," geto interjects, going around the kitchen island and opening two massive fridge doors. "and he's insufferable, so being rich makes him easier to deal with."

gojo huffs indignantly, tossing the lollipop in something discreetly disguised as a garbage.

geto rummages around in the fridge, taking out the most expensive-looking sandwich you've ever seen. "hungry?"

you shake your head, and geto looks at you, imploring. "i know you had the water, but you're going to need....energy, for what we have planned."

choice made. placing your purse down on the island, you make your way over to where he's standing, taking the baguette. hopping onto a stool, you take a bite, eyebrows shooting up your forehead at the rich flavours. brie, prosciutto, fig jam.....the list continues.

geto glances at gojo, who's now only wearing his slacks, dress shirt and tie. "satoru, you can start getting the room ready. i'll bring her when she's done."

you’re mildly surprised when gojo makes an affirmative noise and leaves without snark, setting off to one of the many rooms in the suite. after he disappears from sight, geto turns back to you.

"this is the part where i ask how you like it," he says, leaning his elbows onto the kitchen island. you swallow, fig jam tangy on your tongue.

"like i said," you meet his gaze, holding steady. "i like all of it."

geto smiles, eyes crinkling at the corners. "both ends?"

"every single one," you say purposefully, never breaking eye contact.

he chuckles, nodding to himself. "we're clean, by the way."

"as am i," you confirm, popping the last bite of sandwich into your mouth. "on birth control, too," you add, after chewing.

"good to know," geto remarks, pushing himself off his elbows. he helps you down from the stool, taking his jacket from your shoulders and setting it down on the counter. fingertips dancing along the small of your back, he guides you down the same direction gojo went earlier, stopping in front of a large door.

"last chance to change your mind," he says, voice low. he's looking at you openly, honestly. "there won't be any hard feelings either way."

you've never been so sure of anything in your life. "i want this," you breathe, suffocated by the truth of that statement. "i want both of you."

geto exhales, slow smile gracing his features. wordlessly, he opens the door, gesturing for you to go ahead. the room is dimly lit by cool-toned floorlights, but you can make out the shape of a bed in the centre, warmed by a fireplace at its opposite. the same floor-to-ceiling windows showcase the city skyline, creating a glittering effect along the room’s walls. you squint at the far-off section of the room with tiled floor, following the tile into a bathroom that houses a massive, glass doored rainfall shower, alongside an enormous claw-foot tub.

gojo is standing in front of the bed, lanky stature backlit by the cityscape outside. he's still wearing his shirt, slacks and tie, sans his shoes. the door clicks shut behind you, and you sense more than see geto take a step towards you, breath ghosting along the nape of your neck.

deafening silence engulfs the room as every single one of your hairs stand on end, the energy in the space charged. gojo hasn't moved and neither has geto, both standing stock still in the silence like they're waiting for you to make the first move.

you let out a shuddering exhale and that's all geto needs, his hand wrapping around your jaw as his mouth attaches itself to your neck. he sucks harshly, hungrily, as his other hand grips your waist from behind, pressing the entire length of his body against yours. gojo is in front of you in an instant and you don't waste a second, yanking him forward by the tie to crash your lips together.

the artificial flavour of the lollipop is sweet on his tongue as he kisses you with intention, hand slipping down to hike your leg around his waist. geto's tongue is working against your neck at the same time, the sensation of two hot mouths overwhelming. gojo sucks your lower lip into his mouth as geto bites the juncture of your neck, eliciting a whine into gojo's teeth.

heat is pooling between your legs and you can feel that they're both hard already, gojo pressed into your front and geto against your back. geto suddenly releases your jaw, taking a step back as gojo lifts you up, settling your other leg around his waist. he's still making out with you as your arms wrap around his shoulders and he walks you both to the bed, carrying you like it's effortless. he sets you down onto the bed, breaking away once you're laid flat on its smooth surface.

you make to grab his tie again and he snatches your wrist in one hand, smirking.

"eager, are we?"

"a bitch, are you?" you snipe, enjoying the way his eyes flash with amusement. he pins your wrist above your head, dipping his head down so that your noses are brushing.

"if you want something, you'll have to ask it for it," he says lowly, gaze flickering down to your mouth. "nicely."

"make me," you retort breathlessly, capturing his lips in a searing kiss. he kisses you back just as hard, broad shoulders caging you in as your hand twists uselessly in his grip.

he breaks away, releasing your wrist. geto reappears, shirtless and wearing only his black jeans. you barely have time to appreciate the muscled planes of his chest and the toned flesh of his abs as he grabs the back of gojo's head, messily bringing their mouths together.

gojo moans against his lips, palms coming up to press at his chest. without breaking apart, geto rips his shirt, buttons flying everywhere as fabric tears. somehow, the tie remains.

gojo shoves him away, stepping backwards to frown at what used to be his shirt. "that was expensive, you know."

"you can buy a dozen more," geto says mildly, turning back to you. you're transfixed, staring at gojo's bare chest that is just as defined as geto's, at the dip of his collarbones and the defined ridges of his abdomen.

gojo makes a face at his ruined shirt and disappears into the bathroom, leaving you alone with geto.

"you're wearing far too many clothes," says geto, a shadow passing over his features. you swallow, shrinking into the bed as something that's not quite fear passes over you— more like an impending sense that something is coming.

geto climbs onto the bed, getting all up into your space immediately. claiming your mouth with his own, he kisses you like he fucking owns you, subsuming every thought in your mind to the point that you don't even notice him unzipping your dress.

he removes your clothes with a care that he didn't use in taking off gojo's, gently tossing your dress aside when you're down to your bra and panties. you're staring up at him as he leans down into you, warm hand resting on your hip.

gojo reappears with a remote in his hand, and you hear a click followed by the same smooth rnb from the car. there must be speakers threaded into the walls because the sound feels like it's coming from everywhere, weaving together the neurons in your brain that have been fried by sensation.

"is this okay?" geto's voice is soft but his eyes are piercing as he lifts you up towards him, palms supporting your back. you nod haltingly, heat flooding your veins as he inclines his head to kiss you again. without stopping, he deftly unclasps your bra one-handed, throwing it against the wall without looking. all of a sudden, he pulls away, standing up and moving to the foot of the bed.

gojo swaps places with him, coming up to your torso. you raise an eyebrow in question and geto smiles knowingly, climbing onto the bed and settling in front of your legs.

"satoru and i have different areas of speciality, you could say." gojo's smirk is back on his face as he takes in the sight of your naked chest, watching the flush that you're fighting spread down your clavicle.

"don't be shy, now," he teases, ignoring your death glare. you're about to retort but the air suddenly leaves your lungs in a whoosh as gojo bends forward, taking one of your nipples into his mouth. his soft hands cup your breasts, massaging firmly as his tongue flickers against the hardening bud.

you let out a shaky exhale, toes curling as one of your hands comes up to rest in his hair. the sensation is so intense that you almost don't notice geto sliding your panties down your legs until you feel the cool air against your damp lips.

gojo continues his ministrations, sucking your nipple into his mouth and tonguing it hard, nipping when you let out a low groan. geto spreads your legs and settles between them, kneeling on the bed. dark head bent, he drops lingering kisses up your legs, all the way from your calves up to your inner thighs. his lips are warm on your skin and you're absolutely throbbing, aching for it as he gets closer to your burning core.

gojo has switched to your other breast and geto is pressing butterfly kisses to the soft flesh of the inside of your thighs, sucking tender hickeys into the thin skin. the sensations are too much and not enough all at once, overwhelming your senses but not quite satisfying the ache inside you for more.

geto's mouth is everywhere except where you want it most— he's at the crease of your thigh, at the seam of your hip, the bump of your pubic bone. his breath ghosts over your slick lips, a sly smile lifting the corner of his mouth when you buck up, chasing. as gently as a butterfly beats its wings, he circles your clit with the pad of a fingertip, not quite touching it in the way he knows you want him to. you can’t hold back the whine that escapes your mouth, and geto’s lips quirk, his expression amused. his hands are warm on your hips and it feels like coming home when his lips finally meet yours, lapping up the slickness in your folds like a man parched.

gojo has released your nipples and he's positioned himself behind you to prop your upper body up, nibbling on your earlobes with his palms still cupping your breasts. geto's dark head is buried between your legs and he's eating you out like he was fucking born for it, alternating between dipping his tongue inside of you and sealing his lips around your clit. sucking down rasping breaths, you see stars when his mouth forms a vacuum around your clit and he sucks hard , your thighs clamping around his head as your hand fists in his hair.

geto hasn't stopped, arms beneath your thighs to hold your hips down as he pushes his tongue deeper inside your sopping centre. a choked-off moan falls from your lips and gojo snickers into the skin of your neck, his naked chest and the fabric of the tie pressed into your spine.

"you're enjoying dessert, aren't you, suguru?" gojo's voice is lilting and you would retort but you can't, too busy gasping for air as geto just hums in agreement, relentlessly tonguing your clit.

gojo begins leaving lovebites all around your shoulders and you can feel his fingers twisting and pinching your nipples, the sensation heightened by geto feasting between your legs. you're so wet that his chin is glistening with it, a few strands of his dark hair slipping out and falling into his face as he eats you out with vigour, the tendons in his jaw tensing from effort.

“oh god, don’t stop,” you cry out, fists clenched in the sheets. gojo chuckles behind you, tweaking a nipple and laughing when you spasm.

“did you hear that, suguru? i think you’re gonna have to step it up.”

without taking his mouth off your clit, his long fingers slide so smoothly inside of you that they may as well have been there all along. pumping shallowly, he continues to suck on your clit, pulsing his lips and flicking his tongue around the most sensitive part of you.

you keen, high and loud, and geto doesn't need words to understand, pressing a final kiss to your clit and leaning back to thrust his hand properly. he crooks his fingers, searching, and you cry out when he hits your spot, toes curling so hard it hurts.

"right there, huh?" geto murmurs knowingly, fingering you ruthlessly. you ride the high, sparks bursting behind your eyelids. the solid warmth from behind you suddenly disappears as gojo lowers you onto the bed, and you crack an eye open just in time to see him grin devilishly and press his fingers down onto your mound, right above where geto's hand is inside of you.

the combination of inner and outer pressure is too much and you mewl, legs jerking as your walls contract and a sensation you've never felt before washes over you, almost like your body is releasing a gush of liquid.

"we got her to squirt," gojo declares smugly, continuing to press down as geto works you through your orgasm. you're arching off the bed, sheets clenched in your hands as wave after wave of pleasure crashes down upon you, an infinite tsunami upon a helpless shore.

after what feels like forever, you slump back down, chest heaving. geto gently withdraws his hand from between your legs and licks his fingers while gojo lifts his hand to release the pressure from your pelvis. you lift your head up to see gojo standing at the foot of the bed, palming the front of his pants, face scrunched up in want. geto looks to be faring no better as he gets up to stand beside gojo, bulge straining against his jeans.

"i think it's time we got these off," geto says, unzipping his pants. gojo shucks off his slacks in one go, ripping off the tie that somehow remained around his neck throughout all of this. suddenly they're both down to their underwear, black boxers tented.

they glance at you and then back at each other before gojo drops to his knees on the floor, pulling geto's boxers down with him. you watch, spent, as gojo takes geto into his mouth, swallowing around him and fondling his sack. geto tips his head back and rakes a hand through gojo’s hair, peering down at his head bobbing on his length. you're enjoying the show as geto thrusts shallowly into his mouth, his abs flexing with the motion.

gojo’s adam’s apple is bobbing as his throat works, and he keeps going until geto's breathing grows laboured, only stopping when geto gestures with his chin toward you on the bed. gojo releases him with a lewd pop and barely has a second to collect himself before geto's pushing him onto his back, stripping off his underwear and taking him down into his throat in one go. you watch, amazed, at what appears to be geto's total lack of a gag reflex.

"throat goat," gojo remarks fondly, reaching down to thread his hand through geto's dark hair. geto slaps his thigh and gojo chuckles, breaking off to groan when geto urges him on, pushing his ass forward to get him to fuck his throat.

you're still recovering from your climax when geto releases gojo from his mouth, wiping at the saliva around his lips. gojo glances at you, grinning as he pushes himself up onto his palms.

"want a turn?" he asks impishly, gesturing at geto, who stands up. you raise yourself into a sitting position up by the elbows and regard the two men in front of you and their well-endowed assets. gojo is longer but slightly thinner, like a water bottle. geto is girthier and thicker, like a beercan. you'll happily take both.

"i think she's got another orgasm in her, don't you?" geto climbs onto the bed and tugs you onto your hands and knees, gojo going behind you. "why don't you see what you can do about that, satoru."

you're gazing hungrily at the girthy length of geto, veiny and uncut up close. he's still glistening with gojo's saliva as you lick the tip, geto's palm coming to rest on your head. you're taking him down inch by inch as you feel gojo settle behind you, shivering as he trails a finger through the wetness gathered at your lips.

one hand gripping your hip, he lines himself up and pushes inside your wet heat until he's flush against your ass, forcing all the air out of your lungs. in the same instant, you reach the base of geto's length, full at both ends. you moan around him as gojo begins to thrust in earnest, the sound of skin slapping skin reverberating around the room as he fucks you relentlessly.

"shit," gojo says lowly, fingers digging into your hips hard enough to bruise. "you're taking me like a champ."

geto's eyes are closed, his palm resting on your hair. you pull back, flattening your tongue beneath the head while your hand jacks off whatever your mouth can't reach. gojo changes angles and you can suddenly feel him in your chest, his tip so deeply inside of you that it's kissing your cervix.

you pick up the pace, tonguing the slit, and geto is openly groaning, gripping your hair hard enough that it hurts. you don't mind it— you encourage it, in fact, while gojo's fucking you hard enough that your walls will surely remember his shape. every time he brings you back onto his length, heady pleasure shoots through your veins, your toes tingling hotly. you can already feel another orgasm coming as gojo reaches a hand between your legs, searching for your clit. he twists his fingers evilly, not letting up when you let out a muffled moan around geto's girth.

"i think she likes it," gojo says, smirk audible in his voice. he rubs in tight, deliberate circles, his hand quickening as you stop sucking and just breathe, eyes rolling back in your head when he snaps his hips and simultaneously hits your spot.

you hear him laugh breathlessly, thrusts hindered somewhat as your walls spasm around him, his pace slowing as you come for the second time. he fucks you through it, pulling out when it becomes too much. gojo smacks your ass, laughing at the surprised yelp that exits your mouth.

"couldn't resist, princess," he winks at you, coming around to the front of the bed. again, they swap positions and geto moves to the back, warm hands settling around your waist. he brings you backwards onto him, your shoulder blades against his chest. he's warm, so warm, and you melt into his arms. he presses soft kisses into your neck, humming when you sigh contentedly and tip your head onto his shoulder.

"aren't you glad you had that sandwich?" he murmurs into your skin, hands roving all over your pliant body. the sound of a cap opening interrupts your reply, which was just going to be an mmhm-hmm anyways. you blink, watching gojo squeeze lube onto his fingers and stroke geto between your legs, whose eyelids flutter closed at the sensation.

after a few moments, gojo releases geto, who then lifts you up like you weigh nothing, settling you above him on your knees, one braced on either side of his hips. your back is still to his chest, and you turn your head to meet his gaze, cocking your head in question.

"lube?" you say, watching geto chuckle. he smooths a hand down your side, soothing.

"i know you don't have any problems getting wet," he smiles, gaze flickering down your body between your legs. he looks up, eyes dark. "but we can't have you feeling raw just yet."

your heart jumps in your chest when a hand grabs your chin, turning your head to face the front. you're met with the full mast of gojo, who's up on his knees in front of you, his shins pressing into the bed. it happens all at once and geto is lowering you down as you swallow around gojo, the taste of precome heady on your tongue. you sink down onto geto for what feels like forever, his tip reaching towards your ribs.

if gojo fucked you relentlessly, geto fucks you like god himself commanded him, a divine task ordained straight from the heavens above. he bounces you up and down, pushing his hips up to meet yours on every thrust. your palms are braced on gojo's thighs and you can barely breathe around him, glancing up to see his eyes screwed shut in pleasure as he wantonly pumps his hips into your mouth, sliding his length along your tongue.

geto's hands are vicelike around your waist, his hot, hard length stretching your walls every time he brings you down onto his hips. they're working in tandem, each fucking a pair of your lips, and it’s so fucking good that you could cry. you’re absolutely stuffed at both ends, hot pleasure emanating from your core to spread throughout your body every time geto pushes back into you. another orgasm is cresting on the horizon as he picks up the pace, jackrabbiting his hips as he lifts you up impossibly higher, the bed creaking from the combined force of their movements.

"god, you're tight," geto grunts, punctuated by the sound of his balls slapping your ass. "so tight, just for me."

you're so close, you're so fucking close, and you've stopped sucking entirely as geto fucks you harder, your breasts bouncing in time with the motion. gojo suddenly pulls out from your mouth and you don't have time to react before he drops into a kneeling position and grasps your jaw in his hand, bringing your lips to meet his own. gojo slides his tongue inside your mouth, his hand moving up from your jaw to hold your head as his tongue caresses yours.

you moan into his mouth, arms coming up to wrap around his neck as you pull him flush to your chest while geto continues to fuck you, bliss radiating outward from where you’re joined. your nipples are pebbled against the smooth planes of gojo's clavicle and he deepens the kiss, fingers weaving into your hair as his other hand slips down to dance along your overly sensitive clit.

geto tilts his hips and floods every sense in your body with white-hot ecstasy as he rails your spot, the curve of gojo’s smirk sharp against your mouth while his fingertips stroke your clit. you drench the bed for the second time that night as you come, back arching in geto's grip as gojo's fingertips tease the lips stretched around geto's girth, still pistoning in and out of you.

"nice, we got a second squirt," gojo crows, eyes crinkling in mirth as he draws back. he raises his hand for a high-five and you don't have to look to know geto is rolling his eyes as he slaps gojo's hand. geto slowly brings you down to lean onto him, his chest rising and falling from exertion. he's still buried inside of you and you can barely think through the haze in your mind, sagging limply into his arms. geto supports your weight, whispering quietly into your hair as you come down.

"that's it, just like that." his voice is gentle, unlike the way he was moving inside of you moments ago. he twines his arms around your waist as you both catch your breath, the broad muscle of his chest firm against your back. your eyes are closed and your entire body is relaxed, held up by geto's sturdy frame.

"you guys didn't come," you manage to say, voice thick. you feel geto's chest rumble as he laughs, low and deep in your ear.

"that's very kind of you to be concerned," he says, soft smile audible in his voice. "but it's all good. we like to draw things out."

you feel the bed dip as gojo climbs back on, the click of a bottle cap echoing in the quiet of the room.

"we're going to give you a bit of a break," gojo tells you, voice teasing. "you can relax and enjoy the show."

you blink blearily, limbs liquified as geto lifts you off and carefully sets you to his side, wrapping an arm around you as you curl up beside him. you watch while gojo lubes him up again, twisting his wrist knowingly when he meets the head. gojo glances up and they share a private moment, conversing without words. you're content to watch as an intimate smile graces geto's features and gojo leans forward to peck him on the lips, still stroking all the while.

geto withdraws his arm from around you, sitting up to settle gojo on top of his thighs. he spreads gojo's legs over his own, their faces close enough to share the same breath. the lube reappears and gojo leans his weight onto his palm, watching as geto squeezes some over his fingers. they're in an incredibly intimate position, almost lotus-like, legs folded together and gojo's other hand braced on geto's shoulder.

geto slides the first finger inside of gojo with so much confidence that it's obvious they've done this a thousand times before. gojo's spine arches and he exhales hard, eyelids fluttering shut as geto starts stretching him out. geto's dark eyes are trained on his disappearing finger, and you can see gojo's hand tensing around his shoulders. gojo's shaky breaths echo around the room when geto adds another finger, thrusting with more urgency. there's a squelching sound every time his hand meets gojo's ass, and you watch in awe as gojo takes it like he was fucking born for nothing else.

they're both hard as hell, and you're starting to wonder if it's getting painful. you don't have time to contemplate this thought for long before geto's up to three fingers and he changes the angle of his hand, gojo's body jerking violently as geto deliberately hits his spot. geto cranes his neck to suckle at gojo’s nipple, smirking into his chest when he mewls. he squeezes gojo's ass with his free hand and continues pressing his spot as gojo spasms, his lips parted in a soundless moan.

geto carefully withdraws his hand, kissing gojo softly on the lips before taking his wrists and pulling him up onto his knees. geto climbs off the bed, going to stand behind gojo. his eyes flicker over to you and you meet his gaze, cloudy with want. geto doesn't look away as he pushes himself inside of gojo, his arms wrapping around gojo's torso to tug him up against his chest. he starts thrusting carefully, letting gojo adjust to the feeling of his full length inside of him.

you can feel yourself getting wet again as geto finally closes his eyes, pressing his mouth to gojo's neck as he pulls out slowly, bringing his hips forward again. you're brimming with hunger as you watch their bodies move together, geto's one hand wrapped around gojo's throat and the other pressed flat to his chest, holding him upright. gojo is making low noises, quiet ungh-ungh-unghs as geto fills him up, again and again.

"who do you belong to?" geto grunts into his neck, hand tightening around his throat, gojo’s adam’s apple protruding between his fingers.

gojo breathes out a shuddering exhale, his knees and shins pressed into the mattress. his entire weight is leaned onto geto, who's somehow supporting him and fucking him simultaneously.

gojo bites his lip, furrowing his brow. you can see the muscles of geto's ass flexing as he plunges into gojo, not letting up for even a second.

"well," gojo rasps, sounding like he's going for contemplative but ending up wanton instead. "you'll just have to ask george clooney."

geto’s balls slap gojo's ass when he delivers a particularly punishing thrust, pushing all the air out of gojo in a loud huff.

"are you sure about that?" geto sounds remarkably composed for a man who's inside another man's ass.

gojo is only able to make a noise of affirmation in response, a strained uh-huh through his teeth. his giggle is breathless when geto releases his throat to slap his cheek, the thwack loud in the quiet.

"why don't you try again," geto's voice is rough and he changes angles, finding exactly what he's searching for when gojo's body jackknifes into his chest.

"fine, you got me,” gojo moans, throwing his head back onto geto's shoulder. "tell george that i'm —ah!— cheating on him with matt damon.”

this was clearly not the answer geto was looking for. he quickens his pace, slamming his hips hard enough into gojo’s ass to bruise. reaching a hand around to wrap around gojo’s length, his fist is a blur as he strokes in time with his thrusts.

