#him being the only one who can reach you and pull you back from the cliff edge of your all-consuming rage........................

[neckromantics]

Can we please talk about how often vampires are seen having infatuations with the living, simply because they’re… well, living? How Astarion's vampiric nature would have him frequently mesmerized by just how alive you are??

Pt1.

(nsfw warning. oops. It's mostly fluff tho. there is kinda breathplay in this. i didn't mean to, but-)

Astarion who, smitten as he is, rests his head against your chest during one of your regular lazy morning cuddles. He’s not so covertly listening in on the pounding of your heart. Bare skin sensitive to every brush of his fingertips as he traces them up and down the softness of your side, tapping along to each solid thud as it beats away for him. You try not to squirm too much in fear of jostling him out of whatever dreamlike state he’s fallen into, but you’ve no need to worry. Your soft breathing—the subsequent rise and fall of your belly— is only lulling him further and further into that rare state of tranquility.

After a while, he’ll relocate a little further down. One pointed ear presses tight to the tender skin of your ribs as he seeks to be even closer to the sound, and this time, you can’t stop yourself from squirming. It’s his hair that does you in. The pale curls at the back of his neck are so silky soft against your flesh that it just about tickles, and the goosebumps that start to crawl their way up your arms only get worse each time he readjusts. He sounds so drowsy when he shushes your giggles, and when you insist you can’t help it, that it's his fault, he shushes you a second time. As if the sound of your laughter isn’t precious to him all on its own.

Astarion, who often finds himself with his lips to your pulse point without really knowing how he got there. You’ll be sat by the fire having idle chit-chat, and the next thing you know, he’s pulling your joined hands up toward his mouth as it’s your turn to speak. The first time it’d happened, you thought maybe he wanted a bit of a snack or something (not that he’s really ever done so without asking, first. Even though you’ve said about one thousand times that the offer is always on the table), but when you turned to glance at him, there wasn’t an ounce of hunger in those ruby eyes of his. He was listening to you as intently as always. Even nodded to encourage you when your sentence trailed off a bit in your confusion.

You’re not entirely sure he knows he’s doing it, or why he’s doing it for that matter, but you couldn’t be more wrong.

There’s a general warmth radiating from you that, despite Astarion’s best efforts in the past, he’s always been magnetized to. But here? Where his mouth stays poised? It’s a heat like nothing else. The steady pulse of blood—of life—calls out to him like a siren song, and while the hunger is there (will always be there), there is also something else. Something more, perhaps? A feeling he can’t quite put a name to. It’s a comfort, maybe. An assurance, he reasons to himself. That steady thump of life beneath his lips is proof enough that you’re still here with him.

Anyway.

Conversations continue without a hitch now-a-days, despite his voice being a little more than muffled with his lips jammed against whatever pulse point he can find. But, you don’t mind because while you can’t see him smiling, you sure can feel it.

Astarion, who gets struck with such a strange, desperate need to feel your breath that he has to lift his hand to your lips as he sinks deep into your warmth. Mouth half-open from your previous slack-jawed whining, not even a moment passes before you’re pressing sloppy, wet kisses to the cool skin he’s offered up to you, lids heavy with lust as you try and fail to keep your eyes focused on your lover. It still baffles him how you never miss a beat—not with him, anyway—not even when he’s got the entire bottom half of your face cupped beneath a firm hand.

His own mouth can't stop exploring every inch of flesh it can reach. He says your name but it sounds more like a thank you, fangs pricking against the inside of the arm you've got wrapped around his neck as your heels dig into the meat of his ass to nudge him forward still. Your fingers curl into his hair, getting a good handful that you'd never dare to pull. It's a gentle guiding that drives him mad—the way you herd him ever closer with such a tender touch—as if he isn't pinning you into the mattress with the majority of his weight already.

While his breaths are unneeded, they quickly match pace with the ones you’re puffing against his hand. Hitching into a gasp that he can’t think to contain when your moaning sends vibrations all the way up to his elbow. Your quick gulps of air stutter beneath him as the two of you get your bearings, and your next exhale is so sharp as his hips jerk against yours that it practically whistles out between the spaces of his fingers.

Astarion doesn't think he's ever heard anything more perfect in all his undeath.

(Me quietly to myself: what kind of kink is this.)

#bg3 #astarion ancunin #baldurs gate 3 #astarion #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #bg3 tav #astarion headcanons #astarion smut

[seresinhangmanjake]

The Harkonnen's Loves

Dad!Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x Mom!Atreides!reader

Summary in bullet points:

Your and Feyd’s four-year-old son is sweet like you but has a little love for violence like his father

Feyd gives your son his first blade

Feyd is soft for his family (I just think being in love and having a family would alter this psycho man’s brain chemistry a bit)

Notes: same Feyd x reader from The Harkonnen’s Sweet Thing and The Harkonnen’s Claim. 

Warnings: a half-psycho half-sweet little boy, mention of blood and injury, mention of pregnancy.

Words: 1500

Feyd-Rautha Masterlist

Your son contains a sweetness. ‘Caladan Sweetness’ you call it, because your home planet was where your sweetness was born into you. Your father, the beauty of your home, the oceans and the fields bloomed you into the soft, sweet thing that your husband loves. And though your son has never seen the world you come from, that sweetness runs through his veins. His smile, his laugh, his power to draw those around him out of their Harkonnen-built shells—that all comes from you. 

But at the same time, he is no less like his father. He adapts rather quickly to his surroundings. He has a natural curiosity for weaponry and blood and how one brings about the other. He does not hate the feel of a heart beating its final beat in his little hand—a feeling his father expressed would be better experienced young, and was done so after the slaughtering of a prisoner in front of the boy's eyes. Feyd had cracked open the prisoner's chest, taken his son by the hand, and guided his fingers into the open wound with the instruction to keep them wrapped around the organ until it no longer moved. You remember his eyes that day—round as saucers and sprinkled with excitement as he looked up at his father who ruffled his hair with a grin on his face. 

He truly is a combination of you both; such beautiful balance has already taken shape in a tiny body. He will be a warrior built and molded by his desire to understand everything his father has to teach him. And yet, he will be gentle where necessary; you hope, one day, with a wife and children of his own. But it’ll be long before that day comes. 

Then again, in some ways, he is growing so fast. For you, it could have been yesterday that you were pushing him out of your womb as your husband held your hand and kissed your forehead. At four years old, you still see him as your baby, but you acknowledge that Harkonnen blood ripens faster than the average child, and he has already begun to show signs of the man your brother prophesized him to be: one of the strongest alive; stronger even than his father. 

That is why you’ve allowed Feyd to pace your son’s training—it’s his area of expertise. It is their bond, and you don’t interfere in those moments, opting to stay just out of sight. 

“You're old enough now to have your own blade,” you hear your husband tell your son from your hidden spot around the corner. 

You can’t hold back your smile at your son's uncontained curiosity as Feyd pulls the knife out from behind his back and presents it to the boy. It balances perfectly on Feyd’s palm as tiny hands reach up. Your son pauses, but when Feyd gives an encouraging nod, he plucks it from his father’s hand. 

It couldn’t be a better fit. Not too long or heavy for his hand, but not too short or light. It’s a good starting blade to prepare him for the weapons that will grow in size as he does. 

“You will be training with me every day from now on,” Feyd tells him.

The boy looks up from the knife to meet his father’s eyes. “So I can get strong like you, Daddy?”

“Stronger than me.”

Your son giggles, a wide grin breaking open his face. “No one's stronger than you!”

Feyd's features soften as he pats his boy's cheek. “You will be.”

“Will I be strong enough to kill Uncle Paul for stealing me and Mommy from you?”

You almost snort as you roll your eyes. Of course, Feyd told him the story. It was only a matter of time before he sat him down and explained the tale of your half-brother killing—or almost killing—Feyd in front of you, then holding you hostage upon finding out Feyd was still alive and demanding you be returned to him. In exchange for you and the baby he discovered you were pregnant with, Feyd swore loyalty to your brother. But your husband will not allow his bloodline to continue for generations under the thumb of Paul Atreides. And that starts with your son. 

Feyd chuckles. “You will be strong enough to destroy your uncle and everything he loves.”

Finally making your presence known, you edge around the corner and lean against the wall. When Feyd sees you, so too does your son, and knowing the boy’s next move, Feyd takes the small blade from the even smaller hand.

“Mommy, I'm going to kill Uncle Paul!” he says joyfully as he rushes over and slams into your legs. “And everything he loves!”

“I heard!” you reply, grinning as you crouch down to his level and take hold of his hands. “But you know what? Little na-Barons who wish to take revenge on their uncles must first get a good night's sleep.”  

“Ok!”

“I'll come check on you in a minute,” you promise him before kissing his cheek and sending him on his way. Your eyes follow him running down the hall until he’s safely behind the door of his bedroom. 

Turning back to your husband and walking to his side, you say, “You told him.”

The tip of the blade pushes into his pointer finger as he lazily twirls the small weapon. “At his age, he should know who his enemies are.”

You slip between his muscled body and the table in the center of the common room where he sets down your son’s knife. With a closed-mouth smile, you hum. “And how did you start that conversation? ‘Uncle Paul made Mommy sad and Daddy mad’?”

“Something like that,” he confirms, leaning into you. His hands brace on the table, one arm at either side of your hips as he seals his lips to yours. 

Feyd’s mouth moves at a slow, hypnotic rhythm but with an intense pressure that’s glazed in possessiveness. You can taste it. That ownership. That authority. He may not always fuck you like you belong to him—sometimes it’s your turn to remind him that he’s yours—but his kisses have never been anything short of claiming. Gentle or rough, slow or frenzied, short or long enough to make you forget what world you’re in, a kiss from your husband ends with the reassurance that he wants you, he loves you, and he won’t ever let you go. 

His hands move to your neck, thumbs pressing into the curve of your jaw to hold your head still and you moan from his cool fingers soothing flushed skin. Your lips part and his tongue licks into your mouth. It plays with yours and then retreats. Teeth sink into your bottom lip, lightly tugging before he pulls back to rest his forehead against yours. 

“How's our other one?” he asks as a knuckle draws a line from your jaw to your neck to your cleavage. His eyes follow as it continues past the neckline of your dress and down your sternum, stopping at your stomach where his fingers splay wide. His eyes flick up to yours.

“Strong…like you,” you say, placing your hand over his. “...and like him.”

Your husband nods, exhaling a light sigh of relief. “Did they tell you?”

You smile. “They think it's a girl,” you answer. 

A few thumps of your heart pass as you await his reaction, but then Feyd smiles with you.

---

@avidreader73 @alwaysadreamingoptimist @lost-in-fiction-like-ur-mom @workof-a-rr-t @midnight-serendipity @minedofmoria @aoi-targaryen

#feyd rautha x reader #feyd rautha x you #feyd rautha #dune part 2 #austin butler #feyd rautha harkonnen #dune #feyd rautha fic #feyd x reader

[madaqueue]

forty-love

pairing: satoru gojo x suguru geto x f!reader

themes/content: tennis player gojo, tennis player geto. smut. language, brief alcohol consumption, petnames (baby, sweetheart), fingering (f receiving), handjob (m receiving), oral (f receiving, very brief m receiving), creampie, cum eating, p in v (doggy, reverse cowgirl). 18+, MDNI

word count: 5.1k

a/n: can you guys tell i watched challengers and miss tennis also yay my first stsg smut (based on their vibes from hidden inventory bc they're just so silly teehee) hope y'all enjoyyy (i also have no idea how this got so long oops)

Heat radiates off the court, the sun beaming down against your skin. The air is dry, tense, the only sound between the chirping cicadas is the bright green tennis ball being thrown against the ground.

Once.

Twice.

Gojo readies his racquet, tossing the ball into the air as his eyes meet the glaring sun. In one swipe the crack of his serve electrifies the stadium. The opposing team swings but doesn’t even come in contact with his hit, the ball rattling the fence behind them as applause breaks out.

“And with that, Gojo and Geto have won the men’s doubles!” the announcer’s voice booms through the arena.

The white-haired boy tosses his racquet aside as he charges his teammate, gripping him in a hug as they tumble across the court. Even from the stands their grins are palpable, the shared ecstasy of victory radiating off their bodies.

༝ ˚ ｡⋆ ༝ ˚ ｡⋆

“Y’know,” Gojo starts through a mouthful of orange slices, “that backhand you hit during the second set was crazy.”

“Satoru,” Geto chuckles, “you know it’s rude to talk with food in your mouth.” Reaching up a hand, he wipes away the juice that had begun trickling down the other boy’s chin with his thumb. “But thank you. That’s what practice gets you.”

“I practice!” Gojo retorts, continuing to chew the flesh of the fruit.

“When, between all the beer and girls?” Suguru takes a long sip of his Gatorade, his dark eyes never wavering from the bright cerulean of his friend’s.

“S’not my fault I know how to balance work and play,” he teases. “Speaking of which, you’re going to the Nike party with me tonight.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No, Satoru, we have our final match against each other tomorrow, and I’m not planning to throw the game because you just so happen to convince me to join you in your debauchery.”

“Yes,” Gojo smirks, “because I’m gonna be there, and I refuse to go without you.”

With a roll of his eyes, Geto acquiesces, unable to refuse Satoru’s dramatic pout as he bats his eyelashes. “Fine, but you have to at least let me win a set when we play tomorrow.”

“Deal,” Satoru beams, filling his mouth with another slice of orange.

༝ ˚ ｡⋆ ༝ ˚ ｡⋆

The party is loud, neon lights glaring against the darkness of the night. Music blares as miscellaneous players chat, chasing whatever brand deal or sponsorship they think they deserve.

You’re better than that, though - after all, you already have your scholarship lined up for school next year, a full-ride to play tennis until you graduate college. The peace of that knowledge allows you to stand at the outskirts of the party, idly sipping your drink, unpressured to force a conversation with those around you.

When Gojo and Geto walk in, you swear you feel the air thicken. Recruiters flock to them, opponents run from them, but everyone who’s anyone knows that they’re here. You roll your eyes at the theatrics, turning your attention to tug at the hem of your skirt.

“Hey,” a sudden voice appears beside you as the smell of cologne hits your senses, the scent vaguely reminiscent of the ocean. Glancing up, your eyes meet the brightest blue ones you’ve ever seen. “I’m Gojo,” he introduces, extending his hand out.

Crossing your arms, you smirk. “I know who you are.”

Behind him, another man suddenly appears, his dark hair pulled back into a bun. “I’m Geto,” he waves, not willing to enter the trap of your rejection by offering his hand.

Gojo’s lips form into a sly grin as he eyes you up. “Well, we know who you are, too.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah,” he tilts his head - god, he was cocky. “You won the women’s singles today, we caught the end of your game. You played well.”

Taken aback at his genuine compliment, you almost let your guard down, relaxing your shoulders. “T-thanks,” you stammer, suddenly taking in the reality of being flattered by the Satoru Gojo.

“But,” he smirks, “you should’ve won an hour before we got there - your opponent had a weak spot on her forehand volley, you should’ve exploited it.”

And there’s the overconfidence.

Rolling your eyes, you scoff. “Thanks,” you reply sarcastically, turning to leave, “but I don’t remember asking you to be my coach.”

“You haven't, yet.” A devilish smile is plastered on Satoru’s face, illuminated by the glowing lights around you.

“What he means to say,” Suguru interrupts, shooting a momentary glare at his friend, “is that we’d love to play with you sometime. You’re really good, and we can tell you have a lot of potential.”

Your cheeks involuntarily blush at his kindness, his honesty.

“I’ll, uh, I’ll think about it,” you mumble through the grin beginning to form on your face, still gathering your things to go. The noise of the music was beginning to blur your vision, your head pounding after a full day in the sun. Your muscles hurt, and you just want to collapse into the uncomfortable mattress in your hotel room.

“Leaving already?” Gojo teases as you begin to walk away from the pair.

Geto smacks his arm before looking at you apologetically. “If you’re staying at the same hotel the competition put all the players up in, there’s a way home that goes right along the ocean, if you want us to walk with you?”

“Didn’t you guys just get here, though? Don’t you want to stay and get courted by brand deals or something?” you ask somewhat rhetorically, incredulous that they would choose to leave with you.

“Psh, like we need it,” Gojo rolls his eyes.

With that, Suguru fully shoves him, his lanky limbs nearly catching over a nearby chair before he regains his balance, a pout evident on his face as he stares at the dark-haired man. “Again, what Satoru means is that he’s already got a Nike sponsorship, and I’m on a scholarship for next year; we only came tonight because we had to make an appearance.”

The gentleness in his voice inspires trust, a certain warmth to him that invites you in. Sighing, you accept their shared offer. “Well, I guess if we’re walking the same way back anyways, you might as well join me.”

A soft grin spreads across Suguru’s features as he leads you and a falsely-dejected Satoru from the venue.

༝ ˚ ｡⋆ ༝ ˚ ｡⋆

The soft sounds of waves crashing fills your ears from where you kneel along the beach, sand scratching at your bare thighs. The two men sit across from you, Satoru’s head resting on Suguru’s shoulder, his white hair illuminated under the moonlight. Somehow your walk home had detoured when they promised to show you their favorite spot, one they had found when they competed here a few years prior: the cove where you currently rest is private, away from the noise of the party or any other remnants of society. It’s peaceful.

You clear your throat, finally breaking the silence. “You two played well today too, y’know.”

Geto lights up at your words, a new excitement brewing beneath his skin. “You watched our game?” His hands continue methodically working over Gojo’s calves which sprawled across his lap, releasing the tension he had built up from their earlier match.

