#but i can't shake the feeling that i'm not “doing it right” anymore

[ghouljams]

Make a Meal

This is for @glitterypirateduck 's Ghost challenge :) I completely misread the "Making a meal for the other person" as "Making a meal out of the other person" and then was too far gone in my writing to reign it back in.

I guess this fits "A lustful moment turns unexpectedly romantic/meaningful" and "Accidentally falling asleep on each other" better...

Simon is eating you out in slow strokes, nestled nice and cozy under a blanket while you read. It's a lovely low thrum of pleasure. There's no rush, no need to make you come, just Simon indulging himself. Feeling you, tasting you, enjoying you. He's always like this when he comes home from deployment. Months in the field with just military rations and his mask take a toll on him, one you can never hope to understand, but you're determined to help with in any way he needs. Which includes helping him find his center again.

When you'd first started dating you'd thought his homecomings would be more explosive. You'd thought all the pent up need and months away from you would harden him, make him fuck you with an animal need that couldn't be sated until you were sobbing into his shoulder. And it was, until you realized how tired he was. Until the first time he's slumped into your embrace in the entryway and muttered about doing right by you later. Then it had been enough just to help him to bed, to lay with him and feel the gentle unspooling of his muscles against you.

He never slept his first night home, and you'd wake up with his hand low on your stomach, his fingers stroking over the soft skin until you asked if he needed anything. He always hesitated before shaking his head. (You're so different from him, always so different, that's why he liked you, why he took to you so quickly. You were nothing like his work, nothing like the people he knew: gentle, kind, quiet when he needed it, and soft in all the best places. He could never get enough of you to last him through deployment no matter how short it was.) It would take him a solid week to get back to sleeping normally with you, a week of asking what he needed and getting nowhere. Really you should have known, Simon's always been a show rather than tell kind of guy.

The first night he spread your legs, sand still clinging to his hands, fresh from the airport, really it was closer to morning than night. He shushed you with gentle reassurances and a promise that he wouldn't disturb you. "Please love," He'd added, "won't even know I'm 'ere." You were half asleep but you helped him get your sleep shorts off, and spread your legs for him, tried to rouse yourself back to wakefulness enough for sex, but it never came. Simon settled between your legs and pulled his tongue against your slit in gentle strokes, letting warmth pool between your legs without any of the immediate need you so often found when you were awake.

His tongue flicked against your clit, gentle, almost teasing, before resuming its careful exploration. The feeling registered and then settled into a constant buzz, a soft heat that ebbed and flowed. Something you could fall back asleep with, he was so gentle with you, worshipful. When you woke up in the morning his head was resting against your thigh, his ribs expanding and contracting with the soft breath of sleep. It was the first time you'd seen him sleep so well, so soon, after getting home. You didn't hesitate the next time he crawled between your legs.

Now it's a routine, one you've done a dozen times at least, and one you've been able to witness the entirety of. It's the sort of thing Simon will do for hours, a meditation between your soft thighs, a reminder that there's something under the mask even when he can't find Simon hiding behind Ghost anymore. He's always gentle with you, his tongue touching you like you're something delicate to be savored. Sometimes you come, often you don't. It's not for you.

You love it though. The times when Ghost gets home in the middle of the day, when you can pick him up from the airport and drive home with his hand settled heavy on your thigh, are the times you like best. When you can enjoy the company more than the sex. When you can feel the way Ghost's breathing softens as Simon comes back to you, the slow drop off of his attention until his head slumps against you and you know he's fallen asleep. Sometimes you'll scoot down so he can rest his head on your stomach, other times you'll find his cheek already pressed to your thigh, still others you lift the blanket and he's face down against the mattress snoring away.

You turn the page in your book, feeling the way the low buzz of pleasure throbs as your eyes skirt over the start of a smutty scene. Simon must feel it, his tongue pausing before he drags it up to suck on your clit. You jerk at the sudden pressure, pull your moan back into a whine that only seems to encourage Simon. His tongue flicks against your clit between hard sucks, tracing purposefully over your slit to wiggle against your entrance. He works you up so quickly after teasing you for so long, and mumbles for you to keep reading, to ignore him. As if you could when his mouth sparks a fire in your stomach that he has no intention of putting out.

You keep your eyes on your book even when they start to go fuzzy, even when you have to read the same sentence twenty times just to get it to stick in your mind. Simon scrapes his teeth against your clit, pushes his tongue into your pussy, squeezes your thighs with huge rough hands, and all but begs for you to come on his face. It always takes you by surprise, the slowly tightening spring he'd been winding snapping under his consistent pleasure, making you whimper and gasp as your hips buck against his mouth. He drinks down every drop, slurps at your pussy obscenely until you try to close your legs.

It's never enough to get him to stop. No, Simon goes until he's satisfied, until he's full of you, sated enough to fall asleep. His tongue careful when you're still sensitive, avoiding your clit as he cleans you up. You make a note of the smut and skip a few pages ahead to get back to the plot, not willing to disturb your wonderful boyfriend a second time.

Your only complaint, if you even can complain, is that he's so damn heavy when he sleeps.

#cod x reader #x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #ghost mw2 #simon riley #simon riley x reader #mw2 ghost #ghost cod #ghost challenge #f!reader #afab!reader

[derangedanomaly]

...So, Chaos is like my comfort character rn, and him getting mad at us... again... genuinely makes me want to cry, I can't handle getting yelled at... Like at all, and right now I'm literally shaking, if like anyone yells at me in anyway, my brain immediately says that it's my fault and I mad them mad, and to get away from them... Ha ha ha..... I think I have a problem.... But, when I get like this, I hide from the person that yelled at me, for like hours, sometimes I disassociate from the person to the point I stop responding... Completely... And then I avoid them, fearing I'll get yelled at again, and make them mad again. I won't even ask for help, I'll stay quiet and do as I'm told, without a single thought running through my head, like completely empty.

I was wondering if you could write um, some headcanons on Mare, Chaos, and the trio getting angry and yelling at us and then we just start disassociating and then when they stop yelling, we just disappear for hours only to reappear and not say a single word, but avoid them because we feel like we upset them and fear that if we get close to them they'll get angry again. And we won't even ask for things, we just hide and won't come out until our mind feels it's safe. And if they try to talk to us, at all, our mind immediately feels its no longer safe, and then we disassociate again.

You're so real for this.. I literally can't handle arguments- I don't like conflicts at all.

MASTERLIST

THE BOYS X THE READER DISAPPEARING AFTER AN ARGUMENT

NIGHTMARE:

Of course he snapped. How could he not? You keep on making excuses upon excuses, just so you can get out of doing certain chores. Nightmare just can't keep it together anymore... he's seriously too tired for this.

He was surprised when you ran up to your room, and didn't show up the whole day.

He honestly started to get a lil concerned. But his pride didn't let him check up on you

It was a shock to him when you finally came out of your room.

But even through all this... he's still the king of negativity. Of course he's gonna enjoy your negative feelings.

Honestly- won't end well. He doesn't know how to comfort someone, and he'd probably make it worse than it is actually- so.... Not the best choice 😭

CHAOS:

He didn't want to yell... He didn't mean to yell and let his emotions out... But you just suddenly started mentioning his mom...again. He truly doesn't want to think about it- he doesn't want to hear about it. Then something in him just- snapped.

You wouldn't even make it up to your room, before he grabs your hand, and looks at you with tears in his eye.

The only thing that he didn't want to happen- happened. He yelled at you.

You two immediately resolved it!

Everything went back to normal- and now you know not to mention that topic again..

Honestly, one of the best choices here lmao.

ACE:

He tries to stay away from creating conflicts...he can't stand them. He doesn't search for them- and he sure as hell doesn't want them. But hearing you spitting "facts" about his favorite tv show just made him angry..

He feels horrible after he sees you run up the stairs, a total mess.

He also- much like Chaos- won't let it sit. He'll try to immediately solve your argument!

He'd apologize really passionately! Just snuggling up to you, telling you how much he appreciates you..

BLADE:

Blade couldn't keep his cool when you fiddled with his collection of knives. He just COULDN'T. And being the idiot he is, he raised his voice....which he quickly realized was a mistake.

He was confused when you started avoiding him-

This dumbass is such a dum dum that he lets this go on for a whole week 💀

He just doesn't know what to say/do😭🙏🏻

He'd crack though, after he starts missing you.

Yeah...you got yourself a begging mess of Blade lmao

TED:

He doesn't yell at you

#undertale #undertale fandom #sans undertale #undertale au #utmv #utmv au #chaos sans #chaos sans x reader #nightmare sans #nightmare sans x reader #dust sans #dust sans x reader #killer sans #killer sans x reader #horror sans #horror sans x reader

[belliesandburps]

Would you be willing to do dialogue for Epel?

(Surprisingly, I got quite a few Epel requests, so I'm gonna blend them all into this one like Ruggie and Jack.)

Burping in public (Around dormmates)

(blushes and covers mouth) "Ah...! E-Excuse me...!!"

(goes wide-eyed and clamps mouth shut) "......S-S-Sorry, dorm leader..."

(smiles nervously) "...T-That was because of a potion, I swear..."

(covers his mouth) "Oh, g-goodness! Pardon me, that was...(feels another burp coming, but swallows it down and grimaces)...mph...(palms his chest)...p-pardon me..."

(pushes a fist to his mouth) "Mph, sorry...my stomach has been bothering me all day..."

(looks around nervously) "...You won't tell Vil about that, right...?"

Burping in public (Around friends)

"Whew! (pats his stomach) That was a GOOD one!"

"Oof! Sweet tarnation! They ain't gettin' any quieter, haha!"

"Damn, that felt good!"

(grins) "Let's see ya top THAT!"

Woooo boy... (rubs his stomach) Ah may'uh wolfed down mah lunch a lil too dang fast, heh..."

"Pfft, that was weak, hol' up... (gulps down more and more air until he can't take anymore, then lets out a MUCH louder and longer belch that ends with him sighing) Haaaaaahhhhh...whew...THAT'S more like it..."

Burping for the first time around friends

(grins) "What? Didn't think I could let a monster like that rip?"

"Hehe, I know, 'so dainty and proper, probably doesn't even KNOW how to burp,' right?"

(smirks and daintily covers his mouth) "Hehe, ex-CUSE me...where'd my manners go all'uh the sudden?"

(sighs boorishly and pats his belly shamelessly) "Haaaahhhh...WHEW! Heh, sorry 'bout-uUrp-that, mph...shouldn't'uh had lunch before studyin' with Vil. Ah been stuck 'round him fer hours so I had t'hold that one in all dang day..."

(smirks cockily) "Pfft, that was nothin'. Check THIS out...(takes in several gulps of air, puts his hand on his stomach as it fills up with the excess air, then pushes down firmly and lets rip a HUGE burp, before sighing with relief and patting his belly)"

(grins and folds his arms behind his head carefree) "Heh, pretty loud, ain't they? Back home, I could out-burp anybody foolhardy 'nuff t'try and take me on...(grins more impishly)...still can..."

Burping after chugging a soda

"Oof...oh man, think ah done guzzled that one a lil fast...OOOOUUUUURRRRRP!!!! Guhhh..."

"Gaaaahhh...haha! Did y'all HEAR that?! Hot DAMN!"

(blushes and smile sheepishly) "H-Heh, s'cuse me...guess ah was kinda thirsty..."

"Woo dang...! (rubs his stomach firmly) So bubbly...bruUuUuUuph...BWWWOOOOURRRAAAAAAAPH!!!!! Phew...! (pats his belly)"

"Haahhh...(palms his chest) That's the stuff right there..."

(grins cheekily) "Hehe, imagine if VIL heard that one...(smile dips)...actually, let's not..."

Burping after stuffing himself

"Gruuuoooohhhh man...(rubs his bulging belly up and down)...feels like ah'm gonna BURST..."

"Haaahhh...(pats his rounded gut contently)...ain't had pies that good in ages..."

"Whew...that was a biggun, ain't it...(gropes his overstuffed middle and gives it a light jostle)...an' right now, so am I, heh..."

(huffs and hits his chest to knock loose another fierce burp) "Gaahhhh...sorry, when I'm THIS dang bloated, all that there gas gets kinda stuck..."

(sighs contently and holds his belly with both hands) "Haaaahhhhhh...felt my gut shake like crazy with that one..."

(gives a hiccup and a dainty afterburp before flopping onto his back; his large belly jutting up over him) "...Urgh...s-so...dang...ffFUUUUUUUULL...!!!"

Burping to kink-tease

"Ah, heh, s'cuse me...ain't very gentlemanly, huh?"

(smirks) "Hehe, ya like that? Don'tchu worry...(rubs his stomach teasingly)...loooooots more where that came from..."

"Pfft, that gets yer goat goin', does it? Well, good thing fer you that I'm a burpin' machine, hehe."

"You want bigger? (grins cockily) Ya came t'the right guy...(swallows more and more air, holding his stomach as it fills up with the excess oxygen, and then grips it tightly as a MASSIVE belch blasts past his maw and leaves him moaning)...hhhhhaaaaaaaahhhh...toldja I'm the champ."

"Hehe, sorry, did that rile ya up a lil too much? (quickly gulps down a sharp but single gulp of air and immediately burps it back up) There, that was smaller, so it oughta be easier fer ya, right?"

"Ahhhh, hehe...y'know, I dunno what I love more. Burpin' or watchin' you get all hot'n bothered every time I do..."

Nauseous burps

(quickly covers mouth) "Urrf...oOohh, that one hurt..."

(holds his churning stomach) "...Guhh...sorry, dorm leadeEUurp!! (quickly covers mouth) Oh no..."

(clamps mouth shut and burps heavily behind his fist) "Mph...ohhhh man...(rubs his belly slowly)...my gut's burblin' like grandma's gumbo..."

(rubs his stomach up and down) "Urgh...there's so much gas in my gut...(swallows down air)...BRRRAAAAAAAPH!!! Guh...BLLUUUUUOOORRRRUUUP!!!! Ugh...just keeps comin'..."

(slumps forward and clutches his knees) "...Uuuuugh...hoooo man...ah feel another burp just brewin' but...definitely feel somethin' else brewin' too..."

(goes green and covers his mouth) "...Mph...somethin' definitely came up with that one...hrrrMMMmph! BBBRRRRRMMMPH!!! (hugs his stomach and goes wide-eyed as he rushes to the bathroom)"

#ask belliesandburps #epel felmier #burping #burp kink #gassy #belly kink #post stuffing #overstuffed #kink scenario #burp dialogue #epel is definitely the secret burping fiend of nrc #the more i get to know him the more ravenous and rowdy i realize he is #the more certain i am that he can burp loud enough to make glass quiver #prove me wrong you cowards #i'm actually getting a lot more into the entire pomfiore crowd than i expected #rook being canonically a big eater with a predatory tilt #vil being secretly ripped and probably eating a lot during his training regimen #the tw well shall never run dry

[britishsquidward]

Stargazing - A Chelley Week 2024 Fanfiction

Wheatley didn't really have a goal. Not anymore, not since he'd been sucked into space, left with no other choice but to float about aimlessly. So really quite literally, he didn’t have an exact goal. It was true, those first few days - weeks? Months? - had been spent rehearsing his apology over and over again (and once more to make sure), but after a while it became scarily apparent that he probably wasn't going to get out of this soundless void any time soon.

Of course there was Kevin, but he wasn't exactly the talkative sort in terms of coherent responses, so the bluer of the two had taken to chattering on to himself. Just to himself, his own brain, his own thoughts, and no-one else's, definitely never hoping or wishing that anyone else could hear him.

Or so he told himself. Maybe it was just another way to burden himself with the guilt he felt he deserved.

"Big place, this," he commented, drifting slowly and unsuitably peacefully, "space."

"SPAAAAAAAACE!"

Wheatley ignored him. "Do you ever look at all these bright holes in the sky?" he asked, trying to make it appear as though he was talking to Kevin, "Stars, I mean. They're called stars. Did you know that?"

"Staaaaaars. I'm in space," Kevin beeped, still as enthusiastic as ever.

