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riaki · 5 months

Note

ur highschool bully gojo was chefs kiss 💋 what do u think about them going to the same college and taking the same classes?? and the reader sitting next/talking to some other guy and satoru gets jealous?? arwahhhshdhshshs so many possibilities, i hope u continue writing it!!

hi nonnie !! thank you so much :) this is ur official part 2 ! i was struggling to think up some possibilities but this helped a lot :oo | read part 1 here ! -> cw: swearing, jealousy, i let it get fic length oops

(former) highschoolbully!gojo on the brain again… like. when you end up seeing him again however many months later, and you can tell that he’s changed. it’s not like its immediately obvious to anyone who doesn’t really know him like you (used to); but he’s a little softer-spoken and his smiles seem nine times more genuine. it’s not a hundred percent; the kind that really lights up his face instead of just barely falling short of his stark blue eyes, but it's something.

of course, you have nothing to base it off of, because when you do inevitably see him again it's the very definition of meet ugly.

college is a new frontier, but its also a clean slate. its your first time going into something so new without your old bestfriend at your side, but some faint flickering thought reminds you that it might be better that way. but the universe is against you from the very first day, when youre gettin yourself some coffee from the same chain you did the morning of that fateful presentation so many moons ago. you're too busy thinking to yourself what kind of strange parting ritual it is to relive your trauma to notice the lanky, white-haired boy who hits his head on the chiming bell over the doorway. people are giggling around you n sighing dreamily but youre too deep in the music pumping through your headphones to notice and your eyes are glued to the class schedule on your phone, trying to ensure you dont get lost on the first day when—

you blink and your ass is flat on the dirty floor of the coffee shop, and the first thing you register is that your stomach is soaked and burning. you'd spilled your coffee. it takes you a moment to realize, but when you do you're pissed. so you quickly get to your feet, trying to reign in what little of your ego you have left to give the offender who bumped into you a piece of your mind as you look up, then..

how unlucky do you have to be?

just like that, satoru's slid himself back into your life, after ramming through its locked gates. you forget that he always forgets the point of keys, both when it comes to his apartment (which you still have the spare key of in case of emergencies), and the door to your heart. to rub salt in the wound, the only thing that's stained with your coffee order are his shoes, which look like they cost three weeks of your old job salary, but it's all over your shirt. of course it is. because why not? make it look like you tripped and fell into a patch of mud on your way to the lecture hall and tack on an unwelcome reunion with your ex-bestfriend.

to you, it's like the cloud of gloom from your highschool youth has resettled over your head like a swarm of gnats on a dreary, hot summer day. the stars always seem to skew and misalign themselves for you. but for satoru, the stars have handed him one of those huge swirly lollipops that you only ever see being paraded about by toddlers. he recovers almost instantly, trading the burn on his feet and the way it sours your expression like he's just squirted pure citric acid into your throat for a pleasant burn of his own on his cheeks. but it's whatever. girls seem to like it when he blushes, for some reason. he won't question it, if it works on the only one he cares about.

he holds his hand out, ready to help you out like the good samaritan he's become— and it's like a real burn to his heart this time when you ignore it and stand up on your own, refusing to look up and meet his pleading gaze. might as well have taken an iron stoker right out of the fire and jabbed him with it. but he's gojo satoru! he won't be defeated by this one mere, maybe very significant reunion. he's got stamina.

so he offers to buy you a new drink, feels his heart sink when you shake your head (can't even spare a little 'no' in his direction), and talks enough for the both of you when you leave the dingy little store make your way down to campus and the lecture building. you clearly don't want to see him, but he ignores that in exchange to notice the way you shiver every so often. the previously searing-hot coffee that stains your shirt turns cold fast, and moisture n wind don't mix well. he wishes he could offer you some of his own warm coffee, no doubt sickeningly sweet, but he has some sensitivity now, apparently. so, in a brash moment, he decides to take his blazer off and drape it over your shoulders instead.

when you cross the threshold between city and campus, you expect him to yank it off your back and be on his merry way. but he keeps walking next to you, so you walk a little faster, and you absolutely loathe the cheeky little grin that curves the corners of his lips up to show a glint of teeth when he effortlessly keeps up. you curse his long legs when you find yourself winded, but at least you can lose him when you get there.

or, that's what you think. once again, your constellations break themselves to rebuild anew for satoru. you're about to call him a stalker when he follows you all the way to your classroom with that smirk that's growing exponentially until— oh, no.

your phone that's been on the schedule up until now desperately scrolls to the roster— and there it is. he's in your class. needless to say, not another word goes between you as you stomp in and take a seat. luckily for you, you've already corresponded with your roommate's brother (who's annoyingly cute, satoru notices) and agreed to sit next to each other. satoru takes the seat right above you and never stops kicking his freakishly long legs against the wood the entire time.

so yeah, it's obvious he's not a saint; he still has that undoable ego and he's cocky as fuck (as you have the misfortune of finding out when he quickly bullies your professor), but there's a certain familiarity in that no matter how ugly it might appear to others. and if you asked (which he really, really hopes you will someday), he doesn't hang around douchebags who use kids' foreheads for ashtrays and treat girls like they're candy from a glittery pez dispenser. and at least he's switched harassment targets. even though he has an overwhelming sense of superiority over others and never has his lips together for more than five seconds, and even though he has this hellish habit of clicking his pen whenever he's not talking (or when someone else is), it seems like he's changed.

and over time, you gradually find yourself warming up to him. the spunkiness that used to get on your nerves ceaselessly becomes an object of endearment, and you don't really mind the way he never seems to stop moving anymore. it's a nice sort of distraction in the lifeless still of the lecture hall, albeit the pen clicking still drives you near insanity. you notice he always does it obnoxiously and quickly when you're talking to your roommate's brother, but you ignore it.

and for satoru? he hates that he can kinda sorta really tell that you're the only one who can read him like he's a damn book, cus you slowly start to soften up in the nostalgia of his presence like cold playdough between warm fingers that tell you he may have finally caught you again after letting you slip the first time. and he notices it. this time, he's determined not to let you be the one that got away again. but youre really giving him a shit time outta it with the way you constantly entertain the guy who always has his breath in your face.

yeah, he's got a cute face that's sunkissed by freckles. yeah, his hair looks like he models for shampoo companies. and fuck, he has a nice voice. but what of it? satoru's the one with the mesmerizing blue irises and the cloudy white hair your professor wishes he had instead of sad little wisps of old age. still, as chilly days turn into frigid weeks, he gets the perfect backseat angle of the growing relationship between the two of you. the boy's kinda dumb so you copy off of satoru’s work when you need to (he has to hide the 1-0 scoreboard between him and the guy on a sticky note from you when you take his notes), but said guy’s always buying you stuff and lending you erasers and laughing when you flick the shavings at the annoying girl who never stops whispering in the front of the room.

satoru tries to act unbothered, and he almost convinces everyone. including himself. but the angry, burning knot in his chest that's entirely different from coffee stains suggests something more. that should be him at your side. him, making balls of paper with rude scribbles and silly doodles to throw at the people he knows you don't like. him, surprising you with little gifts and the cheap trinkets he knows you adore so much instead of all the luxury things he could afford. there's no way this punk could possibly measure up to him, right? but at least you and satoru are well on your way to becoming friends again. not as close as you used to be, but it's something. substantial. and he's learned to be patient in the time you've been gone.

but he'd be lying through his teeth if he said he wasn't tired of it. he’s endlessly plagued with thoughts of increasing intensity— first, it starts out with just you. only you. the way he likes it. the way he likes your face, and your pretty eyes and your gorgeous lips and your soft hair and your figure and the complimenting clothes you wear. but it takes a turn; thoughts turn into dreams that turn into fantasies and he's lying when he says he doesn't enjoy them when he accidentally lets it slip during a group study session— and it’s all fine— but then, that guy appears. the brat who seems to sit a centimeter closer to you with each coming day. not only does he haunt satoru in real life, he’s tormenting his dreams, too. tainting the image of beautiful you.

needless to say, satoru starts to wake up with his hands gripping his damp pillow like he's choking it, acutely aware of the sweat sliding down his neck and over his chest as he stares up at the ceiling, listening to the dorm's air conditioner run and thinking of what it'd be like for dreams (the ones where he replaces the boy) to become reality.

it's a buildup. and soon, he reaches the apex; it's like a rollercoaster, that stomach-twisting moment when you reach the top of the rail that points to the steep descent downward. but this time, he hopes it's a thrill he gets instead of the usual falling fright; the one he got when he realized he’d slipped between your fingers in highschool.

and satoru finally comes to a grinding halt at the top of the ride one breezy fall day when he decides he wants you back in his life after you smile brightly at him and wave goodbye for the day. he’s tired of you having one foot in and one foot out of his heart; he wants, needs more. he always has, he realizes.

so he’s thinking about you and how to approach the feelings he’s realized during those long lectures, and one morning he comes up with some semblance of a plan when he’s high on the sugar from the fruit tea you bought him that morning. and he hopes that, by the end of it, he'll leave your apartment with your hand in his currently empty one, chilled with the remnants of cold condensation from the bottle.

soon enough, satoru finds himself extinguishing his nerves and raising a tense fist to knock on the door with nothing but the clothes on his back and a flimsy plan to ask you out on a midterm study sesh and maybe even a date, but he stops when he realizes it’s slightly ajar. a brief thought of what look might be on your face when he surprises you crosses his mind, so he lets himself in quietly, because he knows every single floorboard that creaks like the back of his palm from his childhood. he’s hit with a wave of warmth and an achingly familiar scent that twists at his heart, and your apartment is cozy and safe and it screams you and he thinks he catches sight of his jacket slung across the back of the couch in your living room, but he’s not sure so he takes a step forward and—

he’s greeted with the sight of that stupid guy with the nice hair and the freckles, and it makes his heart drop. but even worse, he’s kissing you and his arms are winding around your waist but you’re kissing him back with a slight hesitation that’s blinded to satoru by his shock and the fingers he thought would end up in his own tonight card through the boy’s hair and your lips glisten with the strawberry-kiwi flavored gloss he watched the boy give you a few days back and his world is turning red and he feels like his throat is constricting and he can’t breathe—

and he doesn’t even realize you’ve parted lips and you’re calling his name through the newfound tightness of his chest and the painful ringing in his ears thats even louder than any silence of a lecture hall, or the void that should’ve been filled with your voice during the time you were apart. but now satoru realizes he’d take that any fucking chance to have that again because it’s so much better than what he’s stuck with now. having you, but not really having you, because you’re there but you’re someone else’s and you’re not his and he isn’t yours. the best thing he could ever hope for was for you to own an article of his clothing and a piece of his shattered heart, broken into a million fragments. some cruel voice in his buzzing head reminds him to change the scoreboard to 0-100.

and he could buy you cheap hot coffee or earn your smiles from scrunched up paper balls or even hear your laugh with crude jokes, but there’s no point when he realizes he can’t buy you with caffeine or earn you with hitting the back of people’s heads with his bio notes or have you and your laugh all to himself anymore.

it’s almost pathetic, the way satoru’s voice cracks and changes. the look of unadulterated concern on the face of the boy who stole your lips just adds fuel to the fire.