“Of course I did,” you hum, your fingers absentmindedly drawing small patterns into the sand. “I wouldn’t have missed your game for the world. You two are about to qualify for the Open, and I honestly think you have a good shot at winning it.”

“Oh, we’re gonna win it,” Gojo states matter-of-factly, his gaze lazily focused on the sky above you.

You can’t help but laugh at his confidence, the sound bubbling from your throat against the stillness of the night air. “How can you be so sure?”

“Because,” he begins, rising from where he rested against Geto, locking eyes with you, “we’re the best.”

“You aren’t the best,” you scoff in reaction. Hearing your own words, your face suddenly flushes in embarrassment - you did not just insult the two top-ranked tennis players in the country, did you?

Satoru pulls himself onto his hands and knees, leaning forward towards you as his eyes glimmer with the excitement of a challenge. Suguru’s hand rests on his back, ready to pull him back down if he oversteps (as he often does).

“Oh yeah?” he taunts, inching closer to you. “And why is that?”

“Because what you play isn’t tennis.”

Your words seem to stun the two boys, their actions suddenly halting as they turn to you. Allowing a moment of silence to settle, your gaze falls on the waves before you, the calmness soothing your thoughts.

“Tennis is electricity, an ocean. It’s a back and forth, a give and take. All I saw out there was you taking.”

“I don’t see anything wrong with taking what I want,” Gojo smirks, “especially when what I want is to win.”

“There’s nothing wrong with it,” you follow, “but it’s not tennis.” Standing, you brush the sand from your skirt. “I hope to see you two actually play tennis tomorrow.”

Before you can leave, Geto’s voice breaks the silence.

“Come by our room tonight,” he purrs, gathering his confidence. “I’ll show you I know more than just how to take.”

A glimmer of mischief twinkles in your eyes as you turn to him, a sly smile growing across your face. “I’ll think about it.”

Turning, you walk across the beach back to the hotel.

In your absence, Gojo playfully smacks Geto’s arm. “Holy shit dude, that was smooth!” he laughs. “You think it’s actually gonna work for us?”

“‘Us’?” Geto smirks. “I was the one putting in all the work back there, you were just being an overconfident ass.”

“Psh, girls love my confidence,” he chuckles, a sound like raindrops falling on the calm waters of the sea. His blue eyes nearly glow under the moonlight, a brightness to them that’s never lost on Suguru. “Better head back and get ready for our date, though.”

“You keep saying ‘our,’” Geto teases, a newfound warmth beginning to cover his body in contrast to the cool night air as the two stand to leave.

“You know it’s always you and me, buddy,” Satoru smiles, wrapping his arm around the man’s shoulders as they plod through the sand. “You and me.”

༝ ˚ ｡⋆ ༝ ˚ ｡⋆

A knock alerts Gojo and Geto, who had been laying across the floor of their shared hotel room, eagerly awaiting your arrival. Satoru reaches the door first, swinging it open and welcoming you inside. Suguru, meanwhile, remains seated on the floor, his eyes covering your body as you saunter towards him: the curve of your thighs perfectly captured under your tennis skirt, the dip of your shoulders under your tank top, somehow a perfect balance of strength and poise.

Crossing your legs, you seat yourself across from Geto; Gojo is quick to join, holding out a beer to you. Shortly after he cracks open his own, he tosses another to Suguru as he spreads his legs out into the space between the three of you.

Tension builds in the air, an unspoken question forming in the back of your minds: why are you really here?

Even you weren’t certain - sure, Geto and Gojo were hot, and talented, obviously, a true force to be reckoned with in the tennis world. But more than that, they had a certain reputation, a gravitational pull to them. Anyone who got close to the pair was launched into fame, their very presence enough to garner wealth by proxy. And, yes, you had your scholarship, but was it a sin to want more? You had dreamt of going pro since you were old enough to hold a racquet, and now, with the two of them seated before you, it finally feels within your grasp.

Satoru clears his throat. “So, did your boyfriend happen to catch your game today?” he raises his eyebrows.

Gojo was many things, but subtle was not one of them.

“No,” you state, your gaze maneuvering between the two. They shift uncomfortably, waiting for you to continue. “I don’t have a boyfriend.”

They both visibly relax, grinning in unison.

“Good,” Suguru hums, almost inaudible above the hum of the air conditioning.

“What about you, did your girlfriends watch you play?” you smirk, bouncing the question back to them.

Geto is quick to shake his head, “Don’t have one,” he smiles easily.

Leaning forward, Gojo ruffles his friend’s hair, which now hangs loosely over his shoulders, released from the bun that held it earlier in the night. “Don’t you worry, sweetheart,” he purrs, tilting his head towards Geto, “his lips haven’t touched a woman’s in a while.”

Suguru roughly shoves him off, a sigh leaving his lips. Turning his attention to you, he forces his frown into a weak smile. “I promise, I’ve kissed plenty of girls.” Tilting your head slightly in jest, his words finally register in his mind. “N-not like that, just, I-”

“I think she gets it,” Gojo jokes, pulling himself from where he landed on the ground to sit behind his friend.

Another momentary silence falls, the energy between you crackling in expectation. Satoru’s hands find their way back to Suguru’s body, idly massaging his shoulders as the pair fixes their gaze on you. Behind Gojo’s irises lies burning hot flames; behind Geto’s, well-controlled embers.

“So,” you eye the boys seated across from you, a subtle intimacy underlying their actions, the gentle motion of Satoru’s fingers into Suguru’s skin, “have you two ever kissed?”

“No.” Geto answers immediately.

“Well…” Gojo trails off with a smirk, “remember that one time?”

Suguru shoots him a glare that could kill, eyes cold despite the fire behind them. “That doesn’t count.”

Leaning forward, a grin tugs at the corners of your lips as the rough carpet digs into your skin. “Oh, do tell?”

Gojo mimics your motions, pulling himself onto his knees in front of you. “Around the time we met, Suguru here, the sweetheart he is, got himself a girlfriend but hadn’t had his first kiss yet. So I, being the generous friend that I am, helped teach him how to do it.”

Glancing at Geto, a redness spreads across his cheeks, one that could be designated as rage or embarrassment, either an appropriate reaction to the information that had been unexpectedly revealed. “That was years ago, Satoru,” he grumbles.

“So you’re saying you’re a pro now, Geto?” you purr, egging him on as you place your palms in front of you, the air between you two sparking. “Why don’t you show me what Gojo taught you then, hm?”

A hint of panic lies behind his gaze as he meets yours, taking in a steadying breath. Despite the hesitation in his mind, his body knows he wants this, wants you. Without a word, he lifts a hand to your face, cupping your jaw against his rough fingertips. Pulling you in, his lips meet yours.

He’s soft, calculated, as he kisses you. Parting his lips he gently swipes his tongue along your lower lip, bringing you closer and closer. He’s patient and reserved, just like how he plays.

Separating for a moment, a small smile appears on his face before you turn your attention to the man next to you.

“Alright, Gojo, let’s learn from the coach,” you hum.

Immediately he crawls over to you, a complete and utter lack of hesitation as his hands find you, one moving to the nape of your neck and the other to your hip.

As his lips crash into yours, he’s demanding, ravenous. His tongue roughly works its way into your mouth, exploring it like his first taste of water after hours on the court, like he’ll never get to kiss you again.

Pulling away, you smile, eyes covering the two men seated in front of you. “Okay, c’mere,” you grin as you seat yourself at the end of their pushed-together twin beds.

“W-which one of us?” Geto asks.

As the words hit the air, Gojo is already moving, plopping himself down at the edge of the bed as he looks at you expectantly. Blinking at his friend’s sudden motion, Suguru follows quickly, seating himself on your other side.

Your eyes meet Gojo’s, a hint of mischief behind the cerulean, before turning to Geto, hesitation and nervousness spread across his features. Might as well make this interesting.

Shifting your body into Suguru’s, his eyelashes flutter closed as your lips meet his again. Grabbing at his shirt, you tug him closer.

“Loosen up,” you murmur into his mouth as your hands travel over his body.

Behind you, Gojo’s envy gets the best of him as he reaches around your torso. Placing open-mouth kisses along your neck, his palms travel over your chest, groping at your tits through your bra. He melds into you from behind as a moan escapes your throat, the warmth of their bodies blanketing you. Geto begins moving his arms, grabbing at any inch of your skin he can find. Before you realize it, your clothes are discarded, the boys’ shirts lost to the depths of the dirtied hotel room. Skilled fingers trace the curves of your body, tingles of electricity left in their wake.

Gojo chuckles behind you as his hands find their way between your legs, fingertips tracing your clothed cunt, sending a shiver up your spine.

“A bit eager, are we?” he teases, pulling your soaked panties to the side.

Any insults you began to form die in your throat as his long fingers enter you, a choked, “fuck” the only thing you can get out in response. His fingertips prod at your gummy walls, finding the spot that has you rocking your hips forward, grinding yourself onto him. Your moans echo into Geto’s mouth as you chase your release.

Right as you feel the heat inside you threatening to overflow, Gojo’s motions still.

“W-why’d you stop?” you practically whine, finally breaking away from your kiss with Suguru to face him over your shoulder.

That annoying smirk is plastered on Satoru’s face as he leans forward, his hot breath tickling your skin as his lips brush against yours.

“That was me giving, now it’s my turn to take.”

Gojo’s arms reach around you to push Geto back onto the bed, your body still trapped between the two as you catch yourself on all fours. The dark-haired man looks up at you, stunned into silence as his hands rest tentatively on your hips. You gasp as Satoru suddenly pulls your panties down, the cool air hitting your heat.

Your gaze lands on Suguru’s, your eyes wide before you feel the pressure of Gojo’s cock pressing against your entrance from behind you. Your jaw slacks as your eyes roll back, the stretch of him overcoming your senses as he slides in inch by inch. Geto takes the opportunity to latch his lips to yours, imprecisely sucking against your soft skin.

Satoru’s moans fill the space as he bottoms out inside you. “Fuuuuuck, y’feel so good,” he groans, his pelvis resting against your ass.

As he pulls his hips away, his tip barely kissing your folds, his rough fingertips are suddenly felt against your clit. He imprecisely circles the sensitive bud as he thrusts back into you. In unison, you and Geto moan into each other through the kiss.

“Keep strokin’ me, jus’ like that, mmm,” Suguru hums from beneath you.

Fighting against the haze of your ecstasy as Gojo continues rolling his hips into you, you manage to focus your gaze downward, finding Satoru’s free hand wrapped around Suguru’s cock, precum smearing as he pumps his length.

“S’not - ah - me,” you manage to get out through Gojo’s increasingly rough thrusts.

Geto’s eyelids flit open, landing on Gojo’s over your shoulder. As soon as the two make eye contact, Satoru squeezes Suguru slightly harder as his thumb circles his tip, forcing his eyes back into his skull as his hips thrust desperately into his friend’s first.

Satoru chuckles from behind you as he begins to kiss up your spine, nuzzling into the crook of your neck. His teeth nibble at your skin, the slight pain making your back arch further, letting his cock reach impossibly deeper inside you. From the new angle, he hits the same spot he proudly found moments prior.

“R-right there, Gojo, fuck,” you moan, your hands tightly gripping the sheets to stabilize yourself against the weight of his body on top of you.

From beneath you, Geto’s cock twitches in Gojo’s palm as he weakly breathes, “Call him Satoru.”

“Mhm, y’know me so well, Sugu,” Satoru purrs.

His thrusts are unrelenting, imprecise, needy. He’s working purely off instinct and lust as he pumps in and out of you.

“Satoru,” you whine, his motions pulling you closer and closer to your release.

“Y’gonna cum?” he breathes into your neck.

You would roll your eyes at the fact that you can practically hear his smirk through his words before a particularly deep thrust pulls a choked “a-ah mmm” from you.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Gojo chuckles. “Me too, baby, me too.”

His tip repeatedly prods against your sweet spot as his thumb picks up its pace against your clit.

“Hey, Suguru,” the man thrusting into you purrs, “tell me, does she look pretty when she creams all over my cock?”

Geto’s eyes flicker open, his gaze hazy as Satoru continues palming his shaft. Suddenly, your vision goes blind in ecstasy. Broken cries escape your throat as Gojo’s cock twitches inside you, painting your insides white, his hips never stilling as he fucks you through your high.

As you come down, Suguru’s words pull you back to reality. “Yeah,” he breathes from below you, “she looks real pretty.”

“Aww,” Gojo fake whines, “well that’s no fair.” He pulls out, his cum threatening to trickle down your thighs as he removes himself from Geto’s cock to grab the man’s hand. Pulling him up, he spins you around so Suguru is seated with you in his lap, your back pressed against his chest. “Now I wanna see her cum while you fuck her, Suguru,” Gojo hums.

With that, the white-haired man kneels before you, one palm resting on your thigh as his fingers spread open your folds. He slowly rubs the mix of your shared essence over your puffy cunt, his eyes full of awe.

“Such a pretty pussy,” he murmurs, mostly to himself. Turning his attention back to you and Geto, he smirks. “You’re gonna love fucking it, Sugu.”

Finally taking his initiative, Geto lifts you up slightly, just enough to allow his hardened cock to press against your needy hole. Slowly sinking down on his length, another shaky groan vibrates your throat as he stretches you, a searing pleasure against your walls as he fucks Gojo’s cum back into you.

“S-shit,” Suguru mutters, “feels s’good.”

His hands return to your hips, guiding you forward as you grind against him. He’s slow, methodical, in the way he fucks you, a certain precision to his motions.

“Just like that,” Gojo hums from beneath you, “y’look so perfect.”

Your mind is too clouded to decipher if he’s speaking to you or Geto, and truthfully, you don’t care. You continue rocking yourself forward, Suguru’s cock stretching you so sinfully. He may not have Satoru’s length, but fuck, is he thick. Soft moans escape your lips as you lean your head back into Geto, who takes over where Gojo left off, pressing wet kisses over the skin of your neck. Suddenly, Satoru latches his mouth onto your cunt, his tongue circling your clit as he moans into you.

“Y’taste s’good,” he groans, continuing to lap at your folds, the mixture of his seed and your slick coating his chin.

One of your hands instinctively reaches to grab his hair, pulling him into you as the other holds onto the back of Geto’s neck, tethering you to reality.

Feeling the tug at his scalp, Satoru smirks into your skin. “That feel good, sweetheart?”

The moment you open your mouth to respond he sucks at your clit with a new ferocity, cutting your reply short as it transforms into a garbled moan of “y-ahh mhm.” Gojo chuckles beneath you at your incoherent response, his breath hot. So fucking smug.

Suguru lets out a breathy chuckle from behind you as he gradually picks up his pace. “You’re just - hah - flattering yourself, ‘Toru.”

Gojo smiles devilishly against you as he replaces his mouth with his thumb, rubbing unfocused circles into your bud. Lowering himself, he licks a languid stripe up the base of Geto’s cock from where he enters you before gently placing the man’s heavy balls into his mouth, sucking lightly.

Suguru’s motions stutter as he moans, his teeth biting into your shoulder in an attempt to silence himself from the buzz of pleasure that suddenly overcomes him at the new sensation.

“Seems like the flattery was warranted,” Gojo hums before his lips return to your clit, sucking softly as tension builds within your chest.

You can’t even tell where you begin and they end, the searing kisses along your neck, the sounds of your shared moans filling the space. Suguru’s hips grow increasingly desperate yet restrained, small thrusts into your cunt as Satoru’s tongue continues flicking over your core. Geto’s body remains stiff beneath you as you roll your hips against him.

“Let y’self go, Suguru,” you slur, your mind too fuzzy to process the words, only sensing the tension he holds.

Geto’s palms hesitantly grow greedier as he grips at your skin, allowing himself to chase his own high. His motions get rougher, thrusts deeper; he’s always felt that carnal part inside of him, the one labeled desire, yet he would never give into it. But something in your words, the heat of your body, breaks him free of his self-imposed cage.

His grip on your hips tightens as he holds you in place, fucking himself up into you. He’s grunting in effort, beads of sweat forming across his forehead as his fingertips dig into your skin. His motions are sloppy and rough, but so fucking good. Finally, he’s feeling it.

“Mm, I - ah - m’close,” you whine, his messy thrusts hitting every spot inside you so perfectly. The two men hum into you in acknowledgement, continuing their fervent motions.

Wet sounds of pleasure echo through the room as you get closer, until finally, the cord inside you snaps. Broken moans of their names leave your throat as you come undone, your walls fluttering around Suguru’s cock enough to send him over the edge with you. Throwing his head back, he allows himself to feel it all, take everything you’re willing to give him - as wave after wave crashes over him, his body shaking, he finally feels free.

“So, so pretty,” Gojo hums as his gaze darts between you and Suguru, watching you two be overtaken in euphoria, together.

Satoru’s tongue never slows as he messily laps at your essence, still kneeling between your legs. Your body feels electric as you come down from the height of your ecstasy, every nerve vibrating in pleasure. The mix of Gojo and Geto’s cum feels warm inside you as it slowly drips from your cunt. With a sly grin, Satoru collects the sticky mixture on his tongue, his eyes fluttering closed as he swallows. Without a word he rises from his knees, leaning over you.

Is he about to kiss you?

No, he can’t be.

He presses his chest into you as his palms cup Suguru’s jaw, the dark-haired man’s gaze unfocused as he watches his friend’s motions. Gojo’s blue eyes are nearly black from his blown pupils, Geto’s kiss-bruised lips parted as he pants. Silently, Satoru presses his lips to Suguru’s. Their tongues swirl against each other’s, their saliva mixing as the warmth of their bodies covers you, the heat of the kiss threatening to drown you as you’re pulled under, into the current of the moment.