"N-" Wheatley bit his metaphorical tongue. Kevin carrying on interrupting like this was beginning to - pardon the pun - bug him, and where his patience had temporarily run thin, he'd had to stop himself from blurting out a "not you" in the direction of the other. He had to keep up the facade. "-Yeah. Yeah, mate, you're... we're in space. Big ol' empty space..."

He took a moment to think, his eye half-lidded and his mental gears turning. "If... if and/or when you look up at these stars, I kind of wonder if maybe, by some chance, we might be looking at the same ones. They probably look different from down there, less- less 'big'," he wasn't feeling particularly jovial, and frankly he was not in the mood for stringing together long words.

It was silent for the beat that followed, what with Kevin being too enraptured in taking in every sight he could see, despite all this time they’d already been trapped. To anyone else, it'd feel soul-crushingly lonely, but to Wheatley, as a result of the conversations he’d grown accustomed to before he'd been flung up here, the silence was almost comforting; a response.

"Still not a big talker, eh?" he chuckled lightly to himself, "Dunno what I expected. Even if you could talk, which - I'm not sure whether you can, actually, I kind of assumed you were always too - you know - brain-damaged and all, but if you could, hypothetically, even then I don't think you'd be able to raise your voice just enough for me to hear- What am I talking about? Even if it did travel that far, there's no sound in space. I can't hear you. No matter how much I might want to - not that I've been thinking about it, or anything. And you can't hear me either. Not even when I say 'I'm sorry' and mean it. I'm sorry, by the way, in case you didn't catch the last -" he'd been keeping a record in his database, so sourced it, the answer coming out considerably more robotically than his usual tones, "476 - times."

He sighed, rattling himself side to side to the best of his ability as though to convey shaking his head. "I'm completely off it today, luv, I don't know what I'm saying. Of course you didn't hear it. I just explained how you couldn't have right before that. Blimmin' heck."

"Spaaaaace. Stars, stars, stars!"

"Yep, stars," Wheatley agreed half-heartedly, "some of them shine more brightly than others, don't they?” This prompted him further, “Actually, I've been wondering something else. Wondering and wondering this one, I have. If your eyesight was really good - which it bloody must be, the way you completed all those tests in the dark - then maybe, by some chance, some miracle, when you look up at these stars, and we’re looking at the same ones, you might also catch sight of me."

A sweet concept, he thought. One that brought him restfulness, hope, a foreign warm, tingling feeling bubbling up from deep inside his circuits. Finally he felt something. It wasn't much, but it had been a while before he'd finally experienced - emotion identified - happiness. 

And that lasted all of three seconds, before the anxiety in him revved up, and he was off backtracking and justifying himself once more. "N-Not that I'm saying you would or should be, or that you'd want to - because I'd completely, totally understand if you didn't want to look up here at me, after what I did. I wouldn't want to look up at me either, not with how bossy and monstrous and- getting off topic, I'm getting off topic, um, yes, I'm not saying that I want you to, either, because I don't. Well, I don't mean it like that, I mean as in I want you to, but I don't want want you to, yeah? Does- does that make sense? Yes? It does? Great, fab, let's crack on, then."

In every sense of the action, Wheatley didn't need to take a breath in, but he did so regardless. "Right, so. M-my point. I guess I... I wondered if maybe you could see me because... To put it bluntly, I miss you."

There was no point in trying to pretend he was still talking to Kevin at this point. He'd long passed the point of no return; if pretending he wasn't talking to that lovely test subject was a bar on the ground, he'd still manage to trip over it anyway. And he had, but by this point, he’d accepted it. In fact-

Core communication transmission disabled.

"Sorry, Kev, I need to focus.”

A little while passed as he reflected on his situation, on his choices, on his words. “And if we're looking up at the same stars, right now even, then this is sort of like my way of being close to you in some form. Not that I'd want to hear that from me if I were you, but it's- it's me trying to be kind, honest! You don't deserve what I did, I'm- I-I'm like that pathetic little star off in the distance, there," he made an attempt to gesture and failed miserably, "small, and- annnd in the distance. Not very... bright. But you, oh, man alive, you..."

Being pulled across slightly in his orbit, Wheatley was turned around and ended up facing a star much, much closer by. "Huh, what a coincidence... But, yes, this. There's a lot of these, but I can't always see how bright they are, because um, well, because my back is turned sometimes. Which! That's not my fault, actually, I don't have much control in zero gravity surprisingly, so I struggle to revolve at times. But even though I can't see them all the time, it doesn't mean it doesn't shine as brightly as when I could see it, yanno?"

Silence. He was giving her time to respond. Time to respond to his hopeless, unheard monologue. "Whenever I see one of these," he admitted, completely overtaken by the hollow, weighty feeling that now ate at his insides, scratching at his servos and gnawing at his wires, all bitter and uncomfortable, "a star that shines particularly brightly, I close my optic."

He did so, letting the horrid simulated emotional pain wash over him in one fell swoop.

"And I think of you."

#portal #chelley #chelley week 2024 #wheatley #chell #portal 2 #angst #bsq fic

[entamewitchlulu]

I wasn't initially going to say anything, but i. honestly, i really just, could use some emotional support, i guess.

there's an awful lot going on in my life right now that's making me pretty miserable. to top it off, I recently got news from my dad that our dog, Indiana's health has gotten a pretty bad prognosis. the long story short is, he could possibly have cancer, and while there's surgery that could help, he's 15 years old, and even the prep exam for the surgery could be fatal for him. so it's unlikely that we'll end up going through with it, and a really hard decision has to be made about whether to let him go now while things are still mostly okay, or wait until things deteriorate.

I moved away from home for the first time just six months ago, and one of the things I was most upset about was leaving my dog behind, knowing he was getting old. I live an hour and a half away from home now, and I have been able to go home to visit just once in that time. I've seen him only once in the last six months.

Indiana is everything to me. I know he can't be with us forever, but the pain of not being able to be there during the last months of his life is destroying me. I have no idea what things are going to look like, if we'll have another year or two with him being in the world, or if I'm looking at a world where he isn't there anymore as soon as the next few weeks. I'm working 40 hours a week and I have a cat to think about now, so I can't just drop everything and go home to be near him for a while as much as I want to.

I'm not asking for anything in this post like surgery money or anything. Just......support, I guess. Living alone means there's no one to give me a hug most days, and I'm coping badly with it all. It's just another piece of bad news that's breaking me, and all I want is to feel a little less alone in facing it.

I just want people to know how much I love him. He is the sweetest, kindest, most loving dog I've ever known. He was found in a junkyard living in a truck and when we adopted him he didn't even have a name, just a number which was the date he was taken in by the shelter. He has a tiny little tail that wiggles like crazy when he's happy. He loves sitting in the car, not even to go anywhere, just to hang out. He's a huge fan of cheese and memorized the sound of a cheese stick opening so that he could get a small bite of mine whenever I had one. He's so good at "shake" that when you have a treat for him, he will paw the air wildly with one paw and then the other to show you just how good he is at doing it and how much he deserves his treat. Sometimes he gets the zoomies so insanely that he has to bolt all around the yard, in and out the door so fast that you'd think he was a cheetah in another life. He can turn on a dime. He's scared of fireworks and loud sounds because we made the mistake of taking him with us to a historical reenactment once and all the muskets and cannons scared him. He learned how to pull a cart once but we never kept up with it. He knows the word "rabbit" and loves to chase them around but never catches them. When he's happy to see you he'll press his whole head into your knees and lean so much that he almost knocks you over. He likes to press his whole body against you. When he lays down he sometimes splays his paws out to either side like a seal. His favorite toy is his stuffed rabbit and he cuddles with it all by himself.

I love him, so, so, so, so much. I can't be with him right now and it's killing me. I'm grieving him before he's even gone because I can't comprehend a world where he isn't in it and I don't know how else to prepare myself.

I don't know how to end this. He's still with us right now, but I don't know for how much longer. Please hug your pets for me tonight. Hold them close and remind them how much you love them. We don't get to have them in our lives forever as unfair as it is. I only wish it could be a little longer.

#lulu talks #pet death tw #i mean. not yet. god. but the mention is there. #fuck. i can't believe we just have to keep going to work every day while the world is ending.

[ethaneldritch]

Starting to think my LoK ideas are veering too far from the source.

I have a tendency for lightheartedness in my storytelling that hasn't been sitting well with me as of late. Maybe I've just had too much Land of the Lustrous influence leak into the mix, but I almost feel guilty for headcanoning as much wholesome stuff as I do.

LoK is a gothic tragedy, steeped in grey morality and predestination with the faintest tinge of hope on the horizon. I feel like my work, both written and visual, can't do that atmosphere justice anymore.

It was funny in the beginning: "Hey look, the big scary vampire is being silly!" But that's become almost all I contribute. I'm straight-up awful at writing angst, and yet I feel like a fraud constantly putting a positive spin on something so dark. It just feels...unrealistic. Unnatural.

I guess what I'm trying to say is that I can't seem to remedy my own headcanons with what I think I "should" be headcanoning. There's no right or wrong in fandom, but because LoK's is so close-knit I fear I might "ruin" something if I stray too far from canon.

I see headcanons I disagree with all the time, and yet I somehow can't allow myself the same grace to freely play with ideas. I'm always prefacing my thoughts with phrases like "I imagine" or "I like to think", because I'm constantly wary of writing something "wrong". It's confusing, isolating, and maddening.

#monty musings #here we go again my dudes #at least i made it brief this time 😎 #again: prolly just artblock rearing its ugly head #but i can't shake the feeling that i'm not “doing it right” anymore #like there's this unspoken quota on fun or something

[hauntedpearl]

.

#I'm thinking about like. how anxiety can cripple my articulation again like. when put on a spot. i don't feel like j express myself as well #as i can. and then i feel guilt over it especially when people end up picking irresolvable arguments with me because i feel like i #overexplain myself and the other party just straight up categorizes me as the Bad Person ahdgjskd which makes me more anxious aggsjddk #(yes this is about the thing i elft tumblr for in part but not fully. like ik it's been three months but it was v traimatizing lmao) #(like every time i start thinking about it i know im on the brink of an anxiwty attack again and then i just. shut down ahgshdke FUN IT'S #SO FUN!!!) #anyway. my point is. im very. like. careful with how i curate my space on other social media because i feel like there's ~ c l o u t ~ #involved and it's also some weird sense of obligation that i can't shake. i put it down to self-importance honestly bc i don't have a big #platform or anything but i feel like even the ability to influence someone in a small way is like. RESPONSIBILITY. #with tumblr i dont feel that responsibility. i don't actively follow people who are spouting hate or have beliefs which are honestly #really fucking outrageous. like. terfs can die i wouldn't feel bad. samr for racists lmao. or nazis. the usual fodder right #but i tolerate aphobia to an extent. bc *I'm* ace and ive interacted with the group #and most of them never actively say anything. the ones who do are ignored but others im like. i will take yoir jokes but nothing else.yk?? #it's a strange system but it's very stress-free for me and i curate it that way for whatever reason #even now i feel like I'm not expressing myself properly. like.. it's not about agreeing with a certain belief. it's about my personal level #of comfort/discomfort. and how much im able to tolerate from a person before i say enough is enough. #also i can't bring myself to like block people bc again weird problems but i curate carefully enough that that's never a problem for me #all this bc i saw some post about kids being afraid to consume certain media bc they're afraid of being ousted from their social circles & #LIKE YEAH. I MEAN. IT HAPPENS FR. AND IT HURTS LIKE HELL? SO??. #HMM ANYWAY. i don't even post desinatural anymore that used to be my thing it makes me so sad :( #personal lmao. #dony even reply to this this is Nonsense ™ #i have friends outside i am okay it's just a trigger so im ranting #bYE

[ursaspecter]

🌓 halfmoonhorror Follow

wtf i'm literally shaking and crying right now i just saw silver bullets for sale on temu why the fuck are there silver bullets on temu

🪢 knotexplosion Follow

Hey. Hey. Look at me. Do you genuinely believe Temu of all places is going to have genuine sterling silver bullets for sale? TEMU. Wish and Shein's bastard child?

🌓 halfmoonhorror Follow

they had wooden stakes on there too i'm actually fearing for my and my partner's lives right now

🦇 count-fuckula Follow

Yeah I bought some wooden stakes from Temu and they broke instantly. I wasn't even using any force to put them in my lawn as it rained quite recently. I wouldn't worry too much about any silver bullets you find. They're probably just silver plated.

🍖 roadkill-meatloaf Follow

Can confirm- Temu silver isn't real and can't hurt us. I bought a bunch of silver jewelry off there because I can't afford anything the legitimate stores are selling and when I tried them they barely even burned. Not worth it.

🍯 bearly-hanging-on Follow

Why on earth would you, a werewolf, buy silver jewelry???

🍖 roadkill-meatloaf Follow

well for me it's a sex thing.

🪢 knotexplosion Follow

Why would you voluntarily wear jewelry from Temu? Did you at least sanitize it first???

🍖 roadkill-meatloaf Follow

Uh... I licked it first. Werewolf saliva can disinfect surfaces right?

🪢 knotexplosion Follow

YOU WHAT

🦇 count-fuckula Follow

Oh my g-d just because werewolf saliva can make your wounds heal faster doesn't mean it works miracles!!!

🪢 knotexplosion Follow

Wait how would you know that?

🦇 count-fuckula Follow

@.daddy-fenris is not the brightest sometimes.

🌕 daddy-fenris Follow

oh my god IT WAS ONE TIME why do you have to put me on blast right now

🦇 count-fuckula Follow

The world needs to know. Roadkill please go see a doctor or a vet or something.

🌓 halfmoonhorror Follow

i feel like this is taking away from the real issue at paw

🪢 knotexplosion Follow

Can't you see we're having a conversation here?

🌓 halfmoonhorror Follow

IT'S MY POST???

🍖 roadkill-meatloaf Follow

Not anymore it's not

#unreality #fake post #dashboard simulator #werewolf #werewolves #monsterblr

[shadow4-1]

I'm just imagining using a secluded space on base to do some yoga away from the 141, only to realize Ghost's been watching disapprovingly the whole time.

Like, what you lack in raw strength compared to the boys, you have in agility. You're not nearly as rigid. You're flexible, and it's only because you take the time to work on it. You have several methods but dancing and yoga are by far your favorite.

Neither hobby you can enjoy on base much, because well...you always get stared at. So, you take it upon yourself to clear out part of old studio space used for storage. It's kind of crappy, with cracked tile and dust bunnies galore, but it'll do. You play some music in your earbuds and do your beginning stretches on your mat.

When you're in the zone you're in the zone. You end up in a place far away and yet still within yourself. The burning stretch from some of your maneuvers feels so good you nearly groan. You get lost in the personal meditation. One certain position uses a specific pair of muscles in your lower back. It takes you a moment to realize why it makes you gasp. You bite your lip and decide to take a short break.

As you untangle your body you feel something's off. You're physically fine, but your heart starts to race. Your stomach lurches. You move to stand, suddenly startled by seemingly nothing.

"Yer doing it wrong."

And just like that Ghost makes himself known from behind a shelf. He's in his workout clothes, which isn't much but some slinky basketball shorts and a tank top. Black of course. His mask is the soft one he uses when he's not on the field.

You scoff at him, still feeling on edge but also relieved at no immediate threat.

"You do yoga?" You ask incredulously. "Fine, big guy. Show me how it's done."

He rolls out a mat and gestures for you to copy him. It's a simple move, one you've perfected. And yet he still shakes his head at your form. You try it again. Wrong. Again. Wrong.

"Where am I going wrong?"

You don't expect him to reach over and grab your back leg. He pulls it out further. You stumble and he rights you with the same arm. He tuts at you, but he's the reason you're off balance.

"Lift your back. No. Higher. Your hip should be down."

Next thing you know he's behind you, his large hands making your body twist and bend. You end up in the same position as you'd been in earlier, but this time you can really feel the stretch. Maybe he was right, you were doing it wrong.