“who do you belong to?” geto says again, strained but still pointed, leaving no room for argument. gojo’s body is strung taut, every muscle tensed with his mouth open and face pinched tight as the bed shakes.

you can only stare as the veins pop out of gojo's neck, abs contracting with his back arched against geto's chest. "i h— i heard idris elba is free— agh!"

geto releases him and pulls out in the same second, taking a full step backwards. gojo lets out a sound that sounds like a sob, body folding in half at the sudden, overwhelming emptiness.

geto continues to stand there, unmoving and unflinching. he's hard as a rock but he looks like he could wait forever as gojo curls in on himself, distraught by the lack of sensation.

gojo whimpers brokenly and brings a hand to his mouth to stifle the sound, his body visibly aching with need. "you," he sobs, on the verge of tears when it finally comes out. "only you. always you."

geto nods, just once, and the relief on gojo's face is palpable when geto yanks him upright and pushes back inside of him in one snap of his hips. geto's rhythm is harsh as he takes gojo again in his other hand, squeezing from root to tip. geto swipes his thumb over the head and gojo makes a choked-off noise, turning his head over his shoulder to tangle their tongues together.

"brat," geto says into his mouth, to which gojo can only whine in agreement.

they're both breathing heavily and it's the hottest thing you've ever fucking seen, the pleasure visible on both of their faces. gojo is biting his lip, eyes scrunched shut, and sweat is beading at geto's temple as he moves, his brows creased. gojo's mouth falls open and he keens, high and loud, body rocking into geto's as they have sex in front of you.

you just met him a few hours ago but you can tell gojo is close, his breaths growing ragged and moans increasing in pitch as he nears climax. right before the event horizon, geto lets go of gojo, stilling his movements but remaining inside of him. gojo lets out an aggravated groan and cracks an eye open, turning his head to look at you.

"this is where you come in, princess," he manages, speech almost slurred. "come here."

he doesn't have to tell you twice. scampering over, you comply when gojo motions for you to turn around. his grip is tight on your ass when he brings your hips back, the hard length of him pressing into the wetness pooled between your legs. he slips inside of your tight heat effortlessly, filling you to the hilt as geto starts fucking him again. gojo is stretching you out and you love the feeling of being so damn full, head hanging low and breasts swaying with the motion as geto fucks gojo and gojo fucks you.

the sound of skin on skin fills the room and you're seeing stars as gojo makes high-pitched sounds, geto's panting filling up the spaces in between his whimpers. it's quite possibly the most erotic thing you've ever experienced, having one man inside of you while another man is inside of him. you can't help but wonder how it feels for gojo, filling up one person with someone else filling him up simultaneously.

they're moving in time with each other, and you hear gojo's breathing become frantic as he gasps. the force of geto's thrusts are pushing him forwards into you, nudging his head repeatedly into your cervix. gojo's palms are hot on your hips, and you feel more than see his body tense up as he approaches orgasm. a loud gasp is pushed out of his chest when geto reaches around to pinch his nipples.

gojo chokes on air, rutting forward into you and pushing himself back onto geto in the same moment. he sounds wrecked with sensation as geto doesn't stop for a second, pounding into him while you clench and milk him for all he's worth.

"fuck, suguru, i'm gonna— fuck, i'm coming," gojo cries, spilling deep inside of you. geto fucks him through it, pushing gojo's load deeper inside of you as he keeps coming. gojo has stopped moving and just rides out his climax, grip loosening around your hips. geto's forcing him forwards into you over and over again, the motion bracketed by gojo's unfettered groans and his own harsh panting. after a long minute, you feel geto pull out of gojo and gojo pull out of you, the lewd noises juxtaposed against the soft music still playing.

gojo flops down onto the bed beside you, chest heaving. geto disappears into the bathroom only to reappear moments later with a damp towel, which gojo catches in one hand. he goes again into the bathroom and you hear the sound of the shower starting up.

"what's he doing?" you ask, watching gojo's chest rise and fall. he holds up a finger, slowing his breathing before he answers you.

"cleaning himself up," he says between lungfuls of air. he turns his head to look at you and winks. "he needs to wash up for what we have planned next with you."

you don't have time to ponder exactly what that could entail before gojo suddenly sits up and manhandles you onto your back, his hands pushing your collarbones. you can feel his release leaking out of you, slippery in between your thighs.

"remember what i said about asking nicely?" his blue eyes are piercing as they bore into yours. gojo is close enough that you can count his eyelashes, and you catch the lingering scent of ysl’s black opium cologne. you swallow, toes tingling at the sheer proximity.

he leans into you and you're dumbstruck by the broadness of him as he cages you in, dipping his head down to brush his nose against yours. barely breathing, you have to bite back a whimper as gojo’s mouth moves to your throat.

"manners are important, you know." sucking hungrily, he spreads your legs with a knee, reaching down to clean up the mess he made inside of you.

"shocked that you would know, seeing as you don't have any," you choke out, nails scrabbling at his shoulder blades while he wipes you clean, the light touch of gojo's hand stark in contrast to the teeth at your throat. you feel him grin into your skin.

"i'm demonstrating them right now, aren’t i?" you can't tell if you're wet from him coming inside of you or from the way he's touching you, once again too much and not enough all at once.

"don't gentlemen always clean up the messes they make?" gojo asks rhetorically, lips moving on your skin. "i'm nothing if not a gentleman."

"and i'm the goddamn president," your voice wobbles but it comes out sufficiently derisory for you in this moment. "since we're telling jokes now."

gojo bites, sucking hard enough to leave a purpled bruise. you can't stop your hand from twisting in his hair, your body arching up into him.

"i know what you want," gojo’s voice is low as he tilts your jaw up for better access, his mouth hot on your neck. he throws the soiled towel aside without looking. "and i'm not going to give it to you until you ask. nicely. "

he moves down your body, leaving bruising kisses along your sternum, your ribs, your hipbones. his palms are cool when they press into your knees, pushing your legs apart so he can kneel between them. gojo looks up at you from beneath his lashes, daring you to retort.

"i know you can do it," he drawls, voice lilting in condescension. he grazes a finger through your slick folds, darting away when your eyelids flutter. "all you need to do is ask."

sheets clenched in your hands, you bite your lip. looking down, you appraise the cocky grin on gojo's face, his eyebrow raised in challenge. he's a bitch, for sure, but it takes one to know one.

"no," is all you say, watching his gaze darken. "i don't think i will."

gojo's mouth is above your clit in a flash, breath hot on your slick lips. your hips buck up involuntarily and he leans back, laughing. you kick at his chest with a foot, resisting the urge to pout.

"come on, it won't kill you," he says mockingly. "it might even do you good to learn some manners."

his hands are firm on your hipbones and he dips his head back down, breathing along your lips. every fibre of your being is on fire and you want it so bad it hurts, throbbing hotly at your core but you will not give him the goddamn satisfaction.

he presses open-mouthed kisses to the inside of your thighs, snickering at the sharp inhale through your nose when he scrapes the thin skin with his teeth. an accidental moan slips from your mouth when he sucks a hickey into your hip, the hand that flies up to stifle it coming too late.

heart racing, a devious smile suddenly quirks your lips. "i don't need to ask," you say, tone just as mocking as gojo's. "to know geto is better at eating me out."

gojo stills against you, his mouth hot on your skin. he draws back slowly, eyes flicking up to meet yours. his grip tightens around your hips and you meet his gaze unwaveringly, watching as a shadow passes over his features.

he cocks his head, looking all the world like a predator about to snatch his prey.

"you know," he begins, and there's nothing joking or lighthearted in his tone this time. "suguru got to have his dessert, but i never got to have mine."

there's no time to ready yourself before gojo's mouth is on you, his tongue sliding inside to your centre without hesitation. your hips jerk up and he's holding you down as he licks into you, tongue caressing your walls. you cry out, one hand gripping the sheets and the other twisted in his hair. you're struck by the thought that he can probably taste himself but judging from the way he's eating you out, he clearly doesn't care.

gojo's head is moving beneath your hand as he continues ravaging you, pulling back only for a second to release one of your hips. when his hand enters you, his fingers somehow feel even deeper than his entire length did ten minutes ago. gojo is unrelenting, pushing his index and middle fingers in and out so quickly you're choking on air. every nerve in your body has been set alight, silvery ecstasy coursing through your veins like drugs as he doesn’t stop.

he's suctioned his lips around your clit, not coming up for air as his hand pumps inside of you. gojo's mouth is warm and wet as he licks and he doesn't let up even when you spasm, his forearm firm across your pelvis to hold you down while his fingers hit your spot, again and again.

you can't even moan because you can't breathe. your eyes are scrunched shut and your back is arched off the bed. you don't have to look to feel his nose pressed into the top of your mound as gojo eats you out like he's fallen ill and your folds are hiding the antidote.

you're just about to come and he stops all at once, removing his hand with a squelch and releasing your clit from between his lips. you blink blearily, eyebrows furrowing in confusion as you peer down at him. gojo's got a challenging look on his face, staring up at you resolutely.

"say please," he says, and you're about to shake your head when he leans closer to you, lips gleaming and chin slick. he trails a finger through your folds, dripping from how close you are and his own saliva. gojo's fingertip circles your clit without touching it, his touch featherlight.

"if you want to come," his voice is low, without mirth. "say it."

every cell in your body has been besieged by want and it seems like he can tell, the little shit. the corner of his mouth curls upwards when he pulls back and your body involuntarily lurches up, like it's following him. you're stubborn and you hate losing but you also really, really fucking need to finish under his tongue.

you bite your lip, the haze in your mind leaving you thoughtless save for one aching need. gojo's blue eyes flash and you're suddenly reminded of the snake, right before it entices eve into eating the apple.

his mouth is set in a firm line, expression resolute. there’s fire simmering beneath your skin and you’re absolutely burning with it, tossing your pride aside as the word finally leaves your mouth.

"please," you choke out, and his mouth splits into a smug grin, teeth shining as brightly as his hair. you only have a moment to feel intense annoyance before gojo's lips are back on yours and the feeling is instantly replaced with mind-numbing pleasure, every endorphin in your brain releasing all at once.

he's thrown your legs over his shoulders, jaw working furiously while his tongue licks into you. gojo's long fingers slip back inside of you seamlessly, aided by how wet you are and his saliva. his other hand leaves your hip and he spreads your folds with his fingers, pushing your clit out and creating the perfect conditions for him to latch his lips around it and suck.

"oh, god," you wail, both hands fisting in his air and toes curling over gojo’s shoulders. you’re heaving shallow breaths but he doesn't stop, his fingers plunging in and out of you as he sucks hard, cheeks hollowing and teeth nipping gently at the bud. you’re absolutely drowning in it, choking on air and limbs jerking when you cry out and come. your thighs squeeze his head and he probably can't breathe but you don't care and neither does he as gojo basically lets you fuck his face, taking all of you and then some.

it just keeps going, and going, and going. gojo doesn't come up for air, suckling at your clit even as you sag back onto the bed, spent. he slowly withdraws his head from between your legs, wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand. geto reappears, his body damp, and you crack an eye open to appraise his lithe form.

"she said i'm better at eating her out," gojo winks conspiratorially, waggling his eyebrows at you and hopping off the bed to stand up.

you don't have the strength to rebut but you don’t have to because geto rolls his eyes, climbing onto the bed to help you sit up. "i'm fairly certain she didn't."

geto reaches into a bedside drawer, pulling out a bottle of water. he unscrews the cap and raises it to your lips, his other hand supporting your back as he helps you drink.

"we're giving you another break," geto's voice is soft but his eyes are dark as you nod weakly, water trickling down your chin. geto’s touch is tender on your jaw as he thumbs at the droplets, taking the bottle from you when you're done and propping you up with a pillow. he leans in close, his loose hair falling into his face, to stroke your cheek, gaze never leaving yours.

"watch closely, okay?" he says, and you have the feeling that it isn't a question, despite being phrased as one. you're sitting on one side of the bed, which is massive enough that all three of you and probably a few more could lay comfortably side-by-side with enough room to spare. gojo turns on the fireplace, the embers crackling to life as he draws the curtains closed, casting the room in a warm glow.

gojo walks back to the bed with palpable intent guiding his footsteps, blue eyes fixed on geto. with eyes only for each other, you watch as gojo climbs onto the bed and on top of geto, whose palm has come to rest around gojo's waist, their gazes locked.

a soft sigh falls from geto's lips when gojo begins pressing tender kisses down his neck. touching him in an achingly affectionate way that seems almost uncharacteristic, gojo's hands are reverent as they hold geto’s body close. they're both achingly hard again but there's nothing rushed about the way gojo's lips are moving against his skin, every hitched breath and shuddering exhale deafeningly loud in the silence of the room.

gojo takes his time, making sure there’s not an inch of geto’s body left unmarked by his lips. he’s everywhere— at geto’s ribs, his navel, his thighs, his hipbone. the sound of geto sighing wafts into your ears like smoke, and gojo parts his legs slowly, palms on the inside of his knees. you watch gojo kneel between his legs like he’s praying, taking a long moment to stare up at geto, who meets his gaze unblinkingly. there’s a long moment where they just breathe together, having another silent conversation meant for the two of them alone.

you have the inescapable sense that you’re being let in on something precious, confirmed by the careful way gojo dips his head down in between geto’s thighs. he brings geto’s legs over his shoulders and geto reaches down to stroke his hair, carding his fingers through the soft strands. from where you’re sitting beside them, gojo’s lowered head is obscured by geto’s thighs, but the way geto inhales sharply through his nose lets you ascertain the moment gojo’s tongue enters him.

the way gojo licks into him is almost alien to the feral manner in which he was eating you out earlier, all tender kisses and measured swipes of his tongue. it’s like he’s a different person, his touch delicate on geto’s skin as he keeps his legs spread, head moving unhurriedly between his thighs. geto’s eyelids have fluttered closed, his dark hair pooled around his head as gojo continues lapping at him like gentle waves against a serene shore.

the only noises in the room are geto’s slow breaths and the wet sounds of gojo’s mouth, geto’s hardness untouched between them. he hasn’t made any move to touch himself and neither has gojo, and you watch as his body ripples with bliss, toes flexing over gojo’s shoulders.

after several long minutes, gojo lifts his head, dropping soft kisses up geto’s thigh as he lays his legs back down onto the bed. geto is breathing heavily, forearm slung over his eyes, as gojo leans over to open the bedside drawer, pulling out another bottle of water. he tips his head back, pouring water into his mouth and swishing it around before swallowing, capping the bottle and closing the drawer. he angles his body back over geto, touch featherlight across his clavicle.

geto shivers when gojo ghosts a finger down his sternum, closing his eyes when gojo takes his lips in his own. he has one hand on gojo's shoulder, the other sliding up into his hair as their mouths move languidly together. gojo has tugged one of geto's legs around his waist, slow and deliberate, not at all similar to the way he did the same to you earlier. geto arches into him, and their bodies are so intertwined that it's hard to tell where one ends and the other begins, like they've merged into one.

they're so close, in fact, that it takes you a full minute to realize gojo has been inside of geto for quite some time, his hips moving fluidly as geto wraps his arms around his shoulders and crosses his ankles behind gojo's back. his thrusts are measured, unhurried, and geto's eyes close when gojo dips his head down to nuzzle at his neck.

judging from the way he takes all of gojo effortlessly, you think that geto must have prepped in the shower. from your vantage point, you can see the muscles of gojo's back shifting as he moves, geto exhaling loudly as gojo gently picks up the pace, thrusting slowly like they could do this for the next ten, hundred, or even thousand years. the only thing you can hear are their measured breaths, the bed silent as gojo carefully brings his hips forward again and again.

geto makes a low noise and gojo understands, leaning back to lift geto's ankles onto his shoulders. it's only after he fills up geto for the dozenth time that gojo dips down, his hips never faltering, to capture geto's lips in his own. their mouths move against one another as their bodies are joined, geto's palms pressed flat to gojo's chest and gojo's hands wrapped around geto's thighs.

you watch them make love and it's breathtakingly intimate, breath hitching in your throat when they break apart and geto tucks a strand of gojo’s hair behind his ear. a slow smile spreads over gojo's face, nothing at all like the feral grin that split his lips earlier. he presses a tender kiss to the inside of geto’s calf, tilting his hips up and and letting out a soft chuckle when geto inhales sharply and his eyes snap shut, toes curling and fingers flexing against gojo's chest.

he still hasn't reached between geto's legs and you're starting to think geto must have the stamina of a fucking horse after being sucked and fucked both ways. geto opens his eyes and he meets gojo's gaze, who once again doesn't need words to understand. he pulls out of geto as smoothly as he entered him, climbing off the bed and heading for the bathroom.

geto sighs deeply, still on his back. for a long minute it's just the two of you in the quiet, and you twitch, heat pooling between your legs. he's on top of you in the next moment, pushing away the pillow supporting your body to lay you flat on the bed. "you were watching, right?"

you nod, thinking that it must be evident from how wet you are. geto's hands are braced on either side of your head and he's pulled your legs over his hips, his hair tickling your neck as his head bows down. he's radiating warmth and you catch a whiff of the same versace cologne, musky as he licks an unhurried stripe up your neck.

the energy in the room is charged and you watch his biceps tense, your gaze dropping to the firm muscle of his chest as the firelight lends his body an otherworldly halo. tilting your chin up, geto doesn't look away when he slides into you, his hips meeting yours in one deliberate thrust. your world has been reduced to one point of contact and you're melting into oblivion as geto stays unmoving deep inside of your wet heat, anchored by your arms wrapped tightly around his neck.

you're staring so deeply into his eyes that you could drown as he just stays there, completely still as your walls clench around him. your mouth is an inch from his own, breaths mingling in the quiet. the room is completely silent save for the distant hum of the shower and the crackle of the fireplace, tempered by your shallow breathing. geto looks at you through hooded eyelids, tingles shooting down to your toes as he visibly holds himself back, trembling with the effort. you’re acutely aware of your heartbeat, thundering in your ears.

when geto finally draws back and brings himself into you again, it's so good you could cry. the sex is made even more intense by the way he continues to stare through you, dark eyes glittering. never breaking eye contact, he purposefully snaps his hips again, and again, and again, each measured thrust metered by the sighs that escape your lips. your hands slide down from his neck and you can feel the muscle and sinew of his back shifting while he moves, your every sense overtaken by him as he continues to roll his hips. every time his head brushes your cervix your body undulates with pleasure, reducing you to a puddle in his arms.

geto lowers his head, breath hot against your neck, and you think about the fact that he’s the only one who hasn’t come yet. your bodies are pressed together and you can feel every inch of him as he moves inside of you, deliberate and restrained. you can tell he’s yearning for more but he doesn’t let himself have it, tensely grasping your jaw when you arch up into his chest. he doesn’t pick up the pace even when you rest your hands on his ass, the muscle flexing beneath your fingers as he just keeps going, each thrust calculated and purposeful when he slides in and out of you. chest to chest, you breathe with him, his body firm beneath your palms. he's staring endlessly into your eyes, his own so dark that they could hold the universe.

you think you could come, just like this, and it's almost like geto can read your thoughts because he stops all at once, pulling out and leaving you devastatingly empty. you’re aching at the loss but distracted by gojo as he suddenly reappears, water dripping in rivulets down his chest. geto holds a hand out behind him, accepting the lube without looking.

"you said you were good with everything, right?" geto turns to glance at you, who can once again only nod in response. geto takes your hand to bring you into an upright position, gojo going to sit behind you and it's reminiscent of before, with his damp skin pressed to your shoulder blades and geto between your legs.

geto squeezes lube onto his fingers, rubbing his palms together to warm them up. he looks up at you through his lashes, dark and daring.

you nod, just once, and geto’s first finger enters your ass with so much confidence that it feels like this is his fucking profession. gojo's palms are again around your breasts, mouth hot on your nape. your breath hitches in your throat when geto adds another finger, scissoring them inside of your ass, his other hand tight on your thigh. groaning low and long, your palms come up to rest on top of gojo's hands as his tongue laps wetly at your skin. he suddenly bites at your shoulder and you don't have the energy to swat at him, making a harrumph sound when he chuckles into your neck.

"you're up to three fingers now, did you know that?" geto says quietly, and you glance down at his wrist as it moves between your legs. damn, he's right.

geto's other hand smooths down your thigh, palm warm on your skin. "you're doing so good."

you can feel geto moving his hand inside of you as gojo presses a lingering kiss to your nape, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling your back flush against his chest, his legs encasing both of yours. his warmth envelops you as you just breathe, geto's fingers stretching you out.

you feel gojo smile into your skin. "the little lady must be tired, huh?"

your eyes are closed but you make a hmph noise, still lucid enough to retort. "i'm not a little lady, you dickhead."

gojo laughs, a hot puff of air against your neck, his arms snug around your waist. "i was talking about your clit."

chuckling breathlessly, you tip your head onto gojo's shoulder as geto continues scissoring his fingers inside of you. "okay, you're not wrong with that one."

one of gojo's arms slips out from their embrace and he leans to the side, opening the bedside drawer. his other arm suddenly retracts from around you too and your eyes snap open as your hands are yanked behind you, the click of handcuffs thunderously loud when they lock around your wrists.

you swallow hard, tugging on the restraints behind your back. nope, they're tightly secured. your heart is racing as geto removes his hand from your ass, gifting you with a view of his muscled back as he stands up and walks into the bathroom.