“gojo? what are you doing here— hey, are you okay? you look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

he noticed you’d stopped calling him satoru a few weeks back. he should’ve seen it coming.

“huh? oh, yeah. i’m good. i think you’re the one hallucinating.”

he’d never told a bigger lie in his life.

satoru had left after excusing himself for intruding. how very unlike him to be so polite, you think.

so in the end, he leaves your apartment with something in his hand, after all. but it's not your own— just his blazer that you’d given back to him before he stepped out the door, taunting him with the faint scent of coffee and lingering perfume. his hope was foolish, so it seems. it’s too bad, he thinks. if it were him, he would’ve sandwiched you against your counter while he kissed. but it wasn’t. apparently, it was your turn for your stars to align at the price of his.

and so, gojo satoru, the boy force-turned man with a chipped ego and a completely broken heart, loses you again.

bonus bonus.. part 2….

5K notes · View notes

arminsumi · 5 months

Note

more jealous sukuna please? and and sukuna smut too? your sukuna has been on my mind like a rotisserie chicken in microwave

LIKE YOU'RE MY QUEEN

“What would you prefer? Gojo spoiling you like a princess, or me spoiling you like a queen?”

4.9k

★ Featuring : boss!Sukuna, co-worker!Gojo

★ Synopsis : at a Christmas work party, your jealous boss Sukuna proves that he can treat you better than Gojo ever could.

★ Note : like a rotisserie chicken in a microwave?! 😂 best thing i ever heard

★ Warnings : 🔞 MDNI/18+, jealousy, possessiveness, rivalry between Gojo and Sukuna, reader x Gojo smut memories, bl*wjob + deepthroating, cunnilingus/facesitting, creampies, reader is on birth control, taking condom off (consensual), Gojo catching/listening thru door, +++

Sukuna steps out of a shower dripping wet.

He wraps a towel around his waist, and it hangs dangerously low on his hips, showing the definition of his V-line and his dark patch of hair. He wipes a clearing on the steamed-up mirror with his hand, then gets ready to shave – lines up all the products that he’s going to use. It’s funny; you wouldn’t expect him to have so many skin care products, yet he does.

Sukuna shaves his cheeks with a precise, beady eye on his reflection in the mirror. The razor makes small, sharp sounds when he drags it across his jawline, which he juts out a bit.

Why is he shaving so precisely? Well, Sukuna overheard you speaking once to a co-worker in the office, and you said something about being turned on by clean-shaven men.

After shaving, he puts on an Italian-branded moisturizer. He also dabs on a pea-sized amount of some special skin care product and using both his middle fingers he smooths it onto his skin in a sweepy pattern.

Apparently, you like it when men have a lingering moisturizer scent on their cheeks.

Sukuna spends a long time getting ready for the Christmas work party that he’s hosting tonight at his own penthouse. The whole office anticipates this end of year party from Sukuna, they’re very lavish.

You better notice his obvious efforts.

He knows you're an intelligent and well-versed woman. He likes that about you. And he likes your look, especially at the end-of-year work parties when you really glam yourself up for the occasion. But he likes your look even when you're scurrying around the office with messy hair and no make-up to conceal your imperfections, he still looks at you with the same lustfulness – like he needs to take you into his office and bend you over his desk for doing a good job.

Your boss distinctly remembers how you looked at the Christmas work party last year; your smile and glittering earrings like a treasured photograph in his mind.

He hopes you'll wear the thin-chained, diamond necklace that he gifted you. Whenever you wear it, he feels a bit delusional — he thinks you belong to him. But you’re just his employee.

Something your boss regrets is hiring a particular employee.

This employee is tall, sorely good-looking and charismatic to the point of making it hard for his co-workers (and Sukuna) catch your eye. Sukuna’s been battling to maintain his pride and not fire the man solely for charming you.

Sometimes you’ve noticed Sukuna clenching his jaw when catching you and this employee flirting by the water-cooler. He usually strides by and grumbles “Get back to work.” to disrupt the two of you.

Sukuna thinks this man has some audacity to get in your pants, considering the whole office knows that Sukuna has eyes on you.

When you first started out at this job, Sukuna was cruel and harsh on you even though you were clearly trying your best as a rookie – and what a cheeky move his employee made when he noticed this; he buttered you up after Sukuna yelled at you so that you’d take more of a liking to him than your boss.

One of the first things Gojo Satoru said to you was;

“Sweets, don’t listen too closely to the boss; you’re doing great for a rookie.”

And from that moment, you were enamoured by him. Your co-worker with white hair, standing at a big 6’3 frame, wearing an intoxicating Giorgio Armani cologne. You and him have a three year age gap, him being older and also a single dad… two things that turn you on.

Sukuna and Gojo may have the funniest boss/employee dynamic you’ve ever seen. They both act like they’re the boss.

Sometimes you follow orders from Gojo and say “Yes, sir.” and this makes Sukuna ball his hands into fists on his desk. He keeps a stoic, professional face. Gojo just laughs and usually replies with “Sweets, ‘m not the boss – he is. Right, Sukuna?” to which Sukuna quietly thinks of murder.

If Gojo wasn’t his best employee, you’re sure there would be a fight between them. It’s not the work ethic of Gojo that makes him a good employee, it’s the fact he brings in great business from around the world because he is just so incredibly charming and charismatic.

Sukuna appreciates and respects Gojo’s charm and charisma, yes. Until it’s used on you. Then he seethes.

At Christmas parties, Gojo’s always hot on you. But this year, Sukuna’s determined to make sure to corner you before Mister Blue Eyes does.

— ★

A dim-lit, lavish room big enough to accommodate the whole office of employees is decorated and filled to the brim. Servers sieve through the crowd. A glittering chandelier hangs from the tall ceiling. The work party is somehow even more lavish than last year’s, which you can’t comprehend.

Just like I said; Gojo is always hot on you at these parties. His eyes are on you (and blazing with lust) immediately after you appear. Tonight, you’re wearing a tight, glittery slip dress that you were gifted anonymously. And Gojo makes haste to compliment you as flirtatiously as possible.

“I think the chandelier is jealous.” He goofs, making you smile.

“Hey, Satoru.” You greet him.

“Hey.”

Sukuna watches from across the room as you two share a hug – and it’s a hug that tells a whole story.

You and Satoru have been clearly bonding as co-workers… especially this year, after you two went on that business trip together in Okinawa.

Well, now Sukuna regrets allowing you to accompany Gojo on that trip. Clearly the two of you spent the month steaming up the hotel’s shower and ruining the tightly tucked bedsheets.

And he’s right.

You and Satoru practically spent the whole business trip fucking like bunnies in as many positions as you could and in as many places as you could – both in the hotel room and around the resort you stayed at.

There had been a sexual tension between you and Satoru that built up during the work year since January, and it finally snapped during the trip in Okinawa when it was just you and him alone together. The first night? Gojo was so smooth it made you giggle uncontrollably, even while caged between his strong arms. He made sure to fuck your giggles out until they turned into screaming moans.

God he was skilled – really skilled. And you know what’s worse than a man who’s skilled in the bedroom? A man with a big, fat cock. Eight. A bit of a right-tending curve. Pale. Lots of veins – a prominent one running down the shaft. Pink tip. Taut balls, heavy with cum. No condoms as per your request after you saw it the first time. Creampies as per your demand since you had birth control. And be glad you had it, because Satoru’s cum was potent.

All you could babble as he fucked you each time was:

“God, your cock is so fucking big, Satoru!”

And he had a smug reply every time.

“I know, baby. But you love taking it, right?”

Satoru fucked you during that business trip like he was trying to burn the memory of how good he fucks into your mind. He nicknamed you his Sex Bunny because of how readily you hopped on his dick each time he flirted – and when the two of you were in the office again, he shortened it to just Bunny. It was like a little inside joke between the two of you, one that made you instantly giggle and feel hot in the face.

Neither of you counted how many times you two had sex in Okinawa, but tonight at the Christmas party you and Satoru reminisced about all the places you had sex in.

The hotel lobby with a remote-control vibe. The hotel bed. The hotel shower. Against the hotel window. Over a room-service cart. Standing by the hotel door – outside, not inside, at 3 am when no one was around but still it was risky. At the restaurant. At the other restaurant. At the beach. Twice. In the backseat of an expensive, rented car.

“… wish we could have ticked the plane off our list of locations.” Satoru smirks

“What are you two talking about?” your other co-worker, Nanami Kento, joins the conversation.

“Nothin’, just our trip to Okinawa last month. It was pretty fruitful.” Satoru holds back a laugh.

Kento nods, sipping his champagne. The three of you talk business for a while but then Kento leaves to go talk to Suguru who beckoned for him to come over to the other side of the room – introducing work people, you know.

“Satoru, you come here too. There’s someone I want you to meet.” Suguru calls for his best friend.

“Suguru, you’ll have to work harder than that if you want to tear me away from her.” Satoru jokes.

You feel your cheeks warm up. If it wasn’t for the professional setting of a work party, Satoru would be caressing your hips and kissing you as if you’re his to-be wife. Actually, Satoru seriously considers doing both of those things after hearing you laugh but then the two of you are interrupted by a familiar, strong-voiced man.

Sukuna seethes at Gojo’s audacity to stand so close to you. He purses his lips and tenses his abdomen muscles. He gets full-body fits of jealousy; his muscles tensing and lips pursing are common.

“Enjoying yourselves?” Sukuna asks stiffly.