༝ ˚ ｡⋆ ༝ ˚ ｡⋆

Back.

Forth.

Back.

Forth.

The crack of the tennis ball echoes through the stadium, each hit adding to the culminating tension hanging in the air. Each stroke was like thunder, each step like lightning as Satoru and Suguru rally.

Gojo hits a forehand down the line, forcing Geto into his weak spot - one only he would know after years of playing together, one Suguru would never dare to exploit of his teammate. Geto falters, missing the shot; a soft gasp erupts through the crowd.

“Forty-love,” the announcer booms, “game point for Gojo.”

Satoru takes his place to serve, absentmindedly bouncing the ball against the court as he readies himself.

Loosen up, Suguru.

Tossing it into the air, he hits a perfectly placed shot, the spin forcing Geto off his feet unexpectedly as he chases the path. It wasn’t what he calculated - yet, you could see it in Gojo’s eyes; you could feel it.

Geto hits an off-balance return, struggling to regain his composure as he returns to center court. For a moment, you lock eyes with him.

Let yourself go, Suguru.

Satoru takes the opportunity, running up to pounce on the arcing, slow shot Suguru returned. He leaps into the air, his racquet held high.

But Geto senses something is off.

The slight smirk at the corner of Gojo’s lips, the glimmer behind his eyes.

If Geto were a betting man, he would run himself back to the opposite corner of the court, preparing to take Satoru’s signature high-speed smash that would win him the game. Yet, for a moment, Suguru lets himself feel it - that’s not the shot his opponent is about to take.

Instead, he rushes the net. The moment his feet plant onto the ground, Gojo’s racquet makes contact with the ball, the slicing motion sending it twisting the exact opposite direction Geto would have predicted as it spins through the air. Landing it exactly where Suguru stands.

Geto volleys, not allowing the ball to make contact with the ground as he sends it back to Satoru’s side behind him. Gojo knows he can’t get to the ball fast enough, and he doesn’t even try; instead, he stands in place where he landed from his last play.

A wide grin forms on Satoru’s face, one of admiration, pride. “Didn’t expect you to get that one, Suguru,” he gleams.

Turning around, Geto’s back faces his opponent as he returns to his place, ready for the next serve. “Your emotions gave you away, Satoru,” he purrs through a smirk.

As Gojo prepares himself to serve again, a new electricity crackles between them. You can’t help but smile to yourself as you watch them play, sweat glistening off their backs as they pour themselves into the game: the back and forth, the give and the take.

This is tennis.

#q writes #oneshot #gojo satoru #satoru gojo #satoru gojo x you #satoru gojo x y/n #satoru gojo x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x y/n #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x you #gojo x y/n #gojo x reader #satoru x you #satoru x y/n #satoru x reader #jjk #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk smut #suguru geto #geto suguru #suguru geto x you #suguru geto x y/n #suguru geto x reader #satosugu #satosugu x reader #satosugu x you #stsg

[flowercrowngods]

🤍🌷 @stevesbipanic and @the-winged-doe asked to see ugly unpolished unrefined words, soo—

cw & tags: past major character death, grief, attempted time-travel fix-it(s), eddie&robin besties || potential wip

Eddie takes a long drag of his cigarette, the biting hot smoke hitting the back of his throat and clawing its way into his lungs, going as deep as he allows and leaving a permanent mark that brings neither relief nor calmness tonight. His fingers shake where they’re pressed to his lips, but the rest of him is unmoving where he sits on the front porch of their new trailer. 

It’s quiet out here. It’s always quiet in Hawkins these days, the city a fucking ghosttown. 

And he knows it’s not because of the one they lost. He knows it’s not because of him. But still the emptiness is stark and the silence oppressivem more so than it ever has been. 

Everyone still looks for him, months later. Dustin still begins to speak, cutting himself off mid-sentence, and Robin still stands with enough space to either side, like she expects him to just show up and invade her space like the home he made for himself in there. 

And somewhere among all that is Eddie. With his very own history. Or, non-history, as it turns out. But history and non-history leave wounds alike, and the memories feel just as real. A small mercy, at the end of the day, for them to feel real when they’re all he has left anymore. 

He takes another drag, not quite exhaling before he obliterates the cigarette and fishes for a new one before the butt even hits the ground. 

Fumbling with the lighter in his pocket, he only gets as far as placing the butt between his lips before a hand snakes into his field of vision to snag it from his mouth. 

“Hey,” he complains halfheartedly but makes no attempt at getting it back, watching instead as Robin comes up to sit beside him, grimacing at the stink of tobacco that must be heavy around him. 

“You’re disgusting,” she says with no real heat behind her words.

Eddie shrugs, because yeah, sure. He’s been called worse things. Robin’s called him worse things. This is her being nice. Her complaininig about his incessant smoking is nothing new. What is new is what she does next, placing the cigarette between her own lips and reaching for the light he’s been holding in a loose grip since she arrived. 

She starts coughing immediately, pulling a face at the disgusting feeling of smoke in her lungs and tobacco on her tongue. But she keeps going. Eddie can only watch in surprise and mild horror. 

“These things’ll kill you,” he says then in an echo of her usual sentiment, aware that he sounds as bewildered as he feels. 

“Well,” Robin says, aiming for casual, but quickly interrupted by a wheeze and a cough that’s almost adorable. “Let them try.” 

Eddie huffs, a pale little smile lingering on his lips as he leans back against the stairs behind him, resting his weight on his forearm to watch her. There is something captivating about her. Eddie always wonders what it is, wants to study her forever. 

Maybe it’s only the lingering traces of Everything Steve Harrington that clings to her every breath, her every move, her every fucking cell, with how much he was a part of her and she of him. Maybe it’s their shared grief that has made Eddie fall a bit in love with her and with the way the moonlight catches in her hair and in the smoke wafting from her cigarette. 

But somehow he refuses to believe that all he loves about her is merely the memory of Steve. 

Robin, in turn, is kind enough to let him stare. Kind enough to let him find out what it is between them. If this friendship is more than a misguided projection of grief and mourning and trauma; more than co-dependence and the obsessive will to keep this one person in your life. This one person who understands. 

After a while of Robin just holding the cigarette between her fingers, becuase no matter how strong her will to self destruct, she never quite got it right with the smoking, Eddie snatches it back before it goes to waste completely. As if pulled in by a string attached to his hollowed out chest, Robin leans back and into him in one smooth motion. It’s too calculated, though, and Eddie can feel how much she sags once she doesn’t have to hold herself up anymore. 

He’ll hold her. It’s fine. She gets to rest if she wants to. God knows she needs it. 

The night is warm for mid-September, but still Robin shakes against him. Eddie holds her closer. 

Silence settles over them, and it’s not an easy one. Silence is never easy anymore, especially with them. He feels so deeply hollow that even the silence echoes in there, creating an ever-present, uncomfortable thrumming of apprehension and anxiety within him. A certain sense of doom, one that can’t quite decide if it’s only an echo itself. 

“I wanna stop time,” Robin says at last, the cigarette long dead between Eddie’s fingers, but he somehow can’t bring himself to flick it away. “I don’t want tomorrow.” 

I don’t ever want a new day. I don’t ever want another tomorrow. I just want Steve. 

They ring in his head still, another echo that only hollows him out further every time it reaches him — Robin, overcome with hysterical grief, screaming and crying, curled up on that hospital floor, her cries quieting down and making Eddie wish she would be loud again, because the quiet was what killed him. The quiet, the whispered words, the declarations that tomorrow could go fuck itself if it came without Steve made him wish, irrationally, desperately, that their roles were reversed. That he could have died and Steve could have lived, and Robin would never have to wish tomorrow never came. 

He’s not entirely sure if she remembers the words, too. If she even said them in this world. 

So he takes a deep breath, breathes away memories and non-histories, feels the heavy weight of his guitar pick hanging around his neck, resting on the scarred flesh of his chest, and tries not to think of the one string left on his acoustic guitar. Tries not to think of his one last attempt. One last try. 

“I know,” he tells her. “Me neither.” 

He peers over her head, lifting his left wrist to check his watch. Ten minutes until midnight. Ten minutes until Steve’s birthday. 

“It’s not tomorrow yet,” he tries lamely, and Robin huffs — the sound wet and bitter and hopeless, making Eddie’s eyes sting. 

“It’s always fucking tomorrow,” she rasps, her voice flat and wavering, and Eddie knows her well enough to know she’s about to cry. And she knows him well enough to do it. 

“I know,” he says again, and reaches for his necklace through his shirt. One more attempt. One more try. One more chance. His eyes burn. 

She turns to him after taking a moment to compose herself, peering up at him through her lashes. 

“Tell me again?” 

His heart falls, the tense apprehension vanishing from the air, bur quickly replaced by something a lot more heavy. Something that looks and smells and feels like grief. 

They both know he’ll do anything she asks. He can’t really bear saying not to her. And not about this, anyway — she’s the only one who knows. 

She’s the one who should have had the chance. 

“Which part?” he asks, holding a new cigarette out for her to light it. She does, and the both follow the flame of the lighter Robin always keeps in her pocket these days. 

She leans forward and takes a drag. Eddie lets her. 

“All of them.“

Eddie sighs, pain welling up inside him, and he closes his eyes against the night sky. “Robbie,” he pleads, but he doesn’t finish his plea. He’ll do it. He’ll do anything she asks. 

But before he starts recounting the tales of how he almost saved Steve Harrington, he finds himself saying something he never thought he’d tell her. 

“There’s one more.” The words hang in the air, and Robin doesn’t react. Has no idea what’s coming; what he’s about to tell her. The guitar pick is heavy on the necklace around his throat. “There’s one more try. One more chance. I’m… I have one more—“ 

He can’t even finish the sentence. Can’t bring himself to say it, lest it all be jinxed forever. He doesn’t want to hope. Wants to carry this weight for all eternity and never think about all those times he failed to save someone he was never meant to save at all. People like Eddie, they’re not made to save anyone. Hell, they can’t even save themselves. 

Steve was supposed to be the one doing the saving. 

And he did. God, he fucking did. But he was never supposed to— 

Cold fingers wrap around his own as Robin fits their hands together. 

“I hate you a little bit for telling me.” 

Eddie nods, trying to focus on the cold hand and the nicotine in his lungs, trying not to let panic and grief and guilt and the heavy weight of one more chance win. “I know.” 

“Hey, Eddie?” Robin says after a while, the silence stretching on, and it’s almost midnight now. “Can you— Would you do something for me?” 

He turns his head, flicking the butt of his cigarette out into the darkness beyond them. “What’s that?” 

“Don’t— Don’t try to, to save him. Don’t— Just… Just maybe, could you celebrate his birthday with him? Make sure he knows he’s… God, make sure he knows he’s loved? Last year, no one really made time on his birthday and we just moved it backwards but God, could you— It’s almost midnight, and—“ 

“Robbie,” Eddie interrupts her, his voice hoarse and wavering, his eyes burning with tears as he tugs her close and holds her to his chest. “You should go. Don’t you wanna…” 

But she’s shaking her head against him with a vehemence that can hardly be misunderstood. 

“No,” she cries, and it’s more of a sob than anything. “I think if I ever saw him again, I’d… I don’t know what I’d do. Burn the whole fucking world to the ground for him or some shit, I can’t— I’d probably just cry all the time and that wouldn’t be helpful, really.” There’s a weak, wet laugh that bubbles out of both of them, and Eddie’s wiping at Robin’s face, drying the tears and making way for new ones to fall. 

“I’d light a fire for you,” Eddie says, the same weak smile on his lips that Robin meets him with now. “Nineteen fucking fires, you hear me?” 

She laughs again, then buries her face in his neck in a way that never quite fit. In a way that Eddie always knew was supposed to be someone else’s neck. 

But he’s not here anymore. And Eddie can’t get him back. No matter how much he aches for it, no matter how much he learned over and over and over again how easy it is to love Steve Harrington and how hard, how fucking impossible it is to lose him. Over and over and over again. 

And to live without him. This one fucking time they all get. It’s not fair. 

And now Robin is asking him to go back one more time and make sure that Steve knows— That he knows. 

Somehow the thought of that feels nobler than any attempt to save him, to bring him back; to rewrite history from a lonely boy’s perspective and hope that no one else is reading along. 

It feels right, too. Fundamentally and suddenly, and with such an intensity that Eddie knows the decision has been made the second he started telling her. 

Still he hesitates. Robin’s sobs have calmed down, and Eddie’s hand finds its way into her hair. 

“Do you really mean it?” 

She nods.

He nods, too, but slower. Like he’s trying to sway himself. Which way, he doesn’t know. 

“Make him happy.” 

“Okay,” he decides after a while, feeling hollow and desperate, but feeling purpose burning underneath his skin again. “One last time.” 

He unwinds his arms from around her and heads inside to grab his acoustic guitar. The last remaining string, badly untuned because he never dared to touch it, stares back at him in both mockery and invitation. A dare. A chance. A promise. 

Outside, Robin is waiting for him, looking anxious. Eddie wants to hug her. He doesn’t, only tightens his grip around the guitar’s neck. 

“Listen, Eddie, if this is goodbye or something—“ 

“It’s a birthday party, Robsie,” he interrupts her, aiming for light, aiming for brave. “I’m coming back right here.” 

“I know,” she rushes to say, taking a step toward him and wringing her hands. It’s endearing. It’s genuine. Eddie really is a little in love with her. “But, y’know, you don’t mess with time, and I don’t know what all you already changed before and I don’t wanna know but… If this is goodbye, if something happens, I just wanna tell you that I’m gonna miss you. And that I think you’re really cool. And that Steve’s— he’s really missing out, okay. Okay?” 

Eddie breathes, taking in her words and letting them soak into his body, his every last fibre. 

“Okay,” he smiles. “Thank you. You’re… I’m kind of in love with you, Robin Buckley. So there had better be no change in the universe, ‘cause that would really suck.” 

They smile at each other, Eddie with his guitar and Robin with her lighter, and somehow this feels like a deja-vu. The antithesis to a moment forever burned into his memory.

Make him pay. 

Make him happy. 

Eddie tugs on his necklace and plays the string before he can think about it too hard; before he can decide otherwise. 

Distantly, he hears the church bells announcing midnight as the world around him fades. 

🤍 permanent tag list gang: @skiddit @inklessletter @aringofsalt @hellion-child @cryptic-cryptid @hotluncheddie @gutterflower77 @auroraplume @steddieonbigboy @n0-1-important @stevesjockstrap @puppy-steve @izzy2210 @itsall-taken @mangoinacan13 @madigoround @pukner @i-amthepizzaman @swimmingbirdrunningrock @hammity-hammer @stevesbipanic @bitchysunflower @estrellami-1 @goodolefashionedloverboi @awkwardgravity1 @devondespresso @bookworm0690 (lmk if you want on or off, for this story or permanently)

#steddie #steddie fic #eddie & robin #eddie munson #robin buckley #robin and eddie are grieving besties now #me writing another story about death and the inability to grieve?? it’s more likely than you think #this one probably doesn’t make sense yet because they’re both refusing to think about what’s real or think about anything at all #so past present and future need time to develop above the damaged psyche of two entirely too young adults #so bear with me and give us time #anyway i’m posting this despite its unpolished ugliness bc this is as good as it gets #if i were anything like my self this would be a 7k study but as it turns out writing about grief is exhausting #(hi taglist gang i hope it was okay to tag you for entirely too raw a draft for anyone to lay eyes on lmao 🤍)

[anonimusunnoaniswriting]

Sunday morning Bunny hybrid!reader x owner!Gojo

MDNI 18+

Gojo x reader | 500 something words. | Smut, soft, comfort, fluffy fluffyyyy fluffyyyy, gojo is soft.fuck it's 12:53 I should sleep I have work tomorrow. Umm what else. Established relationship| bunny reader, hybrid. Etc. ok read the story now. Not edited point out typos thx.

Lazy. Lazing. Laze. That's all your morning could be described as. Gojo had only just returned from a mission and having to leave you behind made him extra clingy.

Not that you were any better. Your bed was covered in his clothes. A pile of expensive sweaters and shirts. All which smelled faintly of laundry detergent and of your owner. The same man who returned home the night before and picked you up, crawling into the bed with you in tow – entirely unfazed by the moat you'd created in his absence.

In your sleep, the two of you had managed to push off a good amount of the structure onto the floor, but it didn't matter now. Gojo was here.

You’d met him at one of his missions. You say met but he'd actually rescued you. Being a large bunny breed, your previous owner hadn't expected you to grow to the size you had, and had abandoned you, dropping you off at an abandoned building. An abandoned building haunted by a particularly nasty curse. It was here that you were found by Gojo. He'd picked you up, not minding at all how large you may have been, and taken you home with him. He nursed you back to health, making sure to treat any and all wounds left on you by the curse, and looked after you. After this, you were inseparable. You hated when he'd leave for missions because it meant you couldn't go along. Apart from work, you'd follow him everywhere.

The weak winter sun filtered through the curtains in your bedroom and you felt Gojo nuzzle against your fluffy ear. “Good morning, Bunnie.”

“Good morning, Toru!”

“Did you miss me?”

You nodded your head vigorously in response. “So, so much.” Gojo placed a little kiss on your nose, you couldn't help but blush.