You tilt your back up and feel the familiar stretch. It's better than you've ever been able to get it on your own. You can't help the soft groan that leaves your lips. The last time those muscles had been used was before you joined the 141, when you'd still had a boyfrie-

Two hands grab at those spots. Large thumbs work circles into the areas. Despite yourself, you moan. This was going a bit too far but...

The more he kneads the more you fall to your knees. You can't hold the position with your back up anymore. You practically collapse onto the mat, ass up, Ghost knelt over you.

He still doesn't let up. His thumbs dig into those circles hard enough it should hurt but instead you only feel bliss. You bite your lip, it feels so fucking good. Eventually he relents, and stops digging into you. You whine at the absence.

"That feels so good." You groan, voice sounding way too needy for what just occurred.

"M' glad." Ghost huffs amusement evident in his tone.

Ghost grabs you and flips you over onto your back. He grabs one of your legs and pushes it as far forward towards your head as he can without hurting you. He does the same to the other. It's a weird position, but it's not far off from some of the other ones you're used to. It burns but it also feels good. Considering you're flat on your back, you feel supported.

You smile up at him, a little breathless but also happy that he's willing to help you out. Yoga did not seem like something any where near his wheelhouse.

"I didn't know you liked yoga. How did you learn about this stuff?" You ask, using your own arms to hold your legs in position as Ghost gets up higher on his knees.

Ghost huffs behind his mask as he looks down at you. He narrows his eyes, his head blocking out the white light of the overhead flourescents. You feel a hand slide between the material of your shorts and the curve of your ass.

"The Kama Sutra."

#cod imagines #mw2 #call of duty #mw2 headcanons #simon ghost riley #cod mwii #simon riley x reader

[peachesofteal]

Light On - single mom/neighbor fic - reader POV - cw: grief Simon Riley/female reader

"Breathe, honey. Try to take a deep breath for me."

Simon is frantic, cradling your face in his hands, pulling away your own to try to look in your eyes, his own wide with horror, worry.

This isn't fair. This isn't right. This is confusing.

"I- I'm sorry." You sob, because it's the only thing you can say, the only thing he can think of, and he shakes his head like he disagrees with you.

"No, no. Sorry for what?" You can't make it make sense, to him, in your own head, and when you try to talk, nothing comes out but a broken cry. "Shhh. You're alright. Just breathe." He tries to soothe you, and it only makes you cry harder, sob welling in your chest. "Are you hurt?"

"No!" you protest. "No, you didn't... I'm not... I-"

"Okay, okay. Hey, look at me sweetheart. I'm right here, I've got you." He coos, still holding you, wiping your tears, keeping you close. "You're okay." You bury your face in his chest, letting him wrap you up, cuddle you close, all while your mind spins and spirals, heart aching like it's been broken all over again. This wasn't supposed to happen. You're not supposed to feel this way. You're supposed to be happy. Aren't you happy?

"I'm sorry." You whisper when you find your voice, and he hums a raspy rebuttal. "No, I... you don't deserve this, to be saddled with this, a-" A widow, and a baby. An emotional basket case. A burden.

"Stop." He looks down at you with sincerity, severe certainty in his eyes, and you gulp at the intensity, shuddering when his lips graze your skin gently. "I don't deserve you, sweetheart. I know that for sure, but not in the way you're thinking right now. I'm not being saddled with anything."

"You don't understand." You shake your head.

"Then tell me." He encourages. "Tell me. I'll listen." He caresses your cheek, touch gentle and caring, devoted, and you close your eyes.

"Okay."

Simon makes you a cup of tea. When he returns to press it into your hands, you're sitting up in bed, donning one of the t shirts you found on the floor.

"Is that my shirt?" He asks, cocking his head, and you nod bashfully, lip tucked between your teeth. "Looks good on you." You reach for the mug with shaking hands, trying to take a deep breath and collect your thoughts. "Take your time." He murmurs. "I'm here. We've got all night." He's not going to want you anymore, once he realizes. Once you tell him how you feel, what you're thinking. You shake the thoughts free, trying to banish them. He said you could tell him. You trust him. You can do this. Just be honest.

"Emmaline's dad died the week we found out we were pregnant." You whisper, unable to look at him. "It was a housing fire, big building. Like this one." You take a sip, watching the way his fingers sit lax in the bed, close enough to touch you, but giving you space. "There was a power surge, or something. Half the city lost electricity and he got called in. It wasn't unusual, he was a Lieutenant, and they're responsible for a crew, a truck. I thought... I thought I'd just go to bed, wake up in the morning, and he'd be there next to me. Like always, on big calls."

"But he wasn't."

"He wasn't. Instead, his Engineer, and his Captain, were at my door with his helmet in their hands." You bite down on your tongue, fruitlessly stalling the tears and the breakdown that's fighting it's way up your throat. "I loved him so much." As soon as you say it, your voice breaks, vision going blurry, and Simon reaches for you, holding your free hand, stroking a thumb across your knuckles. "I haven't been... I haven't been with anyone, since then."

"Oh, sweetheart." You set the tea down on the table next to the bed, pulling air in through your nose as much as you can, trying to regulate your heart rate, your breathing.

"I thought I knew what love was." You whisper, peeking up at him, soft brown eyes watching you patiently. "But this... feels different. It feels like... more. And that... that makes me feel like I'm betraying him. Like I'm dishonoring the love we shared. I feel guilty, and awful, like I'm doing something wrong." You close your eyes, losing your control, your battle, lower lip trembling with a sob. It tumbles out of you, hoarse and raw, everything falling away as you cry. There's a knife, in your chest, in your heart, twisting and sawing and stabbing, and it hurts, it hurts so badly, the sharp ache only soothed when Simon pulls you into his arms, cradling you against his chest, hand smoothing up and down your spine.

"Sh-shhh." He's settled you into his lap completely now, legs and hips and entire body, wrapped up tight, safe and secure. A small amount of tension sags away from your frame, relieved that he's not running, white hot guilt and grief and still burning in the pit of your stomach. "You're not doing anything, anything, wrong, sweetheart." He thumbs at a tear on your cheek. "It's natural to feel grief like this, it's normal. But you're not betraying him, or your marriage. He'll always be a part of you, and Emmaline." He's rocking you, murmuring softly above your ear, and you relax more, letting him calm you, put you back together piece by piece, your tears starting to slow, your chest rising and falling at a more regular pace. "I want to tell you something." He says after a while, once it's been quiet for a few minutes. You nod, trying to encourage him. "My mum is gone." You push off from him, looking up into his eyes. They're sad, and you see grief in them, despair, but also a deep depth of love. "She taught me how to cook, when I was a young lad. Always told me it would come in handy, when I fell in love." He takes a deep breath, burying his face in your neck for a second before coming back up for air. "She never got to see that, me with someone else. In love. And for years, I thought I disappointed her, let her down, even in death."

"Simon." You whisper, heart breaking apart all over again for the pain that's embedded across his face, the torment that bleeds from his expression.

"But, ever since I met you- I've thought, maybe she's lookin' out for me. That she's somewhere, out there, still bein' my mum. Sending me angels." He blinks, lashes wet, the tear that drips down your face mirroring his own. "Sending you, and Emma. And maybe your husband, is doing the same." You close your eyes, remembering the first time you ever saw Simon, on the roof, handsome in the morning light, even though he seemed so exhausted. You remember the way he held Emmaline, the first time he gave her a bottle, your little baby so at home in his giant arms, safe and cuddled against his chest like she just fit there. When he came to your rescue in the park, scary enough to make every scatter but all you felt was safety. The first time he kissed you, on his patio in the snow. And tonight, when he promised to give you everything, when he held you, made love to you, promised to take care of you. Your heart races in your chest, fingers clutching onto him, holding as tight as you can.

"Am I your angel, Simon Riley?" You wondered aloud with wide eyes, leaning into him, nose to nose. He kisses you, face wet with tears, voice hoarse when he answers.

"You're mine, as I'm yours, sweetheart."

#peaches writes #light on #simon riley x reader #simon riley #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader

[muntitled]

𝐒𝐀𝐅𝐄𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐓!

- How svt hip hop unit would react to you using your safeword

- cw: fluff, established relationships, humor, slight angst, quickies, rough sex, smut, breeding, degradation, safewords, +18, mdni, mingyu as his own warning

Always be safe, xo

⤑ Seungcheol

"This is good right? You're good?" Over and over again, Seungcheol had peppered you with reassurances. They bounced off the bases of his soft, pillowy lips with the same convictions as the wet kisses he was leaving on the side of your face.

You could feel how rough he was beginning to get.

"You like this, don't you?" You were swimming deep in subspace, a land of pink pillowy nothingness where your brain essentially became a tabularasa. A blank fucking slate.

Like a fucking concrete monolith was stationed between your thighs, rutting against you harder and harder the more time that seems to ebb between you.

"F-Fuck, baby you're so tight, huh? Such a tight little princess for me?" He was completely and utterly delirious. You can't crane your hand to look at him no matter how badly you wish to. Your back flat against the polished wood of his desk, and his hand around your throat keeps you there as Seuncheol traps you underneath him. He fucking loved being framed by your soft, pillowy thighs. They got tighter and weaker intermittently around him, all while he whispered the most vile words into your ear.

"Y-Yeah- Cheol- fuck-" Seungcheol watches in pained ecstacy at your blissed out state, completely catching him in the height of his own Dom space. With your tongue lolling out, Seungcheol dips down to whisper straight into your open mouth, "You're such a pretty little slut you know that-"

He was squeezing the base of your throat as he rutted into you. More and more you began to wonder if you were even a person anymore.

"Just a pretty fucking slut for me to use-"

You felt like an object.

A toy.

And despite your walls clenching around his cock your hand flew to his wrist. "Ch-Cheol-"

"You're gonna make me cum, you stupid fucking bitch-"

"Cheol-"

"F-Fuck you're such a dumb little girl-"

"CHEOL- Ohmygod-PEACH-" as if released by some evil spell, Seungcheol immediately uncuffs his iron grip from the base of your throat. He is off of yoy in five seconds, creating as much distance possible while his chest rises and falls and rises and falls. You turn slightly, eyes wide and brimming with... something. It wasn't fear, Seungcheol would hate himself if it was that.

"Baby- I-"

"Could we maybe like, ease up on the name calling. J-Just a little."

He looks fucking devastated "Fuck, I'm- genuinely so-"

"I know. Babe, it's not your fault."

"When you said Degradation I just-" he shakes his head. He wasn't about to blame you. Anything but that. "Fuck I'm sorry-"

"Hey, you're so good. So good. I'm just not into it as much as I thought I was and that was an error on my part."

"Don't fucking apologize. Thank you for telling me."

"Thank you for being a safe enough place to tell." You shrug.

Seungcheol looks around the messy room with deflated shoulders.

"Are we.. do you- I mean I could run you a bath-"

"Get inside me, I was still close,"

⤑Wonwoo

There isn't a moment that Wonwoo isn't always just a little bit overly cautious during your various sexual escapes.

Whether it was a quickie in the bathroom of a Michelin Star restaurant or a divinely long session of lovemaking under the wooden beams of the ceiling, with both your bodies submerged in a sea of blankets. So completely consumed with one another, you've already filled the entire expanse of the messy California king with all your tussling and lovemaking. Wonwoo is always careful.

Infuriatingly so.

Howevsr, there are moments like tonight, where the stars were aligned just a little differently, and your long-term boyfriend was feeling all the more frisky.

You can feel his hands everywhere the very second he stormed into your bedroom from being cooped up in study.

What you expected would be the usual, sober, safe, sex with Wonwoo quickly bled into something else when he pushed open your legs and pulled down your underwear along with your tight pink bum shorts in a single fell swoop.

"Uh -" Your body just let itself be undressed by him. All you could do was watch your boyfriend and his stoney visage as he paid special attention to undressing you. The warm glow of the overhead lights shone off his glasses as he lifted your torso up as if it was nothing, undressing you as if you were a child with underdeveloped motor skills.

"Did everything go okay at work-"

"I can't write. Jihoon wants to record tomorrow and I still haven't written my verse," Wonwoo pays extra attention to rubbing his hands on your soft supple skin. His shadow falls over you as you feel completely vulnerable underneath him, and he has yet to spare your actual eyes even a single glance.

"I'm sure every amazing rapper's had writer's block once and a whi- FUCK!" Your head shot back into the pillows as Wonwoo buried his face in between your legs, eating you out with the most fervour he'd ever radiated in a single sitting. Gone was the poised, level headed Wonwoo. He died somewhere between the pages of his coffee stained notebook.

"God- Wonwoo-" he sticks his tongue out, lapping hungrily at your cunt that only gushes for him. He hums against the tortured skin and your fingers immediate reach for his scalp.

"Fuck-" he mumbles against your cunt before lifting his head, "Can't work like this-" he says before pulling off his thick rimmed glasses and discarding it somewhere on the bed. Your eyes cross the moment his plush lips rub against your cunt and your hips lift almost automatically from the bed. His hands are encircled around your ample thighs, promising you you're not going anywhere and his mouth visibly moves as he begins to eat you out in the most literal, most vile display of eating out you'd ever witness.

One tap on your thigh let's you know you're not watching him like he wants you to. Eye contact was sacred and Wonwoo always let you know.

You gain enough energy to crane you head down to make eye contact but the second you see his mess of overgrown hair, tousled from your harsh grip, or the eager, half lidded eyes, you're completely done for. You gush all over his face, and your limbs wrack and writhe, but he keeps you locked there.

"W-Wonwoo- Fuck-i cant-"

He doesn't listen, as if trapped in his own reverie of pussy-drunk pleasure as he continues to slurp at your cunt with his mouth sucrioned onto your clit.

"Wonwoo- Baby- please-"

He's far too locked away in the essence of you, way too fargone in the softness of your cunt to begin to realize you're becoming way too overstimulated.

It's only when you're tapping furiously at the side of his head, furiously screaming, "YODA! FUCK- YODA-" that he's ungluing his puffy lips from your poor clit, breathing heavily with his eyes wide as ifhed just been set free from the shackles of a spell. You're crying. That's the first thing he noticed. The second is your quivering legs, shaking like autumn leaves in the wind. Your bottom lip is shaking too, that's what gets him scrambling beside you where he immediately envelops you in the warmth of his embrace.

"I'm sorry, Princess-" and you can tell he means it, but still you weep silently.

Your voice is quivering as you say, "You-You know I can't go again so quickly after... after..." Your chest rises and falls and rises and falls and Wonwoo immediately presses your face into his chest, to let you air out all the bad emotions onto his plain white tee.

"I thought I was doing something good for you, but I only ended up thinking about myself," he admits against your forhead, where his lips refuse to part.

"I just... needed a break from work-" he says, "I'm sorry," and you forgive him because It's him.

⤑Mingyu

"Shh," he whispers, pulling your braids across your shoulders as he makes direct eye contact with you in the mirror, "This'll be really quick, I promise."

"I dunno, bro-" you whisper back, despite your hands already gripping the marble finishes of the bathroom sink. "Your quickies are never as quick as they need to be-" you say, pushing you ass back against the bulge in his designer jeans as you lower your torso to the sink.

Mingyu smiled from the mirror, something diabolical, his hair cropped, and his skin crisp from the warm, orange glow of the bathroom. Outside, somewhere down a labyrinth of corridors, the rest of his group sat in the VIP section of the televised award show. All of them humming along to whatever group has taken the stage with the hopes that their rapper would make it out on time for their own performance.

"You just indirectly told me I last long, baby," he says, clutching his heart through his Balmain dress shirt while making heart eyes at you through the mirror.

"Hurry or you're gonna miss your-"

"Fuck you're so wet- why are you so wet?" Mingyu rubs the softness of your ass while examining the gush of arousal coating your panties. He lifts his head, "I'm going to breed you-"

"Mingyu-"

He's already pulling his pants down, quick enough to pull his dick out and shove it inside your cunt. Your lips part and your head pushes against the mirror and you're seeing absolute stars. Quickies with Mingyu always felt particularly barbaric because of how sloppy he tended to get. His tongue practically rolled out his mouth like the golden retriever he was so often described to be, while he rutted into you with some base heavy trap song pouring through the speakers.