“Of course – and you’re responsible for it.” Gojo cheeks.

There’s an underlying meaning to his response that Sukuna pieces together instantly – his jaw clenches but he maintains his composure.

You’re flitting your attention between the men.

Gojo is severely good-looking. Not just because he won the genetic lottery, but because he maintains his looks with high-end classy fashion and he refines himself to the point of looking ready for a model photoshoot.

Sukuna has a sensual, firm feeling to his looks. Jawline sharp enough to cut, and his voice cuts too – he’s sliced through the tension between you and Gojo. Cleaving Gojo is just something he enjoys doing. He’s a bit sadistic, he delights in Gojo’s downfall. You’re being charmed away by Sukuna with each word he speaks.

So Gojo flirts harder.

Then Sukuna flirts harder.

You feel a bit small with these two big, muscular men in suits clustering close to your tinier body. They’re like peacocks having a feather show-off competition to win you over.

Both men are trying to undress you with their eyes, their pupils peeling back the thin fabric cradling your breasts. Sukuna’s feasted on your cleavage many times when you’ve bent over in the office to pick something up. It irks him that Gojo has had the privilege of playing with your breasts and he hasn’t yet.

He’s pooling with jealousy; it’s spilling through his tone as he continues talking with you and Gojo.

Sukuna notes that you’re wearing the thin-chained, diamond necklace that he hoped you'd wear.

Your dress glitters.

Sukuna gets a little hard right then because he stares at you for too long. The dress hugs the shape of your body so that every kink and curve is unconcealed. It leaves little up to the imagination.

That's what he likes to see. His favorite employee wearing his necklace and his dress at his party.

The men talked business with you for a bit, but not for long.

"She looks like a goddess tonight, doesn’t she, Sukuna? I don't know how any man here is standing upright. Me personally, my knees are buckling."

Your cheeks burn, “Oh, Satoru, you’re laying it on thick, you flirty bastard.” You light-heartedly shove his chest.

Sukuna clenches his jaw.

Not only did your response to Gojo’s flirting irk Sukuna, but also the way you used his first name – you’re that close? And you touching Gojo was just the nail in the coffin.

“You talk a lot as usual, Gojo.” Sukuna’s professional tone slips for a second.

“I know, I know…” Gojo smirks cheekily, knowing he was chipping away at Sukuna. “But don’t you think that dress just fits her form so perfectly?” he emphasizes.

“Yes, it was made for her.” Sukuna replies. Gojo tilts his head in surprise. “I contacted a friend overseas and asked if he could have it made in time for Christmas. Good to see my efforts weren’t for nothing.”

Your cheeks burn as Sukuna reveals that he bought the dress for you. He’d gotten your measurements from your tailor.

"Oh! — oh my god, you really didn't have to do that for me, Sukuna." you reply humbly.

Sukuna smirks smugly after hearing his name from your lips.

"I absolutely had to. You deserved it after working so hard for me this year."

Gojo has goes quiet and purses his lips.

"Your efforts definitely weren't for nothing, Sukuna." Gojo chimes in smoothly.

"Ahah, Satoru you're really overdoing it. Thank you, though. Always nice to hear sweet things from your lips." you flirt a little.

You flirt a little.

Gojo flirts back.

Sukuna is teetering between being a boss of a company and being his old self who used to aspire to be a professional boxer.

Gojo is a man that gets everything he wants – you know, like he’s the chosen one and life was tailored to fit him. An excellent position at an excellent job, screwing his hot co-worker in Okinawa.

Just once, Sukuna wants to take everything away from Gojo.

Now your boss is itching to get alone with you. Gojo yaps, flirts, plays, never shuts up. Then finally, he readies leave.

“Alright, I’ll have to leave for a moment. Suguru has been wanting my attention since I got here and I’m such a bad friend that I’ve ignored him for your company instead.” He joked. “But I promise I’ll come back and spoil ya, ‘princess.”

No you won’t, Sukuna thinks.

And the split second that Gojo joins Suguru’s small group conversation, Sukuna steers you through the crowd and leads you up the stairs – holding your hand like a real gentleman, you thought. But Sukuna’s a gentleman with carnal, primal desires.

He looks at your neck, at the necklace, then his eyes trail down to your cleavage and he admires the dress as it shimmers in the dim light.

He decides that tonight he'll win you over.

Enough of this peacock war between Sukuna and Gojo. He's the boss, right?

— ★

You sit cross-legged on a lush, black sheet bed, giggling at the dirty jokes that your boss, Ryomen Sukuna, is muttering into your ear. He makes you wiggle your foot flirtatiously, your high heel slipping off a bit.

The party is still ongoing downstairs. Gojo Satoru wonders where you are but Geto Suguru is keeping him locked in a business conversation with Nanami Kento and Fushiguro Toji.

You act like Sukuna’s flirting is too hot and heavy for you to handle. A big grin is plastered on your face.

He leans in close to your ear. You catch a whiff of his intoxicating after-shave oil and his cologne; he smells spicy and expensive.

Then he asks you a question that ends the playful flirting and turns the atmosphere into a serious lust.

"What would you prefer? Gojo spoiling you like a princess, or me spoiling you like a queen?"

He sees your eyes light up and your body shift excitedly. His closeness makes your breath hitch.

"I-if I'm being honest? The latter."

“I think you’re lying.” He teases.

“Lying? Why do you think so?” you ask flirtatiously.

Sukuna’s lips graze yours.

“Because you’ve been flirting like a slutty little princess with him all night.”

You swallow. His cologne floods your head. You can’t think straight. You look down and see he’s got a bulge in his tight pants. It takes all your self-restraint not to reach out and squeeze his cock through his pants; it looks so delicious.

“Am I wrong?” he asks after you’ve gone silent for much too long. “Maybe you want both of us.”

“Of course I do.” You admit openly.

“Oh? You’re sluttier than I thought.” He smirks.

“Isn’t that why I’m your favorite employee?” you tease.

“Hmmm… I don’t know if you’re still my favorite employee after admitting you want both me and Gojo.” He replies.

“Aw… well, if I’m not your favorite employee anymore…”

Your fingertips reach out and touch the curve of his cock.

“… can I become your favorite slut?”

Those words go straight to his cock. It’s straining against his pants now. He’s so hard it’s getting jumpy, you can see it visibly twitching in his pants.

***

Pants unzipped, head tilted back, eyes shut in bliss, Sukuna palms your head up and down on his cock, making your lips slide up and down his cock.

You splutter when he hits the back of your throat, and gag when he starts to slide his big cock down your throat.

“Ghhhn.” You gargle and choke as his thick, bulbous cockhead stretches out your throat.

He tastes so addicting. That’s something Sukuna has in common with Satoru; tasting so damn good. Is it their lifestyles? Their diets? Who knows. You remember sucking Satoru dry in Okinawa because his cum just tasted so good.

Taking as much of your boss’ cock as you can, you let him keep you down on it for a few seconds before hastily pulling off for air.

He groans loudly.

“Fuck, maybe you will become my favorite slut after tonight.” He jokes. “Look how fucking sloppy you’ve made my cock.”

You wipe the saliva from your chin and lips, smiling happily at Sukuna’s slicked cock.

He changes positions. The bedsheets rustle as he lays on it, stretching his long legs out. His cock sways as he moves, you eye it out.

“Come here.” He commands with a beckoning finger.

You crawl over to him and straddle his lap. He rests his hands on your hips and looks at your glittering slip dress – it rises over the curve of your thigh. He squeezes the plush fat there, letting out a groan of satisfaction at the sensation of your flesh moulding to his hand.

“You’ve been a good slut to me, now tell me what you want first; do you want me to treat you like a slut or like my queen?”

“Like your queen.” you reply with sparkly eyes.

“Then come up here and sit on your throne, my queen.” He commands.

You look at him dumbstruck.

During the trip in Okinawa, Gojo wasn’t opposed to eating you out – if you asked him he would do it. But he wasn’t all too good at it, it was just for prep. You didn’t complain because he made up for it by luring multiple orgasms out of your pussy with his cock.

Your hips hover inches above your boss’ tattooed face. His eyes catch on the slick that’s dribbling out your hole and smearing across your inner thigh. He notices you hesitate to sit down on his face.

“Sit.” He commands again.

But before you lower your pussy onto his face, he does it himself – by grabbing your hips and bringing you down.

“Oh! Fuck! Mmm!” you gasp.

Sukuna wastes no time working his skilled tongue into your pussy.

At first he runs his tongue up and down the slit, not quite parting it yet. Teasing, light licking up to your clit, he grazes circles around it with his pointed tongue. You squirm your hips, so he holds them more firmly.

“Don’t you fucking squirm. Stay right here, my queen.”

Sukuna’s words and breath go right against your puffy clit. It’s buzzing and sensitive, needy for attention. You gasp loudly when you feel him kiss it. Then he kisses it again – sloppier, and starts making out with your clit as if it’s your lips.

“Oh, fuck! S-sir!” you breathe excitedly.

He hums against your clit, smug that you’re still calling him ‘Sir’.

Now he starts to suckle your clit gently, massaging his tongue into it while he does. His big hands caress up and down your shuddering thighs.

“Mmm!” you whine, pinching your eyes shut and feeling good on your boss’ face.

He pulls his lips away, murmuring “Bet that asshole never made you make these noises, hm?” he says proudly.

Sukuna’s tongue flattens out and swipes upwards, he starts lapping like a thirsty dog. You hear him breathing and lightly groaning. Sukuna’s using all his tricks on your pussy.

You place your hands on the headboard in front of you and gulp, pinching your eyes shut even tighter. He can’t see it, but he just knows your lips are forming that O shape right now. His tongue wiggles into your hole, and he starts tongue-fucking you hard and fast. His lips press against your squishy folds. He can feel your juices start running down his chin as he continues.

“Oh my god!” your moans quiver. Your body trembles a bit. “That’s so fucking good!”

Sukuna smirks into your pussy and keeps fucking you with his tongue. You clench tight.

Sukuna works his tongue against your clit. He builds up your first orgasm of the night. His tongue goes faster and faster against your puffy clit, lips latching on and suckling it. You feel your orgasm nearing and your mind goes fuzzy. You’re dumbing out on Sukuna’s tongue.

It feels too good, you can't help but hump your hips back and forth on Sukuna's face.