"first time being cuffed?" gojo asks knowingly from behind you, tracing a finger down your arm. you shiver, nodding stutteringly to the empty space in front of you. gojo rotates you in his lap to face him, your thighs on top of his own. the scent of his cologne is distinct, the notes of vanilla intensified by your proximity.

gojo lowers his head to brush his nose against yours, and you absolutely thrill at the danger in his eyes when he leans back. "it takes a lot of trust," he says lowly, glancing down at your body. gojo looks up at you, gaze dark and rife with intent. "and we don't take that lightly."

he moves you both further down the bed, laying flat once he has enough room. you're sitting on his thighs and you feel him beneath your leg, hard and wanting.

geto's palms are cold and wet around your waist when they startle you from behind and you jolt, shuddering when he presses a lingering kiss to your nape. you're sopping again already and you want nothing more than to reach forward and snatch gojo by the shoulders to drag his lips onto yours but you can't.

wrists cuffed, your body is trapped between them with gojo at your front and geto at your back. icy anticipation shoots through your veins and lights a fire in your core. you're completely at their mercy now.

gojo sees it on your face and he doesn't make you ask this time as he lifts your thighs up to guide himself inside, not stopping until the flat plane of his hipbones are pressed against the swell of your ass. mouth wet on your neck, geto bites at your shoulder, reaching around to pinch a nipple before withdrawing his hand, the bed dipping as he climbs off.

gojo's grip is firm on your hips and your knees rest outside each of his thighs, wrists still bound behind your back. the next breath you release stutters as it leaves your lips, yet gojo doesn't move. you grind down onto him, lips puffy from overuse, and take the opportunity to luxuriate in being filled up. it's too fucking good, gojo nestled so deeply inside of you that you can feel him in your sternum.

he slowly raises your thighs up from below, bringing you back down just as carefully. you bite back a whimper, every sense heightened by the way gojo and geto can do absolutely whatever they want to you right now. he brings your hips together again, gradually picking up the pace when you openly groan, breasts bobbing as you ride him.

"she takes it so well, doesn't she?" geto says from behind you, the bed shifting as he climbs on again. gojo makes a noise of agreement, hands moving to your waist to steady you. geto cups your ass, urging you on to help you ride gojo more thoroughly.

"like she was born for it," gojo agrees, squeezing your waist in his hands. one of his fingertips wanders up to your breast, dancing around a nipple. you gasp, wrists straining against the cuffs as gojo retracts, his hand rejoining the other at your waist.

you're moving together and gojo is right there every time you sink back down, thrusting up to meet you. he was right, your clit is tired, and you think that maybe you could come from this alone if he just keeps going. there's a click of a cap, the sound of lube being pushed out of a bottle, but you barely hear it, your nerves strung tight with sensation.

all of a sudden, there are palms on your spine, pressing you down onto gojo’s chest as he continues pumping his hips, his balls making a lewd sound when they slap your ass. you have no choice but to comply and you choke on air as gojo doesn't stop, the angle changing when you slant forward and allowing him to hit your spot. with your wrists behind your back, you would have fallen onto him but gojo is holding you up, one palm warm around your waist and the other supporting your shoulder.

he's fucking you earnestly now, your face an inch above his own. gojo's breathing hard, sweat collecting in the hollow of his throat as your bodies undulate against each other. once again, you ache to take his lips in yours but he doesn't let you, keeping you in place as he keeps pounding himself into you. you’re drunk with it, throwing your head back as pleasure radiates out from your core.

there's movement behind you as geto rises up on his knees, one of his hands resting on your ass as it moves up and down. he pushes your spine down even more, raising your ass in the air and gojo is ready, meeting you with his tongue and licking into your mouth. ass up and face down, your veins are flooded with icy hot anticipation and you moan into his teeth, arms twisting futilely behind your back as the cuffs hold you in place.

time grates to a halt when geto's tip breaches your ass, splitting you open from behind. you choke against gojo's lips, who stops moving, breaking away to let geto enter you properly. he's still holding you up as your head falls forward, dropping towards your chest.

"you okay?" gojo's voice is soft but laden with concern, one of his hands coming up to grasp at your jaw. he lifts your chin to meet his eyes and you're in a daze, the pressure overwhelming as geto continues pushing into you for what feels like an eternity. you nod jerkily, chin moving in his hand, and gojo brings you down to his chest, holding you close as geto keeps going until he's fully inside you at the other end.

there's a long moment where you just breathe, face pressed into gojo's shoulder, his arms wrapped tight around you. if you thought you felt full before that was nothing compared to how you feel right now. you're absolutely stuffed to the brim and there's no room left in your lungs for oxygen, every cavern and crevice of your body filled to the brim with nothing but them.

it's not quite painful but it definitely is a lot, both men shoved in to the hilt. there's only a singular velvety wall separating them and you can feel gojo and geto pressed against each other inside of you. they're still not moving, gojo's palms smoothing up and down your back as he and geto let you adjust to their simultaneous penetration.

you shift your weight and your senses are instantly overwhelmed in a way you've never felt before, every fibre of your being set alight with sensation as hot ecstasy erupts throughout your body. drooping further into gojo's shoulder, you let out a primal groan, unable to produce speech. he makes a knowing noise deep in his throat, a low mhmm-hmm, and gently props you up, holding your torso above his own. the motion moves both of them inside of you and you have to bite back a genuine wail as you feel their thicknesses rub together, hot and hard between your walls.

"just tell us when," gojo says, supporting your entire body like you weigh nothing. geto's palms are warm on your hips from behind and he strokes, soothing. "there's no rush."

geto makes an affirmative sound, the noise loud in the pin-drop silence. you would say something but you're devastated by proximity, gojo inside of you one way and geto in another. your entire being has been subsumed and you're lost in the ocean of their bodies, drifting in the warmth of their hands, the slowness of their breaths, the distinct smell of expensive cologne and sex.

carefully patting your hip, you blink your eyes open as geto gently brings you to the surface. gojo is looking at you, unhurried and steady, and you can feel the same surety radiating from geto behind you.

you heave a shuddering breath, feeling them beneath your skin, in your bones, as they reach into the deepest caverns and crevices of your body. you've never been more certain of anything else in your life when you look at gojo’s face, exhaling loudly to say one word.

"move."

they don't have to be told twice. gojo pulls out of you in the same instant as geto, both snapping their hips forward to meet at the centre of you. the cry that escapes your mouth is deafening, and the sound is punched out of you again, and again, and again as they thrust together, filling you up beyond measure. you feel like you're going to overflow, brain short-circuiting and body sagging in gojo's hands as he keeps holding you up while he moves alongside geto.

geto quickens his pace and their timing changes, gojo plunging into you in the moment that geto draws himself back. you're not empty for a single second and you fucking love it, choking on air when gojo cranes his neck down to lick your areola. the sounds the three of you are making are absolutely filthy, heavy panting and skin slapping skin as your bodies move together. it's almost like gojo and geto are connected through you and you’re punch-drunk, body moving forwards and backwards on their lengths as they fuck you simultaneously.

you have hands all over you, geto's fingers digging into your hips tight enough that you'll have bruises tomorrow, gojo's arms wrapped around your torso with his palms flat on the skin of your back. you're delirious with it, eyes rolling back as gojo pushes you into a more upright position and in doing so shoves you onto geto, who thrusts forward at the same moment that gojo hits your spot. one of them inside of you was overwhelming but both feels world-ending, pleasure erupting from everywhere and flowing all the way into your fingers and toes.

you're utterly incapable of speech at this point and you're spewing nonsense; things that sound like words but aren't, guttural moans pouring out of you like rain. your breasts are bouncing furiously and you've never felt like this in your life, each man fucking one of your holes like it's his last day on earth.

arms spasming in the restraints, you keen, high and loud. something visceral has taken over you and the pace they've set inside of you is so much yet somehow still not enough. you need to touch yourself but you can't and you want more, you fucking need more.

"h—harder," you choke, straining against the cuffs. you're aching with desire and burning for release as your entire body is pulled taut by a string that threads through all three of you. "fuck me harder."

the atmosphere in the room changes immediately. gojo's eyes flash and his fingers flex around your waist, the bed shifting as he presses his heels into the mattress to pound into you from below. geto speeds up behind you, thrusting into your ass uninhibited. you can feel them sliding together inside of you and you're fucking choking on air, spluttering as they piston in out of you at light speed.

you're suddenly yanked backwards when a hand grabs you by the cuffs, geto's grip a vice around your wrists. he doesn't stop pushing himself inside of your ass, using your weight as leverage as he leans away to thrust deeper. his free hand seizes a fistful of your hair, pulling your head backwards and shooting tingles of prickly pleasure down to your toes. with your back bowed, you're basically suspended above gojo, geto's position and his hold on your wrists creating an equilibrium between the two of you that lets him support your weight.

the position has consequently raised your face above gojo’s mouth, who hungrily claims your lips with his own while he continues pulling your hips down onto himself from below. you're teary-eyed from sensory overload, gasping against gojo's lips as geto keeps snapping his hips forwards into you, your folds squelching lewdly as gojo does the same. the scent of their cologne and the smell of sex hangs heavy in the air, stifling your lungs as you struggle to suck down air.

“do—don’t,” you rasp into gojo’s mouth, drunk with the sensation of two hot, hard lengths moving together inside of you. “don’t —ungh— stop.”

the friction is delicious and it seems like geto thinks so too, his breaths growing laboured behind you. a gasp is punched out of your lungs when he releases your hair to slap your ass hard , the crack audible even amongst all the noises the three of you are making. geto lets go of your wrists to dig his fingers into your hips once more, forcing your spine into a slope as he brings you back onto himself at a punishing speed. gojo’s length keeps rubbing into his inside of you and geto is absolutely losing himself in it, fucking you carnally as you feel more than see him finally approach climax.

gojo breaks away and he isn't looking at you anymore, staring past your face at geto, whose eyes are scrunched shut as he jackrabbits his hips. the way he's moving and the sounds he's making are borderline animalistic, all grunts and heavy breathing. geto is unraveling, his movements turning frantic and you can't do anything but take it as he pushes into you over and over again, single-mindedly chasing his own release.

gojo is still thrusting up into you and from the way he's tensed up you can tell that he's close too, but he's not focused on your pleasure or his own right now. his eyes never leave geto, whose lips have parted as he lets himself pump his hips freely into your ass. your entire body jolts from the movement, anchored by gojo's firm arm around your waist and his length still moving inside of you.

"suguru," comes gojo's voice, pointed and direct. geto opens his eyes and looks at gojo, who's wearing the most serious expression you've ever seen on his face. gojo's tone leaves no room for argument when he speaks.

"come."

geto makes a strangled noise and then it's happening all at once, his rhythm stuttering as his balls tighten and he finally, finally orgasms. he's spurting hotly into your ass and it's neverending— geto just continues coming, filling you up with his seed as his body jerks violently, wracked with pleasure.

inside of you, gojo's length has continued to press against geto’s throughout his climax, and he doesn't stop thrusting even as geto comes down. he actually speeds up when geto begins to soften inside of your ass, sitting up and dragging you onto his lap after geto pulls out.

the desire to rub your clit is so overpowering that you feel like you might actually die. your head twists despairingly over your shoulder, trying to implore geto to take your cuffs off, when a firm hand grabs your chin and turns your head back around.

gojo's gaze is unwavering as he releases your chin to grab the flesh of your ass, thrusting up and ignoring your eyes blown wide in need.

"don't look at him," his voice is even as it cuts through the frenzied wail that escapes your clenched teeth. "look at me."

you're struggling to comply because you've hit your limit— it's all too fucking much, geto’s come is slippery between your cheeks and you’re aching so hard it hurts because you need to come now. you’re gasping so deeply that it sounds like you’re choking but he doesn't care, bouncing you in his lap even as you whine from oversensitivity.

"didn't you hear me?" it sounds like a question but gojo isn't asking. you can't form words, rendered incoherent by the hurricane of sensation. you can feel him getting close too but he supersedes his own desire to finish, focusing entirely on the task at hand.

gojo's fingers tighten around your jaw, his tone just as unforgiving.

"look. at. me. "

it's akin to weathering a torrential downpour when you muster up every ounce of strength left in your feeble body to open your eyes, meeting gojo's unblinking gaze. you're struggling to suck down air while he stares into your soul, slamming you down onto himself for the last time as he spills deep inside of you, coming so hard his eyes roll back in his head. you're still moving in his lap and you're babbling incoherently as he fills you to the brim, his load and geto's separated only by a thin wall inside of you.

gojo exhales harshly, pumping his hips through the aftershocks as you milk him dry. you're trying not to let the despair show outwardly on your face and you're tugging despondently at the cuffs, thrashing so hard in the restraints that your wrists are bruising. it's only because your eyes are open that you see the wicked grin suddenly quirk gojo's lips, and you're powerless to do anything as he abruptly shoves you backwards into geto's waiting arms.

"you didn't think we forgot, did you?" gojo asks devilishly. geto's hands are warm around your chest and his fingers are pinching your nipples as gojo thrusts up, hard, and directly rails your spot at the same moment his hand darts down to thumb at your swollen clit.

the tension inside your core snaps like a rubber band and the sensory processing centre in your brain implodes instantly, every cell in your body igniting all at once. the raw ecstasy that courses through your veins is so visceral that you feel high, floating somewhere outside of your body as it just doesn’t stop. you barely register that you’re releasing wave after wave of liquid around gojo as your limbs convulse helplessly against geto's chest, every fibre of your being utterly consumed by sensation. the last thing you hear before passing out is gojo's breathless laughter, blackness engulfing the edges of your vision as you fall endlessly into geto's arms.

*****

you don’t know how much time has passed when strong arms scoop you up, wrapping around your shoulders and under the backs of your knees, carrying your limp body like you weigh nothing. your hand falls toward the floor and you absently wonder when the cuffs were taken off, your other arm folded into a warm chest. head lolling towards a collarbone, the scent of jasmine permeates the corners of your subconscious. you’re distantly aware of being carried into the bathroom, cradled with painstaking care.

there’s movement around you, the sound of footsteps and taps being turned on, the slow rush of water as it fills up the tub. your eyes are still closed when you’re carefully passed from one pair of arms to another, enveloped by warm water as you’re settled against the smooth skin of a chest, arms wrapping securely around your middle.

you’re resting on top of firm thighs, enveloped by warmth. you would open your eyes but you can’t because your body isn’t listening, limbs unresponsive and head thick with cottonwool. low sounds are falling from your lips, incoherent murmurs punctuated by the air you forcibly drag into your lungs, made nearly impossible because every fibre of your being is utterly spent. you’re suspended in the water and in this moment in time, succumbing to the black hole created by the vortex of sensation. you’re anchored by the body holding you close, palms around your middle and skin against your spine. a soft kiss is dropped on your nape before your head is gently tilted onto the smooth plane of a shoulder, your throat exposed.

behind your head, there are hands lathering up your hair, working shampoo into your roots and massaging your scalp. you make a satisfied noise, deep in your throat as the scent of citrus fills the room. shampoo is smoothed all the way to the ends of your hair before the hands retract and you hear footsteps walk around to the other side of the tub, the water rising as another body steps in. once again, you’re passed to waiting arms, a hand settling around your midsection while the other supports your spine. another pair of hands begins to wash the product out of your hair from behind as you’re held chest to chest, rinsing your hair with the bathwater until all you can smell is citrusy shampoo.

eyelids fluttering, you suddenly come face to face with geto, who’s blinking down at you. he smiles softly as gojo finishes washing your hair, pressing his lips to your forehead when you let out a gratified sigh. limbs still immobile, the water moves around you as he carefully hands you back to gojo, who’s ready at the other end of the tub. your body is completely pliant as gojo positions you slightly in front of him, leaving enough room between the two of you for his hands to rest comfortably on your shoulders, his thighs beneath yours.

you sigh again, closing your eyes when gojo kneads the flesh of your shoulders, applying enough pressure to release the tension but not so much that it’s painful. bringing your feet onto his lap, geto presses his knuckles into the sole of your foot, dragging them down when you exhale. they massage you like you’re precious, every touch considerate. you melt, relaxed both by the water and their slow hands.

geto releases your feet and then there’s the sound of a pump, gojo still holding you up by the shoulders while geto begins to gently work soap into the curves and angles of your body, hands delicate on your skin. in the same moment, you hear gojo squeeze something onto his hands, fingers moving to your hair as he threads conditioner through the strands.

blinking blearily, you raise a weary hand to your forehead, rubbing at a tender spot in the centre. geto gently catches your wrist in one hand, guiding it away from your face.

“let us take care of you,” he says softly, submerging your hand beneath the surface of the water. “all you need to do is rest.”

gojo is rinsing your hair again and geto’s thumbs are rubbing tender circles into your temples, easing the hazy feeling in your mind. you’re trying your damnedest to keep your eyes open but you’re surrendering to exhaustion by the second, eyelids drooping as gojo finishes washing your hair. geto takes you in his arms once more when gojo stands up, climbing out of the tub to dry off.

“you did so well,” geto murmurs into your neck. you would reply but your tongue is leaden, limbs loose as gojo lifts you out of the water, his chest warm against your cheek as he walks you both out of the bathroom and toward a waiting towel on the bed. he lays you flat before carefully unfolding your body to start the process of drying. the towel is fluffy and plush against your flesh and gojo takes great care in touching you, his breathing steady while he caresses your skin through the towel.

being cleaned up has tired you out and you’re losing your grip on consciousness, head heavy as your eyes close. there are hands supporting your back, raising a bottle to your mouth and gently parting your lips to help you drink. the water isn’t as much gulped as it is poured down your throat, cold seeping into your core. the chill is quickly replaced by a warm blanket, tugged up to your shoulders, and the sensation of two bodies, one bracketing either side of you.

you’re warm with sleep, listening to the measured draw of their breaths as they inhale, exhale, inhale and exhale again. there’s a palm on your spine and another on your side as you fall into the abyss, content to let the yawning mouth of exhaustion swallow you whole.

*****

when you wake up several hours later, you have no idea how much time has passed. the bed is empty save for you in the middle, cushioned by a border of pillows. you’re still naked but warmed by the cocoon of the blanket, which has trapped heat beneath its surface. collecting yourself, last night comes back to you all at once, flashes of hot mouths and firm hands and quick tongues. it was by far the best sex you’ve ever had in your life, and probably also the best sex you will have until the end of it.

you sit up, realizing that you’re so hungry you could definitely consume an elephant. your stomach rumbles in agreement and you’re starving but you almost don’t want to leave the bed to bear the cold world outside, the high thread count and goosefeather pillows enticing you to come back even as you stand up. there are clothes laid over a chaise in the corner; upon closer inspection, you see a comfortable bra and underwear, along with a sweater and leggings. your dress from last night is folded neatly, your lacy bra and fancy panties tucked discreetly into a bag beside it.

glancing down at your body properly, you notice for the first time the bruises around your wrists, which are rubbed raw. you peer down at your chest, which is similarly bruised. still naked, you make your way to the bathroom, gasping at the sight of your body in the mirror.

there’s no unmarred skin left on your neck; it’s absolutely littered with hickeys and bruises. your thighs are in a similar state, and you twist around to inspect your back, lovebites and marks scattered across your shoulder blades. your ass is bruised red and purple in the shape of fingerprints, the fading handprint impossible to miss across one of your cheeks. dimly, you register a dull throb between your legs. departing from the bathroom, you can’t help but be impressed because damn, they went to town on you.

you tug the sweater over your head and pull the leggings on, both from designer brands. picking up your dress and the bag, you take a second to marvel at the stunning view before you leave. the residence is situated so high into the sky that you’re struck by the ridiculous thought that they both literally and figuratively took you to cloud nine.

the suite is even more opulent in the daylight, white marble gleaming and tall arches cavernous as you walk down the hall towards the kitchen. gojo is perched on a barstool when you round the corner, tapping on his phone. geto is at the stove, flipping something in a pan.

gojo perks up at the sound of your footsteps, spinning around in the stool. “the beast awakens!”

you make a face at him, setting down your bag and dress onto the counter. “one of us is a beast, and it’s definitely not me.”

gojo titters, spinning in his chair. “i knew my gut was right when i spotted you.”

there’s a plate piled high with pancakes waiting for you, still warm. syrup and butter are off to the side and you wince when you sit down, pain radiating from your ass even though the barstool’s leather is soft.

geto turns around, holding a spatula and wearing an apron that says kiss the cook, but don’t touch the buns! the concerned expression on his face makes you bite back your smile.

“you okay?” he asks, unconvinced when you nod. his brow furrows as he looks at you, scanning your body. “we went really hard last night, i’m sorry. you’re going to be sore for a while.”

“you have nothing to be sorry about,” you say, picking up a knife and fork to dig into the pancakes. “i’ve never enjoyed anything more in my life.”

geto chuckles, turning back to the pan. “i’m glad. we had a really good time, too.”

you’re eating the pancakes with so much fervour that gojo glances up from his phone, an impressed look on his face.

“we also have eggs and croissants, if pancakes aren’t the vibe,” geto says from the stove, his back still to you. your mouth is too stuffed with pancake to reply.

“i think she’s fine with the pancakes,” gojo snickers, puffing his cheeks in imitation and ignoring the glare you cast in his direction.

geto somehow senses that gojo is being a brat and turns around, brandishing his spatula. “the only reason we’re even having the breakfast of a kindergartner is because cavity-man over here needed his sugar fix.” he turns back around to flip a pancake presumably destined for said cavity-man’s stomach.

“dentists love me,” gojo sniffs, hopping down from the barstool. he breaks the rule emblazoned on geto’s apron and squeezes his ass from behind, letting out a squawk when geto whirls around and smacks him with the spatula.

cleaning your plate at a remarkable speed, you’re just starting to wonder where your phone and purse have gone when gojo appears with both in his hands. he makes no move to bring them to you and you sigh aggravatedly, climbing down from the barstool to take them from him yourself.

he smirks evilly, holding them high in the air and far beyond your reach. “didn’t we have a conversation about manners?”

you resist the urge to jump, mainly because your ass hurts too much to do so, and settle for scowling at gojo, who’s still holding your things tauntingly above your head. he’s so unbearably tall that any hope you have of swatting at his hands is laughable.

geto walks over and reaches up, fingers plucking your phone and purse from gojo’s hands. he ignores gojo’s indignant huff as he hands them to you.

“we’d love to give you our numbers,” he says, eyes kind. “if you’re up for it, we’d really like to do this again sometime.”

like a vampire, all you need is an invitation and you’ll just keep showing up forever. “i would love nothing more.”

standing in front of both of them, you’re once again struck by how tall they are. gojo is leaning an arm onto geto’s shoulder, who’s still holding the spatula. they gaze at you and for a moment you’re reminded of last night. not usually one to be bashful, you duck your head, biting your lip. the events of last night will be staying with you for a while.

“there’s a car waiting for you downstairs whenever you’re ready to go,” geto says, and you look up. “though we wouldn’t mind if you stayed a little longer.”

gojo pushes away from geto, striding forward to grab your wrist and drag you into the living space. he plops you down onto the couch in front of a massive tv, taking your things from your hands and tossing them beside you.

“you’re right, i’m a fucking beast at mario kart,” gojo drawls, opening something you didn’t realize was a drawer and pulling out two controllers. “i’m princess peach, of course.”

you accept the controller, rolling your eyes. “why does that make so much sense?”

gojo doesn’t dignify that with a response, turning on the switch before yelling into the kitchen where geto is still cooking. “suguru, i want extra sprinkles on my pancakes!”