"F-Fuck, Mingyu- please,"

What he thought was a silent plead for more, spurred Mingyu. He was an insatiable brute as he laid a hand on your back, pushing you further against the sink. When the side of your face hit the marble, your blood ran cold.

"I'm going to fucking breed you , baby." His eyes are obscured by heavily tinted designer shades and his head his thrown back in ecstasy. He was beginning to drill his cock into you and you were beginning to find there is nothing you can do about it.

"'Gyu- you can't come inside, you know that-"

"I really don't think you should be on those pills anymore, babe-"

You instinctively lift your head to try to glimpse him through the mirror because he was talking crazy. His hand lifts his shirt as he drills into you, revealing his chiseled core and a near perfect lopsided smile.

"Are you talking about my birth control?"

Instead of giving you a response: "Down-" He grunts, forcing you to bend over again as his thrusts became sloppily and sloppily, "Almost there, don'wanna miss the performance-"

"Mingyu you're not cumming inside me-"

"Fuck- why not? You're so perfect and so tight. Your body's just begging for me to fuck a baby into it-"

"PEPPERONI-" You scream immediately bullying him off of you until he's stumbling backwards and your back is pressed against the marble. You watch him shake his head, pants loose around his waist and yet he still somehow locked infuriatingly perfect.

"What the fuck- DUDE!" You can barely keep the anger from seeping out of your voice as you glare down your irresponsible boyfriend.

"WHAT THE FUCK-"

"I didn't finish!" he whines while stomping on the ground with his heavy sneakers.

"Were you seriously going to finish inside me!? After I explicitly told you-"

"Shh, shh," Mingyu says, stepping towards you to even out the angry creases on your forhead. "It was just for the fantasy, babe," he whispers, "Just for the fanatsy,"

⤑ Vernon

You didn't wanna say the word. It just sorta slipped. Straddling Hansol while some Pixar film played in the back was definitely not how you expected your second sexual encounter to go. There was still so much you had to learn about one another. Your bodies were vast fields of uncharted territory, and you weren't particularly sure Vermon would like all of those parts.

"Fuck, you're so hot- he whispers against your bare chest because discarding your shirt had been the first order of business. "So beautiful-"

You had begun rutting against him, with your skirt falling over his sweatpants, and your breathing became heavier and heavier. There was no explaining the tension that bubbled as your cunt rubbed greedily against his front but you were well aware of that feeling.

"God, you feel so damn good," he whispers, "You gonna cum for me?" Hansol's voice is utterly dripping with sex and all you can do is whimper as you dig your fingers into his hair- "Hansol, I-"

"Fuck, I think you're gonna cum from humping me, baby? Thats so hot..." A pool of wetness trickled from your cunt and it stole all the strength to immediately push yourself off screaming "NEMO-" you tapped out.

"Woah-" Vernon looks confused, justifiably so as you scoot to the floor, your legs quivering underneath you as your orgasm ebbed away.

"What do you need?"

You evade eye contact as you speak. "I just... didn't wanna disgust you or anything-"

"Dude, 'disgust' is literally the last thing on my mind. What's the problem?" You're still unable to make eye contact, causing Vernon to sigh as he sits forward with his elbows on his knees, to get closer to you in height.

"Is it the movie? I never thought Pixar would end up being a cockblock-"

"I nearly squirted." You admit. "Like everywhere-"

A moment of silence swells between you two and you can feel your heart sinking with every passing second. You wish to be anywhere but here. You could already smell all the warm popcorn you would ingest out of heartbreak, all the movies you'd-

"Fuck, and you thought that would 'disgust' me?" You peer up at him in pure wonder while lust descends on his visage like a shadow. "Sit on my face right now."

#seventeen #seventeen headcanons #seventeen smut #seventeen carat #seventeen imagines #seventeen fanfic #svt smut #svt x reader #svt fanfic #svt #seungcheol x reader #seungcheol smut #wonwoo x reader #wonwoo smut #jeon wonwoo x reader #kim mingyu x you #kim mingyu x reader #mingyu smut #kim mingyu smut #vernon x reader #vernon smut #chwe hansol #hansol smut #hansol x reader #hansol vernon chwe #choi seungcheol #wonwoo #mingyu

[hoshifighting]

Arranged Marriage

Synopsis: Where you and Minghao parents had this grand scheme to merge their companies by marrying you off, thinking it'd be a brilliant business move. Determined to stake your claim and keep your marriage intact, your make a bold move during a business party— planting a lipstick-stained kiss on Minghao's lips and yanking him by his tie, leaving no doubt that he's yours and yours alone.

Word Count: 5.5k

Warnings: Smut, throat fucking, blowjob, fingering, penetrative sex, public make out, jealous kiss, angst, forced marriage, mentions of diets.

You're standing there in this fancy white dress, all sparkly and shiny, making your way down the aisle to where Minghao's waiting. He's looking all sharp in his suit, with his hair on point and a little smirk on his face. But as you're walking towards him, you can't help but remember the last time you two really talked was at some boring company event.

Now here you are, about to say your vows like you actually mean them. But deep down, you know it's all just a bunch of lies. You and Minghao both know it. It's all for show, to make your parents' company look good. And the worst part is, everyone at this big fancy wedding knows it too.

The party's huge, like a wedding and a business conference all mashed together. People you've never seen before are milling around, probably part of some shady business deal your parents cooked up. It's like this whole thing isn't even about love or unity anymore. It's just one big networking event disguised as a wedding.

But you go through the motions anyway, smiling and nodding like everything's perfect. You exchange vows that are as fake as the smiles plastered on both of your faces. And as the night goes on, you can't shake the feeling that this whole thing is just a sham. A pretty, expensive sham, but a sham nonetheless.

You watch as people schmooze and mingle, making deals and connections left and right. And you can't help but wonder if this is what your future holds too. A life of pretending, of smiling for the cameras while behind closed doors, it's all just business as usual.

But for now, you paste on your best fake smile and dance the night away, pretending that everything's okay. Because that's what you do when you're part of a family like yours. You put on a show, no matter what's really going on behind the scenes.

You're feeling suffocated by the crowd inside, like the tightness around your waist is almost causing claustrophobia. So you slip away to the backyard, sneaking a slice of cake from the waiters. Your mom had you on some ridiculous diet for a whole week leading up to this wedding, all so you could look "good" in your dress.

You plop down on a wooden bench, the dress spreading out in a big poof around you. Just as you're about to take a much-needed bite of cake, you're interrupted by a voice.

"Why isn't the bride inside enjoying her own party?" The voice belongs to Minghao, hands in his pockets as he stands there, looking at you.

You scoff, shooting him a look. "I'm sure no one's noticed. They're all too busy discussing the stock market or whatever." Your tone is sharp, the underlying tension between you and Minghao palpable.

Minghao snorts, clearly not impressed by your response. "Yeah, well, maybe if you spent less time worrying about your parents' company and more time actually enjoying life, you wouldn't be stuck in this mess."

You bristle at his comment, feeling a surge of anger rising within you. "Oh please, like you have any room to talk. Last time I checked, you were just as tangled up in all of this as I am."

Minghao's expression darkens, and for a moment, you worry you've gone too far. 

With that, he turns and walks away, leaving you alone with your thoughts and a half-eaten slice of wedding cake. You watch him go, feeling a mix of frustration and something else you can't quite name. Maybe it's just the champagne talking, but for a brief moment, you can't help but wonder what life would be like if you weren't tied down by expectations and obligations. 

You stare at Minghao, disbelief written all over your face as you take in the sight of the one hotel room your parents booked for the both of you. A single queen-sized bed sits in the center of the room, effectively splitting the space into two halves. You shoot a glance at Minghao, and from the look in his eyes, you can tell he's just as shocked as you are.

The tension between you is palpable as you both stand there, sharing silent but deadly gazes. Finally, you break the silence, your voice dripping with sarcasm. "Well, isn't this just perfect? Our parents booking us one room to 'get used' to each other. As if this whole shit wasn't enough already."

Minghao lets out a scoff, shaking his head in disbelief. "Yeah, because nothing says 'happily ever after' like forcing two strangers to share a bed on their wedding night."

You bite back a retort, opting instead for a more diplomatic approach. "Look, I think it's only fair that I take the bed and you can sleep on the couch."

Minghao raises an eyebrow, his expression incredulous. "And why is that?" he asks, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

You roll your eyes, feeling irritation bubbling up inside you. "Because I'm the bride, for one," you retort, "and two, I've been on my feet all night, walking around in a dress that weighs a ton and heels that could rival skyscrapers. I think I deserve a decent night's sleep."

Minghao lets out a short, humorless laugh. "Oh, please. Do you even know how exhausting it is to be the groom? I've been dealing with people all night, pretending to be someone I'm not, just like you."

You narrow your eyes at him, crossing your arms defiantly. "Fine," you say, a smirk playing at the corners of your lips, "then let's settle this once and for all. Who's more tired: the bride who's been carrying around twelve kilograms of dress and heels all night, or the groom who's been putting on a show for hours on end?"

Minghao looks at you for a moment, the corner of his mouth twitching as if he's trying not to smile. But then he shakes his head, a look of resignation crossing his face. "You win," he says, finally relenting, "you can have the bed."

You smirk triumphantly, feeling a small sense of victory despite the absurdity of the situation. And as you crawl into bed, pulling the covers up to your chin.

The next day rolls around, and before you even have a chance to properly wake up, you're thrown into a meeting. Brunch with both families sounds nice in theory, but when Minghao's dad starts putting papers on the table and declaring, "Let's get to what matters," you realize this isn't going to be a typical family gathering.

You try to maintain a facade of composure, but the discomfort gnaws at you like a persistent itch. So you do what you've gotten used to doing – you look down, avoiding eye contact with anyone in the room.

Minghao notices immediately, and you can feel his gaze burning into the side of your face. His cheeks flush with embarrassment from his father's directness, but you can't bring yourself to look up and meet his eyes. The weight of expectation hangs heavy in the air, and you can practically taste the tension swirling around the table.

As Minghao's dad starts talking about business deals and partnerships, you try to focus on the sound of his voice rather than the sinking feeling in your stomach. But no matter how hard you try to block it out, you can't shake the feeling that you're just a pawn in someone else's game – a game you never asked to play.

You steal a glance at Minghao, but his expression is unreadable, his mask firmly in place. And in that moment, you realize just how alone you really are in this world of high-stakes deals and empty promises.

You're lounging on the couch, the TV blaring in the background, but your mind is miles away. The penthouse feels emptier than ever, despite being filled with all the trappings of luxury. You and Minghao live under the same roof, yet it feels like you might as well be living on opposite ends of the earth. Separate rooms, separate lives, with only a perfunctory "good morning" or "good night" exchanged between you.

The loneliness weighs heavy on your chest, suffocating you with its presence. You long for something more, something real, but it feels like an impossible dream in this gilded cage you've found yourself trapped in.

You're lost in the numbing glow of the television when your phone buzzes with a notification. It's Minghao, informing you of a press conference he's scheduled for later that night. You furrow your brow, puzzled by the sudden announcement.

But it's his last message from the previous night that catches your attention. "Can you at least put on your best smile tonight?" he'd asked, a request that feels more like a demand. And you can't help but feel a pang of frustration at his presumption.

You make your way to his room, finding him hunched over his computer, the glow of the screen casting harsh shadows across his face. You lean against the doorframe, crossing your arms as you watch him for a moment before speaking up.

"What do you mean by that?" you ask, your voice tinged with a hint of annoyance. "Put on my best smile? What's that supposed to mean?"

Minghao looks up from his computer, his expression unreadable. "It means exactly what it sounds like," he replies coolly, his tone clipped. "We both know how important appearances are in our world. So why not make an effort for once?"

You roll your eyes, feeling the anger bubbling up inside you. "I think you mean that you want me to play the dutiful wife once again, to plaster on a fake smile and pretend like everything's fine," you snap, the bitterness seeping into your words.

Minghao's jaw tightens, and for a moment, it looks like he's about to argue back. But then he sighs and runs a hand through his hair, looking suddenly tired and defeated. "Look, I know this isn't what either of us wanted," he says, his voice softer now, tinged with regret. "But it's what we have to do. For our families, for the company."

You scoff, shaking your head in disbelief. "Is that really all that matters to you? The company? "But fine," you say through clenched teeth, pushing yourself away from the doorframe. "I'll put on my best smile tonight. But don't expect me to enjoy it."

You sit in the backseat of the chauffeur-driven car, your gaze fixed on the passing landscape outside the window. The skyscrapers blur into a haze of steel and glass, a stark contrast to the turmoil swirling inside your mind.

Minghao breaks the silence with a casual remark, his tone tinged with amusement. "You don't look like someone who agreed to the terms of our agreement," he observes, a hint of sarcasm in his voice.

You let out a frustrated huff, tearing your eyes away from the window to glare at him. "Yeah, well, maybe I need some time before I can fully commit to this whole acting profession," you retort, your words dripping with bitterness.

Minghao presses his lips together, trying to suppress a laugh at your expense. The corners of his mouth twitch with amusement, but he manages to keep his expression neutral as he looks away, pretending to be absorbed in the passing scenery.

You bristle at his reaction, feeling a surge of indignation coursing through you. "What's so funny?" you demand, your voice sharp with irritation.

Minghao shakes his head, a faint smile playing at the corners of his lips. "Nothing," he replies casually, his tone disarmingly nonchalant. "I mean, take all the time you need… Just try not to look too pitiful when we walk through those doors." 

You roll your eyes, crossing your arms defensively over your chest. "Thanks for the vote of confidence."

As the chauffeur stops and opens the door for you, signaling your arrival at the event, Minghao's voice cuts through the silence.

"Hand," he says simply, holding out his hand towards you.

You raise an eyebrow, shooting him a skeptical look. "Excuse me?" you reply, not quite sure you heard him correctly.

Minghao's lips twitch into a smirk as he repeats himself, a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes. "I said, hand," he repeats, his tone playful yet insistent.

You fight the urge to roll your eyes at his audacity, but begrudgingly, you reach out and grab his hand, almost aggressively. His grin widens as he intertwines his fingers with yours, the touch surprisingly delicate despite the underlying tension between you.

As you and Minghao step into the event, hand in hand, you can feel the weight of your parents' surprised stares on you. Their eyebrows shoot up in disbelief at the sight of you two holding hands, a rare display of unity between the two families.

Minghao squeezes your hand gently, a small smirk playing on his lips as he catches your parents' reaction. "See?" he murmurs softly, leaning in close to you. "It's easy. A little thing like this makes them happy."

You can't help but feel a surge of resentment bubbling up inside you at his words. Easy for him to say, you think bitterly. He's always been the one who effortlessly falls into line, who knows exactly how to play the game to get what he wants.

But despite your inner turmoil, you force a tight smile and nod in agreement, not wanting to cause a scene in front of your parents. "Yeah, easy," you echo, your voice strained as you try to keep up the facade.

As the long-winded speeches from the ambassadors drone on, you find yourself sinking deeper into your chair, exhaustion weighing heavily on your shoulders. Minghao leans in close, his voice a soft whisper against your ear as he asks if you want something from the bar. You shake your head, declining his offer with a tired sigh.

He nods in understanding and excuses himself, disappearing into the crowd for a moment. But as the minutes drag on and the speech finally reaches its conclusion, Minghao still hasn't returned. Your eyes scan the room, searching for any sign of him, and that's when you spot her – a woman leaning in close to him, her body language oozing with flirtation.

Your stomach churns with a mix of anger and disbelief. What does she think she's doing? That's your husband she's flirting with, for crying out loud. You glance down at your wedding ring, then back at Minghao, then down at your ring again, the weight of it heavy on your finger.

You can feel the heat rising in your cheeks as you stand up from the table, your movements cautious as you make your way over to them. Fuck, you hate that you're doing this right now, but you can't just sit idly by while some random woman tries to make a move on your husband.