"That's it, fuck my face." he groans and switches from thrusting his tongue into your hole to suckling your clit again. He points his tongue at your bud and flicks it rapidly.

"Fuuuck! Oh my god that's so good that's s-so fucking good! Please don't stop! MHM! Oh my god I'm gonna — cummm!!"

You roll your eyes back and feel your orgasm working up in your pussy as Sukuna sucks your clit harder. You zone out on pleasure and focus on cumming.

Sukuna groans into your pussy, feeling you gush all over his face. He’s a mess, his cheek splattered with your watery cum as it dribbles out. He keeps licking you through your orgasm, making you shudder and scream.

Sukuna lets out a naughty, humming laugh that gets muffled onto your pussy. You cum all over his face and shake violently, feeling your pussy convulse and contract.

There's just one thing you have to say to Sukuna for him to toss you off his face.

"Need your cock, please!"

He licks your inner thighs to clean them up.

“Sure, queen.”

— ★

Gojo's still enjoying the party, but now it's been an hour since you disappeared and he wonders where you are until he realizes Sukuna is nowhere to be found, either. Hm,

You've got your legs pushed back as Sukuna eases his cock into your pussy. He slowly stretches you open, savoring the feeling of pushing past your entrance.

Then he groans while he starts to fuck his inches into you one by one. Big hands keep your legs pushed back into a mating press.

You let out quivering moans and roll your eyes back. Sukuna's jaw slacks and he tilts his head off to the side. His fat cockhead prods at your G-spot and that's when you squeal;

"Fuck! Right there!"

"Oh, right here?"

"Mhm! Fuck! Right theeere, Sukuna! Oh my god, S-Sukunaaa!"

"Ooh, you're gettin' loud for your boss’ cock, huh?" he grins as he starts thrusting hard, sweeping thrusts into your G-spot. “I like that. Let everyone hear who’s fucking your cunt so good.”

He stares down at the place where you and him connect. Your pussy feels sticky all over as he fucks your juices out. His cock works in and out of you at a mean pace and you moan louder and louder as he goes faster and faster, totally turning your brain to mush.

"Ooh fuck!" you gasp each time he reaches a new depth with his tip.

Sukuna thumbs skillfully at your clit while pushing his cock as deep as your pussy will let him go.

He doesn't know where to look, because your breasts are sluttily bouncing in your dress and your exposed lower tummy is shuddering with each thrust of his big cock.

His breathing gets ragged, and he grunts, positioning himself at a better angle so he can reach deeper.

At this angle his cock has you seeing stars. Your mouth makes an O shape and you go silent, unable to moan because of how good it feels. How funny, he thinks. He's fucked you so good you can’t even moan, your voice is gone.

But then it comes back louder than ever.

"S'kuna!! Fuckfuckfuck moreright there please FUCK ahhhh god fuck I loveyousomuch pleasedon'tstopfuckingme!!"

His ego inflates after catching that ‘I love you so much’.

"That’s it, love me – never him, understand?" he growls seriously, and suddenly stills inside you. “Say it. You love me and not him.”

You gasp, feeling his tip pressing against your cervix.

"Yes! I love you, not him!”

Sukuna grunts and keeps pressuring your cervix with his cock. He roughly squeezes your hips, your stomach, your breasts like a primal lover.

"Tell me I fuck you better than Gojo Satoru. Scream it.”

His rough, animalist thrusts start up again and your eyes roll back, mouth hung open and teeth bearing when it feels too good.

"Y-you fuck me better than Gojo Satoru!" you scream.

Sukuna keeps making you scream this over and over.

"Keep fucking saying it, I'm getting so close." he groans.

Then a feeling comes over him, like someone's outside the door. He smirks and gives a glance behind him at the closed door.

"Say it again." Sukuna commands you, eyes still on the door. He's pure evil.

"You fuck me so good, S'kuna!" you babble, "You fuck me better than Gojo!"

"That's a good fuckin' girl.” He growls nastily, “Now keep telling me how much better I am than him while you take this fucking cock." he growls and starts thrusting into you harder and faster until his sticky balls slap into you loudly.

Sukuna keeps fucking you until your body jiggles at the force of his thrusts. You shift up the bed and cling to the headboard, Sukuna sees your tiny hand grab it and he puts his hand over yours.

Hands off your body, he fucks you full of his cock and makes sure it's as loud as possible.

"I'm gonna cum, I'm gonna cum! Nnnh don't stop!" you gasp, feeling a G-spot stimulated orgasm building up in your pussy.

"Yeah, cum. Cum for me and only me." Sukuna growls and pounds into you.

"Fuck, S'kunaaa 'm cumming on your b-big cock!" you scream, unable to keep quiet at all with how his cock is fucking you.

You shake from head to toe and feel your pussy constrict tightly around his big cock. He watches your eyes roll back and your body tense up as you cum long and hard. Sukuna groans and feels your milking contractions and it gets him close to his own orgasm.

"Hear that?" he talks, but not to you. "This pussy’s all mine now. I’m gonna fuckin’ claim it.”

He leans down and asks you clearly; "Baby, do you want me to take the condom off and cum inside?" he asks.

"Yes! Yes please! Fuck me raw, cum inside!" you cry, feeling his cock continue to pound into you after your orgasm.

"Good girl. Taking my fucking dick so good." he slides out and pulls the condom off his cock with a little difficulty, his fingers slipping. He gets a grip on the end and peels it off his cock and tosses the condom onto the pillow next to your head.

Sukuna enters you again and gets right back to the same pace he was fucking you with earlier.

"Fuck!" you gasp, thrashing your legs around. "Fuck, oh my god!"

"I'm close..." he closes his eyes and tilts his head back.

You look behind you to see him, eyes catching on his tattoos and flexing muscles. He's sweating and grunting, pounding into you like he's proving a point. Because he is.

"Fuck. I'm cumming, take it all." he growls and holds your body almost suffocatingly tightly.

You roll your eyes back when you feel him push himself as deep as he can go. Hot ropes of his sticky cum spurt out of his cock, filling you up so much that you can really feel it. Your pussy milks him through his orgasm and he moans brokenly.

"Fuck..." he slaps your ass hard, and thrusts a little bit more inside you just so that sloppy sound fills the room.

"Listen to that creampied pussy. Sounds like it's all mine now, huh Gojo?"

You blink dumbly.

Gojo smirks behind the closed door and walks away, shaking his head, muttering curses under his breath at his boss.

Well, how unfortunate, Sukuna fucked his jealousy out into your pussy, but now Gojo is throbbing with jealousy as he walks away from the door, defined jaw clenching tight and cock rock hard in his tight pants.

I do not permit the copying/reposting/translation/plagiarism of my works. Do not steal what I've worked hard to create.

This is fictional work.

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jj-one · 20 days

Text

MIND GAMES ⋅˚₊ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅

── ✧ ˚. ꒰ pairing ꒱ ˒˓ bf!Jungkook x gf!reader ˒˓ established relationship genre/tags. smut, v small amount of angst, fluff, thigh riding, face sitting, body worshipping, jk lowkey simping hella hard in this & we love to see it <3 words. 1.4k

**old repost from my deleted blog

“Can you stop ignoring me please? It's driving me crazy.” You whine to your nonchalant boyfriend, urging him to mutter at least one word.

He has been giving you the silent treatment since this morning. You and Jungkook got into a petty argument that could've been easily resolved within seconds had he not just stormed out mid-convo.

Rightfully so— you were upset by him not wanting to talk things out and he got all defensive by saying you were ‘overreacting’. The bickering only spiraled from there and once you realized you had to leave for work you left without even saying goodbye.

You felt bad for not at least giving a peck on the cheek but you were slightly annoyed by how immature he could be at times. Once you came back home, you wanted to talk with him immediately to patch things up yet he's still being difficult with you. His silence was speaking mere volumes.

“So you're really going to play that game now huh? You know you can't ignore me forever Kook.” You snicker, all those pent up emotions filling you with an intense longing for him. “Can you say something?”

Jungkook remained quiet as a mouse, still refusing to speak, just sitting there examining you. Taking all of you in, basking in his own little glory. He wasn't trying to ignore you at first but now it has turned into a game for him. His only goal was seeing how far he could push your buttons until you break.

There was nothing more frustrating than craving someone's affection. His affection. Usually he'd give it to you on a silver platter, spoiling you with all the love and attention he could provide. But today — you were gonna have to work for it, and that you did.

Since talking wasn't the solution you try your best guess and think of something else. That's when an evil plan struck your mind — you were going to get a word of out him one way or another.

You were still wearing your work clothes so you strip naked right in front him, taking off every piece of clothing to only leave you in your panties. He tried to make it not so obvious that he was staring but you could feel his eyes on you the whole time. Still quiet, he looks up at you with his big, brown doe eyes — glancing over every inch of your bare form.

Licking his lips while leaning back on the couch he takes in all of you, losing himself in your alluring gaze. As much as he wanted to believe he had all the control in this situation, you played a deafening role in making sure this won't be an easy win for him.

As soon as you fully undressed you make your way over to Jungkook, subtly swaying your hips to send a rise out of him. Walking up to your boyfriend you find yourself straddling his thighs between your legs, the bitter silence only creating a thicker tension. His face looked so innocent, you couldn't help but go in to kiss him. Grabbing the side of his face to pull him in for a sweet, sensual kiss, molding your lips to match his hungry movement.

He was passionate with the kiss — almost leaving you winded by the end. You could tell that he's been holding that in since this morning, you couldn't open your eyes afterwards, savoring in the taste of him on your tongue.

“I'm an asshole, sorry y/n. I don't know why I do the things I do sometimes… but l'm thankful I have someone as patient as you in my life.” Jungkook finally spoke, his gentle tone brings you a familiar source of comfort.

Heated make outs turned you both into even more dangerous territory. A constant rush of heat surges throughout your body, leading all the way down to your aching core, you swung your head back in pleasure while riding your boyfriend's pretty, muscular thighs. The light-blue distressed jeans he wore showing just the slightest bit of skin to make you go feral. The weak, sweaty kisses in between rutting against him — the friction of his jeans grazing over your clothed heat, making you feverishly whimper out for him.

Jungkook couldn't keep his hands off you if he tried. Everything about you is absolutely stunning and perfect to him. His hands dance along the perimeters of your body, tracing every line and curve of your heavenly beauty — embarking on the notion that you are all his. He needs to show how grateful and lucky he is to have you more often.