“kill yourself,” geto calls back. gojo takes this reply as an affirmative and jostles your shoulder, pointing at the nintendo logo when the screen flickers to life. “you can be bowser, since he looks just like you.”

you can’t help but laugh, the smell of pancakes wafting into the room as gojo glances sideways, his eyes dancing. smiling to yourself, you think that being stood up is the best thing that ever could have happened to you.

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euphorajeon · 9 months

Text

oh, the joy of having jeon jeongguk as a boyfriend | jjk

— pairing: boxer!jk x f. reader

— genre: fluff, slight smut | college!au, boxer!jk

— word count: 0.8k

— warnings: sleeveless jk, suggestive themes, usual boxer!jk and his gf shenanigans hahaha

— summary: you just want one bite.

— author's note: pls tell me im not the only one heavily affected by his vogue photoshoots D:

masterlist | boxer!gguk masterlist

“Just one, please?”

You’ve been at this for the past fifteen minutes. The first five you spent leaning your head on your boyfriend’s shoulder, enjoying the warmth on your cheek from the skin-on-skin contact. He was still unaware of your intentions, thinking it was just a silent gesture to initiate physical touch. He’d put his arm around you then, squeezing you further into his side.

The second five minutes you spent tracing his tattoos with the tips of your fingers. You paid special attention to your favorites—the tiger lily, the Winners Never Quit wording, and the recently-discovered moon on his shoulder (which you recolored with your own mouth some weeks ago)—and gripped his arm a bit tighter when you got to his bicep. The black tank top he’s wearing gives you too much of an easy access that you didn’t realize when you start squeezing your boyfriend’s bicep repeatedly like it’s your own personal stress ball.

“Babe, what are you doing?”

Jeongguk’s question triggered your next course of action, which you have been doing for the last one-third portion of the aforementioned fifteen minutes.

“Can I bite your arm?” was your opening line. When he blinks blankly, you continue with a paraphrased question, though it doesn’t really cease Jeongguk’s confusion: “Just one bite, please?”

“Why would you wanna bite my arm?” The puzzled look on Jeongguk’s face deepens, his thick eyebrows furrowing and scrunching up his face. A sliver of recognition flashes across his eyes as he squints at you in suspicion. “Are you horny again?”

“No, no.” You’re quick to deny. “It’s just—“ You give the bicep in your grasp yet another squeeze, watching, fascinated, as the skin bounces firmly in your hand. “—so … big, so sexy, so … delicious.” There’s a giant drooling emoji in your head right now and Jeongguk can only stare in part amusement and part confusion at his entranced girlfriend.

“Please, one bite?”

Your boyfriend’s eyes jump from your pleading eyes to your pouting lips, a tiny smile playing at the edge of his lips. The double piercing on the right side of his bottom lip taunts you, almost making you swerve to a whole new part of Jeongguk’s body to have between your lips and teeth. Oh, the joy of having a hot boyfriend.

“Okay.”

“Okay??”

“Okay, you can have one bite of my arm.”

You have your mouth on his arm not even a second after Jeongguk finishes his sentence. Sinking your teeth into the flesh, you’re careful to apply only a little pressure at the beginning before gradually adding more until you see Jeongguk grimacing from the corner of your eye. It’s his fault, though, for only giving you one bite of this big, sexy, and delicious inked arm. You’re just making the best use of the opportunity you were given.

In the seconds you spend attached to his arm, you think, why stop here? You could be doing so much more to this arm than just giving it a bite mark. So, with that in mind, you start to suck. The hiss Jeongguk lets out in surprise flashes something hot in your belly that you promptly ignore to continue your assault on his arm.

“I guess it’s kinda my fault, huh?” Jeongguk hums, his free hand tucking your hair behind your ear. The gesture seems sweet, innocent even, but the way he grips your nape after is anything but. “Always flaunting my tattoos, flexing my arms … even giving you surprise kisses. I wanted your attention and got more than what I asked for.” You pretend not to be affected by his words, now licking at the angry-red skin beneath the black ink. Jeongguk doesn’t need to know how much this is turning you on.

“I didn’t say anything about giving me a hickey, though.”

Jeongguk’s grip has moved from your nape to your hair, where he gives a slight tug to pull you away from his arm. When you look up, your blurry vision is met with Jeongguk’s piercing stare, making excitement course through your veins. You didn’t plan for any of this to happen—you just wanted to bite his arm, really—but if Jeongguk wants to teach you a lesson for what you did to him, you’d happily be a good student and accept whatever he decides to give you.

“Exactly,” you challenge him, grinning. “You didn’t say anything about it, therefore, there’s no reason for me not to give you a hickey.”

“Huh.” He squints his eyes. “You said you weren’t horny, didn’t you?” Your heart drops to your stomach as he leans forward to start tracing your neck with his nose, planting a tiny kiss on it. “So it won’t be a problem if I don’t let you cum while I use you to make myself cum, right?” The sickeningly-sweet smile on his lips contradicts the lewdness of his words. “You’re not horny so you don’t need to cum, am I right?”

Play stupid games, win stupid prizes.

Oh, the joy of having Jeon Jeongguk as a boyfriend.

— a/n: thank you for reading! feedbacks here would be very much appreciated :D

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papercorgiworld · 27 days

Text

Two idiots in love

A Theodore Nott imagine

I’m back! Apologies for my silence. Especially to the ones who’ve been sending me love, but I was really busy and barely had any time to open this app or my phone in general. I got this post and a few more coming in the next few days. I had a very productive evening and day so, yey me. Sending you lots of love! Happy readings!

— The request —

Plss do a Theodore fic where he tutors the reader in potions or something and he’s a bit rude but like sweet at the same time??? Idk like he thinks she really cute but can’t believe someone can be so dumb

— The writing —

Theodore was a quiet guy and not one to make a move on just any girl. Unless drunk, then he might end up in a bathroom with some equally wasted girl for a little make out, but actively searching for a girlfriend just seemed like so much work to Theo. He much rather just hang out with his friends and skip class to have a smoke.

However, this did not mean that he was immune to having a crush. Oh no, he had a crush and the worst case of crushing. He was constantly thinking about you and stealing glances whenever he could. It wasn’t on him, you were just too damn perfect. It was almost annoying Theodore how amazing you were.

“Hey, Theo mate. I have a question.” Enzo quips as he takes a seat opposite of Theodore and reaches for some toast. “No.” Theodore answers without looking up from his plate, making Mattheo and Blaise smirk, but Enzo isn’t fazed at all. “Fine. Your loss. I’ll just have to tutor (y/n) myself.” Theodore’s eyes shoot up to meet Enzo’s with a piercing look to determine whether his friend was bullshitting him or not. Enzo’s smile reveals his amusement but also that he was telling the truth. “She needs a tutor?” Theodore says with a calm voice, though there is an obvious hint of excitement in it. “Yes, apparently she blew her last potions test… like big time. And she’s so desperate to fix her grade she asked me to ask you, apparently ‘the smartest guy in class’ - her words not mine - to tutor her. I’m assuming you’re interested?” She thinks I’m the smartest guy in class. So she’s noticed me. She knows who I am. She knows I’m smart. That’s good. Really good. She knows me. “Theo?” Enzo askes breaking Theo’s train of thoughts. “Uhm-Yeah-I… I’ll think about it. If I have time. And stuff.” Blaise, Enzo and Mattheo stare Theodore with wide eyes. “Someone hit him.” Blaise finally speaks and Mattheo nods before raising his hand to smack Theo’s head. “If I have the time, bloody idiot.” Theodore pushes Matt’s hand away and narrows his eyes at Mattheo’s mockery and insult. “Just say you’ll do it.” Enzo urges and Theo looks at him for a second before nodding in agreement.

***

Pretty. Perfect. Potions-Peanut. Theo thought as he watched you screw up a simple brew for the third time, like he hadn’t just explained to you step by step how to do it. He was falling in love even more as you sighed and stared at your cauldron and back at your instructions. “I think I messed it up again.” Theodore chuckles at your sad and defeated expression. “You think?!” Theo jokes, but immediately worries that that might be a bit rude of him. “But uhm-do you know where it went wrong?” He asks and you focus on your instructions again in search of which step you screwed up. Your eyebrows knit together even more and Theodore can’t help but roll his eyes. “You really don’t have a clue what you’re doing, do you?” You drop your head a little. Great, I'm making a total fool of myself in front of Theodore Nott. Not only am I ruining my fantasy of ever having a chance with him, now he and his friends will be laughing at me for the rest of the year…

“You can’t be this dumb? Check again, you’ll find it.” Theo breaks the silence and your eyes meet his with a hesitant look, before quickly searching for an answer on the list of instructions. Yes, I just called her dumb. Good work, Theo. Theodore grits his teeth as his anger with himself grows. After a few seconds of you searching for how you screwed up your potion and Theodore searching for something right to say, you are the first to speak up. “I give up, I suck at potions.” You let the paper in your hands fall on the desk in front of you and turn to look at Theo who gives you a surprisingly sweet smile. “Yeah you do, but don’t worry your pretty little head about it. I’ll explain it again…and better this time.”

Your heart melts at his sweet voice and you feel your cheeks heat up. “You really don’t have to waste your whole evening explaining potions to me, I’m sure you have better things to do.” Theodore smirks at your blushed cheeks. “I’m sure I won’t be teaching you potions all night. At some point you’ll get it and successfully brew this… and then we can move on to more interesting subjects.” You look back at the papers on the desk and press your lips together to keep yourself from smiling like a love struck fool, while Theo's smug eyes scan your face with satisfaction. “Dumb, but so adorable.”

“What?” You look up at Theo and he looks absolutely horrified. “I didn’t mean to say that outloud.” He chuckles awkwardly and you can’t help but laugh. “I might be dumb, but you’re a first class idiot as well.” Theodore rolls his eyes, while an amused smile tugs on his lips. She’s right about that. I am an idiot. He reaches for the books on the desk, forcing his smile into a line. “Let’s just focus on potions.” You chuckle at his flusteredness. “Sure.”

Both flustered your glance over at one another only to catch the other one already staring. The potion might not have been right, but the chemistry definitely was.

***

“Sooo, how did the tutoring go?” Mattheo asks as he catches up with Theodore in the hallway. “Great.” Theodore answers, but avoids eye contact with his friend, making him suspicious. “Great? What does that mean, she understands the material now?” Theodore chuckles and his tongue darts in his mouth. “No, she still doesn’t get it. Which means she needs another session. So, it went great.” Theodore explained, unable to hide his happiness now that he gets to spend more time with you. Mattheo just shakes his head in amusement.

#slytherin #slytherin boys #theodore nott #theodore nott imagine #theodore nott x reader #papercorgiworldwritings

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hyperfixatedoncrimminalminds · 6 months

Text

Aaron Hotchner X Derek Morgan X ADHD Autistic teen reader

Summary: Aaron Hotchner and Derek Morgan interrogate a 14 year old daughter of Unsub who has ADHD and is autistic, she was abused by her father her whole life. A bomb gets set off and she protects them

Third person pov...

14 year old Y/N had been in a small interrogation room for the last hour alone, your probably wondering how she knows that because she's been keeping count in her head.

Early on that day the police came looking for her farther but he wasn't there, instead she got taken to the police station and handcuffed (after she accidentally lashed out when they touched her) she's autistic and doesn't like touch- the police didn't listen when she tried to explain to them.

So here she sits, for the last 5 minutes she has been tapping her foot repeatedly on the floor, she has ADHD and couldn't sit still for long, but she was handcuffed to the table so she couldn't stand up and stim.

She then started humming the same tune over and over and over until a man shouts at her to shut up over the com. "Someone's grumpy" she mutters, deciding to go back to tapping her foot repeatedly.

She was beginning to get overwhelmed with everything. "Can I go now please?" She asks into the room but obviously towards the two way mirror.

She got no response. "Please, I don't like it here" she whispers shouting not going to work she realised, suddenly the door is opened two men walk in.

Y/N tenses, with her dad she doesn't like being around men, angling her body away from them she waits until they speak.

Eyebrows slams a files down on the table making her flinch at the loud sound, the Grumpy looking man just stares. "What- Do you know what these are?" He demands, Y/N shakes her head not looking at the man.

She looks down then shuts her eyes. "N-no I don't please" she cries squeezing her eyes shut not wanting to look at the pictures, they where of the victims died in the bombings that happened.

"I don't like it here" she cries pulling on the cuffs trying desperately to yank them off, eyebrows tries to grab her to stop but she kicks out. "No don't touch" she cries almost in hysterics.

Eyebrows holds up his hands and moved out of reach. "Okay I won't touch you, we won't touch you Y/N" he says teying desperately to calm her down.

Grumpy pants- as Y/N dubbed, walked out of the room putting his phone tk his ear, Hotch calls Penelope. "Yello" "Garica, Y/N L/Ns file does it have anything about mental disorders or anything like that?" He asks confused with the girls strong reactions.

After a few seconds Penelope gets back. "It says here that she is Autistic and has ADHD sir" Hotch thinks "that makes sense, thanks Garica" "your welcome Bossman" Hotch then walks back into the room.

Derek is far away from the girl. "Morgan" Derek walks over. "We forgot one thing that all the victims have in common, they are all neurodivergent in some way" he explains to the man.

They then both look over at the girl, she was back to tapping her foot repeatedly

"Y/N, are you autistic?" Asks Hotch, the girl nods her head. "Yes I am, I tried to explain to the idiots in blue but they wouldn't listen" she says it was the most they heard her say.

"Can I have these off now please?" She asks, her voice quiet like she expected to be shouted at. Derek looks ar Hotch the man nods his head. "Sure" he says and unlocks Y/N hands.

The 14 year old instantly jumps up from the desk, absently rubbing her red wrists, she begins pacing back and forth flapping her hands. The men watch her as she stims.

"We just want to talk to you about your father." Says Hotch, Y/N stops stimming and looked up at them with wide, frightened eyes.

She was small in stature, but her piercing gaze held a hint of strength that took the two seasoned agents by surprise. "My father is a monster" she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Hotchner and Morgan exchanged a knowing glance. They had seen this before – the child of an Unsub who had been subjected to unimaginable abuse and trauma.

"Y/N does you father treat you well?" Asks Derek carefully, Y/N looks down she nervously rings her fingers as she thinks.

"He doesn't" she confesses. "He hates that I'm different, he thinks it's wrong and tries to beat the 'retardness' out of me" she confesses crying as she paces back and forth in the little space.

Hotch and Morgan eye each other from the corner of their eyes then look at Y/N.

"We know, hes a monster which is why we need to find him" Morgan replied gently. 'But we need your help to find him. We believe he may be planning to harm more people.'

Y/N hesitated for a moment, chewing on her bottom lip as she thought. Then she reached into her pocket and pulled out a crumpled piece of paper. It was a map, with a clearly marked location circled in red.

'That's where he's keeping his bombs" she said, sliding the paper across the table. Hotchner and Morgan looked at each other in shock.

They had been searching for those bombs for weeks, and here it was, handed to them by a scared teenage girl.

They immediately sprang into action, calling for backup and racing to the location. But as they arrived, they realized that Y/N had also been telling the truth about another thing – her father had taught her how to make bombs.

Before they could even process the situation, a loud explosion ripped through the air. Hotchner and Morgan were thrown back by the blast, but they were quickly pulled to safety by Y/N who had shielded them with her own body.

She lay unconscious, her small frame protecting them from the debris, Y/N was rushed to the hospital, and after a few days, she regained consciousness.

Hotchner and Morgan were there, by her bedside, along with a team of doctors and nurses who were amazed by her bravery.

"We couldn't have stopped him without you,' Hotchner said, his voice filled with sincerity, the girl looked up at them and smiled weakly. "Can I be part of your team now?" She asked, her eyes sparkling with hope.

Hotchner and Morgan shared a smile, knowing that Y/N had found a new family in the Behavioral Analysis Unit. Despite the darkness of her past, she had shown courage and strength that they had rarely seen before.

And as they welcomed her into their team, they knew that together, they could take on anything that came their way.

The end!

Hope you liked this one shot sorry for the late update been a busy week but I am now on Christmas break and will update regularly.

As usual sorry for any spelling and grammar mistakes.

Request are open!

Word count: 1204

#criminal minds #fanfic #behavioural analysis unit #x child reader #fluff and comfort #oneshot #light angst #x daughter!reader #x teen!reader #aaron hotchner x teen reader #derek morgan x teen!reader #unsub is readers dad #x autistic teen reader #x adhd teen reader #autism #adhd #bombs

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rookiesbookies · 5 months

Text

Alex Keller horny head cannon

Alex Keller headcannons for my lovely mutual?

Of course @shotmrmiller <3

Alex is the type of man to get you in bed, get frustrated with his fake leg, and suddenly throw it when you’re making out.

“Sorry, sweet cheeks, I had to get rid of that thing.”

Before going back to making out with you.

So I’ll answer the questions I did for the others

He’s cut. The scar from where he was cut makes a ridge. The top third of his dick is nice and pink. His dick has a pretty uniform thickness but the tip is a nice large mushroom tip.

Oh the pop it makes coming out of your sloppy wet cunt after you’ve ridden him into a frenzy with your new little bench with elastic to help you bounce easier, so out of it his balls are red and his tip angry. His mouth is a drooling, babbling mess just like his dick. He groans as the cold air hits it.

His back flat against pillows, the energy to sit up long gone.

There’s only one piercing I see him with and he probably got his ears pierced. He considers a tongue or eyebrow piercing every time he’s piss drunk but always gets talked out of it. Got in the piercing chair for a frenum piercing once but as they cleaned it he sobered up, pull his pants up, and made a B lines back to where you two were staying.

Farah called him a chicken.

Also play with his hair, mess up his staple fluff and make it messy. Make him beg. Use him, he craves to be given orders and used. All he does is give orders, give him some. Use him like a toy. Your pleasure is his, your existence brings him pleasure. Just PLEASE use him, he’ll beg for it.

He loves when you’re in control, he doesn’t have to think, he just follows your lead and it makes him feel so good because you always know just want to do. He loves you when you domestically boss him around.

What does he loves more, you may ask? He loves when you trace the tattoos on his arms. When he feels you trace the tattoo on his collarbone it makes him shiver. Its simple, just the same information as his dog tags, but under it has the words “if lost please return to:” with your name and information. He got it one night drinking with his team, it was stupid but he loves being possessed and claimed. Belonging to something and someone. Sometimes more than just finding a purpose.

Hope you love it my lovely mutual.

Masterlist is pinned on profile as always, don’t forget to leave me a comment or a request in my inbox to let me know what yall want to see!

#cod x reader #call of duty #alex keller #alex keller x reader

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sierrrraaawwwwwcgtcvh · 4 months

Note

Hello! I saw you taking requests and was wondering if you could do something. Where the fem reader is a fallen angel, who is found by Carmilla? You can write it however you want, I just think that would be a nice concept starter.

You didn't regret falling from grace even if it was simply mere moments ago, but the pain was getting to you. The feeling of your wings ripped from your back was causing golden blood to ooze out of your back. Your halo was gone in milliseconds. You remembered the way you shivered as they ripped it from above your head.

It didn't help that the exorcist who ripped off your wings almost took out your eye. You were sure they would've ripped it out of its socket if it wasn't for you managing to get away. They were only able to slice your eyebrow before you got up and ran.

The reason you ended up falling from grace was because you simply couldn't take it. This was your third time coming down into hell and each time you felt horrible. You couldn't handle the screams the demons let out as you slaughtered them. You felt horrible, why were you even killing them?

With you questioning Heaven, and letting two little twin girls run away, you got stripped of your rank in Heaven and were now a fallen angel.

You stumbled as you ran throughout an alleyway, not caring about who was staring at you or what was happening either. Earlier the exorcist who attacked you had ripped off your mask and now you no longer had the mask that all exorcists wore.

You knew you had to get somewhere safe, anywhere. It didn't matter whereas long as you were safe. You nearly reached the end of the alleyway before you had to stop and take a breather. Your feet hurt, badly.

You no longer felt the golden blood you had pour out of your back. That was good you had guessed. No more golden blood that gave you away.

You panted as you continued walking and made it out of the alleyway to a deserted area. People lying dead on the streets with angelic spears inside of them to signal their death.

You watched as two girls who looked similar to each other, the black horns made you piece together the connection they had, ran past you. You stared in confusion as you looked at where they came from.

You shivered as you saw an exorcist heading straight for you. With a stumble in your feet, you readied yourself for combat even though you knew you wouldn't likely make it. You didn't have an angelic spear anymore after all.

Even with your body's senses in overdrive, from the pain, the fear, you stood your ground as the exorcist flew towards you with an angelic spear ready to pierce your body.

You closed your eyes and braced for impact. However, the impact never came and a loud scream followed instead.

You instantly opened your eyes to see a woman with large hands you noticed, and hair that was shaped like horns. She had a red sclera and her eyes were as white as snow, with her pupils sharp as a cat's.

You looked her up and down not in a suggestive way as you also noticed the white around her legs was glowing.

You quickly realized the scream didn't come from her, nor you, but the exorcist that was now beheaded and on the floor.

Wait what? You did a double take as you realized the exorcist was beheaded and dead.

How did she-?

"Do not speak of this." Her eyes narrowed at you as she looked you over.

You opened your mouth to speak before she cut you off, "Is that your blood or an exorcists?" She spat out as you spoke.

"I-It's mine. It's my blood." Your voice was full with fear. She had just recently beheaded and killed that exorcist and now you were sure she was going to do the same to you.

"Are you.. fallen? Like, a fallen angel?" She questioned you as you simply nodded your head 'yes'.

You heard her let out a rather heavy sigh as you watched her walk towards you with curious eyes. Wait- who are you kidding? She's probably about to kill you! Oh well, hopefully it'll be fast and over with.

You were tired of the pain coming from your head and back. You just wanted the pain to go away.

The woman began circling you, inspecting you, as you heard two people running towards you and the woman.

"Mother! Are you alright?" You heard one of the girls ask as the woman stop inspecting you and walked over to where the voice came from.

You turned around and stood rather awkwardly as the woman embraced her two daughters, the girls who ran past you.

You realized you should leave as you stumbled when walking away. You didn't want to interrupt their conversation.