“Look how much I missed you, Bunnie” His eyes moved downwards and yours followed. A large bulge had formed in his boxers and he grinned at you when you looked back up at him. “Think you can take it, bun?”

You nodded again, barely containing your excitement. You ached for him. Even though you had plenty of toys to use, nothing felt as good as Gojo.

He lifted your leg over his waist and carefully prodded at your entrance. Just the thought of having him in you had you feeling ready. But to be safe, he reached over and took out a bottle of lube from the bedside table, generously squirting it over his cock. Then slowly, he pushed in, an inch at a time. He pulled you close and gently kissed your lips.

“Is that alright?” He asked, voice heavy and sleep laden.

“Mmm. More please!” You whispered to him.

He pushed in further, the lube cold for a second on your skin but soon earned by the heat of your bodies. All while Gojo kissed and pecked at your lips. With his free hand, he reached up and cupped a large breast, lightly brushing his thumb against your hardening nipple.

“Feel good, Bunnie?”

“Yes Toru!”

“I'm gonna start moving then, cutie.”

Gojo gently rocked into you. A slow and steady pace. Almost like he was half asleep. His lips found yours again and he sucked on your lower lip nibbling it into a plump red. Then he moved to your neck, nuzzling, kissing, licking.

His slow thrusts gradually grew faster and the room filled with only the wet squelches of your pussy and breathy moans. Gojo turned over on his back, lifting you on with him. His pace didn't once falter as he thrust into you with a new force. Born of desperation and longing his hips moved with minimal spurring; pushing his cock deep into you ready to spill at any moment. He came with a strained groan, empting in you. You could feel it filling you up.

Panting, Gojo asked, “Can we just lay here for five minutes before I clean you up, Bunnie?”

You cuddled into his chest like a giant living blanket. “Mmhmm. Not letting go, Toru.”

The sun had already risen quite high, but Satoru Gojo couldn't deny his sweet little bunny. He cuddled you and felt his eyelids getting heavier. Breakfast could wait…

AN: yeah, sorry this was late. I'm depresso af. Still needed something soft and comforting ok bye.

#jjk #anonimusunnoan #anonimuswritings #fanfiction #jujutsu kaisen #jjk gojo #gojo satoru #jujutsu gojo #gojo x reader #gojo smut #gojo fluff #fluff #smut #hybrid #hybrid reader #bunny girl #bunny #bunny reader #owner gojo #jjk satoru #satoru x reader #gojou satoru x reader #not edited #not betad #we die like men #stfu noni #o shukd really sleep #jujutsu kaisen gojo #soft smut #tenderness

[echobx]

Rafe x reader request:

In episode "Parcel 9," the group plans to cut off a house's power, but they accidentally alert the elderly resident, who defends her home with gunfire. Reader gets injured, and despite objections, they're forced to leave her behind. Later, Rafe overhears their conversation, outraged by their abandonment. Determined to make things right, he enlists Barry to rescue Reader. Rafe finds Reader injured but alive, becoming her unexpected hero, and they bond through the ordeal.

Sorry it’s so long Xx

The Cellar - Rafe Cameron × fem!reader

summary: see ask

warnings: mention of reader's leg being injured, other than that none

word count: 1k

author's note: idk why it took me so long to finish this 😭 and now the formatting is (imo) bad bc I don't have my laptop here with me but I wanted to post this anyway. it's roughly edited but not much.

“We don't have a choice,” John B yells and pulls Sarah with him, leaving you stuck under the wooden pillar.

“Sarah!” you cry out but her boyfriend has already pulled her away, out of the cellar and away from you.

You do your best to contain your sobs and cries of pain, not wanting to alert the old lady again. Time passes slowly and you feel yourself growing weaker.

Unbeknownst to you Rafe has his ears perked, listening to John B promise Sarah to go back later that night to get you, but he doesn't sound convincing. Rafe quickly pulls out his phone and texts Barry to meet him at the Crain house.

When they get there it's already getting darker, and they have to use their flashlights to see around the garden and find their way into the cellar.

“John B? JJ?” you whisper as you hear someone enter the cellar, but the voice that answers is not one you are familiar with.

“You really think those two are gonna come back to get you?” Barry laughs quietly before you can see him.

“How'd this happen?” Rafe asks, reaching over to brush over your cheek, removing your tears.

“The old witch shot at us and then this thing fell on my leg and-” You stop before you start crying again and Rafe nods.

“Gonna get you out of here, love,” he promises and turns to Barry. They lift the pillar and you manage to scoot out from under it.

Rafe picks you up and carries you out and towards his car. He saved your life and you don't even know how he knew where to find you. But most of all you wonder why he cares enough to do it.

The ride is quiet, apart from his rather aggressive taps against the steering wheel, or the fact that he's 10 mph over the speed limit.

“Why did you come and get me?” you ask quietly after he puts you down on the couch in his home.

“Because you deserve better to be left alone and all,” Rafe runs his hand over the back of his neck. You have never seen him nervous. As a matter of fact, you have never seen much of him at all, especially not on your own. But now that he's standing in front of you, you get a clear look at him; furrowed brows, lips pressed to a thin line, his hair hanging into his face.

“The doctor will be here in a bit to check on you,” Rafe pulls your attention back to the present.

“Oh, I'm fine, really,” you lie and try to get up, but he catches you just as your legs start to give out from under you.

“I can see that,” he huffs and puts you back down on the sofa.

The doctor comes and leaves rather quickly, only prescribing bed rest and a special ointment for the bruises on your leg, as well as pain medication.

“Maybe I should get you cleaned up before we start the bed rest part of this,” Rafe mumbles and picks you up to go upstairs without you being allowed to say anything about it. It's like he has taken over and you're unsure if you really want to complain about it, about giving parts of your freedom away to him.

He helps you undress with his eyes closed. It's a funny game because he really doesn't want to cross a boundary with you, but he also can't see which makes you giggle when he accidentally grabs your boob instead of your arm and then he jumps back and nearly falls over all by himself.

“I didn't mean to do that,” he apologizes but you keep laughing.

“It's okay.”

His eyes are still closed when he helps you in the bathtub, only opening them after you have confirmed that your bubble bath is covering you completely.

“You can open your eyes again,” you giggle, and he peeks one eye open before looking at you fully. “Didn't think you'd be so weird about potentially seeing some boobs.”

“I'm trying this new thing called, being respectful. Apparently, girls are into that kinda shit,” Rafe says and flashes his eyebrows at you while pulling a small stool over to sit down next to the tub.

“No way!” you fake a gasp and he smiles. “Yeah, you would be surprised how well it's working.”

“Is it?” you ask and he nods, gnawing at his bottom lip.

“Can I be honest with you?” you ask and he nods. “I always thought you were worse. I mean, you're not the best, still-”

“Not my fault you hang out with assholes,” he shrugs and you roll your eyes.

“I hang out with Sarah, and Sarah has friends who are not always as bad as you think. I know JJ would've come back to get me,” you argue.

“Did he, though?” Rafe remarks snidely.

“Eventually they would’ve.” You are sure of it, your friends had never left you behind before, surely it had been a mistake.

“I can bring you back there if you're so sure,” Rafe suggests and you shudder.

“No, thank you. The old witch had a fucking rifle.”

“See,” Rafe chuckles softly and you can't help but gaze at him, at how pretty he looks.

You keep talking, getting to know him better, really. You learn that he, just like you, doesn't have the best relationship with his dad, always trying to get approval from the parent. And you learn that he likes bikes, and only golfs to annoy the old fuckers on the course.

And after you're done bathing he gives you some clothes he found in Sarah's room and you lie down on his bed, eating pizza and watching a movie.

“It's the best because they are both doing the same thing and in the end, all their efforts go out of the window because they realize they belong together,” you sigh happily as the movie starts playing. Rafe pulls you into his side, and you let him. And although he's not a fan of rom-coms, he sits with you, more focused on your reactions to the film than the actual screen.

And while he's watching you, he can't help but thank your dumb Pogue friends for leaving you behind and giving him a chance to win you over.

please don't copy and/or post my work onto other platforms! ~e©ho

taglist: @ijustwantttoread @spideysimpossiblegirl @redhead1180 @princessmaybank @kys4-20 @drwstarkeyy @immyowndefender @julczimozart @notdxbya

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron fluff #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron fanfic #obx #obx fanfiction #outer banks fanfiction #outer banks #my writing #~fanfiction #~prompt #@rafemotherfuckingcameron

[plussizefantasia]

Broken Together

BlackCat!reader x Bucky Barnes

Chapter 5/6 : <Prev/ Next>

Word Count: 1.6k

Warnings: Talks of violence, suggestive language

A/N: okay so I fully planned to do a smut scene but then I chickened out because I've never written one before so.... sorry. ALSO: keep your eyes peeled for the kickoff post of my 300-follower (holy shit) celebration along with chapter 3 of the Fluttering Hearts series, both will be coming out before the end of the day!

You nod a solitary nod and reach for the door handle.

“I love you.”

 That stops you cold in your tracks.

“Don’t say that.”

“That’s not really the reaction I was looking for if I’m honest.”

“Well what did you want me to say James?”

“I don’t know, really anything but don’t say that. I tell you how I’m feeling and you know that I’m not good with that feeling shit and your reaction is to tell me not to say it?”

“Jesus Bucky, I can’t ever tell with you! Two minutes ago you were giving me the silent treatment and being all pissy and now you tell me you love me? What am I supposed to do with that?!”

“I- just… I spent the whole night worrying about you, you were back there in that room all alone with those bastards and I couldn’t get to you. I just had to listen through comms and hope and pray to whatever God there is that you come out the other side.”

“Bucky, I can take care of myself.”

“I know that, really I do. I have never ever doubted that you could handle yourself but that doesn’t make it any less terrifying when you go somewhere I can’t reach you. It’s bad enough I had to watch you hanging off that asshole all night. Watching him touch you in the way I’d wanted to all night.” Bucky’s hands tighten around the wheel. You watch as he swallows something caught in his throat.“I watched and stood there like an idiot while he held you close and made you laugh and did everything I’d been dreaming about. I couldn’t look away though, as much as I wanted to becuase even a glimpse of your smile is enough to make all that shit worth it. But then I hear you being threatened, I watch you walk away with the target and not even five minutes later he pulls a gun on you? It took everyhting in me not to run to you, not to burst in and protect you with all I have.”

“I don’t need your protection-”

“I know that! Goddamn it I know that! I know that your amazing, that’s the only thing that kept me from running in there, knowing how good you are. How good my girl is at her job, she doesn’t need me, but I really fucking wish she did.”

“You’re girl? I’m not your girl James I- you don’t even like me?” 

“What?! Why the hell do you think I don’t like you?”

You scoff, “You give me shit all the time. You call me Fury’s pet and you never fail to let everyone know just how much you don’t trust me.”

“I trust you, I trust you with my whole life, I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.” 

“You have a funny fuckign way of showing it.” You cross your arms over your chest, this whole night scratch that day has been a total fucking emotional rollercoaster, you almost died and now here you are. The man who you love to hate and hate to love is spouting all kinds of heartfult shit and you’re reeling, I mean… what are you supposed to say to that?!

Bucky takes your silence harshly, he tries to fill the space with as many words as he can. He knows that he’s not good at this shit. He isn’t James Barnes the ladies man from the forties anymore, he’s too broken for that. But he can tell your broken too, and maybe you can be broken together? 

“When I say that I love you, I mean it. I mean that I can’t stop thinking about you, when youre not next to me it’s like i can’t breathe. When I hear you laugh or see you smile my whole world lights up. God even when you’re yelling at me an throwing pillows and shit I can’t help but feel like a goddamn wire. I don’t know when I realized it was love, if it was months ago or minutes ago but I’m not taking it back. I don’t think I can ever take it back.” Bucky ends his rant with several big breaths. The whole time he was talking, his eyes never left the road, his hands never left the wheel. 

“James, I- God fuck. I’m not a good person. I don’t deserve good things. Anyone i’ve ever been close to has told me the same shit, i’m too broken to be good to anyone.”

“Yeah. You’re broken. You’re a smart-mouth little piece of shit who doesn’t lok after herself and can’t follow a sleep schedule for the life of her and I love you.” He finally looks into your eyes.

“I don’t need a perfect girl, I don’t want a perfect girl, someone to hang off my arm and laugh at my jokes and just stand there looking pretty? I’ve had that and it gets boring really fucking fast. But you? I could spend the rest of my life trying to figure you out and I really really want to.” 

“I’m not easy, and I don’t think I ever will be.”

“I like a challenge.”

“Well,-”

“Jesus, Stop trying to talk me out of this, I want you. I want you and all the messy shit that come’s with that.”

“I’m running out of reasons anyway.”

“What does that mean… for us I guess?” 

“It means that if you can get us back to the hotel within the next five minutes I’m gonna let you see the pretty little number I have on underneath this dress.”

Bucky slammed on the gas.

_____

It took the two of you four minutes to get to the hotel, the entire time people were honking at your car weaving through traffic. You’re really fucking surprised that the two of you didn’t get pulled over. 

Four minutes is a lot of time though, especially when your nervous as hell and have a penchant for self-sabatage. You don’t know how this is going to go. This is brand new territory for you and honestly your shitting bricks right now with how nervous you are.

It’s not like you’ve never been with anyone, but Bucky is the first guy that you’ll genuinely care what happens when it’s over. Most of the guys you’ve been with before have been the type to only want something physical from you, not that you were complaining, you had needs and they were willing to fuffil them. They just didn’t want to date you, and never once had any of them used the L-word. 

You’re still reeling from Bucky’s confession. You have no idea how long he’s felt this way but the more you think about it the more it makes sense. For as long as you’ve known the man he’s been difficult to read, he build walls as easily as you do and he uses them to block out 99.99% of people in his life. 

Now that you’re really thinking about it you’re astonished at how much he told you tonight. You guess having a gun pulled on the person you care about really makes you want to tell them everything you’d been holding back.

You’d be lying if you thought that there wasn’t something you also wanted to tell Bucky when you heard the safety click off. You don’t know if love is the right word, not yet but you do know that he means just about the world to you. The only person in your life who really seems to see you and understand what you’re thinking. You’ve always liked working with Barnes, it was easy, but now you think there might be something else to it. 

Bucky pulls into a parking spot right at the front of the building and within seconds he’s by your door opening it and offering you a hand to step out.

“Eager?”

“Very.”

He pulls you out of the car but doesn’t step back, he crowds you in every sense of the word. You see and smell and think nothing but him. This close you notice the little things that you hadn’t before, like the little piece of hair that keeps falling onto his forehead, escaping the gel holding the rest of his locks back. Or the way small scars he has, one above his eyebrow, a line to the right of his lip, a little triangle under his eyes. You could spend hours studying him, he doesn’t give you that long tough,

“Can I kiss you?” He asks, moving closer to your mouth. You don’t answer, just push yourself into him. You practically melt at the little groan that falls past his lips. 

His hands fall to your hips almost instintually, the grab ahold of you firmly not willing to let you move even an inch from his hold.

His mouth moves passionalty against yours, he takes his time really trying to get to feel you, to taste you. The pulls away only enough to get air into his lungs, resting his forehead agaisnt yours. God he could kiss you for a lifetime and even a bit longer than that.

“That was…” you start.

“Yeah.” The corners of his lips turn up into a genuine smile. You love his smile even if you don’t get to see it that often. 

“James?” 

“Yeah Kitty?” He giggles… this grown ass man giggles into you.

“Take me upstairs, these people don’t need a show.” You nod your head at the gathering of people outside, trying and failing to make it look like they weren’t just staring.

“Gladly.” 

#james bucky buchanan barnes #james bucky barnes #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #plus size reader #plus size!reader #fanfic #x reader #marvel fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader #requests wanted #requests open #blackcat!reader #bucky fanfic #bucky x reader #bucky barnes imagine

[ccraccz]

Hello, may I request some fluff headcanon for suo hayato and ren kaji

Can you please write about their first kiss headcanon, confessing to their crush or they ask for holding their crushes hand

Sorry if there's too much 😔

OFC OFC SWEETS!!!

WARNING: ASSUALT ON REN'S HC, SORRY SWEETS T^T

Your Lips on Mine

SUO HAYATO

He's be the one that initiates the kiss

you had to have gone to at least 4 to 5 dates and have been talking for a while to be able to kiss him, or for him to want to kiss you

it would be after a date with him, walking back to your place and stopping in front of your door

he, of course first asks you for a kiss

The first kiss would be soft and long, gentle lips on yours not moving but still pressed up against yours in such an adoring and endearing way that it takes your breath away

When it ends, he smiles at you and kisses your forehead as you register what just happened.

"Thank you so much for today, Suo..." You mumble, a small smile gracing your face.

"Of course, you make my day much more brighter," He smiles back. When you turn around to go into your place, he grabs your wrist gently, stopping you in your tracks.

You turn around, curious as to why he stopped you from going into your place. The male was smiling, a small blush that was disguised from the darkness of the night. He looks down to your lips, before looking back up to your eyes.

"Can I kiss you?" He asks, making your eyes go wide and skin flush under the light you're in.

"Y-Yeah..." you whimper, licking your lips as he gets closer to you, getting under the street light in front of your place.

He brings his hand up to your cheek, tilting his head to the side, he presses his lips to yours, closing his eye in the process. You close yours and relish in the feeling of being so close to each other for the first time other than hugging. His lips are soft against yours as they move lightly, leaving you breathless and relaxed after he pulls away. The feeling of his lips still on your lips as you look at him with lovestruck eyes and a bright pink blush on both of your cheeks, the street light illuminating your bodies flickers on and off before he sends you back off to your home with a kiss to your forehead.