“God... need you so bad right now..I don't wanna waste another second without having my cock inside you.” He keens, migrating his lips up the side of your earlobe.

He's going to have to put in the work to get a reward like that though.

“I want you to eat me out then we can talk later.” You boldly counter, not even giving him an option at this point.

His face lights up with an idea, “Wanna sit on my face princess?” You nod right away, letting Jungkook maneuver you to the side so he could lye down comfortably — he looks up at you with wandering eyes as you go in for another kiss. He hums into the kiss, moving his hands to grab your ass. It's beginning to become too unbearable to keep your panties on.

Breaking the kiss to remove your soaked underwear, you toss them on the floor and meet your boyfriend's handsome face once again.

The anticipation was killing him, he couldn't wait to devour your pretty little pussy already ;( As soon as you positioned yourself below him, he held onto your thighs with both hands — making eye contact with you as he pressed a kiss to your swollen bud.

Any minor touch to your clit makes you overtly sensitive, letting out a tiny mewl from the light action. His lips part open to dip his tongue into your wetness, “mmmh... fuck Koo” you hiss, already needing to brace yourself to not cum early. His mouth always works magic on you, leaving you with an earth-shattering orgasm every single time.

He flattens his tongue completely now, dragging a long stripe across your slit, drinking up all your essence, letting none of you go to waste. His face was so deeply buried into you all you could see now was the top of his head — grabbing a fistful of his messy hair to pull on later. You rock your hips back and forth to build more movement, grinding on his face while not having a care in the world if he could breathe or not.

From the looks of it, there were no complications on his end since he started moaning against you — the vibrations sending instant chills to your spine. You feel his nose brush up against your bundle of nerves, his tongue appears again to spread it’s brutal attack on your clit. His warmth on the sensitive sprout makes you jut your hips into a hastier motion.

“Shit... keep going just like that…i'll cum all over your face,” you cry out, feeling yourself close to making a huge mess and creaming all over his face.

“Cum on my face please, my precious little doll.” He only breaks away to say that quickly and attaches hisself back instantly.

Those words did it for you, it was like ultimate green light to reaching your climax. Two digits enter your weeping cunt and his tongue goes back to sucking on your puffy abused clit — the knot in your stomach tightens as he produces sloppier licks to your leaking folds.

A lusty, guttural moan escaped your lips, screaming your boyfriend's name at the top of your lungs. Jungkook keeps your hips steady with a tight grasp to help ride out your intense high; his knuckles turning white from how hard he was gripping. His face saturated with the glint of your sweet nectar, he licks his lips and savors the delicious taste of you, there's nothing that'll ever compare.

"So beautiful my baby.. so fucking gorgeous.." he chants under his breath, kissing the apex of your thighs. He'll never get tired of admiring your pretty body— or you in general.

Jungkook has always been more of a giver than a receiver, he likes to watch his partner writhe under him, loves when they cry and violently shake while he's giving them the most pleasurable moments of their life. He also likes to get what he wants in the end but that isn't always needed for him to be satisfied. He'll get his nut eventually, but in the meantime he's going to keep playing with you some more.

#jungkook x reader #jungkook drabble #jungkook drabbles #jungkook smut #jeon jungkook smut #jungkook imagine #bts smut

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girlygirl14534 · 3 months

Text

Body Heat - Bucky x Reader

Pairing: Bucky x Avenger!Reader

Warnings: Smut, Cock Warming, Snowed In, Only One Bed

Length: 3.7k

Summary: A blizzard knocks out the power in the safehouse where you and Bucky are sharing a bed. Can Bucky keep you warm through the cold night?

Author’s Note: It has been so cold where I live lately and there’s nobody better than Bucky to warm me up. I’m entering this work into @targaryenvampireslayer Blind Date Writing Challenge. I don’t participate in a lot of fandom events, so this was really fun! I used the Only One Bed trope and the Dialogue Prompts “Take your clothes off. Right now,” and “Are you holding back? Don’t.” Happy reading and stay warm! Divider via @firefly-graphics

Read this work on AO3

“You didn’t even want to get egg rolls,” Bucky whined as you grabbed one off of his plate.

You grinned as you bit into it. He smiled back at you, but his shoulders shifted ever so slightly, tipping you off to his next move. His chopsticks swooped onto your plate in retaliation, but you were ready for him, blocking his attempt on your orange chicken.

He glared at you and you relented. He popped the chicken into his mouth with a satisfied smirk. You rolled your eyes at him and took a sip of your beer. It was a local brew. A little hoppy but not too bitter, with a surprisingly crisp taste. You loved trying beers at every new little town you ended up at. Nothing beat a cold beer after a long mission, even if it was 20 degrees and dropping outside.

It was warm and cozy inside the little cabin. This safe house was cuter than most. It had a little wood stove and lace tablecloth—definitely grandmother-approved. The place was small, but you’d stayed at smaller ones. Although most had at least a few twin size cots. The bed here looked comfortable, but there was only one.

“It’s picking up out there,” Bucky nodded at the window. Outside you could see the snow swirling in the wind.

“The Winter Soldier scared of a little snow?” you teased.

“Oh, shut up. You wouldn’t last ten seconds out there. Remember Helsinki?”

“That is so unfair! I fell into a frozen pond!”

“I told you not to walk on that patch of ice!”

“You were being a know-it-all.”

“That’s because I actually know it all.”

You threw your half-eaten egg roll at him.

“You didn’t even eat it?!”

You shrugged and he glared at you as he finished it. After dinner, you got ready for bed. It had been a long day. When Bucky came out of the shower, you were already under the paisley-printed covers.

He grinned at you. “That’s my favorite bonnet,” he said, nodding at the silky cap on your head.

“You have favorite bonnets of mine?”

He shrugged. “I’ve seen you in enough of them. I love the one with rhinestones on the headband. You look like a queen. The Kirby one is really cute, too.”

“Nice try, Bucky.” You threw a pillow at him. “You’re still sleeping on the floor.”

“Oh no.”

“Oh yes.”

You knew he was going to jump on the bed a second before he did it, but you didn’t stop him. He looked so satisfied with himself.

“Time for bed,” you said as you started stacking pillows on the bed between you.

“Afraid you won’t be able to keep your hands off of me?” he teased.

“Don’t think I forgot how you hogged the couch in Bangladesh.”

“I maintain that you rolled off of the couch by yourself.”

“Well then consider it protection from me rolling you off the bed.”

He laughed as you finished the wall of pillows, marking your territory. You were just grateful that the bed was big enough to have your own space and that there were enough blankets that you wouldn’t have to share. You loved Bucky, but in your friendship you were more likely to trade insults than share the covers. Was there something more behind the words you traded? Maybe. Sometimes it felt obvious that he felt the same and other times you were certain that he just saw you as a friend.

If you were just friends, you were friends that lived and worked in very close quarters. You’d had a lot of hands-on moments working the mission with him today. If you had a little more privacy, you’d probably be touching yourself right now thinking about the weight of him on top of you as he tackled you to the ground to protect you, his hair tickling your face as he whispered a new tactical plan into your ear. Instead you were stuck here, close but not close enough. You sighed in frustration.

“Need a bedtime story?” Bucky asked.

“Once upon a time, a former assassin wouldn’t shut up while his teammate tried to sleep.”

“Teammate? That’s all I am to you?” he asked. The hurt and offense in his voice almost sounded real.

“What do you want to be described as?” you asked.

“Just get some sleep, princess.”

You chuckled and rolled over, soon falling asleep. You dreamt of him, of course. Of his hands on you. One warm, one cold. And then it was just his left hand. It was so cold. You let him keep touching you, of course. You didn’t care if you got frostbite. You just wanted him to keep touching you.

You were pissed when you woke up before you could climax. But you quickly realized it wasn’t just cold in your dream. Your teeth were chattering in real life.

“Fuck. It’s freezing,” you said.

“Power’s out,” Bucky said. “Must be the storm.”

“Can we make a fire?”

“I checked. The stove is electric.”

“Are you sure? That thing looks older than you.”

Bucky laughed. “I think I saw a few candles in the cupboard.” He got up and rummaged around in the kitchen. He lit them and placed them around the room.

“Bring one here. Maybe I can warm my hands.”

He laughed as he flopped back onto his side of the bed. “I know it’s cold in here. With the blizzard, there’s no way we’ll make it down the mountain. In the morning, we can—”

“I’m not gonna make it to morning! Feel my fingers!”

Bucky outstretched his right hand toward you, smiling in amusement at what he assumed was exaggeration. When you touched him, his expression changed to one of concern. Maybe things were worse than you thought. Maybe it really was frostbite. Bucky started taking down the pillow barrier.

“What are you doing?” you asked.

“You’re right,” he said as he threw pillows over his shoulder and onto the floor.

“Oooh, say that again.”

He laughed. “It’s too cold in here. You need body heat.”

You rolled your eyes but he kept moving pillows. “You’re serious?”

He nodded as he got rid of the last pillow. He awkwardly opened his arms. You scooted closer to him. This wasn’t how you wanted his arms around you, but you were too cold to deny him. He wrapped his big, strong arms around you. You relaxed into his embrace, and not just because of the warmth. He held you tight to him and you would’ve stayed just like forever, but you were still shivering. It felt like the chill had settled into your bones. The extra warmth from Bucky was only making it more obvious just how cold it was in the tiny cabin.

“We need skin to skin,” Bucky said.

You laughed but he didn’t.

“Take your clothes off. Right now,” he said.

Maybe the frigid air was impacting your decision-making, because instead of denying him, you complied. Tried to, anyway. Your fingers were so numb from the cold that you fumbled with the hem of your shirt. He gently nudged your fingers aside and helped you out of your shirt. You’d imagined the first time he took your clothes off a little differently, but you couldn’t care about that now. Once your shirt was off, he took his off too.

He hugged you again then. Your bare skin felt electrified where it touched his. He held your hands to his chest to warm them. With his hardened pecs beneath your fingers, it took all of your willpower not to squeeze.

“Is that better?” he asked.

You nodded. You didn’t trust yourself to speak. You stayed like that for a few minutes, afraid to move. Afraid that at some point he’d decide that you were warm enough. You weren’t warm enough. In any sense. You needed him closer for survival, but it became increasingly difficult to tell if you needed him because you were cold or because you were horny.