You couldn't hear them talking anymore. That was good, right? You continued walking as you felt a hand tightly grasp your shoulder.

You flinched and turned around to see the woman and her two daughters.

"Where are you going?" She asked with an eyebrow raised.

"Uhm.. I didn't want to interrupt you," you replied as you stared at her, confused as to why she was talking to you.

"You don't have a place to stay right? Plus, the amount of.. blood, on your back can't be a good sign." She sighed as she shook her head. "Stay with me and my daughters for just a bit. You won't survive on your own out here."

You took a second to think the offer over before nodding. "Okay.. what's your name?"

"My name is Carmilla Carmine, and yours?" She offered her hand out for you.

You took her hand as you replied with your name.

"That's a rather nice name. Let's go?" She looked at her daughters who simply nodded at her.

You thanked her as she simply nodded, acknowledging your thanks.

—

Word count: 975

AHHH I WAS SO UNSURE OF HOW TO WRITE CARMILLA FOR THIS, I LOVED THE IDEA SOOO MUCH THOUGH. SORRY IF YOU DON’T LIKE IT!

#carmilla carmine x reader #Carmila x reader #Hazbin hotel x reader #carmilla carmine #hazbin hotel

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the-bottom-of-the-abyss · 2 years

Text

siren song

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader

This used to be an OC but I'm changing it to a reader insert; Other characters will still talk about "you" in the third person. While a reader insert, the MC will still be American and have a fleshed out backstory.

They called you Siren They called him Ghost

----

"Siren," Price told Laswell, "Sniper, expert in infilitration and undercover ops. American Special Forces."

Kate stared at the picture for a moment before asking, "Siren? As in the sea creature?"

Price shot her a half-smile. "Yes, the same. She seems to be the weakness of every man and she knows it. She's damn good with a rifle but her best weapon is herself."

next chapter: chapter 1

Notes: This is my first Ghost story! I have played the campaign and I just couldn't help myself! This is just the prologue but they will meet next chapter. Oh, and this fic will 1000% have smut. This takes place before and during the first mission, "Strike"

This used to be an OC but I'm changing it to a reader insert; Other characters will still talk about "you" in the third person.

Prologue

"Who's your crew?"

John Price sat opposite of Kate Laswell, taking in the cozy atmosphere of the cafe, but still somehow feeling on edge from recent events.

"Sergaent Garrick," Price replied.

"Kyle?"

"They call him 'Gaz'." the Captain continued, "He never said anything."

He handed Kate the folder for Gaz and continued reading. "John MacTavish, SAS. Sniper - demolitions. Goes by 'Soap'."

"Why?" Kate questioned as he handed her Soap's dossier.

"That's classified."

Kate gave him a dubious look, eliciting a chuckle before he moved on.

"There he is..." Price said, handing Kate the folder. "Simon Riley."

Laswell's eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "There's no picture."

Price's reply was quick. "Never."

He handed her a final file, one with a picture of a woman with hair the color of fresh espresso and with a face like an angel. But it was the eyes that set you apart, a piercing hue that seemed a little too empty, void of emotion in comparison to your smile. At first glance you seemed harmless, but the longer one looked, the more unnerving your portrait grew.

"Siren," Price told her, "Sniper, expert in infilitration and undercover ops. American Special Forces."

Kate stared at the picture for a moment before asking, "Siren? As in the sea creature?"

Price shot her a half-smile. "Yes, the same. She seems to be the weakness of every man and she knows it. She's damn good with a rifle but her best weapon is herself."

"Now the rest," he continued, leaning forward across the table, "That's need to know. Unless we got a deal."

"What are you calling this task force?" Laswell asked.

"1-4-1."

---------

Months later

13 July 2022

2200, Upscale hotel somewhere in Europe

The bar was crowded but you weren't focused on all the other people. Those who were drinking away their sorrows, the ones meeting mistresses, and suits on a business trip. No, you was focused on the group of ten Russian Ground Forces operatives in the corner, sporting casual clothes instead of a uniform. Your eyes jumped from man to man, silently matching them up in your head with some of the pictures in the brief General Shepard gave you. Of course, this was only a portion of them, there were about fifty in total staying in the hotel. All of them were waiting on a flight to Al Mazrah and transporting a boat load of weapons, and it was your job to figure out exactly where they were headed.

You leaned back against, resting your elbows on the bar as you sat on a barstool, softly jutting out your chest and letting your hair perfectly frame your face. You knew you were beautiful, and you knew what men would do, what men would say, for a beautiful woman; all the secrets they would reveal, just to touch. A strapless navy dress stuck to your body like a second skin, accentuating every curve on your body, save for a slit in the leg that went up to your mid-thigh.

Your targets were already glancing your way. Oogling, more like.

Too easy, you thought. You intentionally locked eyes with one of them and batted your eyelashes innocently before looking away, appearing embarrassed to the untrained eye. For extra affect, you crossed one leg over another, causing the slit to reveal more of your smooth skin.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw some of his buddies nudging him and pointing in your direction, all of your plans falling neatly into place. You brought your eyes back to the man now coming towards you and made a show of looking at him up and down, pointing your gaze in between his legs for a second longer and giving a sultry look. You could see his throat working to gulp down his nerves.

He squeezed himself in the opening beside you and you turned to fully face him. He was average looking, nothing too special. It was what was in his pants you were interested in.

His phone.

"Hello, beautiful," his accent was thick, but the English seemed fluent.

"Hello there," you cooed, letting your voice become sickeningly sweet.

"You are not from here?" He questioned, noticing your accent sticking out among the natives around you.

"No," you replied, "I'm from America but I'm on a work trip. What brings you here?" As you talked, you ran your finger over the hand he had placed on the bar and traced nonsensical patterns.

"A-Also business," he said, obviously getting distracted by the physical contact. You kicked it up a notch, going as far as to rub your high-heeled foot along the side of his calf. You leaned forward and was pleased to note he seemed already intoxicated, speeding up your plan by being able to avoid spending needless time ordering drinks.

You placed your hand on the man's chest and ran it slowly upwards before traveling down one of his arms. He seemed young and nervous but also attempted to exude confidence while you carressed him.

"I'm only here for tonight but..." you purposefully trailed off, looking at him with doe-eyes and gently biting you lip. "I've been looking for a real man to help me." You were laying it on a little thick, but time was of the essence, and he didn't seem all that concerned. You had him right there and decided to go in for the kill.

You leaned in real close and whispered in his ear, "I need a man to fuck me."

He audibly groaned, prompting you to bite his earlobe softly before pulling his hand off the bar and setting it on your waist. "Can you be that man for me?"

He nodded comically fast and pulled you to stand up, not bothering to wait for any privacy before sliding his hand down over your ass. A long time ago, you would have been repulsed. You would have showered for days, trying to scrub off any evidence. Now, you didn't feel it at all, didn't pay attention to anything except your next goal: getting him away from his phone. He led you out of the crowded bar, leaving his friends to cheer him on. You boarded the empty elevator and he pushed you against the wall after pressing his floor, smashing his lips against yours. It was sloppy and anything but a turn on but you willingly let him explore your mouth and grope your body and reciprocated with responding movements, all while you were plotting on how to steal the information from him.

A hand made its way to your covered breast. I bet the information is in his email.

Another grabbed your thigh and hiked it over his hip. These lower guys never bother to encrypt anything, a blessing, really.

A hardness grinded into the apex of your thighs and you let out a manufactured moan. Luckily they are on a tight schedule, they likely won't look for a body tomorrow when he doesn't show.

The ding of the elevator caused him to break away and grab your hand before rushing to a hotel room. As he fumbled with the keycard you kissed and bit his neck, all while sliding your fingertips below his belt. He finally got the door open and pulled you inside. He attacked you with his lips again and shoved his tongue in your mouth, pawing at your ass and grinding into your hip.

Pathetic. You thought to yourself while you faked a whimpering noise and a gasp when he moved on from your lips to bite the top of your left breast. While he was occupied, you reached for the small, curved knife, a minuture karambit, that sat holstered in a sewn in slot inside your dress, just under your armpit. One of his hands creeped up the inside of your thigh, touching the edge of your lace lingerie.

However, he never made it to his destination on account of the knife sticking in his neck.

A quick kill, although a little bloody. His body fell limp on the ground in front of you, blood continuing to pool out. You dislodged your knife and searched his pockets, finally pulling out his phone.

"Jackpot."

You used his finger to open up the phone before stepping over his body and sitting on the bed, all of your attention now focused on scanning for any information about tomorrow's final destination for the selling the weapons. A certain message caught your eye; it detailed the schedule for tomorrow and the directions to the base they were meeting at in Al Mazrah for the arms deal. A sense of satisfaction filled you at acquiring this information. You did not feel guilty about killing the man. You have killed many men, and the part of you that felt guilt for the role you played died a long time ago.

You wiped off the blood that got on your chest and walked out of the room, phone in hand. You were not worried about cameras, you knew the CIA counter-terrorism team would take care of it. You took the elevator back up to your own room and immedaitely went for your computer once inside. You pulled up the video call option for General Shepard and sat in the chair, not caring about your mused hair or slightly smeared lipstick or the bruise forming on your upper breast.

He answered immediately and with him was Kate Laswell, the CIA Station Chief. "Siren, tell me you have intel," the general said in lieu of a greeting.

"Of course, sir," you replied. "I have the location, I'm sending you the coordinates now. They are located in Al Mazarah. It says they will be meeting with General Ghorbani."

Both Laswell and Shepard sported a confused look at that. "Why would they be meeting with Ghorbani?" Laswell questioned out loud.

"We will find out tomorrow," Shepard said. "For now, Siren, continue."

"Any hiccups?" Laswell questioned.

"Just the usual," you said. "I will need someone to remove a body and dispose of security footage but other than that, everything was smooth."

"Great work, Sergeant. Your next assignment will begin immediately. You have been apart of the 141 Task Force for some time, but now you will begin your work with a team. Your flight leaves tonight."

---

15 July 2022

1600, Al Mazrah, U.R.A

"Watcher-1 to Bravo 0-7, you in position?"

Ghost walked through the rocky terrain, stepping back into the sunlight.

"Nearly there," he replied, continuing moving, climbing towards a vantage point on the sands below. He heard the helicopter before he saw it, flying straight overhead and towards the target point. "Got a heli incoming."

"That's General Ghorbani." Laswell replied.

"He's punctual, I'll give him that," General Shepard chimed in. "Now get up there and see what he's up to in the middle o' nowhere."

Ghost climbed up a few more rocks, finally reaching the opening and peering down at the base. "I'm eyes on."

"What do you see?" Laswell questioned. He brought out his Spotter Scope and peered down at all the equipment and people milling about.

"Armed personnel, armor and hardware," he replied. "All Russian."

"Our intel was right about them meeting," Shepard said. "But it still doesn't explain why the Russians would be meeting with Ghorbani."

"Supplying Iran," Kate replied, "it's an arms deal." Ghost sat silently as they talked, observing the scene below.

"You copying this Shadow-1?" Shepard asked Graves.

"Affirmative, two birds, one stone..."

"We need positive ID on Ghorbani before we kick this off boys."

"Ghost, can you identify the General?"

Ghost scanned the area, zooming in to look at specific people, checking to see if they were Ghorbani. He found a bunch of soldiers in one spot and said as much. "Armed escorts around one VIP. Russians are very happy to see him."

"It'll be the last time they do..." General Shepard said in response.

"Visual on General Ghorbani."

"Copy. All stations target confirmed."

"Shadow-1," Shepard started, "you are cleared hot for launch."

"Roger that, Actual," Phillip Graves replied. "Ghost, you are danger close to the zone. This arrow's gonna pack a punch."

"Copy. Approved," Ghost replied. "Send it."

"All stations, Shadow-1. Missle is ready for immediate delivery, stand by for launch. Coordinates. Target designated. Two... One... Shot out."

Soon enough the missle hit the target and the force of it made Ghost step back a bit. "Bloody fuckin' hell. Direct. Target destroyed."

#simon ghost riley #ghost #cod mw22 #ghost fanfiction #ghost smut #simon riley x reader #simon riley #ghost x reader #this is now a reader insert #simon ghost riley x you

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camslut7 · 4 months

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Ain’t no way

Pov: Tenjiku’s top members go to the Haitani brothers’ house for a meeting, but they meet the third Haitani

Including: Izana, Kakucho, Ran, Rindou, Shion, Mochi, Hanma

Tw: curse words?, a little suggestive at one point

Reader is a female.

ENGLISH IS NOT MY FIRST LANGUAGE AND THIS IS MY FIRST EVER FIC

____________________________________________

I got woken up by the slamming of the front door. Assuming it was my brothers coming home, I tried going back to sleep, but failed to do so because a couple minutes later i heard it again. And then again. I mean really, who the fuck was slamming the front door that many times.

I looked at the clock on the nightstand, it was 1:15am. Groaning i fell back on my pillow, trying to return to my sleep, but i heard talking.

Getting up from the bed, i looked in the mirror. I was only wearing a black crop top and my underwear, so i decided to put on some leopard print pyjama shorts (idc if y’all like leopard print it’s 2006 and I absolutely love it).

I went out of my room and to the bathroom to pee. I mean hey, i got woken up anyway so why not pee, go drink some water and scold my brothers for waking me up.

While i was doing my business in the bathroom, someone tried entering. And i mean full on pulling the door open with all their strength.

“Why the hell are you pulling on the door so hard? Can’t you see it’s locked?” I yelled at the door, mentally thanking myself for locking it.

I heard someone groaning in annoyance on the outside, walking angrily back downstairs. And then i heard multiple people talking. Like more than two.

What is going on? Have my brothers brought someone to our house without telling me before hand?

Already kinda mad at them, I quickly washed my hands, checked how I looked and went downstairs to see what the hell was going on.

Walking down the stairs I yelled “Ran, Rindou, did you seriously bring someone to our house without telling me?!”

And at that moment, I looked in the living room. There were 7 guys, including my brothers, sitting in the living room, now looking at me like I was some god sent creature. I was dead ass looking at them like 🤨.

I few seconds of silence passed “Okay, what the fuck is happening right now? Why are you random boys in my house?”

“Hey, who are you calling a boy? Can’t you see im older than you.”

I looked at the guy with piercings and big ass tattoo on the side of his head.

“So what? Can’t you see I don’t care?” I said back at him.

“Who do you think you’re talking to, little lady?” Said a very big guy with some funny eyebrows. Seriously, someone needs to fix them.

“And you are?”

“That’s enough.” I turned to the side to look at the tanned boy with platinum blonde hair. “Ran, Rindou, who is this?”

“That’s our little sister.” Answered Ran.

Sighing, Rindou asked “Y/n, what do you want? Why are you so angry?”

“Why am I angry? You’re the ones who woke me up in the middle of the night. I wanna know why there are people in the house, at 1am, making noise and waking me up.”

“Woah, calm down, baby. You don’t wanna mess with us.” Replied a very tall guy, with blond on the front of his hair… Damn was he fine, but damn was he tall af.

“Yeah, what are you gonna do? Yell at us for waking up your highness?” Said the guy with the tattoo on his head.

“Um, guys, I don’t-“ Rindou tried butting in, but i cut him off.

“Oh yeah? Wanna fight? You would win, right? Since you’re being so cocky. Although, I think you’re a pussy.”

“Okay, that’s it, little bitch” And at that moment, the guy with the tattoo tried swinging at me, but i quickly dodged it and sent a right hook to his jaw, knocking him out.

I cracked my knuckles, making eye contact with every single one of them, stopping by a boy with a scar on his face and mismatched eyes. Oh, he cute, I thought, and hot. Looking at him up and down, I noticed the boy blushing.

Smirking at him, I said “Okay, who’s next?”

They were all looking at me as if I just did a miracle. Except Ran and Rin, they’ve always known that I could do that.

“What? Scared?” I smiled, focusing on the tall guy with the blond strand on his hair.

He scoffed “As if.” “Well, it sure looks like it.”

“Okay, Y/n, that’s enough.” Ran said, standing up from his spot on the couch and coming towards me.

“You should go now. And put something with more…” he stopped, searching for the right words, looking me up and down “more coverage, you know.”

And as he said that, all the guys in the room looked me up and down, now noticing how short my shorts are.

I scoffed “Oh my god, as if I care. You’ve annoyed me all, I’m going to sleep.”

“Good night, sis” Called out Rindou.

“Nighty, Y/n” Said Ran.

“Sleep well, princess.” Said the tall guy. I should really learn his name.

I went up the stairs and into my room. Closing the door, I sighed. What the fuck was all that?? I layed in my bed, going back to sleep, hoping that they won’t be here in the morning.

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#ran haitani #rindou haitani #haitani brothers #hanma shuji #izana kurokawa #kakucho #kakucho hitto #shion madarame #haitani ran #haitani rindou #shuji hanma #tenjiku #tokyo revengers

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hunnylagoon · 14 days

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𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐔𝐧𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐀𝐧𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐥

Chapter One: Be Nice To Me

The Last of Us AU

I barely remember my own name for I am no longer human enough to have one.

Premise: The flames of the campfire fizzled out entirely while Ellie Williams was unknowingly enduring what was the beginning of the end. Following short after, Ellie begins to develop unnatural tendencies that terrify both her and Joel, leaving the two of them to learn what it means to no longer be human.

Warnings: violence / gore if you squint / upcoming angst / weird ass behaviour

I’ve got boulders on my shoulders, collarbones begin to crack. There is very little left of me and it’s never coming back.

Jackson was a small town with little to do if you were a teenager, so the seventeen-year-old residents favoured a drive to Cindersnap forest just on the outskirts to chug back beer and complain every little thing that nipped at their minds. The night sky was so clear that you could count every star, and the air was filled with the scent of pine and the earthy aroma of the forest.

These yearly camping trips shifted in nature when Jesse and Dina got together. Ellie appreciated that they would let her tag along with them but she couldn't help the slight bitterness that crept into her thoughts when she watched the two of them whisper and giggle in hushed tones. It was no different around a campfire than in the school cafeteria or the back of her geography class.

Jesse's playlist hummed softly through an old speaker while Dina stood up, plunging her hand into the cooler to pull out a can of the shittiest beer they could find. "Guys, watch," She spoke, calling the attention over to herself before she punctured a small hole into the bottom of the beer can, cracked the top open and chugged. Dina was far from loving the flavour but drank nonetheless until beer dribbled down her chin and onto her bright red hoodie.

"Was that meant to be impressive?" Ellie asked but she couldn't fight the smile on her face.

"Yeah, because you can out-drink the shotgun queen," Dina sunk back into her foldable lawn chair, voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Who gave you that title?" Jesse looked to his right to face his girlfriend.

"Sarah McKinnon, April twenty-third," She announced, very matter of factly.

"Didn't realize we were carbon dating," Ellie pushed herself off the log she had been perched on for the last hour while she stared across the fire pit at her two friends through flames the colour of tangerine. "Alright, shotgun queen," She teased Dina, grabbing a beer from the cooler and holding her hand out for the pocket knife "I fear this is the day you get dethroned."

She sucked a sharp breath through her teeth, reaching into the pocket of her hoodie for the blade "I fear you are very mistaken."

Jesse raised an eyebrow, smirking. "You sure you can handle it, Williams?"

Ellie shot him a defiant look, popping the can and preparing to pierce it with the pocket knife. As she positioned the knife, the metal gave way too quickly, and the blade slipped past the can, cutting into her palm. "Fuck," She hissed in pain but simply switched the hand holding the beer can, wiping her bloody laceration onto her denim shorts.

"Jeez," Dina said, a crease forming between her brows as she watched the blood soak into Ellie's shorts "Might wanna back down."

Ellie ignored her and sunk the blade into the can which sprayed its foamy contents into the fire before she quickly stopped the eruption by attaching her lips to the puncture and guzzling it back, tilting her head upwards to the moon. She crushed the empty can in her hand, smiling victoriously. "What do we think?" She asked "New queen?"

"Debatable, one of us cut their hand open and the other is perfectly intact," Dina held out her palm, expectantly "I'm taking away your knife privileges for the night, you are still permitted to drink beer like a regular human."

"Jesse?" Ellie looked toward the drowsy man, he pulled his hood over his head and leaned back with his arms crossed.

"I hate to say it Dina's got a pretty strong argument,"

"Wow," Ellie drew out "Not a shred of honesty around here."

"Please enlighten me," Dina says, leaning forward, elbows propped on her knees "How was butchering yourself better than my perfect chug?"

She was nearly offended that she had to explain herself "Uh, because I'm gonna have a sick ass scar and I cut myself and kept going."

"That was pretty badass," Jesse nodded.

"Yeah, sure," Dina scoffed though her tone was light-hearted "I expect you to write me an apology song for getting blood on my knife but I'll also accept gift cards."

"Too bad I will not be doing either of those things," Ellie wrapped her flannel higher around her body. She held her bleeding hand out in front of her, watching the red liquid pool out and drip down.

Jesse caught onto this small act "Does it hurt?"

"Nah," Ellie looked up at the pair, flyaways had fallen out from her ponytail and framed her freckled face "I should probably call it a night though." She could feel eyes on her as she rose to her feet, awkwardly holding her hand out so she didn't wreck her clothes further. Part of her wanted to stay up until the morning light hung overhead but the more rational half of her brain kindly reminded her that the last time she was tipsy by a fire she lit the cuffs of her pyjama pants on fire and had to endure the jokes to that very day.

"Goodnight," Jesse readjusted in his chair, tugging on his hoodie strings to tighten the hood clinging around his head.

"Night, Els," Dina gave her a little smile, scootching her chair closer to Jesse.

It would've been nice if they thought ahead enough to bring bandaids but alas, Ellie had to pour some water from her plastic bottle over it and let the cut encrust with a scab. Though the campsite was barren that night, usually, she could hear the sounds of families and couples chatting amongst themselves but then it had only been crickets chirping between blades of grass and the distant sound of her two friends laughing.

It wasn't rocket science to remember where they pitched their tents, it was the same every time they visited the sight: right next to the wood-splitting block, a red axe wedged in the center for whoever needed to cut firewood.

She paused, her senses sharpening. The habitual sounds of crickets and rustling leaves seemed to have stilled. The hairs on the back of her neck stood up as if responding to an unseen presence. Ellie turned her head slowly, scanning the darkness. She couldn't shake the feeling that eyes were on her, watching from the concealment of the trees.