REN KAJI

It was after a fight

you have both been dating for around 2 months?

You had been walking home from school, and ren was walking around with his group on patrol like they always do near by

a group of guys pulled you away when you passed an alley, and the group had heard your scream

confused and worried, since they didn't get to see who was being attacked, but by the voice it was a female

rushing towards the alley where they believed that the alert had come from, they found you being surrounded by a couple of older and bigger men

and one of them was touching what was not his

groping what was not his

when Ren heard your voice yelling at the group of men, he only saw red

It was after he and his group pulled the men off of you and beat them up did he see you with clear eyes

you had tears in your eyes, legs shaky and hands covering the lower part of your face before you ran towards him, wailing in worry and grabbing his pretty, but beaten face and giving him a quick, but fat, kiss to show your appreciation.

Standing away from the scene before you, your dear boyfriend was standing with his group, knuckles bloodied and faces bruised and scratched due to the scuffle they had to go through to help you. You had covered your mouth and watched in shock as you saw a whole different person beat those men who were just being disgusting.

When the fighting stopped, Ren turned around to look at you, forgetting that you were there as a witness. He suddenly started freaking out, scared that because of this situation, you would leave him. He reaches his hand towards you, opening his mouth and letting his lollipop drop to the floor, chattering in the process. The guys in his group saw what was happening and decided to leave the scene, they knew this could go two ways, and they were hoping for the good ending.

"[name]... I-" he muttered before you ran up to him, tears finally falling from your eyes as you grabbed his face and brought his lips onto yours harshly, eyes shut tightly. His eyes were wide open, shocked at the forwardness of your movements before relaxing.

His lips were soft, tasting of the sweet strawberry lolli that was now on the floor, but they were also busted because one of the guys had punched him directly in the face as retaliation. The impact of your body on his made him loose balance and fall on his butt on the floor, with you on top of him.

When you let go, he was blushing and shocked at the same time, as he grabbed your face and cleared your falling tears before bringing you in for another kiss.

‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊ ♡°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ♡‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊ ‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊

You can tell that my juices started flowing on Ren's- Woops, HOPE YOU ENJOY THOUGH SWEETS!!!!

Also, sorry for not posting yesterday... I was taking a small break lolol, summer schools been kicking ass T^T

#ren Kaji x reader #windbreakerxreader #wind breaker x reader #wind breaker #windbreaker #ren kaji #ren kaji x reader #windbreaker x reader #wind breaker (satoru nii) #satoru nii #wind breaker (satoru nii) x reader #wind breaker x y/n #wind breaker headcanons #wind breaker fluff #windbreaker drabbles #hayato suo x reader #kaji x reader #suo hayato #hayato suo #suo hayato x reader #wind breaker satoru nii x reader #wind breaker hcs #hayato suo fluff #hayato suo drabble #hayato suo x you

[togament]

More windbreaker threats you say? Maybe I… introduce u to my favorite tall glass of water; Hiragi Toma?—- I’m sorry u know he’s all I cry about but listEN!!

The way he walks around searching for the shirt you’ve just hidden, so you can admire his solid torso, and distinct V line… the way his necklace shifts back and forth in your face when he’s pushing your legs up to your chest, pounding into you just the way you asked for… the way he can’t help but leave clear bite marks along your nape and thighs … all while by the end of the day, cradling you and telling you how cute you are… <3333 I’m struck DUMB for this man HELP

i… am having thoughts of busy hiragi, only having him you yourself for such a short period of time twice or thrice a week. he hasn’t touched you in weekssss — but not until you can finally get him alone.

NSFW, +18 stuff under the cut. MDNI.

✧₊⁺

hiragi’s a busy (and stressed) man. he’s got way more on his plate than you could imagine, being a guardian to ume (who supplies most of the stress for hiragi personally on a silver platter), looking over the bofurin boys, being ume’s ‘spy’ for kotoha just in case she gets hurt and you, his beloved, beloved partner.

you who could absolutely, noooo, never, want to stress him out further. you who he has caught practically drooling when he rolls up his sleeves to do something. you who has always helped him with the bofurin boys, wanting him to take a load off. you who have constantly been riling him up when you’re alone for just a couple of minutes, only to walk away like nothing happened when someone’s nearby.

you who definitely didn’t hide his shirt when he’s changing out of his sweat and paint soaked ones, gawking at how his muscles flex and unflex as he’s practically turning the empty classroom inside out.

fuck. you think he looks better in the moonlight.

you who definitely didn’t ask ume in advance if you could have hiragi for the evening just in case they had meetings. you who convinced ume so easily. little does he know what you have in store for his best friend.

now you’re folded over on one of the school desks, ankles dangling by your ears. the incessant and rhythmic screeching and thumping of the chairs echo through the empty highschool. hiragi’s silver necklace glistens in the moonlight while he’s fucking you senselessly, brows knitted and hands steady on the table below you. god it’s like he wants to break you.

“h-harder!!! fuck, hiragi-! y-you’re too fucking good-“, the words eke out of you pathetically, already fucked out of your mind and cockdrunk. the wet squelching of your cunt grows sloppier the harder he folds you. his girth stretching you out in unimaginable ways.

“i knew it,” he says sharply, accompanying each syllable with a harsh thrust into you. oh he’s pissed. “i know you hid my shirt-“, he grins, reaching between your bodies to rub at your clit. you tighten around him, practically squealing his name. you didn’t hide it well enough. the shirt’s clearly peeking from your bag right next to his.

oh. oh fuck.

you know he can see right through your plan.

“that desperate to get me alone? huh? you missed this cock filling you up?”, he practically grows but then he stops rubbing before immediately kneeling between your legs but not before adding onto the bitemarks he’s already left minutes ago into your session. your inner thighs are practically riddled with his teeth marks. “well too fuckin’ bad.”

he starts eating you out, licking a wide strip up your lips then flicking at your clit rapidly, earning a yelp and a tight grip on his hair. you come over and over on his tongue, quivering as your juices flow down your cunt and onto the wooden desk.

standing straight up once more, he enters you slowly but not without tapping his tip on your clit first, hissing at the tight sensation before thrusting harshly once, twice, thrice and pop! he pulls out, feverishly stroking his cock. his cum drips down his fist, and squirts on his tight, glistening abs and chest.

tired, sweaty and heaving heavily, he guides you to sit up, pressing gentle kisses to your cheek and lips. he grabs a wet wipe from his bag and cleans you up first then cleans himself up last with a new towelette.

minutes after, you’re both all dressed up and proper, leaving the school campus and into the night. save for a couple of his bitemarks slightly peeking over your collar, you look pretty decent. as you’re walking to the train station, you stagger a little but hiragi and holds you against his side, a steady hand on your waist. after him being all up in your guts, how could you even walk straight?

“sorry about your shirt,” you mumble, leaning into him as you walk. he only lets our a breathy chuckle before shaking his head. he pops a couple gaskuns, chewing them before he answers.

“i should keep a leash on you,” he mutters into your scalp, pressing a kiss on the crown of your head. “god you’re like a puppy,” he playfully groans, pulling away while his fingers drum at your side.

“Am I the cutest puppy though?” you bat your eyes playfully at him. ah… he knows you mean it in jest. he only smiles down at you, leaning in closely with his lips barely grazing yours.

“the absolute cutest.”

° ᡣ𐭩 . ° .

a/n: whew that was… Something. lmao this was supposed to be a short drabble, i swear. hiragi hard fucker, sweet sweet lover agenda go UP. i know for a fact he’s a BEAST at aftercare. it comes so naturally to him like HI? forehead kisses and cuddles? grabby hands.

i rly hope u like this bb @witch--btch 🙇‍♀️✨

#wind breaker #windbreaker #nii satoru #satoru nii #windbreaker x reader #windbreaker smut #wind breaker smut #toma hiragi #hiragi toma #hiragi x reader #toma hiragi x reader #hiragi toma x reader #hiragi smut #shout out to all hiragi fuckers #this one’s for u bbgz #bibi spicy yaps #bibi spicy asks

[malk1ns]

Most definitely talking about Sid's upcoming heat and Sid's yapping that he doesn't need any help but Geno knows he will get a call the first night of a whimpering and desperate Sid

👀

"Stop scenting me," Sid snaps the second Zhenya sits down.

Zhenya rolls his eyes. He hasn't even caught his breath from his last shift. Fuck this altitude, and honestly, fuck the Avs too, Sid's cozy little friendship with MacKinnon be damned.

"I'm serious," Sid continues, scooting down the bench to make room for Rusty, who practically dives over the boards to avoid a too many men. Zhenya obediently scoots along with him, grabbing Rusty around the waist to keep him steady.

"Thanks," Rusty wheezes, and Zhenya pats his shoulder before turning back to Sid.

Sid's glaring at him. He hates being ignored under normal circumstances, and it only gets worse when he's careening towards heat—a fact that Sid is strenuously denying.

"Sorry," Zhenya says, making his eyes big and ducking his head. "Smell good, Sid, can't help it."

Sid's eyes narrow. After so many years, he's wise to Zhenya's tricks, and he's apparently not far enough into pre-heat to fall for them anyway. Zhenya adjusts his mental calculations forward a day. "I don't know what you think you're smelling, but it's not me. I'm not due for another two weeks, and we talked about this. I don't need you this time."

"Okay," Zhenya says placidly, tapping Sid's knee. Sid's cute when he gets all worked up and indignant like this.

"Hey—" Sid sputters, probably picking up Zhenya's amusement, but then coach is tapping his line in, so Sid can't do anything but glare as he swings over the boards.

Zhenya watches as he swings a big arc towards the goal, changing direction so abruptly that the d-man shadowing him loses an edge and hits the ice. Sid turns to snap at the guy, and Zhenya readjusts his math again, this time back a few hours.

Pissing Sid off always makes things move faster.

-

They drop the game in OT, but that's okay. They played well, better than they have since the trade deadline, and the shock of losing Jake is finally starting to wear off. Sid doesn't look hollowed-out whenever he looks to his left any more, and Bunting is the exact type of yappy, determined presence on Zhenya's wing that he's always played best with. The postseason is still a reach, but suddenly the games they're playing seem like they mean something again, and that's all Zhenya wants, really.

Playoffs are nice, but Zhenya's old enough now that he doesn't live and die by each individual season anymore. If he can keep his production up for a few more years, avoid major injury and quiet the people who constantly call for him to be traded, he'll be happy.

Well. That, and getting Sid to finally admit that what they've been doing for nearly two decades now isn't just friends helping each other out. But Zhenya can be patient on that front.

Seeing Jake in Carolina colors is hard, and Zhenya discreetly wipes his eyes during the tribute video. Sid doesn't bother, staring up at the enormous new jumbotron with shiny eyes. The win makes it easier to stomach, though, and Jake stops by the locker room after the game, lingering well past when the Hurricanes' bus must have left for the hotel.

He and Sid talk for a long, long time, tucked away in a hallway while Rusty and Zhenya linger, ready to head off any media that comes this direction. They're left alone, though, and when Jake finally slips past them, he's knuckling at his eyes. Zhenya politely doesn't mention it when he pulls Jake into one last hug.

Sid's marching for the parking lot, and Zhenya has to hustle to catch up with him. When he draws even, he practically trips over his feet—Sid smells ripe, fertile and alluring, like he's minutes from dropping into heat. Surely he feels it by now.

Sid slides him a sharp glare. "Don't fucking start," he mutters, angling away when Zhenya leans towards him. "You were right, okay? But it doesn't mean anything."

Zhenya takes a deep inhale and consciously steps to the side, giving Sid his space. "Call if you need," is all he says, cutting towards his car and speeding up before he can give into the impulse to manhandle Sid back to his house and his bed and keep him there.

"I won't!" Sid calls across the garage. Zhenya shakes his head.

-

It doesn't always go this way. Sometimes Sid invites him back, sends him texts like i think it's starting soon and would you mind...? as if any alpha in their right mind would turn Sidney Crosby in heat down. He gets squirrelly when it happens too many times in a row, though, acts like Zhenya's going to hold him down and bite his claim into Sid's neck without permission, and tries to put distance between them.

It never lasts, though.

Zhenya's in his pajamas and glasses, settling in with his Kindle, when his phone rings.

"G," Sid whimpers over the line, and Zhenya sits upright, the sound of a distressed omega plucking at his instincts even at a distance. "G, where are you?"

Zhenya fists his hand in his duvet. "You say you don't want," he says carefully, listening to Sid's gasps, wondering if he'd managed to get something from his toybox or if he fell into it so fast that he's using his hand. Sid doesn't take care of himself like Zhenya would if they were mated, and he's come over more than once to Sid on his belly and whimpering because his own fingers don't get him right.

That's what Zhenya's always been for.

"I didn't mean it," Sid whines, voice muffled. "G, I need you."

Zhenya pulls the phone away from his ear and looks at the screen. Not even ten, and they have an off-day tomorrow. "Sid, you say I stay home this time," he says, but he's throwing his blanket back and getting up. "You change mind?"

"I was lying," Sid moans, frustration edging into his voice. "I was...G, please, you..."

He's falling deeper into it now. Zhenya hesitates; Sid had sounded so sure, more than usual, but...

"Geno," Sid says, practically a sob, and the decision is made. There's only so much his own instincts will allow him to ignore, and Sid calls him every time—if he didn't want Zhenya coming over, he shouldn't be calling.

It takes Zhenya a few tries to remember Sid's new door code, but when he steps inside, the smell of Sid's heat practically bowls him over. Zhenya has to stop and breathe, adjust to the overpowering sugar-and-marine salt permeating the air, before he can walk without stumbling to Sid's bedroom.

"Oh, Sid," he says, pausing at the doorway.

"Please," Sid begs. He hadn't gotten to his toys after all, and he's practically twisted in a pretzel, two fingers stuffed inside himself while his other hand strips his dick. He's come once already by the mess on his stomach, but his dick is so hard it's purple, and his face is twisted in agony, not pleasure.

"Shh," Zhenya croons, voice dropping to alpha-register all on its own. He's across the room and stripping his clothes off before he's even registered it, but when he gets hands on Sid's torso Sid takes in a deep, shuddering breath and relaxes.

"G," he mumbles, looking up at Zhenya through tear-damp eyelashes. "You left me."

"I'm sorry," Zhenya murmurs, gentling Sid onto his back, pushing at his shoulder until his hand slides free. His fingers are shiny with his own slick, and Zhenya pauses to suck them clean, eyelids fluttering at the taste. Sid watches him, chest heaving, and when Zhenya lets Sid's fingers drop from his mouth, Sid trails them down Zhenya's face and chest, resting his hand over Zhenya's heart. "I'm here now," Zhenya says, leaning down to kiss Sid. "I'll take care of you."

"Yes," Sid sighs as Zhenya slides into him, letting his legs butterfly out and his head loll to one side.

Zhenya stares at Sid's neck, exposed and there, and practically bites through his lip, fucking Sid harder. He wants to bite Sid so, so badly, has for years, but Sid always pulls back just when they're on the precipice of turning this into something more, always ices Zhenya out when it starts to feel too serious, and Zhenya's not going to push—it has to be Sid's decision.

Something of what he's feeling must be leaking through, because Sid opens his eyes and looks at him. His eyes are blurry; he's deep in it now, and every exhale is a half-purr as Zhenya's knot starts to grow and catch at him with every thrust. "Mmmm," he moans, the perfect picture of an omega submitting to his alpha, but the way he tilts his head to expose his neck is all purposeful, as is the way he coyly looks at Zhenya.

"Sid," Zhenya groans, grinding his teeth. He can't stop himself from dropping to his forearms and getting his noise into the crook of Sid's neck, licking frantically over Sid's scent glands. The smell of them blooms in the room, heady and intoxicating, and Zhenya's thrusts go ragged and desperate as his knot swells. "Sid, please." He feels drunk, he doesn't even know what he's asking for, opening his mouth around the meaty muscle where Sid's neck meets his shoulder.

Sid's hand is at the back of his head, but he's pushing, not pulling Zhenya back, and Zhenya's teeth dig into Sid's skin. His "bite me" is barely audible, but it's the loudest thing Zhenya's ever heard, echoing over the roaring of blood in his ears and their breath.

He bites. The world falls away.

-

When Zhenya swims back to consciousness, his knot still hasn't gone down. Somehow, Sid had managed to get them on their sides, and he's petting over Zhenya's sweaty back, nuzzled up against Zhenya's chest and humming.

"Sid?" Zhenya croaks, eyes flying open when he remembers. "Oh, fuck, Sid, I—"

"Shh, it's okay." It's Sid's turn to soothe Zhenya, purring until Zhenya's heart slows down. Zhenya's nostrils flare as he inhales, and all he can smell is happy, contented omega.

"We..." Zhenya's floundering, head spinning as he tries to put the pieces together.

"I asked you to do it, bud," Sid says. He sounds quiet, but sure. "I wanted it. I was..." He sighs, and Zhenya can feel him shrug. "We can talk about it later, but...I was talking to Jake, and he said, you know, we're lucky—it doesn't matter what happens, because in the end we always have each other. And then I got home, and I was thinking about how he's right. You've had plenty of chances to leave, and you never did. And you always come when I need you. So...it felt stupid, to be pushing you away still."

"Sid," Zhenya groans, half infuriated and half overcome with fondness. If they weren't still knotted together he'd pin Sid down and bite at his sensitive, ticklish stomach as punishment until Sid was laughing and kicking him away. "You say to me when you think these things, like, don't make me come run over so late, scare me like I do what you don't want."