“You’re not warm enough,” he said finally. You didn’t argue.

When he pulled away, the sudden loss of warmth made your body tense up. He immediately placed his arms around you again.

“I won’t let go of you anymore, okay?”

You hated how pathetic your voice sounded when you responded, “Okay.”

His arm reached between your bodies to pull his pants down. You told yourself that you weren’t going to look, but your eyes had a mind of their own. You watched his fingers grip his waistband and tug down his boxers and his pants. Suddenly he was naked. Even in the dim lighting, you could see how big he was. His eyes went straight to yours to check in, but he found no objection. You looked away to be polite, but felt too awkward to look into his eyes. You turned around so that your back was to his chest. You were grateful that he couldn’t see your face when he started to pull your pants down. If he was hesitant about this plan, his movements didn’t show it. He was smooth and deliberate, quickly ridding you of your pajamas and underwear. When you were both undressed, he pulled you close. When you felt his cock against your ass, you shivered, and it wasn’t because of the freezing temperatures.

“That’s it,” he said. “Turn over.”

He didn’t wait for you to move, effortlessly pulling you onto your back and laying on top of you. Bucky was naked. You were naked. And he was on top of you. You were short of breath just thinking about it.

“Don’t tell me I’m taking your breath away,” he teased.

“You’re heavy,” you retorted. “I think you may need to start laying off the eggrolls.”

As you laughed together, you became hyper aware of how close your bodies were, of just how much physical contact you had. The laughing stopped abruptly.

“Why didn’t you take off my bra?” you whispered. “Afraid that once you see these you’ll be ruined for all other boobs?”

“Yes,” he nodded as he reached under you, large hands rubbing your back and unhooking the clasp. He slowly slid your straps down your arms. He looked into your eyes as he pulled your bra from between your bodies and threw it onto the floor.

Here you were, caged in his warmth, looking deep into his eyes like in one of your fantasies. And yet your instinct was to make a stupid joke, find some way to make this feel less serious. But you couldn’t think straight with his dick resting on your stomach and his warm breath on your face.

“Better?” he asked.

“Eh. Still a little chilly,” you joked breathlessly.

“I can get you warmer,” he said seriously.

You laughed. “I don’t think we could physically be any closer than we are right now.”

He quirked an eyebrow at you. “Well, technically we could be a little closer.”

“Barnes, if I go outside in the morning and find out that you cut the powerlines…”

“I can’t have you dying of hypothermia on my watch. I don’t have to move or anything. Just to keep you warm.”

You wanted to roll your eyes and hit him on the arm, but his sincerity caught you off guard.

“Seriously?”

“Seriously. I’m not a fan of the cold either. I’ve spent too much of my life frozen already. We don’t have to if you don’t want to. I just thought…”

“Okay.”

“Yeah?”

You nodded. “And don’t worry, when I tell Nat this story, I won’t even mention the shrinkage.”

He laughed with you and then shook his head at you.

“What am I gonna do with you?” he asked.

“Stick your dick in me, apparently.”

He swallowed nervously. “Are you…? Are you ready?” he asked.

You nodded, hoping he wouldn’t question how wet you were already. You certainly weren’t going to bring up the fact that you had felt his length slowly hardening against you for the last few minutes.

“I, uh, just gotta…” He reached down to pump himself a few times, looking anywhere but you. You wanted to change that.

“You can look at me, Bucky.”

His eyes found yours. You’d never seen this expression on his face before. He was never this easy to read. Even though he’d beaten the Winter Soldier programming, he usually always kept a part of himself closed off. Those defenses were gone now. In their place was yearning. A desire so deep it was overwhelming. The way he looked at you was the same way you felt about him.

You arched your back, drawing attention to your chest. “You can also look here, if it helps.”

He looked at your breasts for the first time. His mouth fell open in awe. You hoped you really were ruining him for other women. You hoped he would never look at anyone else like this for as long as he lived. His eyes went from your chest back to your face as he shifted between your legs. You bit your lip when you felt the head of his cock prod your entrance. It would take everything in your power not to moan. This was probably a very bad idea. But still you let your legs fall open wider to give him easier access.

When he first pushed in, you drew a shaky breath. He stopped moving, eyes anxiously searching yours. He was terrified you’d ask him to stop. Quite the contrary.

“That all you got?” you asked.

He smirked at you before resuming his progress. Despite your earlier joke, you felt your walls stretch around him as he pushed further into you. You felt every single inch, but it was torture not being able to wrap your legs around his hips or claw at his back like you wanted to.

When he was fully seated, he stilled. You took a few deep breaths. It was dizzying, being this close to him, this full of him. It was his turn to tell you, “You can look at me, ya know.”

You looked at him in the flickering candlelight. His hair obscured your view of his face. You reached up and tucked it behind his ear. He nuzzled his face against your hand. Your heart skipped a beat. You could feel his warm cock throbbing inside of you. He was looking at you so romantically that you forgot where you were for a moment. Your body did, too. Your pussy clenched around him. You didn’t get a chance to wonder if he’d felt it. You heard him groan. Right before you felt him thrust.

His eyes darted to you, panicked. You’d seen him panic once before, as he pulled you out of the ice in Finland. That day he’d warmed you up by the fire with plenty of hot drinks and some light teasing. You preferred the current method of warming you up. Which is why you let him hear you. You moaned for him. If you’d been less desperate for him to fuck you, you would’ve been embarassed by how needy you sounded. It was nothing compared to the strangled cry Bucky let out with his second thrust. You expected him to keep moving, but he stopped again. He leaned in, eyes urgent.

“The first time I saw you,” he panted, “I knew you were the most beautiful woman I’d ever—”

Your heart fluttered, but you couldn’t have him saying things he didn’t mean. “You don’t have to flatter me, Buck—”

“It’s not flattery if it’s true. And you are so beautiful.”

You placed your hands behind his head and pulled him in for a kiss. You weren’t sure what it was going to be like, your first kiss with Bucky. Especially since that first kiss was occurring after he was already inside of you. When your lips touched, you both sighed with relief. His lips were soft. You weren’t expecting that. His tongue probed your lips gently, and you gladly gave it access. He kissed you slowly, like he was savoring every second. He cupped your breast with his right hand, softly stroking it. His touches were almost reverent. It would’ve been romantic if you weren’t so needy. There’d be time for slow and steady. You hoped so, anyway. Right now you needed fire. You needed his touch to chase away the cold.

“Are you holding back on me, Barnes? Don’t.”

That was all the encouragement he needed. He bent his head and attached his lips to your neck. He pulled the delicate flesh between his teeth as the hand on your breast eagerly squeezed. His metal hand tightened its grip on your hip. Maybe, if you were lucky, you’d have a bruise in the shape of his handprint tomorrow. Proof that this had actually happened. Proof it wasn’t just the best dream of your life.

Maybe you wanted to mark him, too. Maybe that’s why you tangled your fingers in his hair while you raked the nails of the other hand down his back. He grunted as he drove into you with renewed force, the headboard rattling against the wall.

“Fuck,” he whispered. “You’re so wet. So tight. So perfect. Even better than I—” he stopped himself.

“Better than you imagined?” you suggested.

He nodded.

“You imagine me?” you asked, breathless.

“Every day,” he confessed.

You moved your hips in time with his next stroke, taking him deeper than ever. You both cursed. With each thrust, you knew things would never be the same. With each thrust, you got more and more desperate for him to ruin you. You writhed desperately under him and he only gripped you tighter, forcing you to stay still and accept your pleasure like a good girl. He angled his hips so that he was massaging your g-spot with every thrust. The head of his cock dragged against your center of pleasure over and over again in a relentless pursuit for your climax. You wanted to beg him to fuck you harder and faster but you didn’t want this to end yet. Not until he was as ruined as you were.

You took your hands away from him and brought them to your chest. You gripped your breasts tightly and moaned. He was mesmerized. You pinched your nipples and rolled your hips, putting on a show for him. You needed to know that he would never forget this. That he would never forget you. You tugged on your nipples and cried his name.

“That’s my job,” he said. You smirked at him.

You put your fingers in his open mouth and brought them to your clit and started rubbing slow circles. You watched his eyes darken. He grabbed your hand and brought it to his mouth again, closing his eyes in pleasure as he licked your fingers clean. Instead of putting your hand back where he found it, he brought his metal fingers to your clit instead, taking over your ministrations there. The cold, hard metal rhythmically massaged the sensitive bundle of nerves until his name was the only word in your vocabulary.

You wouldn’t last much longer. You’d see to it that neither would he. You attached your lips to his neck and sucked a bruise into the skin. His fingers on your clit went from slow circles to frantic figure 8s. Your back arched in pleasure as you felt your walls tighten around Bucky’s cock. His hips stuttered as he flooded you with warmth. Your legs shook when you felt him fill you. You whimpered his name. He whispered yours. Before you could even catch your breath, it happened.

You both knew the second the power turned back on. The hum of the fridge, the rattle of the old radiator, the red “Off” light on the coffee pot. It was like a bomb going off in the bubble you’d built. You looked at each other, startled, as if you were just realizing the extent of what you had done. For a split second, you considered pulling away from him and getting dressed, pretending none of this had ever happened. But you didn’t want that, not while his cum was still warm inside you and aftershocks of your orgasm were still rocking your core. You two spoke at the same time.

“It’ll probably take a while before you’re warm eno—”

“The power could go off again at any mo—”

“Sorry—”

“What were you saying—”

You both chuckled self-consciously.

“You love being inside me, don’t you, Barnes?” you teased with no taunting in your voice. You felt his dick twitch. You rolled your hips. “Is that a yes?”

He bit his lip and looked at you with more than lust. It was devotion.

“Yes,” he said finally.

“Good. Because you’re the only one that can keep me warm.”

“What about me?” he asked.

You looked at him, perplexed.

“I get cold, too.”

“What can I warm up for you, Bucky?”

“My ears are kinda cold,” he said.

Oh. Not exactly what you were thinking about warming up, but ok. You reached out to stroke the side of his face. He smiled and blushed, but nuzzled into your hand.

“Your thighs should be pretty warm now…”

Oh. Your thighs could keep his ears warm. You would happily straddle his face in the name of reciprocity. It was the least you could do, right?