Without waiting another beat, Ellie ducked into her tent, bright yellow and a stark contrast to the black one that Dina and Jesse would be sharing. That was another thing she hadn't been fond of when the couple started dating, they used to share one big tent to simply sleep under the stars but now that they were separated Ellie was still kept awake by the pair's constant flow of conversation.

Ellie didn't bother to change out of her flannel, all she did was take her bloodied shorts off and slip into a pair of clean sweatpants. She wasn't one to be neurotic over what she wore, especially when she was camping and the only ones to behold her were the beedy eyes of animals.

She lay in her sleeping bag, nestled within the comforting embrace of her tent, a duffle bag propped under her head as a makeshift pillow. The day had been long and filled with hours of roaming around the woods and eating smoked hotdogs by the lake. As the night dragged on, Ellie's weariness grew, her eyelids heavy with exhaustion. Despite her unease, sleep eventually claimed her, and she drifted into a fitful slumber.

It was nearby rustling that had woken her. She heard it then, pounding against the beaten dirt ground, at first Ellie had assumed it to be either Jesse or Dina until she checked her phone and saw the time read two thirty-seven am. Looking at the thin walls of her tent she was searching for the warm surge of light peaking through that signalled her two friends were still at the fire though all that shone was dim moonlight, no sign the pair were even in the vicinity.

A low, menacing snarl, so deep it reverberated through her bones. The sound was close, too close. Her breath hitched, and her heart pounded in her chest. She could barely make out the shape of something moving just beyond the circle of light cast by the moonlight, a hulking shadow blending into the darkness and dancing on the canvas of her tent.

With the sound of a guttural growl, her heart lurched in her chest. Fear shot through her veins like ice as she realized she was no longer alone in the darkness of her tent. She scrambled to sit up, her hand instinctively reaching for the zipper to flee, but before she could even make a move, a massive weight crashed into her. A muzzle with jagged black rotting gums tore through the yellow polyester tent.

Pain exploded in her thigh as sharp teeth sank into her flesh, tearing through fabric and skin alike. Ellie screamed, her voice drowned out by the ferocious growls of the creature attacking her. She fought back desperately, kicking and flailing, but its grip was unrelenting, its strength overwhelming.

Through the haze of agony and panic, Ellie caught a glimpse of yellow eyes gleaming in the darkness, filled with primal hunger and fury. It was a wolf, its fur matted and stained the colour of a rusted penny with dried and crusted blood, a creature driven by instinct and desperation. It was unsettlingly large, it’s haunches muscular.

It had felt like every part of her leg was torn apart, fangs clamping down in a new spot every time to get a good grasp of its prey. It was like someone was using a dull axe to butcher her, an axe so dull you had to muster up all of your brute force to make an impact and whoever was wielding the axe wasn't a skilled woodsman, their cuts were messy and they never landed in the same spot. Ellie was sure this would be it for her, dead in the Cindersnap forest, her remains never to be found, discarded in her ruin of a tent until animals picked apart her dead carcass.

Her mind raced, adrenaline coursing through her veins as she fought for her life. She clawed at the ground as the wolf began to drag her away from the tattered wreckage, her nails leaving marks on the ground as cried out. She could feel her strength waning, her vision blurring as darkness threatened to consume her.

Just when she was ready to end her thrashing and let herself be eaten alive, a flurry of movement and shouts echoed from nearby. Through the haze of pain, Ellie heard Jesse and Dina's voices, their cries filled with fear and urgency. They had heard her screams, and now they were screaming themselves.

Jesse didn't wait another second before he pulled the red axe from the wood-splitting block, he raised it over his head as he had practiced for years of cutting logs and brought it down onto the spine. The wolf let out a yelp, its body contracting, teeth scraping over Ellie's calf as it turned its attention to Jesse.

He didn't want to take the risk that it would take its turn at him or Dina, so he swung again, hitting it in the neck. Jesse's grip had slipped from the handle, letting the axe sink into the neck, the wolf staggered and whined. It growled low for a few moments that stretched into eternity until its abnormally large body collapsed on the ground over the top of Ellie. She could hear its ragged breath, see the life slipping from its amber eyes as its sanguine blood pooled over her.

Everyone waited for the animal to go limp but it just writhed there until Jesse used his foot to repeatedly kick the beast until it rolled off Ellie, he pulled the axe out and swung again, this time it fell flaccid, with no more unsteady rise in its chest. Just stillness.

"What the fuck!" Dina shouts, her arms thrown out in front of her in exasperation, eyes pulled wide by the terror before her.

Dina ducked down, hooking one of Ellie's arms around her, urging Jesse to grab his car keys from his bag. In a short amount of time, both of them were on either side of her, supporting Ellie while they practically hauled her to Jesse's truck, leaving everything behind.

Both Dina and Jesse were speaking affirmation into her ears, trying to reassure her that this memory would long pass them but everything just rang in her head, mind going numb.

She couldn't focus on anything other than the bloody mass that consumed her leg. Long serrated wounds and sunken teeth markings lined all the way up her leg, from the scrapes on her thigh to the flab of flesh on her calf that was being held together only by tendons. She finally released the sob that was building in her throat, it was like every awful thing she had ever felt was seeping through the gaps of her teeth.

Looking down at her clothes soaked in blood that wasn't one hundred percent hers and clung to her body she saw her future slipping away. The soccer scholarships she had put everything towards gone in the span of the few minutes that it took the wolf to maul her.

They reached the car, and Jesse opened the back door while Dina carefully eased Ellie into the seat, trying to keep pressure on her wounds. Blood stained the seats, but that was the least of their concerns. Jesse jumped into the driver's seat, starting the engine with shaking hands. Dina climbed in beside Ellie, never taking her eyes off her friend and gently caressing her head with wiry hands intended to soothe.

Inside her head, thoughts rang through like bullets, each coming faster and more panicked than the last. She couldn't look at Dina or the street lights gliding past them, it was just Ellie staring at her near mangled leg. She couldn't even hear her heart beat like it was a prisoner to her rib cage. She closed her eyes, clamping them and trying to wake up from this terribly painful nightmare but there it was burned into the forefront of her brain, the wolf with rotten gums and jagged teeth digging into her leg and peering into her head with those loathsome yellow eyes.

"Ellie?"

Ellie groaned and blinked several times, trying to get her eyes to readjust to the stark light flooding into her bedroom from the hallway. It had been three days since the mauling and Ellie was more than happy to seclude herself so she could avoid those pitiful stares from the public.

Joel stopped in the doorway as his eyes hit the darkness of the room. The first sign that something was really wrong was just how dark it was. There were blankets up over the windows, blocking out any trace of daylight that might be able to bleed its way in. In the blackness, as his eyes adjusted, he could see her in the middle of her bed, blankets pulled to her neck despite the warm weather, facing away from him, staring at nothing.

"Kiddo, are you sure you don't want me to take the day off?" He furrowed his eyebrows, studying the limp figure of his daughter. She had been in the exact same position when he came into her room the night before.

"Yes."

His eyes shifted to the plate of food he had left on her dresser last night before he went back to the dining table to eat his dinner alone. The pasta was untouched, the sauce became gelatinous, and everything in the bowl just stuck together as one thing. With a disgruntled sigh, Joel took the cold bowl of pasta and replaced it with warm French toast and a little side of syrup. "Ellie, you gotta eat something."

"Okay." She had been saying that for the last three days, agreeing with whatever Joel asked of her without actually doing it. This included showering, her auburn hair was greasy and unkept in a ponytail. The gauze wrapped around her leg and tucked beneath the splint was beginning to smell like vinegar. "I mean it," He said firmly "It doesn't gotta be this breakfast, you can go downstairs and get something from the fridge or ask Dina to bring some takeout, maybe Tommy and Maria could come over and cook ya something. Some sunlight wouldn't hurt either."

"Okay," Ellie repeated, voice mellow. Had there been another source of noise in the room Joel wouldn't have heard her at all.

The animosity simmers for a minute while Joel regards her with fretful eyes "Is it the painkillers?" He asked "Or the antibiotics? We can try a smaller dosage."

The figure on the bed looks lifeless, had she not spoken to him moments prior, Joel would've assumed the worst. She only been released from the hospital the morning before and she had spent her entire time back home staring at her wall like a blood-sniffing shark.

"I can't sleep," She said, voice flat. "I'm so tired and I can't sleep."

"Do you want me to grab some melatonin?"

"No."

"Maybe if you got out of bed for a bit it would tire you out."

"Please just go away."

Joel pressed his lips into a thin line, lowering his chin in the slightest "I'm gonna head out now, just thought I'd come to say hi," He waited a moment for Ellie to respond then waited another, accepting the stillness he spoke again "I'll be home at three, maybe we can cook dinner together."

"I just want to sleep."

"Alright," He turned "I'll let ya sleep."

It had been seventy-six hours since Ellie last slept, a moment before she was dragged out of her tent and chewed up like gum between a heavy jaw. She had spent the first two days gazing up at the obscenely bright hospital ceiling, the lights burned her retinas but she couldn't look away.

In the hospital, she had refused to eat when the nurses insisted she had thrown up her guts and they decided that a drip feed would be mandatory. If only she could sleep or drink. The insomnia was worse than the thirst. It was driving her mad. It had been days, full, entire days since she had slept.

She was afraid to look in the mirror or at the camera of her phone because she had an idea of the gaunt face that would be looking back at her and the vague idea mortified her.

On the fourth night from the mauling, something had begun to seethe inside of Ellie, she shot up, drenched in sweat. Her body felt as if it were on fire, a searing heat coursing through her veins. She threw off her blankets in a desperate attempt to cool down, but the air in her room was no relief. The heat radiating through her body was so intense it felt like there were bugs crawling beneath her skin, burrowing and laying their eggs before they chewed their way out.

She stumbled out of bed, her legs shaky and weak, barely supporting her weight. Her skin felt raw and tender, the sensation unbearable. Instinctively, she began to scratch, her nails digging into her arms, trying to soothe the burning that seemed to radiate from within. The throbbing pain from her leg had been subdued by the fire burning beneath her skin.

Ellie began to scrape the skin on her forearms, followed by her neck, torso and legs, everything was stinging with this scolding sensation. She had gashed at her skin frantically, twisting her body and clawing at it in an attempt to make it stop, all that this did was turn her skin red and leave nail marks across it.

Summoning all her strength, Ellie crawled to the bathroom. She pulled herself up to the sink, using the counter for support, and then, with determination for this to end, she stumbled into the shower.

She turned the handle to the coldest setting and, without a second thought, stepped under the icy spray, fully clothed. The shock of the cold water took her breath away, but it also brought immediate relief. The burning sensation began to fade as the cold water soaked through her clothes, cooling her fevered skin.

Ellie leaned against the tiled wall, letting the cold water wash over her. Her breath came in ragged gasps, but she felt her body temperature slowly beginning to drop. The pain and burning subsided to a dull ache, and for the first time in what felt like hours, she could think clearly.

Without meaning to she let out a choked cry, hands running down her face while she looked down at her body. The splint was now soaked with ice water and the red scratch marks covering almost every inch of bare skin visible.

Ellie stood there, her mind foggy and overwhelmed by the fever. She had no idea what was happening to her body, why it was betraying her in such a painful way. The room spun around her, shadows dancing on the walls, and she fought to stay conscious, fearing what might happen if she let go. Suddenly the concept of sleep was feeling very frightening.

On the fifth night, Ellie had hobbled her way down the stairs, splint dragging behind her after Joel had told her he was worried and went to bed. She was driving herself insane, she could hear her own heartbeat and the wet squelch of her blinking pounding in her ears.

Her thoughts often returned to the shotgun in the shed. She craved death in the same way she used to crave a Gatorade at a track meet. She was loyal to her numbness like a penny in the pocket of a priest.

She hadn't before thought about killing herself, not until she had been kept awake for five days by the image of glowing amber eyes ripping her apart. Something was most definitely wrong with her body. She knew the very second she looked in the mirror, past her baggy clothes her collarbones had jutted out and her ribcage was prominent beneath freckled skin. How her spine grated against everything she laid across would have almost any other person in a ward.

Joel's casual steps in the hallway had morphed in her ears to the sound of heavy boots stomping on sheets of metal. The night was preferable to the day when children would run through the streets and throw water balloons at each other on neighbours' lawns. Each screeching laugh she heard brought her closer to hammering nails into her ears just so she could avoid those little sounds.

It didn't help that she could smell everything too. Joel's morning coffee was usually the scent that kept her awake staring at the ceiling followed by all of his wallflowers which she had taken the liberty of unplugging and hiding in the shed next to the shotgun. She had also sniffed out her almost ancient body sprays from middle school and thrown them out, it had taken her minutes to source out the smell that was burning in her nose.

What brought her downstairs that night had been her appetite, intense and sinking. She was sure hunger would have killed her. Five days of an empty stomach that rejected everything she put into it ended with a brief shaking moment where she was filled with an insatiable craving that hit her all at once like a thousand knives to the gut.

During one of Joel's daily checkups, he informed her that he bought ribeye steaks and suggested they have a mini barbeque with Tommy and Maria but Ellie did little more than sink further into the mattress where she had rotted. It was clear with every passing second that something was deeply wrong with Ellie at first she chalked it up to side effects from all the anti-biotics and painkillers and insisted to Joel that was the only issue but with her smell and hearing overwhelmingly strong she was sure the problem was something more unnatural.

The moon hung low in the night sky, casting a silvery light through the kitchen window. Ellie stood at the stove, the sizzle of the steak in the cast-iron skillet filling the quiet house. The aroma of searing meat was intoxicating, stirring a deep, hunger within her. She tried to ignore the gnawing craving that had plagued her since the transformation, but tonight it was particularly strong.

The house was quiet, but her senses, now heightened beyond the norm, picked up the smallest sounds. She could hear the soft creak of the house settling, the distant hum of a car engine on the road, and something else—something closer.

Her ears twitched at the faint sound of soft footsteps outside. She focused, and the noise became clearer. Tiny, deliberate steps on the wooden porch, accompanied by a rapid, almost fluttering heartbeat. A cat.

On the patio, she could hear the neighbour's overweight calico cat, Fudge. He favoured the Miller household on the nights the Andersons fell asleep before letting him inside. She could hear his little paws padding up the wooden steps and then find his perch on the rails of the patio that Joel renovated himself, they were sturdy enough to support the pudgy cat.

She turned her attention to meticulously seasoning the steak, her movements precise and controlled, a desperate attempt to hold on to the rational part of her. As the meat cooked, she watched it intently, the marbling of fat melting into the rich, red flesh. The scents were overwhelming, and she swallowed hard, trying to maintain her composure. She stood right in front of it, counting down the seconds she had to cook it.

Compared to Joel, Ellie was awful at cooking meat. He prided himself on his barbeque skills, one of his most valued possessions was his meat smoker and the thoughts of warm July days, sitting on the back porch and eating whatever Joel had cooked made her eyes gloss over with craving.

After a few minutes, Ellie flipped the steak, listening to the satisfying crackle as it hit the hot pan. Her mouth watered, and her senses were alive with the sounds and smells of cooking. She focused on the task, grounding herself in the familiar routine, hoping it would keep the feeling at bay.

Once the steak was perfectly cooked to a rare finish, she plated it carefully, adding a simple garnish of herbs for no other reason besides she thought it looked fancy. She carried the plate to the dining table, her steps measured and deliberate. She wanted to eat like she used to, to enjoy a meal with dignity and grace, but the primal hunger was a constant, roaring presence in the back of her mind.

Ellie sat down, taking a deep breath to steady herself. She cut the first piece of steak, the juices running onto the plate, and brought it to her lips. The taste was incredible, a burst of flavour that seemed to ignite every nerve in her body. She closed her eyes, savouring it, trying to hold on to this semblance of normalcy.

But with each bite, the hunger grew stronger. It was a living thing, a beast clawing its way to the surface. Her hands trembled as she cut another piece, the silverware clinking loudly against the plate. Her entire body shook as she raised another piece to her mouth, eyes focused on the slab of meat with an untamed desire.

Unable to resist any longer, Ellie dropped the fork and knife. She reached for the steak with her bare hands, the warm meat pulsing in her grip. She brought it to her mouth, tearing into it with a ferocity that shocked her. Juices ran down her chin, and she barely noticed, lost in the primal act of feeding.

She devoured the steak, her senses overwhelmed by the taste, the texture, and the sheer satisfaction of fulfilling her deepest hunger. It was messy, undignified, and utterly freeing.

When the steak was gone, Ellie sat back, her breathing heavy, her hands and face smeared with the remnants of her meal, juices from her bloody steak dripping down her arms and chin. She bordered between a mix of shame and relief.

Ellie stared down at her empty plate. She was sick. Sick with the hole in her stomach that screamed at her for more, slowly it began to grow.

She rose from the table, her movements now driven by instinct rather than conscious thought. Crossing the kitchen, she opened the refrigerator door, the cold air washing over her. Her eyes scanned the contents hungrily. There, in the pull out meat drawer, were several packets of lunch meat. She grabbed the first one, ripping it open with ease. It was roast beef, and she shoved slices into her mouth, barely chewing before swallowing. The taste was salty, a little too salty yet she still choked it back.

Next, she pulled out a packet of pepperoni, her fingers working frantically to tear it open. The rich, spicy scent hit her nose, making her mouth water. She devoured the entire pack in seconds, the flavours bursting on her tongue, she discarded the plastic packaging on the floor. She reached for more, tearing through packages of ham and turkey, ripping them open effortlessly with her teeth, the cold cuts vanishing almost as quickly as she could open them.

But even after consuming all the lunch meat, she wasn't near satiated. Her gaze fell upon a package of raw chicken breasts. A part of her recoiled at the thought, but the urge overrode any hesitation. She snatched the package, ripping it open, the raw meat cool and slick in her hands. She brought a piece to her mouth, hesitating only for a moment before biting into it. The taste was different, raw and unseasoned, it was delicious.

Ellie ate piece after piece, the raw chicken disappearing into her ravenous maw. She didn't understand the compulsion, the gnawing hunger that drove her to this. The raw meat was smooth and slippery against her teeth, leaving a small coating of gel on her lips. The sensation was alien and unnerving, yet she couldn't stop herself from biting down.

When the last piece was gone, she stood in the dim light of the open refrigerator, her breathing ragged, as she stared at the empty meat drawer.

She walked to the sink and began to wash her hands and face, the cold water a shock against her skin, grounding her once more in the reality of her situation. She watched as the water ran red, the remnants of her raw feast swirling down the drain. When she was clean, she dried her hands and looked at her reflection in the kitchen window, the moonlight casting her features in a pale glow. The mess she had made, juice from animal carcasses dribbling down her chin and her pale green eyes seemingly brighter than ever.

Ellie wanted to be terrified by her actions but the truth was that it was the leading cause for her to finally fall asleep when her head hit the pillow. It was also the reason why she woke up the next morning feeling amazing.

She was up even before Joel. After wrapping her splint in a plastic bag to keep it dry, she stepped into the shower, letting warm water run over her skin. The last few days she felt too weak to even carry her own weight and now she could see the muscle of her skin like she had just gone for a run and they were still burning.

Closing her eyes she gently washed away at the grease of her scalp with her head and shoulders shampoo and scrubbed at her skin with body wash until the smell of the previous night's binge was gone completely.

For a few minutes, she felt almost at peace until she stepped out of the shower and wrapped herself in a towel. Last night's rampage had been undeniably weird but she kept coming up with new excuses for her behaviour. With extensive googling she found out she wasn't the only one to crave meat so intensely, it was a symptom of malnutrition and while she knew that couldn't be it she tried to accept the coverup to repeat to herself.

Using her forearm, she wiped the steam from the mirror. She looked at her reflection, expecting to see the familiar face she'd always known. But something was different. She leaned closer, frowning at the sight of her eyes, which seemed to have strange, golden flecks over her usually pale green iris. Shaking her head, she dismissed it as a trick of the light.

She grabbed her toothbrush and toothpaste, eager to complete her morning routine. As she squeezed the toothpaste onto the brush, she caught a glimpse of her teeth in the mirror. She paused, her heart skipping a beat. Her teeth looked sharper and more prominent.

Ellie dropped the toothbrush into the sink, her eyebrows furrowed as she brought unsteady hands up to her mouth. She ran her fingers over her teeth, feeling the unmistakable points of her canines, now lengthened into fangs. It wasn't real, it couldn't be. Maybe her teeth had always looked like that. She pressed her finger into the canine until it drew blood.

A wave of panic washed over her. She opened her mouth wider, examining the fangs from different angles. They were not the teeth of a human—they were the teeth of a predator.

It felt like her blood had run cold. Maybe she was turning into a vampire, she remembered watching those corny series about teen girls sprouting fangs and drinking blood. There were werewolves, she had been bitten by a feral beast and barely escaped with her life.

She never even believed in myths and legends, it felt all too ridiculous to even consider the possibility.

Ellie hurriedly pulled on clean clothes, the shock of seeing her fangs still reverberating through her mind. Determined, she went downstairs and perched herself at the dining table. She sat hunched over with her phone out in front of her, an absurd amount of unanswered texts that she didn't plan on responding to. Her fingers hesitated over the keyboard. What was she even looking for? Strange teeth growth? Uncontrollable hunger?

She took a deep breath and started with a simple search: 'sudden appearance of fangs'

The results were varied and mostly unhelpful—articles on dental anomalies, vampire fiction, fang cosmetic procedures, teeth shaving, and clickbait about dental surgery gone wrong. Ellie scrolled past these, her frustration mounting.

She tried another search: 'uncontrollable hunger for raw meat'

This search yielded more unusual results. Articles about rare medical conditions and eating disorders that favoured odd cravings. But also folklore and myths about creatures that fed on raw flesh. She clicked on a few links, her eyes scanning quickly over the text.

One phrase kept popping up: 'lycanthropy.' Her heart pounded as she typed the word into the search bar.

Pages upon pages of information about werewolves appeared. She read through them, her disbelief battling with the mounting evidence. Accounts of transformations triggered by bites, the phases of the moon influencing behaviour, the insatiable hunger for raw meat—all of it sounded disturbingly familiar.

She stumbled onto forums full of people discussing what they would do if they were a werewolf, how they transformed and who would they kill. There were others posting about their favourite horror movies based on werewolves, an entire article about Remus Lupin. She hesitated, then searched for 'werewolf bite symptoms' There wasn't anything useful that she had read.