Minghao's eyes widen in surprise as he catches sight of your determined gaze, and for a brief moment, you almost feel guilty for interrupting. But then you remember who you are – his wife – and the guilt fades away, replaced by a steely resolve.

"I have a wife," Minghao's voice cuts through the air, firm and unwavering, as you approach him and the woman who's been flirting with him. His words send a jolt of surprise through you, momentarily halting your steps.

But before you can even react, Minghao continues, his tone tinged with irritation, "And she's storming over here, so please, just leave me alone."

"Hi, Hao," you greet Minghao as you finally reach him, unable to hide the hint of irritation in your voice. "You took a long time. What happened?"

Minghao's eyes widen slightly at your abrupt approach, and he stammers for a moment before the woman beside him interjects, "Oh, she's your friend?"

Minghao's response is immediate and almost defensive. "No, I don't know her," he says quickly, his tone betraying his discomfort.

You can't help but suppress a smirk at his awkwardness, feeling a small surge of satisfaction at seeing him squirm. "Nice to meet you," you say smoothly, extending your hand to the woman. "I'm Mrs. Xu."

The woman's eyes widen in surprise as she takes your hand, clearly caught off guard by your assertive introduction. "Oh, um, nice to meet you too," she replies, her voice slightly shaky.

You turn your attention back to Minghao, noting the relief in his eyes as you come to his "rescue." Poor Minghao, you think to yourself, feeling a twinge of sympathy for him despite your earlier annoyance. He clearly didn't know how to handle the situation, and the sight of you coming to his aid seems to help him breathe a little easier.

The woman walks away, leaving you and Minghao standing there in the aftermath of the awkward encounter. You turn to him, your expression a mix of frustration and concern.

"Come on, Minghao," you begin, your voice low but firm. "You need to know how to handle situations like that. What if people who know our family saw that? It could cause all sorts of rumors and complications."

Minghao's jaw tightens as he meets your gaze, a flicker of defensiveness in his eyes. "I didn't ask for her to approach me," he retorts, his tone defensive. "I told her I have a wife. What more do you want from me?"

You let out a frustrated sigh, running a hand through your hair as you try to keep your temper in check. "I just want you to be more aware of how your actions reflect on both of us," you reply, your voice tinged with exasperation. "We're married, Minghao. That means we have to think about each other's reputations and how our behavior affects them."

Minghao's expression softens slightly at your words, but there's still a stubborn set to his jaw as he crosses his arms over his chest. "I know that," he says, his voice quieter now, more subdued. "But sometimes things happen, and I can't control them."

You shake your head, feeling a surge of frustration rising within you. "That's not an excuse, Minghao," you say firmly. "We both have to do better if we want this marriage to work. We have to be a team."

Minghao's lips twitch into a smirk of his own, a challenge flashing in his eyes as he steps closer to you. "Oh, is that so, Mrs. Xu?" he replies, his voice dripping with mock innocence. "And what exactly would it take for me to earn back the privilege of being called by my first name?"

You roll your eyes, unable to suppress a laugh at his cheekiness. "Maybe if you stopped getting yourself into awkward situations with random women at parties," you shoot back, unable to resist the opportunity for a playful jab.

Minghao feigns offense, placing a hand over his heart in mock hurt. "Hey now, that wasn't entirely my fault," he protests, a mischievous twinkle in his eye. "Besides, you were the one who came to my rescue, remember?"

Minghao's playful grin falters as you shoot him a pointed look, hands firmly planted on your hips. "Am I wrong now? What should I do then?" you challenge, your tone laced with frustration.

He shrugs, his expression sheepish as he searches for an answer. "You need to make them know I'm your husband," he suggests vaguely, a glimmer of uncertainty in his eyes.

You narrow your gaze, a surge of determination coursing through you as you follow his line of sight to the woman who had been eyeing him earlier. She's still watching him, her gaze lingering a little too long for your liking.

"Fine then," you declare, your jaw set in determination. Without another word, you reach out and grab Minghao by the collar of his shirt, pulling him closer to you. Before he can protest, you press your lips to his in a firm, possessive kiss.

For a moment, Minghao freezes, his hands hovering uncertainly in the air. But then, as if realizing what's happening, he responds eagerly, his hands finding your waist as he pulls you closer, his fingers tangling in your hair as the kiss deepens.

You trail kisses along his neck, feeling a low hum of satisfaction reverberate through him. His hands tighten around your waist, pulling you closer as you continue to explore the sensitive skin of his neck with your lips.

When you pull back slightly, his eyes meet yours, a hint of mischief dancing in their depths. You reach up and gently tug on his bottom lip, a silent invitation for him to surrender completely to the passion between you.

Minghao's lips part in response, his eyes darkening with desire as he leans in to capture your mouth in another searing kiss. You can feel the heat of his body against yours, the intensity of the moment threatening to consume you both.

As you finally break the kiss, your lips swollen and tingling with the taste of him, you look at his face, satisfied with your handiwork. His lips, jaw, and neck are adorned with smudges of your red lipstick, a visible testament that being arranged or not, he is your husband.

With a mischievous glint in your eyes, you reach out and grab Minghao by the tie, tugging him gently but firmly in the direction of the exit. His eyebrows shoot up in surprise at your sudden assertiveness, but he follows your lead without hesitation.

As you walk through the party, you make no effort to hide the fact that you're leading Minghao out by his tie. You want everyone to see, especially that woman who dared to flirt with him earlier. With each step, you feel a surge of satisfaction knowing that you're marking your territory, making it abundantly clear to anyone watching that Minghao belongs to you.

People turn to look as you pass by, their curious glances met with a confident smile from you and a sheepish grin from Minghao. You hold your head high, your grip on his tie unwavering as you guide him through the crowd.

Finally, you reach the exit, and with one last glance around the room, you pull Minghao outside, the cool night air washing over you both. Alone at last, you turn to him with a victorious smirk.

"Well, that was fun," you say, a hint of laughter in your voice as you release his tie. "But I think we've made our point. Shall we get out of here?"

Minghao chuckles, shaking his head in amusement as he takes your hand in his. "Absolutely," he replies, a warmth in his eyes as he looks at you. "Anywhere you want to go, Mrs. Xu."

As soon as you step through the door of your home, you're wrapped up in a frenzy of passionate kisses with Minghao. Clothes, shoes, and his tie fly off haphazardly as you stumble towards the nearest surface, unable to keep your hands off each other.

Between kisses, Minghao pulls back slightly, his lips brushing against your neck as he speaks. "I didn't know you were that jealous," he murmurs, a hint of amusement in his voice.

You hiss in response, your breath catching in your throat as his lips trail along your skin. "I wasn't jealous," you protest, your voice tinged with frustration. "I was just...rescuing you, you bastard!"

Minghao laughs at your outburst, the sound sending shivers down your spine. "Hmm, just like a predator," he teases, his hands roaming over your body with a newfound confidence.

You scoff at his comment, a smirk playing at the corners of your lips. "You've seen nothing yet," you reply, meeting his gaze with a challenge in your eyes.

Minghao's eyes light up with excitement as he looks at you, a playful glint in his eyes. "Yeah?" he asks, his voice low and husky.

"Yeah," you confirm with a smirk, pulling him in for another kiss.

But then, his hand moves to the top of your head, gently guiding you downwards until your knees find the ground. You look up at him with a mixture of desire and anticipation, your breath coming in shallow gasps as you eagerly await his next move.

With a shaky breath, Minghao pulls himself free from his pants, his cock standing proudly before you. You wrap your hand around it, feeling the heat and hardness of him beneath your touch. A wicked grin plays at your lips as you tap the tip of his cock against your face, biting your lip in anticipation.

Minghao lets out a shaky moan at the provocative sight before him, his eyes dark with desire as he watches you. "Fuck, you're so damn sexy," he groans, his voice rough with need. "You know exactly what you're doing to me, don't you?"

You smirk up at him, your hand still wrapped around his cock as you tease him with your lips. "Mmm, maybe," you purr, your voice dripping with seduction. "But I want to hear you say it. Tell me how much you want me, Minghao."

His breath hitches as he meets your gaze, his fingers tangling in your hair as he guides you closer to him. "I want you more than anything," he confesses, his voice thick with desire. "I need you, baby. Please, show me how much you want me too."

You eagerly lower your mouth onto Minghao's throbbing cock, sucking greedily as you take him deeper and deeper into your mouth. You can feel him thrusting his hips, the need for more driving him to move against you.

Your hands slide down to his thighs, giving him the freedom to move as he pleases. His fingers tangle in your hair, guiding your movements as he sets the pace, his hips rocking against you in a rhythm of his own making.

As you take him deeper, you close your eyes, relaxing your jaw to accommodate his length. Minghao's voice breaks through the haze of pleasure, his words a gentle reminder of his concern for your well-being.

"Tap if you need to breathe," he murmurs, his hand tightening in your ponytail as he continues to move his hips.

You press your hand against his thigh in affirmation, letting him know that you're okay as you continue to take him deeper, your throat working to accommodate his length. Minghao lets out a low groan of pleasure, his hips moving in tandem with your movements as you both chase the pinnacle of ecstasy.

Between thrusts, Minghao's voice fills the air with a husky whisper. "God, you feel so fucking good," he moans, his words driving you to take him even deeper. "You're amazing, baby. Just keep going, just like that."

As Minghao's cock throbs in your mouth, you feel a surge of pleasure coursing through you, your senses overwhelmed by the intensity of the moment. Drool drips from your chin, a testament to your eagerness and arousal, as you continue to take him deeper, your mouth working tirelessly to please him.

With each throb of his cock, you can feel the tension building, the heat of his arousal radiating through you. Your eyes roll back in your head, lost in a haze of pleasure as you surrender yourself completely to the ecstasy of the moment.

And as Minghao's cock pulses in your mouth, you know that you've pushed him to the edge, his release imminent. With one final throb, he cries out your name, his body tensing as he spills his cum into your waiting mouth.

You swallow eagerly, savoring the taste of him. You moan softly as Minghao's lips meet yours again, the taste of him still lingering on your tongue, and he slowly guides you towards his room.

As you fall onto the bed, Minghao's fingers trace lazy patterns along your inner thighs, making you squirm beneath his touch, unable to hide your arousal as he gazes down at you with dark, hungry eyes.

"You're so wet…" he murmurs, his voice thick with desire as he continues to tease you with his fingers.

Minghao's lips curl into a smug grin as his fingers trailing lower until they reach the damp fabric of your panties. With agonizing slowness, he begins to peel them away, revealing your glistening folds to his hungry gaze.

"Tell me what you want, baby" he whispers, his voice a low growl in your ear as he leans in close. "Tell me how you want me to make you feel."

You arch your back, aching for his touch as you meet his gaze with a sultry smirk. "I want your fingers inside me, Minghao" you breathe, your voice dripping with desire. "I want you to make me come so fucking hard"

Minghao's eyes darken with lust as he hears your words, his fingers finding their way to your slick entrance. With a wicked grin, he plunges his slender fingers deep inside you, his touch sending sparks of pleasure shooting through your body.

And then, just when you think you can't take any more, he finds it – that deep spot that sends electric jolts shooting through you. Your pussy clenches around his fingers in response, a desperate attempt to hold your orgasm.

But Minghao isn't finished yet. With a wicked grin, he leans in close, his hot breath ghosting over your ear as he whispers his intentions. "You're not going to cum yet," he murmurs. "Let me hit that spot with my cock, then you can cream around it as much as you want."

Your breath catches in your throat at his words, with the promise of what's going to come. With a nod of agreement, you bite your lip in anticipation, eager for the moment when Minghao will fuck you with his cock.

As Minghao positions himself above you, his gaze locked with yours in a silent promise of pleasure to come, you sneak a peek at his cock. It's long, with bulging veins and dripping with pre-cum, making it clear he's rock hard and ready to go. The contrast with his slender body just makes it look even bigger.

Before you can even think of a response, Minghao speaks up, his voice low and husky. "You ready for me, baby?" he asks, his eyes smoldering with desire.

You open your mouth to reply, but before you can get a word out, his cock is stretching you out, leaving you breathless and speechless as he fills you completely.

As soon as Minghao finds your g'spot, your pussy immediately tightens around him, milking him with such intensity that he has to hold himself back from coming right then and there. His pretty moans only serve to heighten your own arousal, making it even harder for you to hold back your impending orgasm.

"Fuck, you're so tight," he groans, his voice strained with pleasure as he tries to control himself. He hopes that you'll stop clenching, but as soon as he hits that spot again, he hisses in response, the sensation driving him wild.

Realizing that he's in danger of cumming too early, Minghao decides to focus on fucking you in just the right way, hitting that spot with precision and intensity. He squirms, desperate for you to climax first, knowing that your pleasure will only fuel his own.

With each thrust, each movement, the pleasure builds between you, reaching a fever pitch that threatens to consume you both. Minghao's hips move in a steady rhythm, his cock driving deeper and deeper into you with each thrust, his own pleasure mounting with each passing second.

And then, finally, it happens. You reach the peak of ecstasy, your body shaking with the force of your orgasm as pleasure washes over you in relentless waves. Your pussy clenches around Minghao's cock, milking him for all he's worth as he loses control, his own release crashing over him in a tidal wave of pleasure.

With a tired groan, Minghao collapses beside you, his body spent from the intensity of your shared passion. He turns to you with a lazy smile, his eyes twinkling with satisfaction.

"If I'd known all it took to get you to kiss me was making you jealous, I would've done it ages ago," he teases, his voice laced with amusement.

You roll your eyes, a playful smirk tugging at the corners of your lips. "I wasn't jealous," you protest, crossing your arms over your chest.

Minghao raises an eyebrow, his expression incredulous. "Imagine if you were then" he scoffs, his tone teasing. "I don't think we'd be here right now if you weren't just a little bit jealous."

You huff in mock indignation, but deep down, you know he's right.

ou nudge Minghao playfully, a smile dancing on your lips. "Well, lucky for you, a little jealousy was all it took," you quip, teasing him.

He chuckles softly, his eyes sparkling as he gazes at you. "I guess I'll have to remember that for next time," he replies, his voice tinged with amusement.

You laugh, shaking your head in mock exasperation. "Oh, so there's going to be a next time now?" you tease, raising an eyebrow.

Minghao grins, leaning in closer to you. "Count on it," he murmurs, his voice low and husky as he brushes his lips against yours.

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[astraystayyh]

You're sexy I'm sexy

Jeongin x reader. Friends to lovers. Lots of pining and tension. Innie has a fat crush. Mention of alcohol and drinking!

Inspired by You're sexy I'm sexy by Eric Nam, also by this moodboard by @chachachannah <3

Jeongin is out with his friends, and you. You're tipsy and sitting on his lap, and he doesn't think he can keep his crush for you at bay anymore.

skz song series masterlist.

a.n: 7/8 of the series and a little fun break from all the angst <3 can't believe there is only one fic to go now :")

Jeongin is out with nine of his friends, they are loud and boisterous, their laughter echoing throughout the small bar they're in. Yet, the only thing he can seem to focus on is you. You're giggling at a joke Minho just told, and it feels as if your laugh is molten sunshine, running through his veins and igniting him from within.

You squint your eyes as you take a sip of your drink, your nose scrunching up as the liquor grazes your tastebuds, and Jeongin can't seem to take his eyes off of you. He is enthralled by your every move, and you're not even doing anything.

He's had a crush on you for a while, four months to be exact- 120 days where his every waking moment was spent thinking of you. It happened so abruptly, taking him completely off-guard. He's never felt this way before- a blushing mess, putty in your hands, so pliable for you to mold however you want. 

He shakes his head, tugging slightly at his black bangs. He remembers how you complimented him on his new color, running a hand through his freshly dyed hair. You’re always so nonchalant, in your way of touching him as if you don't leave him burning up in your trail. As if your knee bumping into his doesn't make electricity shoot through his body, as if your arm resting lazily on his shoulder doesn't make the world around him fade away, until all he sees is you.