Sid shrugs again, and now he smells smug. "You always come when I call," he says, and Zhenya can't even argue that point.

He wouldn't want to, anyway.

#sidgeno #my writing #a/b/o

[kittysarchive]

you blog aesthetics is so pretty!!!! I LOVE IT.

can you write it when enhypen members finds out your fan fix blog and makes it a reality

Ahh I'm glad you like my theme :) this can be read as any member

warnings- smut, fem reader, sub reader, embarrassment, mean dom? slight begging kink, choking, cream pie

"Hey.... Y/N?" Your head perks up, walking towards the voice.

"Yeah?" You question, peeking over your boyfriend's head. Fuck. He found your blog. Littered with smut and stories, most being actual things he has done with you.

You gulp, not sure of where this was going.

"It was left open on your computer..." A blush spreads across your cheeks. He knows you red it, does he know you wrote it as well?

"I...." Trying to find an excuse, anything.

"You've been reading all the things I could do to you. Why didn't you just ask me?" He smirks, you face heats up again. You knew where this was going.

"I thought... you might think it was weird" He scoffs at your answer, standing up from the chair, he hovers over your frame.

"If you wanted me to treat you like a slut you could have just asked" Smirking again, he knew you wanted. Meekly, you nod your head. Taking you hand, he leads you too the kicthen.

"Always wanted to fuck you here" He hums, unzipping his fly. Hands shaking with excitement as you stripped you only clothes.

"But what I find funny" He started, "Is that you were the one who wrote it all" Feeling your body pulse, you really wanted him know. You couldn't delete the blog later, or at least fake it. Right now, you needed him.

Moving on, his jeans and boxers collect at his ankles. Hard cock springing out and slapping his chest, all full and red to take you, to fuck you hard just like you wrote. Jumping up onto the kitchen counter, you sit close to the edge.

"Good girl" He praises you, opening your legs. almost drooling at the sight of your wet pussy, glistening in the light.

"Your wet already? Dirty girl" Taking his time, his hands glide over your thighs, getting closer and closer to your heat.

"Just fuck me already" You breath out, not able to take this torture any longer. Looking up, he smirks.

"If that's what you want" Pulling you close, almost of the counter, he aligns himself with your entrance. Shoving in his hard member into your wet pussy.

"You like it huh, me being rough with you?" You nod your head, biting your lip to conceal your moans.

"Feels so good" You whine out, releasing the compressed moans, spreading your legs further out he pistons into you. Hard and fast, not deep.

His cock moving fast, barely going through your pussy leaves you panting, the sheer strength and energy he had to force himself at a fast speed, to hold your body still.

"What else did you write about me?" He asked, loosing breath as he pace finally slowed down. You struggle to answer him.

"C-choking me" He cocks an eyebrow, not expecting that as an answer. Yet in the heat of the moment, he slides your body of the counter. Cock pressed against your stomach; your body is roughly pushed against the pantry draw. Leg lifted over his hips, his cock in deep.

"Never knew you were this dirty" Finally he brings a hand to your neck, gripping it as his cock slides in and out of your sore pussy. Nodding your head, you can't make any words, only pathetic whines and moans, begging for more.

"Harder?" He teases, gripping your neck harder. Seeing stars, you clench hard around his cock. Laughing at how you reacted. Pace slowing down as he was reaching his high, his tone changes.

"You should have told me this before" In almost a whiny voice, his hips roll up again. Finding all types of friction, finding ways to feel your pussy more before he painted it with his seed. Letting go of your neck, you cry out.

"Can't hold any longer" You gasp out, eyes wide as you fight back the wave of pleasure. Giving you no answer, you release the weight. Moaning loudly, you cream all over his cock, body tingling, you don't notice him filling you up.

Creaming at the base of his cock, his thrusts slow down. Having filled you to brim, his own cum mixes with his own at his base.

"T-thankyou" You quickly say, holding onto him for support, you felt so sore.

#enhypen scenarios #enhypen smut #enhypen hard hours #enhypen hard thoughts #enhypen #enhypen smut links #dom enhypen #rough dom #sub reader #fem reader

[mariamakeslemons]

Chapter 1 (Angered Crows)

TW: slight mention of gore

There are some things being set up for later, while some things are just funny to me.

“I found your necromancer,” Laswell tells them over the phone. It’s been only a day since Gaz watched the Austrian get risen by the very tired looking necromancer, surprising all four members of the 141.

“‘O is it?” Ghost grumbles, flexing his hand to release some of his agitation. Gaz can’t really blame his Lieutenant, as König tends to go after Ghost first when they face him in the field for one reason or another. Knowing who’s reviving him would make finally putting the bastard down so much easier.

“Well,” Laswell hesitates, surprising the task force again, “that’s the thing. They’re a civilian. A witch, yes, but a civilian with no connection to any PMCs or governments. So, why they’re raising König is currently the biggest question.”

“Ye think ‘e might ‘ave somethin’ on th’ poor bastart?” Soap asks, leaning forward on the table. Gaz frowns at that thought, something in his gut saying it’s close to the truth.

“Your guess is as good as mine at this time,” Laswell confesses, “But, they’re closer to you than me.” She rattles off a name and address, in the small section of London that is practically nothing but witches and magic users. Gaz frowns, still mulling over what he saw back on the field. How you had tried to get away from the behemoth of a man. Tilting his head back and forth, Gaz stands at the table, getting the others’ attention.

“Let’s go meet ‘em, then,” he throws out.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------The sneeze that escapes you is hard enough that you slam your head into your desk due to the recoil. Ogun gives you the most judgmental look a bird can as you whine in pain.

“Don’t act so high and mighty,” you hiss, glaring at the phoenix, “You flew into a door.” Ogun squawks and flaps his wings indignantly, obviously upset you brought up something so long ago (It was literally three days ago). You roll your eyes and blow a raspberry at your familiar, which only makes him squawk again. The bells above the door tinkle, catching your attention before you could pull your tongue back into your mouth.

At the door is the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen, looking around your shop curiously. His brown eyes taking in the crystals and herbs, the books and potions, with a quirk of his full lips that practically beg to be kissed. He strides in, confident and powerful, knowing exactly what he came for but enjoying the journey to reach it.

He turns his brown eyes to you and arches an eyebrow.

“You, uh, you gonna keep blepin’?” he asks, drawing attention to the tip of your tongue still poking out of your mouth. You pull it back in quickly, feeling your face burn in embarrassment, only to choke when Ogun flies up to the man. The phoenix puffs up and preens, showing off his black feathers gleefully before flaring his tail to show off his multicolored flames.

“Ogun!” you croak, swatting at your familiar while hissing, “Go! Get! Stop bothering him!” Ogun shrieks and takes off, flying over to his perch with a huff. Already, you’re planning on burning lavender and mint to appease his flaming-ness in apology as you brush out your apron to suppress your embarrassment.

“Sorry about that, sir,” you offer with a sheepish grin, “How can I help you?”

“I’m lookin’ for some information,” he tells you, leaning on the desk, “Just a question.” You’re immediately on edge. Did he realize that he’s your soulmate? Does he think you’re going to force him to be with you? Fuck, maybe he’s one of those humans that fear witches. How does this work? How do relationship work again?

“Do you know a man by the title of König?” he asks instead.

“Oh fuck. What did that fucking moron do now?” you ask with a strange combination of dread and relief. The man blinks at your response, like he wasn’t expecting you to be forthcoming with information.

“Uh,” the man trails off, blinking at you. You wait patiently for your soulmate to tell you what the creepy fuck’s done, when a ghostly hand touches your shoulder.

“Liebling, why do you speak with him?” the ghost of König asks, growling and hissing while looming over your shoulder.

“Because you’re a pain in my ass that won’t let me leave you in the ground,” you snap with a glare, shooing off his hand. The man before you arches a brow while the idiot behind you whines pathetically.

“Sorry, the fuckhead’s dead again,” you groan, “Gotta go revive his stupid ass. For the… sixth time? Sixth time this month.”

“But it’s the tenth,” your soulmate points out. You give him the best ‘and yet, here we are’ look you can muster, before patting him on the hand.

“Look, I’ll be about ten minutes,” you assure him, “I can tell you anything you want to know afterward.”

“You will not,” König growls, only to whine as you wave your hand through his abdomen. Your soulmate mulls it over before offering you a pretty, shy grin.

“I guess I can wait,” he agrees, “I’m Kyle, by the way.” You manage to give him your own name and an attempted flirtatious wink (God, how do flirting work?), before summoning the stupid fucking portal to get to the stupid fuck’s body.

Stepping out into the field, you blink at the mess before you. His eye needs to be completely remade while he’s missing his liver and part of his lung.

“What the fuck did you do this time?” you ask while kneeling beside his body, even if you don’t really care. You just want to raise him and return to your shop. Hopefully, Kyle’s still there and you can try flirting with him. Maybe you should Google how to flirt with a handsome man…

“I yelled at a crow,” he confessed. You freeze before slowly turning up to look at him.

“You yelled,” you slowly draw out, “at a crow.” The idiot gives a nod, flinching when you snap, “And you didn’t think there would be repercussions?!”

“It wasn’t a raven,” he tries to defend himself. You groan, before getting to work.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------A witch can be Bound to only one being at a time. If the person the witch is Bound to dies, then they must follow the laws of necromancy before trying to revive them. The death must not be tied to entropy or illness, nor must the soul have been sold to a demon. Should the death not fall into those categories and the witch is Bound, then they must revive the person.

“And he Bound you to him?” Kyle asks, sipping the tea you made upon your return to the shop.

“Unfortunately,” you tell him. And it is. If you had been half a second faster with that decay spell upon his first revival, you never would have needed to be König’s respawner. Kyle hums sympathetically, sipping the tea while looking at you. You groan, “This whole thing wouldn’t have happened if the dumb bitch just listened to me, but noooo. The witch doesn’t know what they’re talking about.”

“Dumb bitch?” Kyle asks, raising an eyebrow. You look up at him and huff, spinning your sad tale for him. From the murderous idiot to the break in, you tell him everything. Even how you killed König again with a decay spell.

“Really, you can argue if it’s called decay or rot,” you end up rambling again, “I was always taught that the spell is ‘decay’, but that word sounds softer than the spell’s effect.”

“Oh?” Kyle intones, perking up in interest. You almost continue on, only to pause. The last time you had dived into what a spell does, it had been a more harmless spell, yet the guy you were talking to (also a non-witch) had looked at you weirdly.

“What’s wrong?” Kyle asks, pulling you from your spiraling thoughts.

“Uh, n-nothing,” you spit out, looking down. Ogun coos and nudges at you, the only thing that you could talk to about the spells and how they might be misnamed or how they work in a different manner than their name would indicate. Kyle frowns and rests his hand on yours.

“Hey,” he coaxes softly, “It’s okay. You wanna talk about th’ spell?” You blink, surprised that he seemed to know just what you wanted to do.

“Yeah,” you admit, feeling your face warm in embarrassment.

“Well then,” he declares, settling into his seat, “Have at it.” You perk up, and it rushes out. How aggressive the spell can be, which doesn’t quite sound like decay. How the spell is also a cause of the decay, thus it wasn’t really decay, which only occurs over time. Rot, however, is due to something causing the break down.

“So basically, it should be a rot spell instead of decay,” you finish with a nod. Kyle smiles at you, obviously amused as he finishes off his tea.

“Well, you gave me more than I asked. Thanks for that, Love. I’m gonna go, but I’ll come by again,” he declares, offering his finger to Ogun. Your phoenix forgoes scenting for just being the little tart he is, rubbing against the finger like a tart. Kyle seems surprised at his whorish behavior while you are aghast.

“Ogun! You little slut!” you choke out, making Kyle laugh.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Gaz finishes reporting what he found when he visited you, telling everything that you explained about the König situation. Price rubs at his jaw thoughtfully while Ghost leans back in his chair.

“So, ‘ow bonnie are ye talkin’?” Soap asks, leaning forward eagerly. Gaz tries to give his fellow Sargeant a warning look, but he is too flustered at the memory of you. How excited you were, talking away about spells and scolding your familiar for practically rubbing all over his hand for scritches.

“Doesn’t matter,” he decides to say instead, averting his eyes.

“Ach, don’ be lik’ tha’,” Soap whines, splaying out on the table with a pout. Ghost huffs and smacks his boyfriend on the back of the head while Price sighs.

“Is there a way to break a Bond?” the Captain asks.

“I was gonna go back and see if that’s possible,” Gaz admits with a shrug, “Or, you know, find a way to offer the bastard’s soul to a demon.”

“‘Ow ‘bout we don’ risk that,” Ghost says, rubbing his hand on a scar of his. One that he had eventually confessed was from an attempt by a member of his past squad to do just what Gaz had offered. Price nods in agreement.

“If we can trick him into doing that himself, that would be the only way we’re including demons,” Captain orders. Gaz nods in understanding, feeling a bit like an ass for bringing up the option. Luckily, Ghost seems to have understood it was just a thought about how to take care of the current thorn in their side. Still, he’ll have to be more careful around you. After all, you never really know what will occur around magic.

#my work #King Killer Challenge #To the Victor The Crown #kyle gaz garrick x reader #kyle gaz garrick #König #captain john price #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #implied ghoap

[materassassino]

Q or U, whoever you decide!

Thank you for this one! 🥺

Minific prompts

U - Coming Home

“Can you stop fidgeting?”

Joe blinks, jerked forcefully out of his reverie by Andy’s forceful hand on his knee. He hadn’t even realised it had been bouncing. He looks at her, and she groans.

“Not the eyes, Joe...”

“I’m sorry!” He isn’t. “I can’t help it!” That’s the truth.

A nervous energy is prickling just under his skin, lightning in his blood. He got the window seat on the train, so he’s been staring out at the miles going past, impatient to the point of near madness. It’s been a month. A whole month. How could anyone expect him to not start pacing the too-small cage of his own mind when his soul has been missing half of itself?

Separation has always made him twitchy, and wistful, and prone to morose sighing. Andy learnt this centuries ago, and still she insisted.

(He knows why. She wants time with them, with each of them alone, something sacred and only theirs. And he’s loved this, just him-and-Andy, like those centuries ago when they wandered across the entirety of North Africa while Nicky and Quynh went East. And Andy knows better than to think he hasn’t loved this, that he doesn’t want more of it. But, well… Nicky.)

He shrugs helplessly. Nicky is always present in his thoughts, in time with his heartbeat, even when Joe isn’t actively thinking of him.

She sighs.

“At least it’s not poetry,” she grumbles, sliding lower in her seat with folded arms and outstretched legs.

“The poetry is for him, where it isn’t wasted,” Joe says primly. She snorts at that, bumping her shoulder into his.

--

It is night by the time they arrive at their destination, the small country station almost completely black. They’re the only ones who get off there, stumbling tiredly off the train and into the dark. A car’s headlights turn on.

“Hey!” Nile calls from the window, waving. Joe brightens at seeing her, but his heart sinks when he realises she’s alone. He tries not to pout as he heaves his bag into the boot and settles in the back seat. He’s not sure he manages, but it’s dark enough that Nile probably doesn’t notice. It’s not her fault, anyway, it’s entirely his.

“Have fun without us?” Andy asks.

“He cheats at rummy,” Nile replies, sounding completely and utterly betrayed, making Joe burst out laughing.

The drive back to the safehouse is long and, to Joe, incredibly slow. Time is molasses now, his destination so close and yet so stubbornly out of reach. The road is narrow and packed in on either side by dense forest, so whenever they encounter another vehicle it’s a stalemate as they stare each other down, daring the other to back up.

Joe drums his fingers on his knee, toe tapping, as a bus stands its ground and waits, like it has all the time in the world, for Nile to ease into the sliver of grass on the side. They nearly lose a wing mirror to a tree trunk.

Finally they make their turning, and relief settles on Joe like sunlight. The light in the kitchen is on, and Joe sees his silhouette move from one window to another.

He’s out of the car before Nile’s even pulled the handbrake. He grabs both their bags, because he’ll never hear the end of it if he doesn’t, and keeps his eyes on the front door. It opens as he reaches it.

Oh, light of his life! A thousand poems couldn’t describe the vision before him! It is as if the shadows are lifted from his sight!

He dumps the bags on the doorstep and draws Nicky into his arms, burying his face in his neck.

“Halabik,” Nicky says, just the tiniest hint of reproach for not even getting inside the damn house, but Joe doesn’t care. He makes a plaintive noise against Nicky’s warm skin, breathing in deep, and beneath the smell of cooking and his cheap-ass three-in-one bodywash is that scent that is purely, perfectly Nicky. The scent of home.

Nicky pushes him away gently, earning himself another noise like a small woodland creature being oppressed, but it’s simply to plant both his hands on the sides of Joe’s head and pull him into a kiss. Joe melts into it, melts into the taste of Nicky and the warmth of his lips and body, and he is so ready to simply drag this man into bed and wrap himself in him in any and all ways possible.

“Let us in, you fools!” Andy barks, planting a boot on Joe’s ass – not hard, but a nudge.

They roll with it, breaking the kiss with a laugh, but refuse to part as Nicky drags Joe backwards into the house. Nile is the one to lug Joe’s bag in.

“It’s only been a month!” she says, shaking her head.

“We’re woefully co-dependent,” Joe says, making Nicky chuckle.

“There’s dinner,” Nicky says. “We were waiting for you two.”