…

The next morning, you woke up wrapped in Bucky’s arms. The heat hadn’t gone out again during the night, but you still felt like you needed Bucky’s warmth.

“I didn’t tamper with the generator,” Bucky said. “But I should have. I should’ve warmed you up like that when you fell into the lake.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“Would you have let me?”

You nodded.

“You would have?!”

“I bought the Kirby bonnet for you,” you confessed.

“What?”

“I know how much you like playing Mario Kart with Sam. I thought you’d like it. I thought maybe it’d make you like me.”

He scoffed. “Are you kidding? By that point, I was already in lo—I mean, I, uh. I really do love Mario Kart, you’re right.”

“Nice save.”

“Let me take you out on a proper date.”

“One condition.”

“Anything.”

“Has to be somewhere warm.”

You shared a laugh.

“Where’s the fun in that?” he smirked.

Want to read more of my writing? Check out my ongoing Stucky x Reader series.

#bucky x reader #avenger!reader #black!reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #marvel x reader #suzsblinddatewritingchallenge #suzsblinddatechallenge

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shellxrls · 2 months

Note

Rafe wearing grey sweatpants would have me deceased. dead. died. on the floor. I’d suck him off before that tho

sksjsjsk ur so real.

you pounce onto his lean frame before he even has time to settle into a chair, eager to mouth all over the grey fabric and already fuzzy from the straps of his boxers peeking out of the waistband. your tongue warm and sticky while drooling a wet patch into the now darkened material, suckling on his pronounced tip that tented out.

then ward knocks on the door and rafe has to stuff his dick into the waistband of the sweats, pushing you off him and angling his hard-on just right so his painful erection is hidden.

but he forgets about the very obvious and very wet patch on the crotch. opening the door to ward’s unamused face, his father attempts to gesture an act of protest before hearing your stifled giggles and dropping his hands, walking away in surrender and yelling “be safe!”

#asks.ᐟ ⋆｡˚𖦹 #;anon #;concepts #rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron prompt #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron x reader smut #rafe cameron imagine

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derinthescarletpescatarian · 1 year

Text

Breakfast Time

My son’s stuck in a time loop again.

He thinks I don’t know, of course. He’s never told me that this happens to him (or that he can do this, possibly; I’m not sure which it is.) Maybe I’m a bad mother, if I haven’t proven myself worthy of that trust. But there is only so many times that one can watch their son trudge through a day with bored impatience, anticipating everything you say just a little too quickly and showing no surprise to even the most surprising event, and then come downstairs the next day disoriented but rejuvenated and with a new zest for life and a tendency to get blindsided by even the most predictable things, before one makes the obvious connection.

I don’t think he’s lived through this day too many times yet, because he’s not frustrated by my good morning joke but not surprised by the monster attack being announced on the news. He eats his toast makes polite conversation that sounds just a little too rote until his sister comes down, and he puts his toast down in that distinctive way that make her eyes widen in sudden realisation, a reaction I never would have noticed if I wasn’t looking for it. He told her about three time loops ago, I think, although it might’ve been earlier and I just never noticed the signal until then. I make sure to keep the smile on my face as I push a plate of toast towards her.

The thing on the news is some kind of flying beast, and my son’s eyes don’t leave the TV screen. I expect that calm, solid determination that I usually see in his expression on days like this, but instead he watches it only with a wary sort of calculation. I suppress a sigh – it looks like I won’t be remembering today, then.

The pair exchange glances and look to me. “Hey, mum, I figured we should go to school early. We’ve both got these big tests coming up and – ”

“Yes, fine, whatever. Go.” I know what you’re thinking – obviously they’re off to do something dangerous, and obviously they’re far too young for this sort of thing, and obviously I shouldn’t enable this, and I’m a terrible parent for letting them run off to maybe get themselves killed someday. But I put this to you:

How, exactly, do you expect me to stop them?

As my son heads for the door, though, I almost stop him. I consider, not for the first time, just telling him what I know, what I’ve figured out, and asking him to explain everything, to say where he’s going and what he plans to do about that thing and if his sister is involved and if they at least have help, to put my mind at ease. I don’t, though. Because, logically… I must have done that before, right? In at least one of the countless days that never happened. I must have gotten worried or angry or just fed up with this ridiculous charade and told him that he wasn’t as good at hiding as he thought he was. He has to know that I know, right? And yet, he still chooses to let it play out like this.

Or, perhaps, he told me once. That must have happened, right? I must have been there to help, to patch his wounds and dry his tears and listen to him confess his fears or his worries or his regrets about this big responsibility, about whatever he’s doing out there. He must have told me, at some point, at least once, in one of those nonexistent days. And afterwards, he chose not to tell the me that stuck around. Meaning that I must have given him some reason to keep this secret.

What did I do to him? What did I say to him? How bad a confidante must I have been, that he chooses instead to keep me in the dark?

They leave, they ‘go to school early’, and I start on the dishes. As I wash my daughter’s breakfast crumbs away, the plate slips from my fingers and shatters on the tiles at my feet. I sigh, and turn to get a broom.

Then stop. Pick up all the other dirty plates. And shatter them, one by one, on the tiles.

Then I leave the mess behind me, pull a full tub of rocky road ice cream out of the freezer, and resolve to spend the day eating junk and watching youtube videos. After all, it’s not like it’s going to matter tomorrow, right?

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xreaderbooks · 3 months

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Asphyxiated | Azriel

Summary: you overhear your mate talking to the inner circle about someone being clingy and annoying, and you decide to remove yourself from the court and your mate to avoid further humiliation.

based on this request

Warnings: language, insecurity, eavesdropping, feeling unworthy, court of nightmares, there's a stalker, some random OC, angst, miscommunication, fluff

Word Count: 2.9k

Azriel Masterlist | Navi | Wattpad | AO3 | Masterlist

"Azriel," You sing his name as you walk into your secluded home. A decently sized cottage to fit your tall, broad, wide-winged mate, that you designed and built together, just outside the city of Velaris. "Look at what I brought you."

You walk into the sitting room where you and Azriel enjoy each other's company in peace, however rare the occurrence. He appears troubled in his sleep as you've found him lying on his back with his wings spread open and a hand draped over his eyes. He removes his arm from his face and blinks your way, feeling your presence as you enter the room.

"What do you have there?" His melodic voice makes your stomach flutter in a frenzy as it always does and you hope the bond doesn't translate too much to him, or his shadows, the gossipers that they are.

With a bright grin, you bring the box from behind your back and show him a white box with clear plastic for the perfect view of the treats inside. "Cupcakes," You reply cheerfully, awaiting a grateful response. "Went by the river today and Hilaria was working at the shop you like, did you know she found a job? how great for her!"

Azriel grumbles slightly and your smile falters but you don't let it show, opening the box you move to the couch and sit beside him with the room he gave you tucking in his wings.

"You got my favorite," Az murmurs, carefully taking out the beautifully decorated dessert. You take the statement as a note of appreciation for how well you know him, that much was obvious as you've known each other since birth practically, and in love with each other for half of that time.

He bent his neck down to kiss your cheek and muttering a thank you.

"Don't get too excited now, I heard from Rhys about where you're next assignment is gonna be and I expect a little something when you get back," You tease.

Azriel exhales through his nose and it sounds like a small laugh, "I'll be sure to return the favor if all goes well, love."

"What's wrong?" You ask, the energy in the room has been off since the moment you arrived and you couldn't deny it frightened you a little.

You and Azriel have been going through a rough patch, it happens as often as he overloads himself with work but you have always managed to work through it, it's never too serious mostly the both of you missing each other.

Whenever Azriel was working, you were home, and whenever you were working- he was home. You've spoken to Rhysand about your and Azriel's assignments but it wasn't about when he wanted you both to work, it was simply what needed to be done when it needed to be done.

Both of you being spymasters of the night court, it wasn't ideal to send you both on the same mission unless needed. Most of the time, either one of you or both of you were needed in separate places.

On the days, weeks- if you were lucky- months, that you had 'easy' assignments or days off, you spent it together. You and Azriel would spend time in bed or with your family, going on outings, and trying new things to add to the excitement of life. You loved to be together, your relationship being very sacred to both of you.

"Just tired," Azriel shrugs. You know him better though, something was bothering him that he didn't want to tell you.

You felt his frustration through the bond, you wanted to help him but knowing Az he'd tell you when he was ready.

~~~

"-the fucking shop, I mean honestly how close is she trying to get?"

You didn't mean to eavesdrop. Originally you were coming by to talk to Rhys and Feyre about some of the rumors going around the court of nightmares, nothing too concerning but something that needed to be checked on the next visit. When you heard the muffled voices in the townhouse sitting room.

"Perhaps if you spent less time with her?" Mor suggested.

You couldn't think of anyone else Azriel might be spending time with if not for you. Did Azriel want to spend less time with you?

Your brain immediately jumps to conclusions, Azriel has been in his thoughts as of late, and he hasn't told you what's been bothering him. You thought it had something to do with the distance, perhaps a lack of communication. It was putting a strain on your relationship but you didn't think even more distance was the answer.

Azriel shakes his head insistently, "I don't spend time with her, ever. She finds me somehow, it's maddening and I can't tell Y/n to stay away while I figure out how to solve this, she's always just there."

It was like a dagger in your heart. If you were always there it was because you felt like you never spent time together, how were you supposed to have a relationship if you were never together?

You thought for sure, Azriel felt the same.

"She is a bit clingy," Cassian nods. You felt another pang in your chest, Cassian who was your partner in crime, Mor who was your favorite person to talk to about anything, and your mate had all agreed that you were too much.

"A bit is a bit of an understatement," You heard Feyre chuckle.

You almost couldn't believe what you were hearing, your fault for listening to a conversation you weren't privy to you suppose but you would've never guessed your family felt you smothered them.

Perhaps you were too clingy, you were over at their house every other day. You felt like you were dividing your time between the people you loved, maybe they didn't want you there, and you were an imposition on their daily schedule. You felt embarrassed and humiliated that they were in a meeting to discuss what to do with you.

"I can talk to her if need be, brother," Rhysand gives Azriel a reassuring nod.

Azriel shook his head, "No, no need. I will speak with her, it's my relationship, my responsibility."

Cassian snorted loudly, "Your need to fix things yourself is admirable brother, truly. Let us pray that this will not dig you a deeper grave."

You didn't hear the rest, didn't need to.

Silently, you slipped out the doors of the townhouse. You didn't want to lose your friends so if they wanted space- you'd give them space.