You stand up to go get another drink, and Jeongin finally feels as if he can breathe again. "You're staring at yn," Hyunjin nudges his side with his elbow, and Jeongin drawls out a whine, hiding his face in his hands, "I know." 

Some time has passed, and Chan has called over some people he knows, so now everyone is squeezed into this tiny brown booth with Jeongin at the end of it. But no one seems to mind the lack of space, everyone is delighted the exam season is finally over.

You come back, a red drink in your hand, and Jeongin can tell it’s you just from the intoxicating smell of your perfume. He's learned to recognize you through those small details- he can even distinguish your soft knocks on his door when you visit his dorm. 

There is no place left for you in the booth, and you pout slightly. Jeongin goes to stand up to leave you his place, but you push him gently back down. 

"Do you mind?" you ask, pointing at his lap and he startles, looking between you and his legs. He stays silent for a while, unsure of how to answer, and you smile slightly.

"Never mind, it's okay," you leave to get a chair but he grabs your hand abruptly, pulling you on top of his lap. 

Jeongin doesn't know what's taking over him, he's never been this bold. But he accounts it on the one sip of alcohol he's taken, this, and the fact you proposed such a thing. He knows you're tipsy because your cheeks are tinted pink and you don't seem to mind where you’re sitting, on his lap. 

Jeongin can't think straight anymore, too overwhelmed by the warmth of your body. You are everywhere, all at once, and he feels a sudden urge to bury his face in your hair and never let go. You move your hair to your right shoulder, and the scent of your shampoo tickles his nose. The curve of your neck is exposed, and he wonders what would happen if he grazed it with his teeth.

Would shivers run down your spin? Would you gasp softly, pupils dilating as if trying your best to take him all in?

You are laughing, again, and the melodic sound pulls Jeongin out of his wandering thoughts. He finds it endearing, how your entire body shakes when you chuckle, as if laughter reverberates through you from head to toe. Was it normal to be so aware of someone's existence? To know them more than you know yourself? 

"Am I bothering you?" you turn to ask him, a soft smile on your face, and he shakes his head. It felt as if his tongue was tied in an impossible knot, he couldn't think, or dare to speak with you so near. 

"You're warm," you point out, placing your cold hands on his heated cheeks. He closes his eyes, leaning into your cooling touch. 

"Here, let me," you smile, grabbing the collar of his leather jacket and shrugging it off of him. He simply watches as you place the discarded jacket on top of your lap, before rolling the sleeves of his white t-shirt a bit upward. Your hand lingers on his forearm, squeezing it lightly, and it feels as if you’ve sealed the skin with your palm. Anyone who gazes at it will be able to tell you touched him.

You lean your back onto his chest, and Jeongin tentatively wraps his arm around your waist. Your hand reaches up to play absentmindedly with his silver rings, and he wonders what you must look like to other people. He wanted them to think that you were a couple, he realizes. Maybe if enough people believed it, it'd become a reality.

The night passes and the place beside Jeongin frees up, but you stay on his lap. His chin is now on your shoulder, your back snug against his chest. He can feel every twitch of your body and every soft exhale you take, and he unconsciously mirrors your actions, as if looking for any way to intertwine your being with his.

He goes to grab a water bottle from the table but you hand it to him, unscrewing the cap in the process. You turn to face him, as he brings the bottle to his mouth, his eyes still fixated on you. A water droplet runs down his throat, and you trace over its path with your finger lightly, which makes his Adam's apple bob up and down furiously.

Your finger doesn't leave his skin- you are tracing over his collarbones now, and he licks his lips nervously. Your touch is barely there, it would be farfetched to even compare it to a feather. But it's you who's touching him, so he feels it, everywhere.

Your hand moves to rest on top of his chest, and he knows you can feel his heart beating widely in there. He thinks the entire room can hear it at this point. A testament of what you do to him, of what you make him feel. Only you.

"Hi there," you smile innocently and Jeongin lets out a dry chuckle, his hooded eyes gazing intensely into yours.

"Hey you," he whispers, grabbing a strand of your hair and twirling it between his fingers. His gaze flickers from your eyes, to your nose and then to your lips. It stays there, too enamored to possibly move somewhere else. You're talking, he knows you are, but he can't seem to hear what you are saying.

He can't blame it on the alcohol because he hasn't even drunk that much. But his mind is foggy with thoughts of you, of what he wants to do with you, if you'd let him.

"Why are you looking at me like this?" you ask, a slight giggle rhythming your words. 

"Do you even know how pretty you are," he says in awe before his eyes slightly widen in shock. Did he just say this out loud?

"Is that why you kept looking at me all night?" you smile, a hint of teasing in your tone, and Jeongin buries his head in your shoulder. "Shut up," he says lowly, embarrassment clear in his voice at being caught. 

"It's okay, you're so pretty too," you smile, pulling his head away so you'd be able to look at him again. 

His eyes find your lips instantly, like two magnets that can't help but be drawn to one another- fated to be together, no matter how much they try to stay apart.

"Can I kiss you?" he asks breathlessly, raw hope dripping from his tone. "We don't have to be something more I just-" 

You cut him off with your mouth crashing on his, desperately, and he gasps onto you as if you're the oxygen with which he breathes. You taste sweeter than he could've ever imagined, and he's getting drunk from the way your mouths move against one another. He wraps his arm around your waist, thumb brushing your sides gently in an effort to bring you impossibly close. Your hands finds his hair, tugging slightly at the ends of it, and it's as if you wanted this too all along. As if Jeongin wasn't alone in his longing for you.

Your lips are soft, immensely so, and he doesn't think he can go back to not kissing you. To preserving you in his mind as a fond memory, not when he knows what it feels like to have his mouth on yours.

"I want to be somebody to you," he says between kisses, desperation lacing his words. He doesn't care how needy he sounds. He's been waiting for four months. If there is a slight chance you like him back, he'd take it and water it enough until it blooms into something much more.

"You already are," you smile into the kiss, your teeth clashing against his which makes you both giggle. "You'll kiss me again when we are sober, right?"

"I'll kiss you for the rest of my life if you'd let me," he brushes his nose against yours gently, and you smile softly at him, wiping the remains of your red lipstick from the corner of his mouth. He places a tender kiss on your wrist, before pressing his swollen lips onto yours again.

#skz song series #stray kids x reader #skz x reader #skz x y/n #skz x you #stray kids x you #skz imagines #stray kids imagines #stray kids fluff #skz fluff #yang jeongin fluff #yang jeongin x reader #jeongin x reader #jeongin fluff #jeongin angst #yang jeongin angst #skz angst #stray kids angst #i.n x reader #i.n fluff #i.n fanfic #skz fanfic

[osaemu]

GOJO SATORU: GUILTY CONSCIENCE

✩ ‧ ˚. serial killer!au: ever since that first night, you can't get him off your mind—and even though you handed him over to law enforcement, it looks like he still wants you too. PART 1 | NSFW

contents: fem!reader. porn with plot, dubcon, semi-public sex (in a bathroom), oral (m. receiving), fingering (f. receiving), pet names (detective, princess, smart girl, pretty girl, etc.), gojo cums in your mouth. non-sexual threatening. non-sexual usage of knives/guns. more plot than porn. this is not good for you btw !!! 4K words.

author's note: pls appreciate your smut writers bc this shit is hard !!!! the sk!series might be over after this one bc i'm not feeling it anymore, but nothing's set in stone yet. posting this for the ppl who wanted a part two, but personally i would've just left it as a standalone.. oh well, i didn't want 4K words to go to waste, so enjoy 🤍

“satoru gojo, what are we going to do with you?” your subordinate asks, resting his hands on the table dividing the dim interrogation room in two. you and your coworker sit on one side, facing the serial killer on the other side—who also happens to be the man you fucked in an alley two weeks ago.

ever since that first encounter, you haven’t been able to get his face out of your mind. at work, his ice blue eyes haunted your every move. at home, he was all you could picture as your mind strayed back to your time beneath him. and now, as you and your boss interrogate him, all you can think about is how good satoru’s hands felt roaming over your skin when you cornered him—or, more accurately, when he cornered you.

“i dunno,” satoru replies, leaning back in his chair and resting his hands behind his head. he grins shamelessly, looking you up and down with interest. “so, pretty girl, how’ve you been since we last met?”

you slip your hands into your pockets to stop yourself from doing something you’ll regret and ignore the curious look your coworker gives you. “this meeting isn’t about me. this is about the people you killed and the punishment you’re about to get,” you answer through gritted teeth.

satoru laughs, eyes locking with yours and seeing right through you. “that’s funny. so, who’s this shrimpy guy next to you? your boyfriend?” he jeers, grinning unnervingly at your coworker. you shoot your subordinate an apologetic look, which he responds to with a nod.

“i’m her boss, actually,” he clarifies, running a hand through his blonde hair and narrowing his eyes. “kento nanami. and i’ve been referred to as a lot of things, but shrimpy is a first.” satoru makes a face and laughs, as if he’s amused by the whole scene. 

“really? i’m surprised,” satoru replies easily. “i mean, whatever. i’ve seen better looking officers… like the one next to you.” he looks back at you, a careless smile still dancing on his lips. kento frowns and looks back and forth from you to satoru, and you force yourself to maintain a poker face in order to detract any suspicion.

“do you two know each other?” kento asks, crossing his arms. satoru starts laughing again, to which you roll your eyes. even if satoru were to tell kento what you hadn’t—that you two had fucked when you were supposed to be arresting him—you doubted that kento would believe him. after all, what’s the word of an obnoxious criminal compared to yours?

you shake your head and ignore satoru. “i’m the one who’s been leading the investigation on him for the past couple months,” you answer. kento meets your eyes and cocks an eyebrow, so you continue, “we met two weeks ago. i cornered him, but he escaped—”

“she let me,” satoru interjects, clearly enjoying the death glare you shoot at him a second later.

“you held a gun to my forehead,” you remind him pointedly, tapping the spot on your head where you vividly remember the cold metal resting against. 

“yeah, but i kissed it aft—”

“we’re getting off-topic,” kento interrupts, shooting you a warning glance. “detective, i’ll handle the interrogation from here.”

you hesitate, not liking how smug satoru’s expression is—but, seeing as you don’t have a choice, you dip your head in assent and exit the room. 

now that satoru’s been caught and is now in the grasp of the law, you don’t really have anything to do for the rest of the day. he was your case, and now, it looks like it’s closed, especially if your boss is the one interrogating him.

kento nanami has a reputation among law enforcement—he’s known as the stoic, serious man with a perfect record. there hasn’t been a single criminal he’s interrogated that hasn’t cracked, although the knot in your stomach tells you that this might be the first.

a sharp knock sounds on your office door, summoning you back from your train of thought. “it’s open,” you call, holding a piping hot coffee with both hands. kento opens the door and steps inside, eyebrows unusually tensed. his hands are balled into fists, too, in stark contrast to his characteristically calm demeanor. 

“something wrong?” you ask tentatively, studying your boss’s troubled eyes.

kento takes a seat in the leather chair in the corner of your office and rests his elbow on the armrest, rubbing his temples. “detective, be honest with me. what happened the night you were supposed to arrest satoru gojo?”

for the first time since satoru pinned you to the wall of a darkened alley, your heart drops. kento’s knowing eyes watch your every move, from the subtle twitch in your eye to the way your fingers tense around the cup of coffee. “what do you mean?” you ask carefully, surprised at how steady your own voice is.

“detective, don’t play games with me,” kento asserts calmly, hand casually drifting towards the side of his waist. you know him well enough to know what he’s reaching for—the same instrument that another man pressed against your forehead just two weeks ago.

despite your mind being clouded with fear and uncertainty, you manage to rationalize your way through the situation. what proof could your boss possibly have besides the word of a criminal? 

it’s your word against his—and you both know whose word kento’ll believe.

“that night, he threatened to kill me,” you start, repeating the story you told the authorities when they came ten minutes too late to catch satoru. “and he must’ve drugged me or knocked me unconscious because next thing i knew, he was gone.” your confidence grows with every word, and you start nodding as if you believe your own lies.

kento’s eyes narrow, and you force yourself to hold your poker face as he scrutinizes you and your words. three long, painful seconds of silence pass before his hand moves away from the holster strapped to his waist, and you internally sigh in relief. he stands without a word and makes to exit the room, but before he does, you risk it all. “why do you ask, sir?”

your boss pauses and turns back to you, eyebrows lifting in mild interest. he doesn’t answer immediately, and you tentatively ask, “...what did he tell you?”

kento exhales a soft huff of air, a look of dread in his brown eyes. “detective, for your own peace of mind, i assure you that you don’t want to know.”

well, fuck.

“i trust your judgement, then,” you reply, feeling your poker face start to slip away. you lift your now-cold cup of coffee to your lips and take a sip, attempting to hide the grimace that threatens to make an appearance. “have a good night, boss.”

“you too, detective. stay safe.”

“i’ll do my best.”

kento nods and heads out, and through your open window you watch him tell another one of your coworkers about how he’s planning on heading out early to make bread for his family, a gentle smile on his lips. eventually, he waves bye and exits the building.

you finish off your coffee and stand up, fishing out your key card from your pocket. you figure that you should head to the bathroom before you go home, just in case. a couple of your coworkers congratulate you when you come out of your office, praising you on the capture of your suspect. you take their compliments with a smile, ultimately wishing them a good night and escaping to the bathroom.

the door clicks shut behind you, and the comfortable quiet eases you at once. but before you can even appreciate the silence of the confined room, a sultry, familiar voice interrupts your thoughts. “aw, you weren’t gonna say bye before you left?”

you turn and your mouth drops open—standing before you, in the flesh, is the criminal you swore you last saw handcuffed to a chair.

“what the fu—”

satoru reaches out and grabs your wrist before you can scurry away or grab your phone. he pulls you into his chest, and you can feel his heartbeat against your back—at least, that’s what you notice before he clamps his hand over your mouth to stifle your yells.

“shut it,” satoru hisses, breath hot against the side of your face. he turns you towards the mirror of the bathroom so you can see how he’s holding you—one hand over your mouth, and one wrapped around your waist. “don’t try anything clever, sweetheart. i wouldn’t wanna have to hurt that pretty face of yours.”

you turn your head and glare at him furiously, cussing like a sailor against his hand. you eventually try to bite it, but your meager attack is essentially useless against his iron grip. satoru raises his eyebrows sternly and hushes you again, ice-blue eyes boring into your own. 

“i’ll answer your questions, honey, but be careful,” he pauses and nods at his pocket, where the handle of what appears to be a knife—how the fuck did he get his hands on a knife?—pokes out of the cloth. “okay, i’m gonna take my hand off your mouth now,” he murmurs, purposefully lowering his voice.

true to his word, satoru removes his hand from your mouth. you take a long breath and hesitate—again, there’s not much you can do in this situation but play along. if he’s telling the truth, you can ask questions and he can answer them, so you try your hand at getting some information and biding time. someone would have to walk in the bathroom eventually, right?

“by the way,” satoru starts, a grin curving the corners of his lips upward. “nobody’s gonna come save you, princess. the door’s locked from the inside.” he also removes his hand from your waist, letting you take a step back.

“how?” you ask suspiciously, unsure if he’s telling the truth or not.

satoru laughs—his hair falls into his eyes, and immediately shakes it away with a huff of breath. “i’m good with my hands. but you already know that, don’t ya?”

you back away towards the other side of the bathroom, where sinks line the quartz countertop. “why aren’t you still in the interrogation room?”

“you think you’re the only girl i can convince to let me go?” satoru tuts, clicking his tongue disapprovingly. he reaches into his pocket—not the one with the knife—and extracts a badge of some sort. satoru flicks it at you, and you catch it in midair. to your surprise, it’s the badge of one of your superiors who was supposed to be keeping an eye on satoru. the coy smile on satoru’s face confirms what you’re thinking, and his nod seals it the next second. 

“okay,” you say carefully, drawing out the word for a couple seconds. “how long have you been waiting here?”