Joe can’t resist planting another kiss on him, and a nuzzle for good measure. He can smell it, fragrant and mouth-watering, the kamounia Nicky always makes for a homecoming, regardless of where they are and what the weather is. Beef, most likely, out here, but Joe wouldn’t complain whatever it was.

It is late, but the good food and the bottle of wine ease the exhaustion from the sharp tension of travel to the mellow, warm bonelessness of coming home. Nicky hooks his ankle around Joe’s, smiles that soft, beautiful smile, and Joe lets it wash over him, lets the relief flow through him. He knows his bed won’t be agonisingly empty tonight, and his dreams will settle.

He leans into Nicky, pressing their shoulders together, and sighs in contentment.

#the old guard #kaysanova #joenicky #yusuf al kaysani #andromache the scythian #nile freeman #nicolo di genova #pixie writes #minific prompts #joe you are a huge ridiculous sap and i love writing you

[g3z0]

Boy next door P10

P1 P2 P3 P4 P5 P6 P7 P8 P9

Summary: You move from Florida to Boston in the middle the school year. Being the new kid is hard - being the new kid in the middle of the school year is even harder. Especially if you’re not good in making friends. But suddenly, there’s this boy who lives next door that caught your attention

Warnings: smoking weed

-gezo

I groaned as the vibration of my phone woke me up.

I reached for my phone, eyes still closed, turning it off.

I wrapped my arm back around the person in front of me, breathing softly.

My phone buzzed again.

Nick shifted in front of me before he pulled his elbow back, into my side. „Turn it off.“ he mumbled with a sleepy voice.

I squeezed my eyes shut in pain before blinking them slowly open „fuck, Nick.“ I groaned, sitting myself a little up.

I stared down at him for a few seconds before I realized what position we were in.

I quickly pulled my arm back and grabbed for my phone while sitting up.

2 missed calls from 'Chase 👮‍♀️'

I frowned down at my phone before I called her back, pressing my phone against my ear.

She almost immediately pick up.

„Y/n?“ Chasey’s voice echoed through the phone. „hey, sorry was asleep..“ I mumbled, bringing my hand up to the side of my face and rubbing it.

„Shit- Sorry my bad.“ she laughed. „what are you doing?“

I looked over my shoulder, to Nick.

Nick was rubbing his eyes before meeting my gaze, giving me a weak smile.

I bit my inner cheek. „Uh.. I’m with Nick right now.“ I mumbled, tilting my head a little.

Nick frowned a little, mouthing the words „who is it?“

I waved him off and looked away.

„With Nick?“ I heard Olivia’s voice in the background, laughing a little. „Shut up.“ chasey mumbled to her.

„just bring him along.“

I looked back at Nick, raising my eyebrows „uh..“ I shrugged slightly „you wanna hang out with chasey and Olivia?“ I asked.

He knitted his eyebrows together like I would play some stupid joke on him. „Only them?“ he whispered.

„Only you, chase?“ I asked. „Yeah- only me and liv.“ she answered.

I gave Nick a little nod.

He blinked at me for a moment before he shrugged a little „okay..“

„Alright.“ I breathed, running a hand through my hair „we‘ll get ready.. should be there in half im hour or sum..“ I yawned.

„great! We can pick y’all up?“ Olivia spoke into chasey’s phone. „Okay.“ I smiled before I hung up.

„Why do they wanna hang out with me?“

I shrugged a little, rubbing the back of my neck „dunno.. maybe they want to get to know you better.“

„'s weird.“ Nick mumbled as he stood up.

My gaze followed him and I frowned „it’s not. You don’t wanna go? We could just-"

„No- no..“ he breathed, shaking his head „it’s fine I just.. I don’t know.“

He walked over to his closet and opened it, pulling some clothes out before starting to get out his current ones.

My eyes stayed on him for a few seconds longer than they should have.

I pulled my gaze away.

-

„sup, pretty boys.“ chasey grinned at us as we walked towards her car.

I let out a laugh and rolled my eyes „hey.“ I opened the door of the backseat, letting nick in first before moving next to him.

„Hiya!“ Olivia smiled brightly, looking over her shoulder to look at me and Nick.

„Ohh! I love your outfit.“ Olivia smiled at Nick, causing him to shoot me a confused look before looking back to the girl in front of us.

„Uh.. thanks..“ Nick mumbled, returning her smile a little.

Chasey put her car into driving again „liv wanted to do a Picknick. But I wanted to go to this abandoned house.“

She looked at us through the rearview mirror „what do you wanna do?“

I looked at Nick for a second before shrugging „abounded house sounds cool.“ I smiled.

Olivia groaned, letting her head fall back to the headrest of the passenger seat „ugh! Not fair. Nick don’t leave me hanging!“

The brunette licked his lips „both sounds cool.“ he shifted in his seat a little.

„Two against two!“ Olivia grinned. Chasey rolled her eyes in response „alright, we‘ll do both. Relax.“

As Olivia started to yap to chasey about some boy I noticed that Nick acted a little uncomfortable.

His leg was bouncing and he was playing with his hands in his lap.

„You okay?“ I whispered as I leaned towards him. He blinked at me before shrugging a little.

„Yeah.“ he whispered back. I gave him a small reassuring smile. „It’s okay.“ I layed my hand on his knee, bringing the leg bouncing to an halt.

He looked down at my hand and smiled a little. „They’re not that bad.“ I chuckled quietly.

He rolled his eyes playfully.

I looked back to the girls in front of us „Kayla didn’t wanna come?“ I asked. I felt nicks leg stiffen under my touch immediately.

„No-" Olivia stared but chasey cut her off „no, she dumped us for Blondie.“ she sneered.

„Chase, c‘mon.“ Olivia chuckled. „It’s true! That’s the fourth fucking time she told us-"

„ohh, I’m so sorry but Owen asked me to- owen doesn’t feel well- Owen this Owen that.“ she mocked Kayla’s voice, shaking her head

„Jesus, is he five?“ chasey sighed.

„She just wants to hang out with her boyfriend. Let her.“ Olivia shook her head.

„Im not saying she can’t, I’m just saying she shouldn’t forget about her friends. We wouldn’t cheat on her.“

„Chasey!“ Olivia gasped and Nick stared at me with an open jaw.

„Kayla would never cheat on Owen like he did on her!“ chasey shook her head.

Fucking lie.

I turned my head to Nick, our eyes meeting. I guess we both thought about Kayla’s drunk ass in my room, her all over me.

I clenched my jaw and turned my gaze away. Technically, she did cheat. As I found her crying over her asshole boyfriend she kissed me. That is cheating.

„I know.“ Olivia sighed. Chasey shook her head „I just don’t know what she sees in him. He’s so.. ugh.“ Olivia groaned.

„But you know how Kayla can be..“ chasey mumbled, letting out a breath after.

„What do you mean by that?“ olivia frowned, looking at her for a second.

Chasey pursed her lips. „Im just saying that Kayla isn’t a saint.“ she sighed „there a reasons Nick and Kayla aren’t friends anymore.“

„Chasey.“ I looked at her through the rearview mirror, our eyes meeting.

She sighed and turned her gaze back to the road „sorry Nick..“ she mumbled.

„It’s okay..“ he breathed, looking out of the window.

I gave his leg a assuring little squeeze, trying to give him a little comfort.

„But why tho?“ Olivia asked, turning around to look at me and Nick.

Nick turned his head towards Olivia and shrugged a little „I don’t really wanna talk about it.“ he shook his head a little.

Olivias face softened and she nodded „okay. Sorry if we were being pushy.“ she smiled softly.

Nick returned her smile.

-

Nick and the girls got more along than I thought they would.

They discovered that Olivia loves Melanie Martinez as much as Nick does. They had a bonding moment.

Which was maybe bonding for them but only annoying for me and Chasey when we were forced to listen to her music the whole car drive long.

But I didn’t mind it that much - it was nice to see Nick growing more comfortable with my friends.

We laid on the roof of some abandoned building, high outta our minds.

It was very fun to see Nick high, giggling over every stupid shit. But he had to promise me before hand that he wouldn’t tell Mary-Lou.

I don’t want her to think I’m a bad influence for her son.

„Shit, gotta pee.“ I sighed, slowly standing up.

Nick looked up at me before he also stood up „me too.“

I looked down at Chasey and Olivia. „You’re gonna be fine for 5 minutes?“ I chuckled.

„Piss off already.“ chasey sneered, flipping me off.

Me and Nick let out a laugh before we made our way down the stairs.

We had to balance over a wooden plank as the building was already half torn down.

Nick balanced in front of me.

„So? You like them?“ I asked, looking down at my feet and concentrating not to fall to my side.

„Yeah- they’re nice.“ Nick smiled. „Sorry if they made you uncomfortable with the whole Kayla thing..“ I cleared my throat.

„No, it’s fine, really. I just-" he began but his foot missed the plank and he almost fell down.

I immediately grabbed his arm and waist and pulled him back up. „Fuck, Nick.“ I breathed, my heart beating faster.

He looked at me with wide eyes before he bursted out in laughter „oh my god.“ he laughed, leaning his forehead against my shoulder.

„That’s not fucking funny.“ I closed my eyes for a moment, letting out a breath. „Your mom would‘ve killed me if you‘d die under my watch.“

„Sorry- sorry.“ he giggled, pulling his head back up.

I gave him a small smile as we stared at each other for a moment. My hands still on him.

He just stared up at me. I down at him. Us just blinking at each other.

My mind was screaming at me to pull away- to push away. But it was also screaming to pull him closer. To not let go.

Loud and fast footsteps were calling through the place, pulling me out of my trance. We frowned at each other before we both looked to the direction where it came from.

Olivia and chasey ran down the stairs, straight towards us.

„RUN! FUCK, RUN!“ Chasey yelled between heavy breathes and laughs.

I frowned and pushed Nick a little forwards, causing him to walk over the plank.

The girls quickly caught up with us, pushing us forward until we were on safe ground again.

Then chasey grabbed Olivia’s hand, pulling her with herself as they ran away.

„hey! Why are we running?“ I yelled after them, the girls out of sight immediately.

Nick shrugged besides me, giving me a confused look.

„What are you doing here?!“ a man screamed at us from behind.

Me and Nick immediately turned towards the man, my breathe catching in my throat.

„Oh fuck.“ I breathed, grabbing nicks arm. Nick quickly grabbed my hand and pulled me with him as we started to ran off.

„STOP!“ the cop yelled after us.

I felt adrenaline through my whole body, making my hands shake. My blood was pumping so fast and my heart was beating even faster.

We quickly ran out of the building, both breathing heavily.

„Fuck, where are they?“ Nick huffed between heavy breathes, looking around.

I did the same, running a hand through my hair.

They wouldn’t leave us behind. Right?

„Fuck.“ I breathed, grabbing nicks arm and pulling me with him.

We quickly made our way to the spot chasey parked her car. To our surprise, it was still there.

„Should we just wait here?“ Nick asked after catching his breathe.

„Shit, I don’t know.“ I chuckled, rubbing a hand over the side of my face.

He let out a quite laugh and punched my shoulder. „It’s not funny!“ he whispered loudly „what if they got them?“

„They didn’t.“ I assured him with a smile.

It was adorable when Nick tried to be serious but couldn’t wipe that dumb big smile out of his face.

Fuck- what am I thinking?

„But what if-" I cut him off as I pressed my hand against his mouth. „They didn’t.“ I repeated, looking down at him.

Our eyes locked and I could swear I saw a small redness covering his cheeks.

I stared down at him. The way he looked up at me with my hand pressed against his mouth like I would- FUCKING STOP IT!

I cleared my throat and pulled my hand away „im sure they‘re fine.“ I shrugged, leaning my back against chasey’s car.

„I hope so. Would fucking suck if this was my first and last time hanging out with them.“ he smiled, leaning against the car next to me.

I turned my head to him. He pulled his gaze up and looked at me.

I bit my inner cheek, taking a deep breath. „I didn’t know you were friends with Kayla..“ I mumbled hesitantly.

His face hardened. He shrugged, tilting his head to the side „it wasn’t worth mentioning it.“

I pressed my lips together, my eyes trained on him. „I mean- what..“ I blinked at him, trying to find the right words „what happened?“

He ran his tounge over his teeth, staring down on the ground.

„You don’t need to talk about it- i was dumb for asking.“ I shook my head, staring down at him „sorry I-"

„START THE CAR!“ chasey’s voice appeared behind me. Nick pulled his head up and looked past me.

I turned around and looked at Olivia and chasey running towards us, a cop 50 meters behind them.

„oh shit.“ Nick laughed surprised, quickly pulling the back door open and getting inside.

„Start the fucking car?!“ I mumbled under my breathe, quickly getting into the drivers seat. „I can’t even drive!“ I yelled almost panickly.

The boy in the backseat let out a groan, grabbing the handbrake and releasing it.

„Turn the keys!“ he yelled at me. I grabbed the keys with a trembling hand and turned it, starting the car.

„Who lets their fucking keys inside of their car?!“ I yelled at chasey as she almost jumped into the passenger seat.

Olivia did the same with the backseat.

„Shut up and drive!“ Nick yelled behind me, punching my shoulder.

„I can’t fucking-" I started to disobey but chasey cut me off.

„Stop Talking, Start driving pussy!“ chasey yelled.

I clenched my jaw before I grabbed the steering wheel thightly, pushing my foot all the way down the gas.

With a sharp jolt, the car started to move at rapid pace.

„Oh god!“ Olivia scream-laughed in the backseat, holding onto nicks arm for support.

„fuck yeah!“ chasey laughed, turning around to look out of the back window. The cop disappeared as we drove off.

My whole body was trembling out of adrenaline. „Oh fuck..“ I breathed, relaxing slightly in the seat. „Fuck.“ I laughed.

„That was insane.“ Nick breathed, looking out of the back window to see if anyone followed us.

I stopped the car as I drove out of the Forrest, as soon as we saw normal street again.

„Get your ass outta my seat.“ chasey mumbled while climbing on top of me, her knee digging into my thigh.

„Owh- fuck!“ I hissed, pressing her away and moving into the passenger seat.

„Owh!“ chasey hissed back as I pressed her against the door.

„Are you done?“ Olivia rolled her eyes.

„Yes.“ me and chasey mumbled at the same time, getting onto our seats.

Chasey started to drive again. „how would you rate your first driving lesson from 1 to 10?“ she sneered, nudging me with her elbow.

„god, shut up.“ I chuckled, looking out of the window and catching my breathe again.

Tags! @udotnknowme @aliceloveschris @patscorner @miloisdone1 @thenickgirl @freshloveforthefit @nathandoesgf @m0r94n

#sturniolo triplets #nick sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #nick sturniolo x reader #sturniolo triplets x reader #nick sturniolo x you #nick x reader

[valstarsandgalaxies]

This fic came straight from my feelings. I wasn't feeling very good, everything was overwhelming and i wanted to cry.

But it all inspired me well enough to write this fic, where Gale has a panic attack (so this is tw). Somehow making Gale feel at least a bit of what i felt, was very comforting to me.

Btw. This is UNEDITED (just letting you know and sorry)

Breathe, darling

He can't breathe. He's trying to catch his breath. Unsuccessful. He sees Bucky right in front of him, but he's blurry. He could recognise him only because... Well, who wouldn't recognise Bucky? With his broad shoulders and charming face. Dark brown curls, soft voice, whispering a low "are you okay?". He can see and hear those things, yet he can't bring himself to actually acknowledge them. His heart was pounding like it should jump out of his chest at any moment. His hands and legs were shaking. His fingers tapping on the mattress of the bed, unsteady and loudly. It was harder to breathe with every inhale he took. He was starting to choke. That's the first time he hears John's voice clearly.

"What is it? What's wrong, Buck?"

He couldn't get any words out. None of his senses were working. It was almost like he couldn't control his body at all. His eyes started to get watery and he felt tears were about to fall. He can't let that happen. Men don't cry. That's what his father always used to tell him. Men always have to be strong, crying is a weakness. It never occurred to him that Gale was merely a little kid, who just fell and had a bruise on his knee.

One wouldn't guess that trying not to cry would be this difficult. In his mind suddenly all he could think about was "do not cry, do not cry, do not cry", which made him want to cry even more.

While this was occupying his mind, he kind of forgot that he still needs to breathe.

"Buck, darling, you need to breathe, okay? You need to breathe for me, could you do that?"

And Gale could never say no, not when John calls him darling. Or any other pet name actually. It's almost a curse, John's words are sometimes too much for Gale. Too much love to bear. John took Gale's hand and placed it on his chest. Then placed his other hand on Gale's chest.

"Okay, why don't we try syncing our breathing, baby? Come on, up and down, just like me."

And so Gale tried. He focused on his hand on Bucky's chest and tried to match his breathing. Tried to catch his breath and get back to reality. Away from his mind. Away from his awful head. The worst thing is, even if John helps him to escape now... It's only temporary, he'll be trapped immediately again. Isn't it the saddest thing? Being trapped in your mind forever? How could people accept that and be okay with that?

Right now he wishes he could crawl into John's body, that his soul could intertwine with John's and that they'd become one. United forever. He quite likes the idea of John's protectiveness.

If he and John just could be together. But that's only if, and if belongs to fantasies and dreams. They both can't afford that, they barely have the time to afford whatever they're doing now.

"That's my boy, your breathing has calmed. Now let's keep it steady, yeah? Try to not get upset again, my darling."

John was about to pull his hand away, but Gale reached for his wrist and put it back on his torso again. He needed to feel John's touch, he reckons it might be one of the only things keeping him sane at the moment.