All she had were three of dozens of symptoms. Ellie didn't have weird hair growth, super strength, claws, or abnormal aggression. Typing in werewolves onto Google she was met with a subreddit full of discussion. Ellie began writing out her issue, ready to air her weird behaviour to equally weird strangers on the internet who might offer up some answers.

astronautical: I think I might be a werewolf- Okay, I know I sound really fucking stupid saying that but please just listen to me. Last week I was on a camping trip and was pulled out of my tent and mauled by a wolf, the first three days in the hospital they had to drip feed me because I wouldn't eat and when I got home it was more or less the same. I didn't sleep since the attack until last night after I binge-ate raw meat and dead ass when I woke up my canines were fangs. A couple nights ago I had a weird hot flash kinda thing but I'm far from menopause, it was like my skin was on fire. My hearing and smell is crazy strong, like I can hear the heartbeat of my neighbour's cat. Can someone please tell me if they have experience with werewolf stuff or if there's another medical issue this could point to? I'm not crazy, I swear.

xHexical: honestly sounds like rabies

hunnylagoon: bro thinks they're teen wolf

cocoah00ves: This could be purely psychological. A lot of times animal attacks can cause trauma even if you don't realize it. PTSD can put you on edge which could be why you're hearing and sense of smell seem to be very strong, trouble sleeping and lack of appetite are other symptoms. If you really restricted food for a few days then your body was likely suffering from iron deficiency and was telling you to eat meat. The heat flash could've been caused by your injury and enunciated by your mental state. As for the canines, hallucination, your teeth are not as sharp as you think they are.

zylez: Mate you have rabies

aggravating_olive_38: I wish this was real bc it would be sick asf

littlethought63: This that girl from Wyoming?

schumber: You mentioned a lack of sleep and that might be causing you to spiral a bit. Take some sleeping pills and mellow out.

dazednaware: I think it's a PTSD response :( try therapy

mcwhoremick-responding to dazednaware: try getting some dick you dumb cunt

dazednaware-responding to mcwhoremick: ???

multifandomtrash258: friendly reminder this subreddit is intended for discussion of werewolves, not fictional stories or roleplay accounts

With an exasperated groan, Ellie turned her phone off and put it face down on the table just as she heard Joel thumping down the stairs. She felt like her brain had rotten entirely, there was no way she had seriously considered that she was a werewolf.

"Wow," Joel said, one hand up his gray t-shirt and scratching his back "You're up."

"Yeah," She tried for a smile but it still came across as melancholic, it was hardly a smile just lips pressed together in a thin line that carried the ghost of one.

"Well-uh, ya' want breakfast?" He asks in a beeline for the coffee maker, pulling out a mug from the cupboard which reads 'Worlds greatest farter (I mean father)' Ellie thought the corniness of it was hilarious and gifted it to him just a month earlier on Father's Day.

"Sure, if you make bacon."

Joel was a little taken aback that she was finally accepting the invitation to breakfast. He was shocked that she even had an appetite albeit thankful "Sure, kid." He left his mug beneath the coffee maker, as he waited for it to fill he went into the fridge to retrieve the bacon. He opened the fridge, his brow furrowing in confusion as he scanned the shelves. "Ellie, where did that chicken go?"

Ellie's heart skipped a beat, panic rising in her chest. She hadn't thought about the consequences of her meat-eating binge the night before. "Um, yeah, I got pretty hungry last night," She kept her voice as nonchalant as possible.

"You ate all of it?" His eyebrows furrowed slightly, newly mourning the loss of his forty-dollar pack of chicken.

"Yup," She was just thankful he hadn't noticed the missing steak and lack of lunch meat.

"I'm glad you're eating but Jesus Christ girl," he muttered "Next time don't eat us outta house and home."

Joel expertly flipped the bacon in the skillet, the sizzle of fat hitting the hot surface and filling the kitchen with a mouthwatering aroma. The savoury scent drifted through the air, tempting Ellie's senses as she watched her father work his culinary magic. The smell of the bacon worked to conceal the stench of coffee that Ellie despised. "How many pieces do you want?" He asked her.

She craned her neck up to look at the bacon frying on the pan "Whatever's left."

His brows shot up, wrinkled creases forming on his head. This wasn't the first time Ellie had some odd eating tendencies, when they had first met and she was still in the foster system, she felt too out of place to eat. Once again when she was fourteen and starting high school, she lost all appetite, only picking apart her meals and leaving almost a full plate. Had she not starved herself for five days, Joel would've said something other than "Alright."

As soon as the bacon was cooked to crispy perfection, Joel transferred it to a plate lined with paper towels to drain. He turned to the stove, cracking eggs into the same skillet, the eggs sizzling in the bacon grease. He slid slices of bread into the toaster, the anticipation of a delicious breakfast filling the kitchen.

Ellie's stomach growled impatiently as she watched the food being prepared. The hunger that had plagued her for days now surged back with a vengeance, the scent of the bacon driving her wild with craving. She tried to resist, tried to focus on the eggs and toast that would make a complete breakfast, but her attention was fixated on the plate of bacon. "What are gonna do this summer?" Joel asked. She had intended to work her job at the movie theatre and plan the rest of the summer around that but with her leg torn up she couldn't possibly stand for hours on end, she could hardly walk.

"I dunno," When Joel placed the plate of bacon on the table, Ellie's restraint snapped. Without a word, she lunged forward, snatching a piece of bacon and devouring it in a single bite. She barely registered the hot grease burning her lips as she reached for another piece, and then another.

Joel watched in surprise as Ellie wolfed down the bacon with alarming speed, barely pausing to chew before reaching for more. He opened his mouth to speak, concern etched on his face, but Ellie ignored him, her focus solely on the plate of meat before her. "Maybe pick up a new hobby?"

The eggs finished cooking, and Joel plated them alongside the toast, but Ellie barely spared them a glance. Her attention was consumed by the bacon, her hunger driving her to eat faster and faster, as if afraid it would disappear if she slowed down.

By the time Joel sat down across from her, his own plate in hand, Ellie had already polished off nearly half of the bacon. She barely acknowledged him as he began to eat, her eyes fixed on the remaining strips of meat.

Joel watched her with growing concern, the realization dawning on him that something wasn't right. "Ellie, slow down," he said, voice firm. "You're going to make yourself sick."

"Sorry," She halfheartedly spoke through a mouthful.

"Christ," He muttered under his breath, taking a long swig of coffee "What's the plan for today?"

She shrugged "Sleep, I guess."

He wished Ellie would do anything other than lay in bed and wilt away. Even if she just sat on the porch, he would be grateful. "You should invite Dina over, she's been wanting to see you."

"Yeah, I know," Ellie's damp hair clung around her neck while she reached forward for more bacon.

"Are you two fighting?"

"No."

"So what's going on?"

"Nothing, I just feel like shit and want to be alone."

"Okay," he pressed his lips into a thin line, bringing his mug to his lips while he watched Ellie devour the rest of the bacon, paying no mind to the eggs or the toast. She finished her meal with a large glass of water that she chugged back in mere seconds before plopping herself on the couch and scrolling on her phone.

As glad as he was to see that his daughter had finally showered and eaten, he had that deep lingering feeling in his gut that something had shifted inside of her. He feared that she wouldn't be the same without soccer or prospects on the horizon.

While Joel was at work, Ellie had the bright idea of watching werewolf movies to gain some kind of grasp on whatever was happening. She refused to believe it was purely psychological and she was making all of this up in her head.

She started with the classics, fast-forwarding through the filler parts and scrutinizing the beginning when they were bitten and then the transformation. She chewed on a piece of jerky canines separating it with ease, wondering how much of what she was seeing was based on myth and how much might hold a kernel of truth.

Ellie had intended for these movies to be research for her condition, however, she had gotten distracted while watching Twilight and spiralled through the saga. If she really was a werewolf, were there vampires? What about witches?

Were vampires like Dracula or Edward Cullen? Maybe there was a wide variety of them. It was also a strong possibility that she was suffering from something else like the continuous comments beneath her post suggested.

Rabies didn't click in her head, she had been given a shot almost immediately upon entering the hospital or so she was told. Nothing could rationalize, she was feral at night and that was a fact that she couldn't link to anything aside from insomnia which wasn't known for making people eat raw meat.

Abruptly she turned the TV off, her thoughts proving to be too overwhelming. She chose to opt for another one of the suggestions under her post, take some sleeping pills and mellow out. It was at three pm Ellie took five sleeping pills and headed to the bathroom to brush her teeth.

Ellie closed the door softly behind her, flicking on the light switch. The harsh brightness of the bathroom light made her squint momentarily, but she forced herself to face the mirror. The reflection staring back at her was both familiar and disturbingly alien.

Ellie parted her lips, feeling her stomach churn with anxiety. She carefully pulled back her upper lip, revealing the source of her dread—her canines were no longer the small, nondescript teeth they had always been. Instead, they had elongated into sharp, pointed fangs, glistening ominously under the bathroom light. It wasn't a hallucination. They were growing even longer than they were that morning.

She turned her head from side to side, examining them from different angles. Her fingers trembled as she touched the tips of her fangs, feeling their razor-sharp edges. It was undeniable; these were not the teeth of a human.

Tears welled up in her eyes as she grappled with the reality of her transformation. She closed her mouth, trying to make her fangs less noticeable, but the sensation of them pressing against her lower lip was impossible to ignore.

She had successfully slept for seven hours. The moment she woke she had forgotten about her reality until she mistakingly bit her tongue, the taste of iron flooded her mouth and she wanted to cry all over again.

Ellie lay in bed, her heightened senses picking up the smallest sounds around her. The house was quiet, but outside, she could hear the faint, delicate footsteps of a cat on the porch. The sound was unmistakable: soft pads against the wooden boards, a rapid, fluttering heartbeat. The primal hunger, which she had fought so hard to suppress, flared up once more.

She tried to resist, gripping the sheets tightly. Fudge sat on the spot on the patio that he always favoured. Ellie's hands pressed firmly into her ears as she dug her face into her pillow, trying to ignore the sound of the Anderson's cat stretching and the ravenous knawing inside of her.

Once again, she was lying in bed and contemplating her own death. She needed whatever this was to go away as fast as possible. She thought she could keep it to herself so she wouldn't have to concern Joel but every passing second her mind flung between crying while she confessed or putting a shotgun in her mouth and pulling the trigger.

Ellie dragged herself out of bed, and moved down the hallway, her eyes lingering on Joel's bedroom door, slightly ajar, he was fast asleep inside. There was a hunger within her, she needed to eat something or she would chew through her own hand.

Back in the kitchen like the night before, there was nothing left for her in the fridge. Ellie moved to the freezer, where more meat awaited. She ripped open a package of chicken breasts, the frozen flesh burning her hands, but she didn't care. She gnawed at them, the icy texture a strange contrast to any other thing she'd consumed. She continued through the freezer, consuming everything she could find: pork chops, sausages, a roast that she chewed on like an animal.

Her fingers claw at the frozen packages of meat. She tore into packs of ground beef and pork chops, barely waiting for them to thaw. The coldness of the meat did little to dampen her fervour. Each bite was a temporary reprieve from the hunger, but it was never enough. Like a nicotine patch, it hardly worked then it was over.

As the last of the meat disappeared, Ellie stood in the wreckage of her binge, her stomach churning with the mass of food she had consumed. Yet, the carnal hunger persisted, more powerful and demanding than ever. She felt a surge of desperation, a hankering that could not be satisfied by the lifeless offerings of the freezer.

She needed something fresh.

Her heightened senses picked up the faint sound of a heartbeat, the shuffle of tiny paws against the floorboards. Ellie moved to the door, her senses locked onto the cat outside. As she stepped onto the porch, the cat froze, its eyes wide and reflective in the moonlight. It sensed the danger, but it was too late. Ellie's vision sharpened, her hearing intensified, and her muscles coiled like springs. She could hear the Fudge's rapid heartbeat, see the minute twitch of his whiskers, and smell his fear.

Before the cat could react, Ellie lunged. She was fast, much faster than any human could be. Her hands, flexing, grabbed the cat with unerring precision. Fudge yowled, a high-pitched scream of terror, but the sound was cut short as Ellie's teeth sank into its flesh. Warm blood filled her mouth, and the taste sent a shiver of satisfaction through her body.

She tore into the cat with a ferocity that frightened her, the human part of her horrified by what she was doing, yet unable to stop. Ellie was a passenger in her own body. She devoured the cat quickly, the small body offering little resistance as she consumed it entirely, bones crunching under her powerful jaws.

When the last piece was gone, Ellie sat back on her heels, blood dripping from her mouth and hands, her breath coming in ragged gasps. The hunger was finally sated, but the reality of what she had done crashed down on her with overwhelming force. She looked around, dazed, the remnants of the cat scattered around her. The porch was now a scene of carnage.

Tears filled her eyes as she stumbled back inside, slamming the door shut behind her. She rushed to the sink, scrubbing her hands and face frantically, trying to wash away the evidence of her actions. The cold water stung her skin, but it did little to cleanse the horror she felt inside.

Ellie braced herself against the sink, her body shaking with sobs. She had lost control, given in to the craving, and now she was left with the consequences. The taste of blood lingered in her mouth, a bitter reminder of what she had become. Upstairs she could hear Joel shuffling and quickly moved to the sink to wash the blood off her. It was futile, it had covered the bottom half of her face and sunken into her T-shirt and grey sweatshirts.

When Joel reached the bottom of the staircase and saw the numerous empty packets of meat strewn across the kitchen along with the seventeen-year-old frantically wiping at her skin with a dirty dishcloth. Ellie knew Joel was behind her, she could hear his quickened heartbeat. Never had she felt so terrified, she couldn't face Joel and let him see what had soaked into her clothes, all she could do was let out a strangled sound that bordered between a scream and sob.

"Ellie?" Joel inched closer, one hand gently landing on her shoulder. She dug her face into her collarbone, trying to prolong the inevitable until Joel used his free hand to face her toward him. He staggered back. Joel's eyes widened as he took in the scene before him—the sanguine covering Ellie, the bloodlust burning in her eyes. His voice was barely above a whisper as he spoke, his words heavy with disbelief. "What the hell did you do?"

That was how Ellie Williams spent the first week of her last summer.

3 new messages

ACCEPT|IGNORE

noahson_tickets: Hey

noahson_tickets: You aren't crazy

noahson_tickets: Werewolves are real

#ellie williams #tlou #ellie the last of us #the last of us #the last of us ellie #ellie williams angst #ellie williams au #joel and ellie #joel miller #joel miller angst #dina tlou #dina woodward #jesse tlou

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obxone · 1 year

Text

Your Terms, Not Mine

Edited-ish. ~2k words.

Warning: NSFW - do not read if you are underage!

“Don’t I know it?” You giggle at Sarah’s remark about a group of kooks checking you both out. “They’ll never approach,” you state as you sink into the couch on the lower-level patio. “Too scared.”

“Who?” Topper asks as he sits beside you and pulls Sarah onto his lap.

You roll your eyes at how she blushes and hooks her arm around his shoulders. “Mommy’s proudest,” you mutter and glance when the other seat next to you fills with Kelce. “Hey, Kelce.”

“Hey Pretty Girl,” he leans in pecking your cheek. “What are you complaining about, huh? You’re hot, it’s summer, and you got me.”

You laugh and shove at his chest before he can hook his arm around your waist. “Kelce! My answer is still no.”

He laughs before shaking his head. “One day…”

“One day,” you relent, knowing he will not drop it if you do not. He grins before slouching back against the couch. The signature solo cup is in his hand as he sips his mixed drink. His hand trails down your back and you shift away from his touch. “Where is your third?” You ask. You had only seen him once when you had first arrived and a pretty blonde had been batting her eyelashes at him while he served her coke.

“Right here, Baby. I knew you missed me.” Rafe mocks and leans over the back of the couch to look at you. You scoff and roll your eyes at his confidence. “Don’t worry, Princess. I’ve only got eyes for you.”

“Whatever, Rafe. We all know where these two are,” you say hiking your thumb at Kelce and then Topper. “You aren’t far.”

“Don’t be an ass, Rafe,” Sarah mutters to her big brother.

He shrugs, sitting in the lone armchair. His feet kick up on the patio table. Those piercing blue eyes stay locked on your face before flickering to where Kelce touches you again. His jaw clenches and you have to look away, aware that he would snap Kelce's wrist in a heartbeat if you asked him.

You swat Kelce's hand away before standing and grabbing your phone from the table. You ignore the sting spreading through you at Rafe's casual teasing after your last conversation. The promise you made to him repeats in your head. A promise you regretted more than you should.

“I’ll be back.” You look at Sarah and she acknowledges you with a smile around the rim of her cup. You pass through the crowds and slip into the half bathroom that is surprisingly empty. You lift yourself onto the counter and cross your legs as you hit dial. The phone rings twice before he picks it up.

“Hello?”

“How quickly can I get a restock?” You ask.

He laughs. “Hello to you too, Cupcake.”

“Don’t fuck with me JJ,” you mutter, closing your eyes for a moment. “How soon?”

“Tonight. Do you have the cash?”

“You know I do.” You can imagine the smirk on his face at having you calling him for the fourth time this week.

“You are running through it pretty fast there, Princess.”

“Life sucks, weed doesn’t.”

He laughs and you laugh as well. “Meet me at the Point?”

“One hour,” you respond. “Just you, okay?”

“Done. Bring the cash.”

You hang up right as the door opens and you look up to see Rafe. He smirks and closes the door before leaning back against it. “What are you doing in here?”

You shrug. “Phone call.”

His eyebrows raise as he watches you. You ignore the unspoken question as you lock your phone. He moves quickly, his hand wrapping around the device before he has it, and slips it into his shorts pocket. “Are you going to ignore me all night?”

You smirk at him, biting your lip for a moment. “You seemed pretty cozy with that blonde.”

“Jealous?”

“Hardly,” you mutter, knocking his hand away when he reaches for the button on your shorts. “We agreed we were done, Rafe. I promised that I would never let you touch me like that again.”

“I lied when I said I was done.”

You frown at him before shaking your head. “I’m not doing this. You're only acting like this because of Kelc."

"So fucking what?" He mutters, glaring at you. "He doesn't get to touch you like that."

"No one but you can, right?" You ask, tipping your head as you stare at him. "But then it is only on your terms, not mine?"

He smirks. "You know you want it as much as I do."

"Maybe," you admit, clasping your fingers around the rim of the counter. "I'm leaving soon, so you can hook up with whoever. Can I have my phone back?”

He smirks and reaches for the button on your shorts again as he crowds into your space. “You want me to give you your phone back? Make me.”

That need to feel his body against yours, to feel him inside of you, and to hear your name falling from his lips spreads through you. But he cannot know that, it gives him too much power to know that. You roll your eyes before you check to make sure the lock on the bathroom door is in place. You look up at him through your lashes as you grab the hem of your shirt and pull it up over your head and toss it away. “One more time.”

“Fuck, I’ll never get over these.” Rafe practically foams at the mouth at the sight of your breasts. His hands are greedy as he touches you and dips his head to kiss you. You kiss him back, your hands moving up his abs, over his chest, and to his shoulders. Your legs hook around him to pull him closer. He moans into the kiss before you move to his throat. Your hands tug his shirt off of him before tossing it to join yours on the floor.

“We don’t have all night,” you murmur when his mouth makes the trek down the curve of your neck as he unclasps your bra and tosses it.

He grins against your skin. “Stay quiet this time.”

“I’m not the one that had Kelce pounding on his bathroom door last week, was I?” You smirk biting your lip as he pulls you to the edge of the counter. You reach for his shorts and make quick work to unbutton them and shove them down along with his underwear. His hands snake under your skirt to finding you bare.

“Shit!” He breathes before kissing you hungrily. “No panties?”

You shrug, tipping your head back as he wraps his hand around your throat. His thumb brushes the rim of your chin. “I had hope.”

“Fuck, Baby, you’re too good to me.” He mumbles against your ear, his teeth nipping at your lobe as you stroke him. He grunts, his hips moving forward to meet you stroke for stroke. His eyes squeeze shut and his bottom lip catches between his teeth. You watch him memorized as he nearly falls apart at your touch. “Get down, turn around,” he instructs when you release him after bringing him to the edge. “I want you to watch me.”

Your lips part and he grins before kissing you as he helps you slip down to the floor. He spins you, pinning your hips against the counter as he lifts your skirt up. “So pretty,” he hums before bringing his palm down harshly.

You gasp, hand gripping the edge of the sink.

“And all mine.” He practically growls as he sinks into you.

You would never adjust to his size, and he knows it as your walls squeeze him, sucking him deeper. He groans, his head dropping to press against your shoulder as he buries himself into you.

He rolls his hips, and you moan louder than you intend to and he immediately clasps his hand over your mouth, glancing at the door behind him. No one knocks or makes any move to come in.

“Quiet, Baby!” He hisses and you nod before he removes his hand. He wraps his hand around your hair and tightens his hold until you gasp loudly. You watch your reflections and he watches you. His ocean blue eyes focused on your face as you take it all in. The way his body fits against yours, the push and pull between you, the rosy color on your cheeks as your lips part and you try not to cry out.

Lewd noises fill the small space and you reach back, your nails biting at his thighs as he fucks into you over and over. Rafe moving inside of you while you watch him grip your hair consumes you until you orgasm around him. Your body shaking as he continues to fuck you. He lets your hair go and wraps his hand around your throat to lift you off the counter. The image shifts to show more of you and less of him as he fucks you relentlessly.

His other hand brushes your thighs as he grunts with each thrust. His fingers find your clit and you sink your teeth into your bottom lip to keep from crying out. He smirks, watching you fall apart again within minutes as the sight and feel of him touching you intensify the heat spreading through you. He groans your name as he spills inside of you. His mouth is on yours as you take every drop of him.

You stay that way until he is sure you have every drop of him. He nudges his nose against yours before pecking your forehead.

"Never let Kelce touch you like that again."

"Yes, sir."

The most lethal smirk you had ever seen crosses his features as he steps back to pull his shorts back up. His hand patting your hip. “You did good, Princess.”

You smile hesitantly as your body throbs with the aftershocks of two orgasms. Your hands plant against the marble counter to keep yourself steady. He watches you, pride swelling in his chest at how spent you are.

“Phone?” You whisper, lifting your head to look at his reflection in the mirror.

While digging in his pocket, he smirks before he places your phone on the counter beside you. You stand up and smooth your skirt down as you try to ignore the trembling in your legs and the afterbite of the counter’s edge against your hips. Rafe retrieves your bra and both of your shirts.