“long enough,” satoru answers vaguely, not bothering to elaborate.

“thanks a lot,” you deadpan.

“nice to see that you’re still feisty—”

“and what the hell did you tell my boss?” you interrupt, suddenly remembering the dread-filled way kento had looked at you. the way your voice rises is unexpected enough to force satoru to involuntarily take a step back. it’s not much, but the step you take forward a second later to assert your position brings you a small feeling of satisfaction. after all, he’s only human—and all humans get surprised by loud noises.

satoru holds up his hands in mock surrender and eyes you skeptically. “you’re really worried about your boss’s approval, aren’t you?” he asks dryly, white hair falling into his eyes again. “heh, desperate much?”

you roll your eyes and curl your hands into fists—unfortunately, your action only seems to amuse satoru, but you ignore the little “aw” he coos and continue glaring at him. “answer the fucking question, satoru.”

“language,” he snorts. a second later, satoru cocks his head and thinks for a moment, and when his eyes land on you again he asks, “so, you’re still callin’ me satoru? cute.”

your face involuntarily heats up, and even though you’re sure satoru can tell, you pretend not to notice—again. “answer the question or i’ll scream.”

“you wouldn’t dare.”

“wouldn’t i?”

you don’t get the chance to fufill your threat, because satoru sees that you’re serious a second too early—everything’s a blur as he grabs your wrists and bunches them into one hand, firmly securing your hands behind your back. his chest rests on top of your back as he folds you over the bathroom counter, and his reflection leers at you from the mirror. “nice try, baby. but remember, you’re dealin’ with a world-class serial killer.”

“world-class? how humble of you,” you snap irritably, craning your neck to glare at satoru out of the corner of your eye. “you asshole, get off me or i’ll—”

satoru interrupts you by prodding at your lips with two of his fingers, forcing your mouth open and slipping them inside. you instantly attempt to bite him, but his fingers are so long that they trigger your gag reflex instead. “missed me, detective?” satoru coos, curling his fingers downwards and pressing on your tongue. a little whine involuntarily slips out of your lips, and satoru takes that as a yes. “yeah, i can tell,” he continues, studying your heated face in the reflection of the mirror. “i bet you couldn’t stop thinkin’ about me since that night, yeah?”

he doesn’t bother waiting for a response before he extracts his fingers and leaves you gasping for breath. you watch as satoru lifts his now-soaked fingers to his lips and runs his tongue over them, ice-blue eyes boring into your own. it’s disgusting, filthy even, but that doesn’t stop your thighs from clenching together in a futile attempt to hide your arousal from him.

“y’know, i think you’re wearing too many clothes,” satoru sighs, resting his chin on top of your head and smiling coyly. “wanna fix that for me?”

“do i have a choice?”

“no.” satoru pushes himself off of you and gives you enough space to start removing your clothes without his smothering presence. the idea of running away or screaming crosses your mind, but the serial killer’s smile makes you certain that you’d regret it—and that’s even disregarding the knife that’s still shining at you from his pocket. 

seeing as you don’t really have any other option, you slowly shrug off your coat and let it slide down your body and onto the floor. your collared shirt comes off next, followed by your pants, until there’s hardly anything shielding you from satoru’s hungry eyes. the feeling stirring in the pit of your stomach is hard to describe—it’s something like a mix between longing and fear, two emotions you hadn’t felt since that night.

and maybe, even though every instinct you have insists that this is the last thing you should be finding pleasure in, you want to feel that way again.

“you really coulda been anything in the world with that body,” satoru sighs, leaning back against a wall and taking his sweet time looking you up and down. his eyes narrow slyly as he watches you shrink away from him instinctually, and the next thing you know, he’s on you again, hands tracing over your skin and lips unbearably close to yours. “although, i guess it’s a good thing you’re a detective, ‘cause i wouldn’t have met you if you weren’t.”

you shouldn’t be agreeing with him, and as he lifts you up onto the counter, you also know that you shouldn’t be letting him do this. it goes against everything you swore to protect when you joined law enforcement, and if this ever got out—no, when it got out, you’d be the pariah of the city.

but even after thinking it through, one, two, maybe even three times, you can’t find it in your heart to care about much else than the hands pushing apart your thighs and slipping inside your shamelessly wet cunt.

“heh, how long has it been since we last did this?” satoru coos, eyes glazing over with a mixture of lust and adoration. his face is redder than you’ve ever seen it—the blush spreads all the way up to the tips of his ears, and it’s even more prominent underneath the overhead lights as he eyes you. “two weeks, right? feels like it’s been twenty.”

“do you ever shut up?” you mutter sourly, averting your eyes from satoru’s. he responds by curling up the two fingers he has inside your cunt, a mean little smile on his lips. 

“careful with that mouth of yours,” satoru warns, pushing his fingers in farther until he’s practically knuckle-deep inside of you. his thumb rests firmly against your clit, toying with the sensitive skin. “it’ll get you in trouble one day, pretty girl…” satoru withdraws his fingers in one swift motion with a soft, wet pop. he lifts his hand to his lips and licks off your slick, swiping his tongue over his fingers a couple times with a smile. “y’know what? i’ll let you go if you can do one thing for me, ‘kay?”

he waits for your response, raising an eyebrow patiently for you to catch your breath. it almost feels like deja vu, or some cheesy movie from the 90’s: the pretty little detective getting fucked by the big bad serial killer, and you know how these films always ended—not pretty.

“what?” you ask halfheartedly, expecting him to ask you to do something like erase him from the police records or sabotage the investigation. satoru cups your face with both hands, leaning in close enough for his lips to brush against yours, and his smile is almost mocking when he replies.

“suck my dick.”

part of you wants to ask “that’s it?”, but the glimmer in satoru’s knowing eyes makes you certain that he won’t make this easy for you. 

“what if i say no?” you ask tentatively. it’s a stupid question—now you’re just playing russian roulette with his rationality, and either way, you already know your decision.

the past two weeks have been torture. every waking moment of yours was spent thinking about the man you fucked, and every time you thought of his carefree smile and feather-light touch, you just felt guilty for wanting more. after all, when you first became a detective, you swore to prioritize your job and not make any personal relationships with your subjects. and yet, here you were, almost too eager to get on your knees for the serial killer who you swore to incapacitate. 

satoru shrugs nonchalantly in response to your question and not-so-subtly shoots a furtive glance at his pocket, where the handle of his knife still pokes out. “you’re a smart girl. i think you can guess, yeah?”

and that’s how you ended up with your lips wrapped around satoru’s dick for the seventh time (if you include every fantasy you’ve had about giving him head). it’s almost funny how he switches up the second you run your tongue over his blushing pink tip—his face goes red, all the way up to his ears, and the little breathy moans that slip out of his lips would be adorable in any other context but this.

“f-fuck, wasn’t expecting you to be this good,” he manages to mutter through gritted teeth, eyes fluttering open and shut. “where’d you learn to suck dick like this, heh—”

it’s been.. a while since satoru first helped you get on your knees in front of him and unzipped his pants, and even though it could’ve just been a couple minutes, it feels like this is all you’ve ever known. satoru’s ice blue eyes have barely moved from you since you started, and it looks like it’ll stay like that until you finish—or, more accurately, until he finishes.

satoru’s foot bounces on the floor as you lick a long stripe from the tip of his dick to the top of it, and the way his nails dig into his palm makes you absolutely certain that he’s close to cumming down your throat. “shit, don’t— don’t stop,” he chokes out, threading his fingers through your hair and involuntarily pushing down your head. “fuck—”

when satoru finally cums, it’s pitifully obvious—actually, it’s almost embarrassing. last time, you were the one in shambles when he was done with you, but now, it looks like it’s the other way around. his eyes flicker as they almost roll back from the sheer pleasure of you sucking him dry, and when satoru’s cum shoots out of his painfully hard dick, it’s a hot mess that leaks out of your mouth and down your chin. 

“y-yeah, good girl,” he murmurs shakily, reaching down and swiping his thumb over your cum-soaked, swollen lips. you lick off the thick, viscous liquid from his fingers instinctually, a dazed little smile on your face as you watch satoru tilt his head back towards the ceiling.

it’s interesting, seeing the city’s infamous serial killer like this. he’s leaning back against the white tile of the bathroom walls, chest heaving from his orgasm, and in that moment, you realize that his attention is on everything else but you. 

so, naturally, you stab him in the back.

not literally—that’d be a pain for your office’s custodian to clean up, but you extract the knife from satoru’s discarded pants and, before he can register the sharp object in your shaky hand, you press it to his blush-red throat. 

satoru’s hazy eyes widen in disbelief as he realizes what’s going on before they narrow in what looks almost like a mix between anger and shock. it’s stupid, foolish, and almost naive, but somewhere in your chest, it feels like a dagger pokes at your softened heart when you categorize the look in his eyes as betrayal. which is, by all accounts, entirely unreasonable—did he seriously think you wouldn’t take advantage of him like this?

at the end of the day, no matter how good the dick was, you weren’t about to sacrifice your well-paying job for a man on the run from the law.

“what the fuck?” satoru snaps, hand twitching in a movement to throw you off of him, but thankfully, the sudden shift in atmosphere heightened your instincts to a point where nothing could possibly catch you off-guard. you dig in the knife a millimeter deeper into his throat, avoiding eye contact with the man you just made cum with your mouth. “are you—”

“yeah, i am,” you assert, biding time. as much as you’d like to pretend that you’re completely in control of the situation, there’s only so long that you can hold up this stalemate. satoru’s stronger than you physically, and the second he figures out a way to handle the knife pressed to his neck, he’d get his revenge.

satoru comes to this conclusion about as fast as you did, and his lips curve upwards in a jeering smile. the look in his eyes is borderline insane when he snarls, “nobody’s gonna rescue you from me, princess. just you wait—”

and, with perfect comedic timing, the bathroom door opens, and one of your female co-workers steps in. you’ve never talked to her much, but thankfully, her instincts are even faster than yours.

what happens next goes by in a haze. your co-worker holds a gun to the side satoru’s head, and calls for backup. then, a handful of sleepy-eyed police officers haul away a cursing and fighting satoru to who-knows-where.

but just before he’s out of sight, satoru shoots you an unsettlingly calm look. and as if that wasn’t concerning enough, the last words he mouths to you are “this isn’t over.”

#osaemu #gojo smut #jjk smut #satoru gojo smut #gojo satoru smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #gojo x reader #jjk x reader #satoru gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x you #jjk x you #satoru gojo x you #gojo satoru x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #gojo x y/n #jjk x y/n #jujutsu kaisen x y/n #satoru gojo x y/n #gojo satoru x y/n

[animehideout]

JJK Men And Things They Would Say 🔞

NSFW MDNI SMUT ⚠️

Gojo Satoru:

“Damn you're so fucking sexy ..”

“shh want me to gag you rn?”

“Yeah... who's a good girl?"

“who did a great job tonight huh?”

“Show it to me, show me your beauty, strip for me baby”

“come on daddy needs to release”

“feel me fucking pound it”

“spit on it”

“open your mouth and swallow it.”

“On your knees...come on.”

“gimme those lips..lemme kiss you mnh”

“You like it when I'm rough don't you?”

“Attagirl...cum rn”

Ryomen Sukuna:

“I'm in charge, I'm in control and I can make you beg...beg for it”

“plead me to be inside you”

“Watch, how this will go deep down your throat”

“spread them wide for me”

“take that fucking cock you fucking slut”

“moan louder, scream my name so everyone knows how good I'm fucking you”

“who told you to stop? keep on sucking”

“Imma destroy you, imma destroy that pussy”

“you belong to me”

Toji Fushiguro:

“turn around and bend over”

“lemme go deep inside you”

“imma tease you till you drip”

“lemme finish inside you, lemme fill you”

“open those legs right now, you're gonna get fucked the way i like”

“I'm not stopping till I make your whole body shake”

“oh I'll make you cry”

“I will use your body the way I want”

“You like how my fingers curl inside of you?”

“give me that tongue”

“fucking whore...you asked for this”

“shut up and take it”

Geto Suguru:

“lemme stretch your first”

“Already dripping for me”

“oh you like it when I rub you there?”

“You sure you can take it?”

“I can feel your body reacting to my cock..”

“cum for me princess”

“hngh nice and slow”

“fuck your pussy tastes so good”

“oh yeah so fuckin tight”

“squeeze me with that pussy baby”

“yeah princess pull my hair”

“you said you can handle me so let's see?”

Choso Kamo:

“ahh you got me all worked up”

“sit on my fuckin face and press it down.”

“you fucking do things to me y/n”

“i will lick you till you can't take it anymore”

“nhng mommy”

“please...”

“oh I love you...ah just like that”

“damn you y/n, fuck me..”

“What a goddess”

“lemme grab those hips”

“does it feel good? yeah you like it when I rock you like that”

“Holy shit I'm cumming..baby mmnnhn”

Nanami Kento:

“look at me show me those pretty eyes”

“I'm gonna slide it in...okay”

“lay back and relax”

“let me help you sweetheart”

“god, you're gorgeous”

“lemme me make you feel good baby..”

“don't be embarrassed sweetheart”

“let it out, don't hold those sweet noises back.”

“Do whatever makes you comfortable.”

“set the pace with me baby”

“lemme hold your hand”

“it's just me your man.. I'll take care of you.”

Ino Takuma:

“Sit on it”

“Throw it back, bounce that ass on me come on”

“yeah I'll be your good boy”

“Make me feel it, make me fucking feel it.”

“you can do it..make me cum”

“Now lemme watch you play with yourself.”

“come here let me taste you.”

“Ah FUCK I'M CLOSE”

“oh yea I'll make your head go blank”

“babygirl...you feel so good”

“so fuckin warm”

#jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen masterlist #jujutsu kaisen headcanons #jujutsu kaisen imagines #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #gojo smut #toji smut #sukuna smut #geto smut #nanami smut #choso smut #ino takuma smut #jjk smut #gojo x reader smut #geto x reader smut #jjk gojo smut #jjk toji smut #jjk choso smut #jjk sukuna smut #jjk nanami smut #jjk geto smut #sukuna headcanons #toji headcanons #jjk x oc #jjk x you #jjk x y/n #jjk x reader #gojo x reader #ryomen sukuna x reader

[sp0o0kylights]

Bullshit.

The word rings obnoxiously in Steve’s ears as he pushes his way out back, not wanting to be anymore of a talking piece at this party than he already was.

He’d just wanted Nancy to stop drinking, take a second, pace herself…

Steve swipes furiously at his eyes, and then curses when it nearly causes him to run into Chrissy Cunnginham, who’s perched in a chair tucked away from the patio door.

“Sorry, sorry.” He apologizes, trying not to sound like he’s upset, trying to keep his cool--only for her to look up and away, brushing off her own tears.

“Oh.” Steve says, a little laugh bubbling out of him. “You too huh?”

Thankfully she correctly interprets that he's not laughing at her, and adds her own giggle to the mix, the sound gentle even if pitched in upset.

"Boy problems?" Steve asks her, sinking down to the vacant chair on Chrissy's right.

She nods, clasping her hands together in her lap.

"Girl problems?" She asks back, and he grimaces a smile.

They sit for a minute, Steve pulling out a cigarette and offering it to her before lighting up. Chrissy shakes her head, and though her nose curls a little at the smoke she doesn’t say anything.

Neither of them do, staring at the few people bringing the party outside in the way only drunk teenagers can.

"Can I tell you something?" Chrissy says finally, as Steve continues to struggle to keep himself breathing evenly (and not spiraling. He still has to go back and try and escort Nancy home, and he needs to keep his temper when he does it.)

She licks her lips. "I keep trying to break up with Jason, but he won't let me."

It takes a second for the words to register, but when they do he leans himself towards chrissy in concern. “What do you mean, he won’t let you?”

“He’s not--it’s not…”She trails off, worrying her bottom lip with her teeth. “He talks me out of it is all.”

She’s downplaying it, and Steve’s concern grows tenfold. “Does he argue with you or just…tells you no or something?”