John understands. John gets Gale. It's the best feeling Gale thinks he'd ever feel. The way he and John know each other so deeply, their communication without words, they show their needs with a glance or an expression. Maybe after all their soul might as well be intertwined and if they're not they at least live next to each other.

And so John sits up next to him, standing up from his kneeling position in front of him and pulling him in for a hug. A very careful one though, he must have been scared to not squeeze Buck too much, especially after his trouble with breathing. Nonetheless, he wraps his arms around Gale's waist, rests his chin on his shoulder and leans his mouth into his ear. If Gale would have been in his right mind he'd have freaked out heavily, but he's sort of not in his skin, still high on his panic attack.

"What happened, baby?"

John whispered. And Gale couldn't care less for the world and the expectations put upon them. Right now it was only John and him. John who was holding him close and whispering to his ear, while slightly caressing his lips on his neck. He didn't kiss him though, his lips were just hovering over the area. Almost like exploring.

"It was- i... uhmm"

He still couldn't say a coherent sentence. Bucky can sense it and turns him, so they're facing each other. And with the softest, most gentle voice he said:

"I know maybe you don't wanna talk about this and I'll respect it, if you don't. But don't you think it'd be better for you to say it out loud? And you know, maybe just tell me. After all, it's me, Buck. It's only me. You can tell me anything."

It's Bucky, it's only Bucky. So he tells him.

"I'm uhmm- I'm not very sure. I just wasn't feeling well, it's just a lot. All of it, i mean. Suddenly the air was suffocating me like when you're too high in the sky and you don't have a mask on."

"Oh, I'm so sorry-"

"It's okay. You handed me the mask, at the very last moment. You saved me."

"I believe that's exactly what I'm here for."

"Are you?"

"Yeah, cause i couldn't live with myself if something were to happen to you. And because you don't deserve to feel like you don't matter anymore. Or that you're not loved. Because you are, Buck. I love you and care about you. And if you need me to help you put the mask on again, just ask me, I'll find it for you. And if your hands would be too weak, I'll put it on and I'll make sure you'll breathe again. I'm with you, always and forever. It's you and me, Buck."

And after that, there was nothing more to be said. Buck couldn't even think of words to match these. Or some that'd make a good response. But when Bucky's looking at him expectantly, probably waiting for him to say something, he manages a quiet:

"You and me, Bucky."

Which seems to satisfy John as he smiles and lies on the bed. They're alone here. It's late at night, but everyone's at the bar. They were there too until Buck wasn't feeling well and excused himself from the room. He ended here, in the barracks, choking and trying to find breathable air as Bucky came to rescue him. The other guys will probably come back soon. They should go both to their beds. But John is currently lying in Gale's bed. And what's he to do about that?

So he lay down, put his head into the crook of John's neck and nuzzled his nose to John's pulse.

"The others will be back soon."

Gale mumbled. But none of them move an inch. After a long while, John said:

"Yeah. Are you feeling better though?"

And Gale wasn't sure what to answer. Sure, right now he was feeling really fucking good. He was lying next to John with their bodies touching whole. But his anxiety has increased lately. As well as his panic attacks.

"Yeah, I'm feeling better. I'm good. Thank you, John."

He doesn't say any of that. John already thinks he's fragile. In a very specific way though. Bucky knows Gale is very strong and he is the most composed and all that stuff. But he also knows what's stuffed under all of that. And that's this. Because every emotion he pushes down goes down there and one day that place will explode and Buck has no idea what will happen to him then. He just hopes John will be with him.

A noise. They hear chattering coming closer to the barracks. John's body jumps up and he lets himself have a second to calm down. He then looks at Gale, with those beautiful blue eyes and whispers to his ear:

"I'm here whenever. Don't forget about me, love."

He licks the shell of his ear and Gale shivers as John's wet tongue meets his skin. It was a gesture, Gale didn't understand what it meant exactly, but John was telling him something.

When he hears a click and the doors open, John is dutifully sitting on his bed reading his book. Gale didn't quite understand how he got there, but it didn't matter. He probably dazed away, too occupied with the linger of John's tongue on his ear.

He fell asleep as he was replaying the sound of John's "don't forget about me, love" in his head over and over again. And he thinks, how could he ever forget? How on earth could you forget about John Egan?

You simply can't.

#buck x bucky #clegan #gale cleven #john egan #mota #buckbucky #masters of the air #mota fanfic #fanfic #austin butler #callum turner #my feelings #vals mota drabbles

[dix0nvix3n]

𖤓°⋆ Chapter 1 °⋆𖤓

⋆☀︎｡Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader  ⋆☀︎｡Media: The Walking Dead; No Apocalypse & Alternate Universe ⋆☀︎｡Pronouns: She/Her  ⋆☀︎｡ Warning: Smoking (Cigarettes), One mention of weed, Talk of a bad past relationship. (That's it I think?) ⋆☀︎｡ Word Count: 2.5k

⋆☀︎｡ Author's Note: It's finally here... the beginning of my magnum opus. Even though I only have this one chapter out, there hasn't been a single day since I came up with the idea for the fic where I didn't think about it at least once. I just wanna thank all the people who let me infodump about it; y'all are true soldiers, cause I can really ramble on. Special thanks to @sinkdownbeneath for helping me write the intro because I was completely stuck for months with almost nothing to show, and being the person who let me yap the most, he can account for me pretty much talking about it every day for the past five months. So, anyway, I guess I hope y'all like my first finished something that wasn't just a blurb. Last night I only had a little over 200 words at 10 PM something, and now it's 7:44 AM with 2.5k words as I write this... I don't know what got into me, but anyway, enjoy!

June 1st, 1992

Daryl finds himself propped up against a tree, catching his breath. The cool summer air around him makes his chest ache with every breath he takes. He had been running, hearing the twigs snap and the leaves crunch beneath his feet as he darted past every tree, trying to evade potential capture from a party that had him jumping out a window when the cops showed up due to a noise complaint.

He spent much of his life within the comfort of the woodland, underneath the thick canopy of leaves and branches, the first roof he ever felt safe under.

He gasped for air, his legs exhausted and his lungs overworked, adrenaline still pulsing through him as he slid down the rough bark of a tree, pulling his legs up to his chest.

He's close to the road, hearing a solitary car cruise past. He can tell it's late from the stars that peek through the leaves that loom above him in the thick black sky, but he spots his glimmer of hope, which seems to be the soft light of a gas station just a bit beyond the road's traffic barrier closest to him.

With a deep inhale, Daryl knew he had to walk to the gas station and reluctantly call for a ride in a phone booth.

After fully catching his breath, he pulled himself off the ground and began walking towards the gas station, already dreading the thought of the phone call.

Reaching the gas station, he saw two cars; one belonged to the lone worker at the cash register inside, and the other belonged to a woman smoking a cigarette at the side of the building. The woman did a quick wave at him, which he found to be a little odd just because most people at this time of night aren't too friendly, but he gave a polite wave back anyway. 

Finally getting up to the phone booth, Daryl looked down at his watch, which read 1:00 AM, causing him to let out a deep sigh, realizing how late it was and how much of an inconvenience it would be for someone to come and pick him up. 

He stepped inside the phone booth, staring at the phone for a minute before popping in the quarters he luckily grabbed from the living room floor of the party. If he hadn't grabbed them, he'd be completely fucked and have to figure out his way back to his apartment.

After dialing the number he knew would pick up, the phone rang just a few times before a tired and clearly just woken up by a phone at one in the morning voice picked up.

"Hey, Mr. H... Could ya pick me up?"

"Thanks. 'm sorry about this; kinda just started walking and didn't stop. Ended up at some party, and now I don' know where I am."

"Yeah. Place is called Peachy Speed, never seen another gas station called this; it must be family-owned or somethin' and the closest road sign says it's on Navel Street. You know where I'm at?"

"Okay, cool. See ya in a bit. Sorry again."

After hanging up, Daryl stepped out of the phone booth with his head held down, letting out a deep exhale and running a hand through his hair until he heard a pair of feet shuffling up to him.

He looked up to see who it was, and it was you, the woman who waved at him.

"Need one?" You held out an open pack of Marlboro Reds, with only one cigarette missing from the pack.

"Oh. Yeah. Thanks." His thoughts stuttered for a moment because he was caught up in the fact that you came over to him. You're really pretty, and now Daryl feels like a nervous schoolboy trying to ask a girl to the prom just because of a simple gesture.

He grabbed a cigarette out of the box and reached to pull his lighter out of his pocket, only not to feel it, and checked the other pocket to have the same luck. "Shit."

You let out a small chuckle. "Need a light too? You pulled a lighter out of your pocket and handed it over to him.

He nodded his thanks and popped the cig in his mouth before lifting the black bic with a spiderweb seemingly hand-painted on up to the end of the stick. Flicking the flame to life, he took a long inhale and handed you back the lighter, as he really took a moment to take in the sight of you. 

You were in a black tank top tucked into a pair of black ripped jean shorts. Under the pair of jean shorts were fishnets with an intricate pattern of moons and stars, and you had on a pair of slightly battered-up Doc Martens. 

As he exhaled the first plume of smoke into the night sky, he saw your kind smile, which sent a rush of warmth through his face. Your lips had a simple gloss on them, but your eyes were a different story, painted with smokey eyeshadow, sharp graphic eyeliner, and two rounds of mascara on each set of your top lashes. He also noticed the simple yet pretty titanium stud on the left side of your nose and two helix rings on both your ears.

He thought you were gorgeous, his heartbeat a slightly faster pace than what it normally rested at.

"Rough night?" You asked as you lit up a cigarette for yourself, letting out a slight gag at the taste and smell that you weren't used to, which caused Daryl to let out a small chuckle.

"Sorta. More of just hated the fact I had to call and wake someone up to come and get me. First time smokin'?" He said before he took another drag.

"How'd you know?" You said sarcastically as your face contorted in disgust a bit at the taste building up in your mouth and throat after each puff.

"Maybe try a different brand. You'll find one ya like." A small smile graced his lips as he butted off the ash at the end and took another drag. 

"Nah. Think I'm quitting after this one. I'll just stick to weed."

He let out a chuckle. "May I ask, why'd ya even start?"

You let out a small groan, running your hand through your hair in slight embarrassment. "I finally left my shitty boyfriend once and for all. I finally realized he'd never like me for the real me. I constantly had to put on this mask around him, and I finally found out that it was impossible to fix him and the fact he didn't actually like me. I know it sounds weird, but I guess my thought process was that my epiphany about him would stick with me after smoking one like a character in a movie or something." You let out a laugh. "Stupid, right?" 

He snubbed out the end of the cigarette, as it was almost a roach at this point. "Nah, it ain't stupid. A lot of my best thoughts come after smokin' one, cleared my head more times than I can count. You deserve one after the bullshit he put you through, I think. Hope the prick is havin' a shit night after realizin' he's lost you cause ya seem awesome to me so far."

You felt warmth begin to rise in your cheeks at his words. "Thanks. I know I deserve better. I'm just pissed; it took me so long to realize it. So, anyway, what's your name? I can't believe I haven't asked yet."

"Name's Daryl; what's yours?"

You had a few good puffs left of your cig but decided to snub yours out as well since you didn't like it anyway. "Well, it's nice to meet you, Daryl. My name is (Y/N). Do you wanna come sit with me at my spot against the wall? My most likely melted slushy is calling my name to get this taste out of my mouth." 

"Yeah, I can. Might be a bit till my ride gets here, so I might as well sit down." He started walking to your spot, and you followed in tow. 

When you got back to your spot, you looked down at your slushy on the ground. The dark purple concoction of blue raspberry and cherry slushy combo was completely melted. "Goddammit." You didn't fully care though; you paid for that slushy, because you were stubborn it meant you were going to have all of what you paid for, so you drank down the rest of the sugary liquid with a satisfied sigh. It was luckily still cold, at least, and it was just what you needed to get the taste of the cigarette out of your mouth.

As time passed, you and Daryl talked about whatever came to mind as you doodled some intricate pattern on the front of the pack of the Marlboro Reds with a sharpie, ultimately moving to the back when you ran out of room. You found out that he works as a mechanic for motorcycles and cars at a nearby auto body shop, that he rides a motorcycle that he built himself a few years ago, that he loves to hunt on occasion, specifically with a crossbow, and that he ran from the cops at a house party tonight.

You knew your short time with Daryl was up when you saw a 1987 Ford Sierra MK2 pull into a parking spot at the gas station, and Daryl stood up, doing a quick stretch. The man in the car smiled and made a small wave at you, and you did the same back.

"It was nice meetin' ya, (Y/N). I'd talk more, but I don't wanna keep him up any longer." He said as he gestured a hand towards the man who came to pick him up. 

"It was nice meeting you too. Thanks for talking to me, Daryl." You pulled the pack of cigarettes from your pocket and held them out to him. "Take these. You need them more than me. Plus, I just quit." You grinned at him as he took the box from you. 

"Holy shit, thank you." He smiled back as he placed the box in his own pocket and slowly started walking backward towards the car. "Hope ya have a good night and that Nick the dick has a shit one. 

You let out a laugh at the nickname Daryl gave your ex-boyfriend and waved him goodbye with a "You too." You leaned your head back against the wall, staring up at the night sky as your eyes finally began to feel tired, knowing you should head back to your friend's apartment soon and try and get some sleep before your nine AM shift. 

Once Daryl got in the car, he let out a quiet sigh as he looked out the window at you, wishing he dared to ask for your number. You were the first good conversation he'd had in a while, and his schoolboy-like crush on you kept growing the whole time you talked.

"So, who's that?" The man said as he shifted the car into gear, Daryl noticing the grin on his face.

"A girl that started talkin' to me after our call. Name's (Y/N)." He pulled the pack of cigarettes out of his pocket, mindlessly tracing the pattern of doodles you did.

"You ask for her number? The car was now beginning to be backed out of its parking spot.

"Nah. Mind if I smoke?" Daryl shook the pack and began looking for one of the lighters he left in the glove compartment a few weeks ago. 

The man shook his head with a slight sigh and said, "Go ahead." He wasn't shaking his head over Daryl wanting to smoke, but over the fact he wouldn't ask for your number when he obviously liked you, but he knew he couldn't push him; he understood Daryl's nature.

Daryl looked back out the window at you, opening it as he blew out the first cloud of smoke. He then looked back down in his lap where the box lay, flipping it over to the back to see what you had drawn there as well. His breath hitched as he saw it. On the back was your phone number, and above it said, "Call me" with a smiley face. 

The tips of Daryl's ears were beet red, and he tried to hold back his face from turning the same color. He looked back out the window at you to see you grinning at him this time, to which he smiled and waved goodbye to you as the car pulled out of the lot. In Daryl's twenty-three years of life, he could say that this night was one of his best.

"Daryl, why'd you call me Mr. H again? Son, you've known me for five years; how many times do I gotta remind you to call me by my name? It's Dale for you."

Daryl let out a small cloud of smoke this time, wanting to savor this one on the peaceful ride back. "I'll tell ya again, it happens when I'm nervous; didn't wanna wake you up, s'all, and you still are my boss after all."

"Daryl, you're like a son to me, and I told you to never be nervous if you need help, and that includes coming and picking you up in the middle of the night if needed. I'm here for you." Dale placed his right hand on Daryl's shoulder, keeping his left on the wheel as he squeezed his shoulder lightly before returning it to the steering wheel.

"Now, it's not Mr. H or Mr. Horvath, son. It's Dale."

Daryl rolled his eyes playfully. "Yes, sir," he joked, letting out a chuckle.

It was the next day around 10:30 PM when Daryl picked up the phone on his nightstand and finally called the number you gave him, nervously wrapping the cord around his finger. The phone only rang twice before the other end picked up, "Hey, is this (Y/N)?" 

The inner teenage girl in your brain screamed in excitement, so happy that he finally called. "Omg, Daryl! I was wondering when you were gonna call me. I've been waiting since I got off my shift."

"Didn't know if you worked a mornin' or a night shift, and I didn't wanna leave too many voicemails on your friend's phone."

"Yeah, I worked a morning shift at the diner today. I got off at five. Morning shifts are the fucking worst." You're lying on your stomach on the couch, playfully curling the phone's cord around your finger and kicking your feet back and forth in the air.

You and Daryl talked for an hour, mainly talking about the shitty customers you dealt with today, sounding especially frustrated about the woman who yelled at you just because the diner was out of unsweet tea that you couldn't do anything about because the place was also out of tea bags to make more. What did she want you to do? Just up and leave your job and go buy the tea bags, your fucking self?

"Even though I don't want to, I gotta go to bed 'cause I have another morning shift tomorrow. I get off at five, so call me around six-thirty, okay?" 

"I get off at five too. Works for me. Goodnight, (Y/N)."

"Goodnight to you too, Daryl."

The call ended, and you both looked up at your respective ceilings, smiling as warmth bloomed through your faces. You both slept well that night, falling asleep to the thought of calling each other tomorrow.

⋆☀︎｡ Extra author's note: Here's what Dale would look like in 1992, I took Dale's age of 64 from the show since the apocalypse started in 2010 so he'd be 46 in 1992. I think this picture of Jeffrey Demunn is from when he was 43 maybe? I can't remember but that's close enough to 46 and even if he isn't 43 in the image he fits the look of someone in their mid-forties. Just imagine him without the cowboy hat, okay? There's not a lot of pictures of him when he was younger.

⋆☀︎｡ Taglist: @mrdixon , @yevmarie , and @shadowcitrine

⋆☀︎｡ Divider creds: @ saradika, go check her account out! She has some very cute dividers!

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