You clasp your bra back on and meet his gaze in the mirror once more. “Next time you want to fuck me again, Rafe, just ask,” you whisper. You spin and peck his lips. “You don't need Kelce as an excuse. I’ve never turned you down, have I?”

He smirks, his large hand sliding around your waist before he backs you up against the wall. His mouth is on yours and you groan, your fingers tangling in the hair at the nape of his neck. He smirks before moving down your neck again. His lips brush the bruising mark he has left, a mark to show you are taken and you both know it.

“Then I’ll see you tomorrow, Baby. My Druthers.”

You nod once, unable to tell him no yet again. He pulls his shirt on before he taps your chin with his knuckle.

“Wear something pretty.”

The door closes and you huff, looking at yourself in the mirror. Your lips are red and swollen, your neck and chest are littered with love bites, and your hair screams I was just fucked within an inch of my life. You could not walk back to your friends and continue for another few hours with Rafe’s marks all over your skin and his cum inside of you.

‘Changed my mind. Meet me in fifteen.’ You hit send on the text and three bubbles pop up before disappearing briefly.

They appear again. ‘See you soon.’

(Part 2)

#outer banks #obx #rafe cameron #outer banks rafe cameron #obx rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron x kook!reader

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theoreticaltranstherian · 2 months

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ARTISTS! PICREW FOLKS! ECT!

I have a challenge.

I am going to, using my magical powers of description and poetic word choice, describe myself.

You should try to draw/make me based on what I describe and mention me in the post/reblog this post with the picture!

No pressure but if you see this and aren't an artist but know someone who may be, perhaps reblog and mention them? Just if you don't mind :)

However, do not (and I can't stress this enough) use AI art for this. I do not support the use of AI art at all and I do not want to interact with jt whatsoever

(it's gonna be in the third person bc I can write like that better)

(also sorry for my weird similies)

He stood there in front of the mirror, somehwat awkwardly, observing himself. He was 5'6 - no idea why he had that memorized, but oh well - and built like a tree. That is, if that tree was in fact not a tree but a stick with limbs. He had Fluffy red hair that fell to his shoulders when it was wet but rested normally a few inches above. How he hated that hair; Utterly untameable and never sat quite right. He had disproportionately long legs, not so much that it stood out normally, but if it was mentioned you could see it and when wearing skirts or shorts his long expanse of leg seemed to stretch on forever. He had very little muscle, and as he flexed experimentally in the mirror, he snorted - He looked like he was built with pencils. His shoulders and hips were the same width, that is to say quite narrow and somewhat awkwardly thin; it matched the rest of him, but he couldn't help but wish that he was bulkier. His neck was functional if not a little short. Attached to it, as with most humanoids, was his head. He wore thick rimmed round glasses both because they had to be with how thick his lenses were and they hid more of his face, which he was quite insecure about anyway. His ears were ever so slightly uneven, leading to his glasses never quite sitting right on his face and usually resting on his nose. Oh, his nose; the only thing he didn't despise about his face. Not that it was a specifically good nose - One of the nostrils were a bit bigger than the other and it was sort of small - but it looked the least weird out of all his facial features. Resting below his nose was a septum ring, the same black one he'd had on since he got the piercing only because he couldn't be bothered to change it. Continuing down past his lightly freckled face was his mouth, as was to be expected. He had pale lips to match his equally pale skin, the two only differentiated by a slight pink tinge on the former and the assumption that he was not in fact a snake and did have lips. He had eyebrows slightly darker than his hair, although to tell the truth he sometimes would use mascara to make them darker because of his fragile masculinity and his need to fit traditional male standards of appearance so as not to be misgendered. His face overall was the shape of one of those Japanese watermelons that had started to become squared but only very barely before escaping its clear plastic prison. He wasn't insecure about his height, but that didn't stop him from always wearing platforms; he just liked how they looked. He was currently wearing his favorite outfit, consisting of a black tank top that went a few inches up his neck, an olive and dark green striped button up not fulfilling its namesake over top, and some pale dark green cargo pants. He hated wearing jewelry, as it was just one more thing to lose, but he always had on a chain with a gold ring holding a small clock face; His partner had asked him out with it, and he kept it with him because he knew if he set it down in his dump of a room it would be lost to the ether the second he looked away. He also had his ears pierced, but rarely wore earrings and instead always had on a pair of headphones to help with the constant anxiety from noise. He had tried to wear headphones with earrings in the past but found it extremely uncomfortable. As he stepped back from the mirror, he realized his internal monolog was extremely monotonous, and decided to stop observing himself.

Thank you to @annotated-catastrophe for the original idea!!!!

#art challenge #drawing challenge #writing thingy

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munsonkitten · 11 months

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steddie smut | 3k | AO3

Eddie lays on his back in Steve’s bed while his boyfriend flips through his box of tapes. He’s naked. Has been for a while, but Steve is still dressed in his ridiculously short shorts and one of Eddie’s t-shirts. Still looking for a specific tape, even though Eddie would be fine doing it without music at all because he’s been ready to go for like ten minutes now.

“Babe, just pick one,” Eddie sighs.

With no sign of Steve just picking one, Eddie lights up a cigarette and lays back against the pillows. He glances over at Steve as he blows smoke up toward the ceiling, and he reminds himself that he really likes Steve, even if he’s leaving Eddie hanging like this.

“Aha!” Steve finally exclaims. He pulls a tape out from the third box he looked through and waves it triumphantly for Eddie to see. He pops it into his cassette player and pulls his shirt over his head. “Are you ready for the Steve Harrington experience?”

The opening notes of Africa by Toto come through the speakers. Not a bad choice, but not Eddie’s first choice, either.

“Never say that again, you weirdo,” Eddie laughs.

Steve takes the cigarette from him and takes a drag before putting it out in the ashtray beside his bed.

“Is this your sex mixtape?” Eddie asks.

“Yes, it is, and it’s awesome,” Steve nods. “Now, where were we?”

He climbs onto the bed and straddles Eddie’s thighs.

“I believe you promised me a blowjob,” Eddie says, raising an eyebrow.

“Hmm,” Steve hums thoughtfully. “I don’t think I did, but I think it could be arranged.”

Steve leans down to kiss Eddie on the lips, his hands coming up to rest on his bare chest. His fingers find the bar going through one of Eddie’s nipples and punches, causing Eddie’s breath to stutter and his cock to twitch. He had been hard when Steve stripped him from his clothes, mouthing at him through his underwear, but Steve fucking Harrington—

He had paused right after getting Eddie’s underwear off— a hand halfway reaching out to grip Eddie where he needed it most— and got off the bed.

“What?” Eddie had asked.

“I just remembered— I have an awesome sex mix tape,” Steve had said.

And that’s how Eddie had ended up laying naked on Steve’s bed, and his erection had quickly waned in the long minutes it took for Steve to actually fucking find it.

Now, though, with Steve’s mouth sucking at his neck, and fingers pinching his nipples and twisting the piercings, he’s more than interested again.

He pushes his hips up, rubbing against the soft fabric of Steve’s shorts, a moan falling from his lips. He needs more, he needs Steve’s hand or mouth wrapped around him, or something. Steve doesn’t give it to him, not yet, but he makes slow movements into the air above Eddie, fabric dragging much too lightly against Eddie’s cock.

Steve pulls back and looks down at Eddie’s neck, gently smooths his thumb over the mark he sucked into Eddie’s neck. Eddie pulls him down for another quick kiss, and pushes at the waistband of Steve’s shorts to try and push them off. Steve helps him, and climbs off of Eddie long enough to kick them to the side and grab the lube from his nightstand.

“I want to fuck you,” Steve whispers when he’s back on the bed, hovering over Eddie’s body.

Eddie spreads his legs and moans his approval just as the song ends and another begins.

“Interesting choice,” Eddie laughs.

“Hey, You’re My Best Friend is a great song!” Steve protests.

“Maybe not for a sex mix?” Eddie suggests.

“Okay, well I don’t make fun of yours! And if I did, I would say the same thing about half of your songs,” Steve mutters.

“Oh yeah?” Eddie challenges.

Steve rubs a slick fingertip over Eddie’s entrance, spreading lube all over.

“Yeah. Your mix has Crazy Train on it,” Steve says. He presses one finger inside Eddie. “Twice.”

“Fuck,” Eddie swears at the intrusion. “Crazy Train has to be on it twice. Once to get me going and once to help me wind down after.”

The next song starts playing just as Steve works in another finger beside the first.

“Really, dude. This is not keeping me in the mood. I’m so distracted by how unsexy these songs are,” Eddie laughs. “It’s like you just picked songs you liked instead of setting a mood or sticking to a theme.”

“How is Gimme, Gimme, Gimme not sexy? Who are you?” Steve scoffs.

“Babe,” Eddie laughs, tossing his head back. “How are you a real person?”

“Shut up,” Steve says, leaning over Eddie to capture his lips in another kiss.

“My dick’s like not even hard anymore. That’s how unsexy I find this,” Eddie tells him.

Steve wraps his hand around Eddie’s cock and gives it a few strokes.

“Seems hard to me,” Steve whispers.

“I don’t know. I think I might need that blowjob you mentioned.”

Eddie wiggles his eyebrows at Steve and lifts his hips up insistently.

Steve grins and moves down his body, keeping two fingers moving slowly in and out of him. He presses a kiss to the inside of Eddie’s thigh, then grazes his teeth over the sensitive skin.

“Please,” Eddie whispers.

He doesn’t need to say what he wants, Steve already knows. He sinks his teeth just a bit hard into the skin, causing Eddie to tense up with the pleasurable pain. He groans out Steve’s name and sinks a hand into his hair. Steve sucks bruises into each thigh, moving high and higher until he presses a kiss to the base of Eddie’s cock.

And fuck he thinks he might come right here, right now.

Steve recognizes this, pulls his fingers out and rests his head against Eddie’s hip bone for a second to let him cool down a bit. The song changes and Eddie throws his hands over his face to cover his laughing groan.

“Fucking Phil Collins?” Eddie asks. “I hate Phil Collins, dude.”

“Hey this song is awesome!” Steve protests.

“No, baby, it’s not. Please tell me this tape gets better or I’m not going to let you fuck me,” Eddie half-jokes.

“What gets better than this?“ Steve asks.

He leans back down and wraps his hand around the base of Eddie’s cock. He presses a kiss to the head and Eddie throws his head back against the pillow. Okay, maybe he can ignore In the Air Tonight as long as Steve gets his mouth on him expeditiously. He shuts his eyes and allows himself to just feel as Steve licks at him and kisses his shaft, slowly stroking him with his hand, not yet fully taking him in yet, but that’s fine, he’ll get there.

“So you can wipe off that grin,” Steve sings quietly, just above a whisper. He can feel Steve’s breath on him. “I know where you’ve been—”

(Or maybe he won’t get there, Eddie thinks to himself.)

“Steve Harrington, if you're using my dick as a microphone I’m going to kill you,” Eddie says without opening his eyes. “Put that mouth to better use than singing, would you?”

“You don’t like my singing voice?” Steve asks innocently.

Eddie opens his eyes as he props himself up on his elbows. He’s up just in time for Steve to come back up so they’re face to face again.

“Give me a kiss,” Steve requests.

Eddie sits up fully and cups Steve’s face with his hands, pulling him in for a slow kiss.

Steve draws back just enough to speak.

“Now tell me you love me,” Steve whispers.

“I love you, Stevie,” Eddie breathes, going in for another kiss.

“And say you’re sorry for insulting my singing voice,” Steve says when he pulls back again.

“Never,” Eddie breathes with a quiet laugh.

Steve sings the next verse louder, right into Eddie’s face as he pushes him to lay down again. Steve finds the lube again, falling quiet as he concentrates on opening it and rubbing it between his fingers to warm it.

Eddie knows what comes next in the song, and as Steve moves two fingers inside him, he prays to all the gods he doesn’t believe in that Steve doesn’t do what Eddie thinks he’s going to do—

He does. He pulls his fingers out so he can do the drumming on Eddie’s spread thighs with his hands.

That has Eddie rolling out of bed and reaching for his underwear.

“Baby, where are you going?” Steve asks.

“Steve, I’m sorry, but I cannot fuck in these conditions,” Eddie says, pulling his boxers up and over his hips.

“Noo,” Steve whines. “It gets better! No more singing, or drumming, okay? Promise. I swear on Dustin’s mother.”

“Dude you are Dustin’s mother,” Eddie tells him.

He pushes his boxers back down though and settles into the bed again.

The song fades into the next and Eddie can live with it, he guesses. It’s not anything he would put on his own sex mix, but it’s fine.

Steve looks like he’s about to sing, though and Eddie gives him a pointed look.

“You’re on your last life, dude. Mess this up and it’s game over, bud,” Eddie tells him.

Steve mimes zipping his lips and throwing away the key and Eddie laughs.

Eddie spreads his legs again and Steve bends down to kiss the scars covering Eddie’s abdomen. He works three fingers into Eddie this time and finally takes his cock into his mouth. Eddie isn’t so worked up anymore, but Steve’s ministrations quickly get him back to fully hard.

“Oh— fuck, baby, I’m ready,” Eddie decides.

Steve keeps good on his promise and even as Kiss On My List ends and Waiting for a Girl Like You begins, Steve seems to ignore the music. That makes it easier for Eddie to put it into the back of his mind.

Eddie reaches over to the nightstand and grabs a condom out of the drawer. He tosses it at Steve, who keeps stretching Eddie for just a little while longer.

He finally rolls the condom over his cock and lubes himself up and Eddie spreads his legs even further in anticipation. Steve presses against him, slowly inching his way inside. Eddie pulls him down for a kiss, his mouth hanging open on a moan.

The song comes to an end just as Steve bottoms out inside him, and in the few seconds between songs, Eddie adjusts to Steve’s cock inside him. Steve leaves wet kisses all over Eddie’s neck, grazes his teeth in the spots he knows drive Eddie wild.

Eddie almost doesn’t realize what song comes next, too in love and feeling too good to really process it, but when it clicks, it ruins the entire mood.

“Nope,” Eddie says, shoving Steve off of him. “Nope, dude. I’m not having sex to Cat’s in the fucking Cradle, dude. Fuck off.”

Steve looks absolutely lost, just sitting on the bed where Eddie pushed him.

“Get dressed and get in the car,” Eddie orders. He reaches down to pick up his own underwear again and finds his jeans. He has to force his dick inside and it’s near painful as he zips up his tight pants, but he’ll fucking manage. He pulls the tape out of the player and shoves it back into the case. It goes into his pocket.

Steve is still sitting on the bed, his dick hard between his legs, and his face completely and utterly confused, and a little hurt, too. Eddie walks over to him, kisses him on the forehead, and reaches between them to pull the condom off. Steve groans at Eddie’s touch, but Eddie doesn’t give him any more of that.

He tosses the condom in the trash and bends down to pick up Steve’s underwear and finds him a pair of pants because the shorts he wears around the house are completely indecent. He tosses the pants and the shirt Steve had been wearing earlier at his boyfriend.

“Get dressed. I’ll be in the car,” Eddie says again.

He stops to pee on the way, and he stops to drink a glass of water, too, trying to calm himself down a bit.

He feels like a bit of a dick, but really. Harrington has some issues if this is his ‘awesome sex mix,’ because wow.

Steve slides into the passenger seat of Eddie’s van with his arms crossed over his chest and a hurt look on his face.

“Hey, I love you,” Eddie tells him, reaching out to pat his thigh.

“Whatever,” Steve mutters. “Where are we going?”

“Joyce and Hopper’s.” Eddie answers as he puts his van in drive. He pulls away from the curb and ignores Steve’s questions.

The Byers wanted to move back into town shortly after the whole Vecna ordeal, but they had a lot of loose ends to tie up in California. They had to pack up the house and finish up the school year even if none of the kids cared about that school one way or another. Plus, Hawkins was in a state of complete disaster.

It took them a few months to finally make the move back, and now their moving truck has arrived, and just about everyone is over helping them unpack. Everyone except Eddie and Steve, who decided they deserved a night alone if the kids were otherwise occupied.

Eddie pulls up in front of the new house and kills the engine.

Steve looks like he’s about to combust in his seat, so Eddie just leans over and kisses him on the cheek and gets out of the car.

He walks right into the front door, which is open as people walk out to get new boxes to carry inside.

“Eddie!” Joyce greets him. “Oh I wasn’t expecting you boys!”

“We decided our time would be better spent helping you all. Isn’t that right, Stevie?” Eddie asks, turning to look at Steve behind him.

“Whatever,” Steve mutters again.

“Well, come in. Hop’s in the kitchen mixing drinks right now, so you better find him before he’s done if you want something,” Joyce says, leading them into the house. “We’ve still got furniture and tons of boxes to move in, so it’s good you strong boys are here.”

Eddie nods, grinning.

“Hey, I brought a tape. Can I play it?” Eddie asks.

“Oh of course, sweetie,” Joyce smiles.

Steve casts him a glare. Eddie smiles at him and goes to the stereo system, already set up. He lifts the needle on the record currently playing and pops the tape into the tape deck beside the turntable.

“Eddie please don’t,” Steve says.

“Sorry, baby,” Eddie grins. “It’s already playing!”

The opening notes of Africa come through the speakers.

“I didn’t think this was your style, Munson,” Hopper says as he comes into the living room.

“Oh, this is Stevie’s,” Eddie tells him.

“That makes more sense,” Hopper nods.

“Okay, but tell me if it makes sense to be his sex mix,” Eddie says.

“Eddie,” Steve pleads. “Don’t tell them that.”

“Well, I think it’s romantic,” Joyce says wistfully.

“Our sex is not romantic,” Eddie laughs. “Steve is one kinky motherfucker.”

“No I’m not?”

“Okay, baby, whatever you say,” Eddie winks. And the thing is— Steve isn’t really. Neither is Eddie, not the way he advertises himself, anyway, with the flagging and the cuffs on his wall. He doesn’t use those with Steve. They both have their things, sure, but Eddie finds Steve entirely endearing, and yes, he’s definitely a romantic even when they’re spitting in each other’s mouths and eating each other’s asses.

“I’m really not,” Steve whispers to Joyce.

She’s giggling, while Hopper looks completely affronted. Eddie doesn’t take offense to it. When they came out to Hopper and Joyce, Hopper had said ‘I don’t like this. Not because you’re gay or whatever, but because you two are kind of disgusting and weird.’ Which is really kind of true. That’s why Eddie has made it his mission to bother Hopper in any way he can by giving him details he never asked for.

The songs bleed into each other as Steve and Eddie help bring boxes in and move furniture around. Hopper makes weird faces when some of them come on, and Joyce can be found whispering in his ear at different times.

Nancy comes downstairs and Steve looks like he’s about to flee. Eddie grabs onto his wrist and pulls him near.

“Is this Steve’s?” Nancy asks amused suspicion on her face. Jonathan comes down right behind her and stops.

“Is this—”

“How do you know about this, Byers?” Eddie asks.

Jonathan looks really fucking uneasy, and maybe Eddie’s jealousy showed through just a bit too much, too much of an edge to his voice.

Nancy just fucking laughs.

“Don’t worry, Eddie, I told him,” she assures him. She comes up and pats his cheek, an apologetic look on her face. “Sorry you have to go through this.”

“Hey! The ladies never complain!” Steve defends himself.

“And how many many of those ladies had a second date?” Eddie asks.

Steve’s face goes bright red.

Cat’s in the Cradle starts playing. Hopper walks over to the tape player and shuts it off.

“I should arrest you for that,” he says, throwing the tape at Steve’s chest.

“Eddie’s is so much worse!” Steve shouts.

“At least my songs are about fucking, dude!”

“Shh, the kids are here,” Joyce says, shushing all of them.

“Munson, where’s your tape?” Hopper asks.

“Oh, it’s uh, at home?”

“No, it’s not. We fucked in your van last night,” Steve reminds him. As if Eddie forgot. He rode Steve like his life depended on it, took a break to smoke a cigarette and eat a poptart, and then fucking did it again. He’s not forgetting that.

“Didn’t need that info,” Hopper mutters. “Go get it, Harrington.”

Steve pulls the keys out of Eddie’s pocket and runs out to the van.

The tape gets popped into the player and Eddie has to remind himself not to pop a stiffy after associating these songs almost entirely with fucking Steve for the last six months.

Crazy Train starts and Hopper furrows his brows and looks at Eddie.

“You said your songs are about fucking?” he asks. “I don’t want to know what you definition of fucking is, then, I guess.”

“Okay fine!” Eddie yells. “Maybe not all of them are, but at least they’re not about fucking, like, father-son relationships and daddy issues. Holy fuck.”

Hopper reads over the tracklisting that Eddie carefully wrote on it.

“Crazy Train twice?” he asks.

“To get him going and to wind him down, as he said earlier,” Steve answers before Eddie can defend himself.

“There’s a lot of WASP on here,” Hopper comments.

“Okay okay! Make fun of the freak, whatever,” Eddie mutters. “It’s not fucking Cat’s in the Cradle, though!”

“Maybe both of your mixtapes are bad, huh?” Hopper suggests.

“Like you could make a better one,” Eddie challenges.

“Oh, I have. Trust me, I have,” Hopper smirks.

“He has,” Joyce agrees.

“Ew, mom,” Jonathan mutters. “At least wait until I’m out of the room.”

“Sorry, sweetie,” Joyce says.

The conversation ends when the kids all come barreling down the stairs. Dustin throws himself at Steve, and Steve stumbles back as he tries to accept the hug. Eleven has one arm looped with Max’s, helping her carefully down the stairs. The two girls pull Eddie into a hug and ask if he wants to paint his nails with them and braid each other’s hair, and how could he say no to that?

He takes a glance at Steve, who doesn’t seem so mad anymore, and he agrees, but tells them to wait a minute.

He has to push through the boys to get to his boyfriend, and he leaves a smacking, wet kiss on his cheek.

“Love you,” Eddie whispers into his hair.

“Love you, too, baby,” Steve whispers, turning his face to press a quick kiss to Eddie’s lips.

“Gross,” Max mutters. “You guys are so gross.”

“You can’t even see us, Red!” Eddie laughs.

“I can hear you! And you sound fucking gross!”

Maybe they’re gross. Maybe their mix tapes are bad. Maybe, maybe, maybe.

They’re meant for each other.

on AO3

#steddie #steve/eddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #steve x eddie #steve harrington x eddie munson #my fics #steddie fic #stranger things #steddie smut

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