"It's complicated." Chrissy says, refusing to look at him. "He has this vision for me, for us."

Steve watches as she worries at a hangnail.

Feels the need to reach out and take her hand, but keeps his own hands to himself.

If Steve has learned anything, it's that not everyone wants to be touched as much as he does.

"He keeps telling me I'm just being anxious. That I should trust him, and I do, he just expects me to always do what he says? And more and more lately I--"

She huddles down into the little cat costume she's wearing, pulling the thin black sweater around her. "I want different things than he does."

Steve wonders vaguely if Nancy wants different things.

Or a different person entirely.

"That's not fair to you." Steve says, leaning forward and lowering his own voice. "He can't keep you in a relationship you don't want to be in."

A hard thing for him to say, after the bathroom conversation but this is different.

‘Please, let this be different.’ He thinks, before pushing the thought aside.

"He can't force you to do what he wants just because he wants it, or thinks its best. He should be listening to you and what you want too. Relationships are about…compromise right?” It’s what he’s heard anyway, though most of the time “compromise” means “letting the other person get what they want.”

Which is what he thought he’d been doing for Nancy all this time.

“I can help you if you want. Be your," Steve poorly mimes waving a pom pom. "cheer support."

Chrissy looks at him, eyes still wet. "You would?"

"Of course.” He says, before scooting just a smidgen closer. “Might have to ask you to return the favor though. Nancy said some things tonight and I could really use a second--”

A loud curse makes them both startle, interrupting Steve.

Together, they look around before another noise, like bark being scraped, draws both their attention to the large oak that stands in the backyard.”

"Is…is that Eddie Munson?" Chrissy asks.

"I think so."

Chrissy squints a little, as if not quite believing what she's seeing. "Is…he stuck in a tree?"

Steve finds himself staring in his own disbelief, hands moving to his hips as he watches Munsons wriggling, cursing form.

"I think so." He repeats with a shake of his head.

Eddie's foot slips off a branch, once, twice.

"Hey--" Steve calls out in warning, but unfortunately it comes too late.

The branch under his foot gives away with a startling crack! as another branch shreds Munson's jacket as his full weight caches on it.

"Oh!" Chrissy gasps, hand flying to her mouth as Eddie falls right onto his ass with a yelp.

"You good man?" Steve asks, rising from his chair, hesitant to go over but needing to make sure the idiot hasn't cracked his skull open.

Chrissy has no such qualms, popping up to run over to Munson.

"You're bleeding." She tells him worriedly, dropping to her knees to get a better look.

"Well shit." Munson says with a wonky grin. “I’m sorry.”

“What are you apologizing for?” Chrissy asks, as Steve’s newly honed babysitting instincts kick in and drive him to get up and look at Munson’s injury himself.

Chrissy carefully strokes the older teen’s hair out of his face, as Steve bends down to check his head and neck.

"You hurt anywhere?" He asks, spotting the scratch that had Chrissy worried.

It’s on his forehead--the guy must have knocked his face against the tree when he fell. Head injuries always bleed a ton but this one's well contained to a small scrape.

Probably not a concern, though Steve looks at his pupils anyways.

"Nah, I’m pine. I didn't mean to drop in on you guys.” He waves a hand behind him before dropping his voice to a dramatic whisper. “I knew I shouldn’t have trusted that tree, it was pretty shady.”

Steve, long trained by Dustin, narrows his eyes. "Are you making puns right now?"

"Maybe?" Munson hedges, looking delighted to have been called out.

“Uh huh.” Steve puts his hands back on his hips, straightening up from where he’d crouched down. “Your head okay? You remember your name and shit?”

“Edward Edwardian Munson, present and ready for duty!” He gives a mock salute, before dropping Chrissy a wink. “If the duty is drinking and playing games that is.”

“Your middle name cannot be Edwardian.” Chrissy laughs.

"It is!" He defends, at the same time Steve says,

“It's not "

“Oh?” Munson challenges, as if this entire situation isn’t ridiculous. “Then what is my middle name, Sir Steven?”

“No idea, but I know it’s not that.”

Munson blows a raspberry at him. “Well then, maybe you should mind your own beeswax."

"Like you were doing? Up in the tree right above us?" Steve banters back.

The playful look dies a little, Munson beginning the painful process of standing after one falls.

"For the record, I absolutely was not eavesdropping, you guys just happened to be under the tree I climbed and I was there first. " He says it rapidly, like he's used to being accused of such things, and is heading off as many problems as he can.

Steve just ignores it, opting instead to hold his hands out. One to Chrissy and one to Eddie.

Watches surprise cross the older teens face, even as he waits for Chrissy to get up before accepting Steve's hand.

"Why were you up a tree? The family dog run you up there?" Steve grunts as he pulls the metalhead up.

"Funny." Munson quipped sarcastically. "But no. I was up there for reasons."

'Reasons.' Steve mouths, and has to fight himself to keep from grinning.

"Even though I was there first, I did happen to hear some things." He looks at Chrissy, voice turning serious. "If you need any help getting things through Carver's thick skull I'd love to lend a hand."

"You would cheer for me too?"

"Oh absolutely. I'd make a far better cheerleader than Harrington here." He shoots a grin towards Steve to take the edge off the words, before doing a far more enthusiastic mimicry of the cheerleaders pom pom routine.

"But I know how much Carver hates the word no. If you break up with him and he gives you shit after, I'm happy to step in."

Steve hadn't actually thought about that yet, but given what he knew of Jason it makes sense.

He could easily see Chrissy worrying about Jason harassing her after the break up.

"Thank you. Both of you." She sniffs. "Eddie, are you sure you're okay?"

"Right as rain!" Munson gives a rather theatrical thumbs up. "I'll let you in on a family secret, we Munson's have rubber bones."

She gives him another giggle for his efforts, and even Steve can’t fully cover his

Munson, the ass, notices.

“Well call me the court jester, I got both the King and Queen to smile!” He cheers.

Steve rolls his eyes, but doesn't deny it.

"Chrissy!?" Someone barks, loud in the otherwise quiet backyard.

"Speak of the devil." Eddie drops his voice dramatically as Jason strides out of the house.

"I've been looking for you." He chides, two of his friends following close behind.

They're younger members of the basketball team, ones Steve's brain sluggishly attempts to remember.

"Are your knees dirty?" Jason asks Chrissy, disgust tinting his voice as he slowly looks from her to Munson next to her.

His eyes narrow, expression almost offronted.

"You heathen." Jason snarls, stepping forward with a fist clenched.

It was a move right of the sitcoms Steve swore he didn't watch, and it looked just as cheesy in real life as it did on screen.

"Calm down." Steve speaks up, hands going to his hips.

Jason's head jerks as he registers him, so focused on Munson that Steve slipped his notice entirely.

"Harrington?" He asks, as if Steve could be mistaken for anyone else here.

Steve gives him jazz hands in return.

"What are you doing out here?" Jason speaks only to Steve, whole body angling towards him like he's the only person who matters.

It's something Steve's dad does, if there's a businessman he considers to be an equal in the room. Zoning in on them, so he can subtly work in ways to make them feel inferior.

It's narcissism at its core (or so says his mother, when she's blitzed out on too many glasses of wine.)

"Talking to people." Steve deadpans. "If you're looking for beer, you walked past it."

Jason entire face pinches, like he just stepped in dog shit. "No one just talks to Munson."

It's a stupid thing to say, and whatever Hason was trying to imply with it wasn't appreciated.

"Well mark me as the first." Steve's hip cocks, voice frosting over.

Surprise washes across Munson's face, though he remains silent as Steve deals with Jason.

Probably a smart move, given how Jason seems to be eager for a fight.

"Whatever it is you're doing, you can leave Chrissy out of it." He says, and god his voice even sounds like Steve's dad.

"Chrissy," Steve says, with an eyebrow raise he knows looks judgemental, "can speak for herself."

He turns to face her, inviting her to the conversation, in the same way he'd always wished someone would invite his mother to speak against his father.

Watches as the cheerleader bites her lip, trying hard to hide the tears that have sprung to her eyes--but proves that she's stronger than Steve's mother ever was.

She steps forward, taking the opportunity offered to her with a steadying breath. "Jason--"

"You can explain it to me later." Her boyfriend waves her off, like she was a waitress offering water and not his partner.

Uncaring entirely that she's clearly upset.

That she wants to talk.

Munson has come to stand on Chrissy's other side, gone still in a way Steve's never seen him do.

It's downright weird for a guy who's normally always moving, and Steve knows it's defensive.

He's feeling a little defensive himself right now, though he doesn't want to particularly untangle why.

"Jason, listen to me." Chrissy tries again.

In his preffery vision, Steve spots a flash of familiar color. Turns his head automatically, seeking it out--and sees Jonathan hustling Nancy across the room.

The younger man is trying to balance Nancy while opening the front door, and for a second Steve almost beelines for them, except--

Except.

Nancy's whole body moves in what Steve intimately knows is an exhale, leaning her head in the crook of Jonathan's shoulder.

One arm wraps around his waist, as Jonathan finally gets the door open, and Steve watches with a stunned sort of horror as his girlfriend presses a kiss to Jonathan's shoulder.

It's fine.

He's fine.

Nancy was just--drunk. Seeking comfort. She didn't know what she was doing. She didn't mean it like that, she didn't--

"Oh shit Harrington." Jason drawls, a lazy sort of taunt. "I think Byers just stole your girlfriend."

Steve's head snaps back to him, the emotions he was attempting to box up flying to the front of his brain like dogs who slipped their leash.

"Never thought a priss like Nancy would be easy like that, but then, you never were the kind of guy to inspire loyalty." Jason continues, clearly ignoring his own girlfriend and all Steve can see is red.

Munson sucks air between his teeth next to him, nervously eyeing Steve while Chrissy's eyes have gone wide with shock and growing anger.

"Jason!" She admonishes, but he's not even looking towards her.

That too sharp smile is all for Steve.

He thinks of Nancy, the way she'd been so angry with him but so gentle with Jonathan.

He thinks of the monster he faced down in the Byers house, the terror that had shrank down to that same adrenaline soaked focus he had on the basketball court.

He thinks of this asshole Junior in front of him.

Making Chrissy cry just because she'd been kind enough to try to help Eddie, and accept Eddie's kindness in return when the weirdo tried to help her and Steve both.

Steve taps his foot, then switches his stance.

'Plant your feet.' Hargroves voice snarls in his memory and Steve wouldn't be surprised if the asshole abandons the keg long enough to come watch this.

Have his turn at heckling, just because he can.

Steve plants his feet anyway.

"You know what Carver?" He says, hands dropping from his hips.

Jason's face curves into a smile. "What?" He says, tone smarmy.

"You're full of shit."

Hand cocking back of its own accord, Steve puts every bit of himself into his punch.

Feels it reverberate up his arm as his knuckles connect to Jason's cheek.

It's going to hurt later, but right now all he can do is stand over Jason as the asshole's head snaps sideways, legs staggering him backwards until he's falling into his friends.

Chrissy gasps, Jason's boys chanting variations of 'Oh shit!'

Steve just glares him down.

The junior wipes his bloodied mouth, letting his friends push him up before shrugging them off.

"You're going to regret that." Jason snarls, and Steve squares up a second time, expecting to be rushed, when the sharp snickt! of a switchblade freezes them both.

"I think we're done here." Munson says, knife in hand.

The blade he holds is stained a deep, russet red. Crusty flakes fall off it, drifting gently down to the patio floor.

Jason's eyes boggle at it for a moment before he stands up straight.

"Now it makes sense. You're weak, Harrington, letting the Freak get his claws into you." Jason spits bloodstained saliva down at Eddie's feet. "No wonder Coach wants Billy as co-captain!"

Steve just scoffs.

"Chrissy!" Carver barks, making the poor girl jump. "Come here, we're leaving!"

Trembling, but stepping closer to Steve, she shakes her head.

"Chrissy." Jason orders again, and has the audacity to point to his feet, like a man commanding his dog.

"No." Chrissy says it quietly at first, voice a little shaky, before she seems to realize it.

She stands taller, repeats herself in a stronger voice. "No, Jason. We're done."

Jason stares at her, hard. "Chrissy, your mother told me to bring you home. So I'm going to take you home and get you away from this--demon and his lackey!"

It doesn't sound loving.

It sounds like a threat.

He steps forward, hand out to grab her arm and Steve tenses, shifting to step in front of Chrissy.

Eddie beats him there.

The word demon seems to awaken something in him, because his face is now grinning theatrically, voice dipping low in pitch.

"You heard her, Carver. She said no, and even I respect a lady's wish. So run along now," he walks two fingers in the air, from the hand not waving the knife around. "before I decide to make you and her both one of mine, just as I did Harrington!"

Jason actually crosses himself, before making one last attempt for Chrissy.

"That monster is dangerous. if you don't come with me, I'll have to alert your parents." He locks eyes with her. "For the good of your soul."

Steve snorts at that crock of shit, but Eddie lunges forward, slashing the knife in the air.

It's nowhere near Jason, but the guy leaps a foot back anyway.

"Begone!" Eddie booms, and that's all it takes for Jason and his cronies to huff and puff and stride away.

He keeps his arms in the air for a few beats more, before dropping them when it's clear Jason won't be back.

"So I'm yours, huh?" Steve drawls, as Eddie finally puts his hands down and turns to face them.

The guys scary face drops into something almost excited, and Steve can practically see the adrenaline crackling through him.

"Hey it worked. Carver's a religious nut, he goes running anytime you even hint at Satan." Eddie shrugs, grinning wildly. "Put on a little show and poof! Him and his flying monkeys melt away!"

He mimes melting and Steve stares at him for it, until he hears Chrissy laughing next to him.

Eddie grins at her and Steve is hit with the realization that it was for her benefit. To make her feel better about her psycho ex.

Something fond and familiar winds through his chest as the other boy bows.

He refuses to put a name to it.

"Did you paint your knife?" He asks instead, rubbing the hand he hit Jason with.

"What?" Eddie asks, startled out of his court jester act.

Steve nods to his hand holding the switchblade. "That's not blood, it's way too red."

"Ah." Eddie turns the grin back on, and this time it's for Steve. "Yeah, it's uh. Modeling paint. Not like Carver would know the difference."

Unspoken was the fact that he hadn't thought Steve would.

Prior to last year, he'd have been right.

Drunken cheering erupts into wild yells inside, breaking whatever spell the three of them were under.

Hargrove's voice is the loudest among them, and the dude is definitely wasted.

Steve has a feeling Hargrove also knows the difference between paint and blood, rendering Munson's knife trick useless if the dick tried to start something.

"Do you want a ride home, Chrissy?" He asks quietly.

"If it's not a bother." She says, wiping tears shed refused to let fall from her eyes.

Chrissy Cunningham was a lot stronger than people gave her credit for.

"Come on, Munson, I think it's time we all make our exit." Steve says, finding himself weirdly unwilling to leave the older teen behind.

Eddie could hold his own, but given how badly things were playing out Steve figured it was best if they all just called it a day.

"Yeah lemme just…" Munson puts his blade away, fumbling at his pockets for a moment before turning and snatching up a metal lunchbox.

"There! After you, my liege." He says, before opening the lunchbox to make it talk.

"My lady." He makes it say, pitching his voice high.

Chrissy breaks into giggles again and Steve rolls his eyes, but he claps his good hand on Eddie's shoulder as he walks past.

Eddie smiles at him, this one a bit softer than the others, eyes sparkling and Steve chooses not to read into that either.

The three of them walk together, Eddie splitting off to his van after Chrissy thanks him.

Part Two

#borked my computer trying to update the graphics card #have a thing #steven harrington #eddie munson #chrissy cunningham #this is part of an almost finished one shot #eventual #steve/eddie/chrissy #eddie is a dork #100% this oneshot focuses on how dorky his ass is #well that and putting two jocks back together after bad relationships and monster's details both their lives #i called it patchworks because its written to ne weaved through the shows plot and is mostly compliant until vecna #hurt/comfort #breakup