~~~

You disappeared for the rest of the day, and the next. You left a note to Azriel so he wouldn't worry- not that he wouldn't appreciate your shared home now all to himself. You still had your apartment in the city that you rented out when you moved in with Azriel.

There were currently no tenants as there were renovations to be done.

You avoided your room at the townhouse knowing you weren't as welcome as you thought. You didn't show up to training with Cassian and Azriel that morning. Instead, you met informants and did some investigating yourself.

You sent a letter to Rhysand with details on the Hewn City problem, told him that he should look into it as soon as possible, and asked if he wanted you to get a handle on it instead.

He replied with a note giving you thanks and telling you that he'd deal it himself but would call on you with the rest of the inner circle when the visit would happen.

Days passed by until it had officially been a week of no contact. Azriel had sent you letter after letter requesting to see you. You denied them all with sweet words to show that there was nothing wrong, that you didn't overhear what they said about you.

Where'd you go - A

Miss you -A

Come back, our home feels empty without you - Azriel

Are you alright? - Desperately need to see you, Az

Several letters with pleading undertones, each one more than the last.

Then letters from Cassian about training, you reassured him that you were following the usual routine. Mor had invited you to Ritas one night and lunch another day- you declined both with excuses of having too much work to focus on anything else. You didn't realize how much they felt it was an obligation to do things with you.

Eventually, the time came, and Rhysand called on you for the visit to the court of nightmares. You were anxious at the thought of seeing them again, maybe as time passed they would feel better with you around now that you gave them space.

~~~

You dressed appropriately for the setting, your leathers, and weapons strapped to your body. The scowl was natural as you hated being here, glares sent to everyone who looked your way, intimidation being the only way to survive this gods-forsaken place.

Bowing in front of Rhysand to fit the narrative, Feyre sent you a curious as you bowed to her, you felt her stroking the inner walls of your mind- a request to enter. You shut her out with strong mental walls, standing once she allowed you, and took your place next to Azriel, slightly behind him and Cassian.

Azriel's eyes followed you, he tried to brush a finger against your hand as you passed him but you clasped your hands behind your back. Through the bond, you felt a sting in your chest. You spared a glance at your mate, you missed him so much your body craved to be near him but you resisted.

It went as well as it usually did, a dramatically villainous speech from Rhys, with some added threats to those opposed to his reign. The High Fae in attendance got drunk on Faerie wine and danced with the whole night ahead of them.

Azriel attempted to talk to you over his shoulder, "Are you upset with me?" He muttered to you with a crease on his forehead.

You shook your head, "No, why would I be?"

"Where've you been?"

With the few looks you've gotten of his face he looked stressed, circles under his eyes, his hands were clenched and you could tell that it was to keep him from fidgeting.

"Now is not the time," You told him, straightening when you saw a reveler get too close to the High Lady.

"We're done here anyway," Rhysand's voice echoed in your mind. You didn't doubt Azriel heard him as well. You took your leave, Azriel right behind you, he caught up so quickly he held your wrist you didn't notice until you felt the world shift and you realized he traveled you both to your cottage home with his shadows.

Azriel had stood in the same spot he landed while you backed away from him a couple of steps.

"You've been avoiding me," A statement. It was heavy with questions, with want of information you didn't want to divulge.

You asked one of your own, "Have you watered the plants?"

"Have I watered the plants?" He scoffed out the last word. "I've barely been able to function without you, Y/n."

You flinched although he didn't yell but the tone in which he spoke felt like he was scolding you.

He continued, "Yes, I watered the plants."

A weak smile was pulled out of you, he probably loved those plants as much as you. You weren't as much a gardener as Elain but you managed a small garden of your own, they were like yours and Azriel's children, something you both grew together. A garden of both of your favorite flowers and fruits and vegetables.

"Seems like you've been functioning just fine," You responded in a smart tone, it just slipped out.

"Tell me what I did, please, it's driving me mad." He stepped in your direction, shadows reaching to touch you, and you saw Azriel forcefully reigning them in like he wanted to reach for you too.

You softened at the sight, "It's not something you did, Az."

"Something I said, then?" He didn't refrain from fidgeting now, in the comfort of the home, he fidgeted with his fingers. "Something I didn't say, I know I didn't want to talk about what was happening before, but I'll tell you whatever you want me to if you promise not to leave again."

You just about melted, you felt yourself wanting to sway at his beseeching. "What was happening before?" You questioned in barely a whisper.

"Hilaria happened. She- Nothing happened- I swear to you, she grew attached. She grew attached to me," He grimaced as he said it. "She was everywhere I happened to be, it wasn't normal, I've warned her off so many times I was glad you didn't notice. I didn't want you to be uncomfortable with her. The moment she got a job at the sweet shop, she got too close, you went there and I knew it wasn't a coincidence."

Azriel had a fucking stalker and you didn't know about it. That was what he was so stressed about. Hilaria- an Illyrian female who had a shitty life, Azriel had given her refuge, because she had no family left to care for her, and a female alone in that camp was no place to be.

You helped Azriel find her a living space, and gave her safety for her to heal from the traumas, she must've mistook that for something else entirely. You couldn't help but to feel bad for her.

"I went to Rhys, he and the others offered their advice and I tried to talk to her about her behavior. She didn't take it well, so we sent her to Dawn court with the assurance that they would do all they could to help her."

"You talked to the others about this?" It all made more sense now.

He nodded.

"Did Cassian say she was clingy?" You needed to be sure you were getting all the details now.

His brows furrowed, "How did you?"

"Because I was there when you were talking, but I didn't know you were talking about Hilaria." You sat on the couch slowly, forearms on your knees, hands clasped.

You laughed incredulously, slapping your hands to cover your face and running your hands into your hair. "I thought you were all talking about me."

"What?" Azriel's eyes were on you, deciphering your words when he pieced them together. "Why would we ever?"

"You weren't telling me anything about what was going on, I thought I was prying too much, I do spend a good bit of time with everyone, it wouldn't be too far off."

A smile tugged on his lips, one he was trying not to show. He was trying not to make you feel foolish but it was too late. "I love you, but this was not your wisest moment."

You grabbed a pillow from the couch and threw it at him with little force, "Az!"

"You had everyone concerned, they thought they had offended you in some way."

"Of course not!" You shook your head in disbelief, at how easily your insecurity took over.

"Now my family has some attachment issues, you couldn't get rid of them if you tried, you would probably want space from them yourself."

You rolled your eyes knowing them all too well, centuries with them and you still felt undeserving.

Azriel kneeled in front of you taking your hands in his and settling them on your lap then caressed your face in his hands. "I could never not want you near me, you're everything to me, understand?" His hands gave your head a gentle shake in emphasis.

"I don't think you understand where my mind was at the moment," You avoided his gaze. You didn't want him to know, the feeling of not being worthy enough for him, how you compared yourself to everything in his past and it didn't seem plausible for him to accept you. When he did accept the bond, it was the greatest moment you ever had the pleasure of experiencing.

Azriel was the love of your life, with and without a bond. It was hard for you to accept that he loved you without it if it wasn't for the fact that you trusted him to tell you the truth. He came to you and confessed his love and then the bond happened. You would have continued to pretend you weren't in love with him, otherwise.

"Do you not understand," Azriel sighed, "Do you not understand my love for you, at all?"

"It was easier to believe that you needed space from me," You confessed, shutting your eyes tight. Warm lips landed on yours, you were startled for a second before reciprocating the kiss.

He kissed you breathlessly, a minute, two or three- you didn't know how much time passed. Your blood pulsed in your ears, or was it his? it was rapid and created an electric current in your veins.

"I want to drown in your love, to be asphyxiated by it until all I know is you, in this life and after. I could never get enough of you." He whispered the promise on your lips with his eyes closed. You nudged your nose against his to open his eyes.

The warmth of his hazel eyes graced you and you murmur his name, he nudges your nose in response. "I love you."

Hours into the late night, after Azriel insisted on a bath together, you had a late-night snack nuzzled on the couch catching up on the lost time. You whispered sweet nothings to each other in bed with limbs entangled, and long-lasting kisses.

#azriel x reader #azriel acotar x reader #azriel imagine #azriel shadowsinger #azriel fic #azriel acotar #azriel x you #azriel #azriel spymaster #azriel fanfic #azriel shadowsingerx reader #azriel spymaster x reader #azriel angst #azriel fluff #acotar fanfiction #x reader requests

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qtkoshi · 11 months

Text

hobie and his bubblegum s/o

- I’m sorry y’all no i’m not, but i am not immune to the preppy x outcast trope and i - no i am not submitting to the idea of being a rockers gf leave me alone i absolutely am s/o to @dizscreams for prompting this idea never claimed to be a writer ;; im just ramblin

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

hobie brown wasn’t afraid to go against the common narrative. wasn’t afraid of many things, actually (as we know). he was loud, abrasive. tough.

and then there was you. soft and all smiles. it was a little sickening to be honest: how someone so bubbly and sweet complimented him so well.

but let’s not get it twisted, it’s not as if you were the one to round out his edges. despite the obvious clashes in personal style, you both carried similar ideologies in life, and in so carried a mutual respect in each other’s individuality and comfort. and what more could hobie really ask for in a partner?

additional headcannons i can’t stop thinking of:

wearing his jacket casually around >> you’re in an all pink fit? don’t care, the jacket smells like him and he likes seeing you in his clothes (makes him proud to let others know your his not that he would conform to dated notions of ownership tho so shhh)

omg swapping styles?? did it one time as a joke, now you both catch yourself wearing pieces incorporated into your outfits that remind you of the other. (cutesy metal flower and butterfly chokers?? modified spikes added onto your accessories???)

firm believer in this man being so so comfortable in his own self and masculinity. fuck do you mean i’ll look girly? give me the damn plushy rn

thinking of u possibly doing dance or cheer and? y’all both going to each other’s shows and sticking out like a sore thumb in the crowd, but neither of y’all give a fuck bc that’s your baby up there and man are u proud

patching him up with hello kitty bandages (which he thinks are cool as fuck).

the bubblegum is from u btw says it reminds him of u

making playlists for each other???? omg → actually have more overlap than ppl think; both love to explore genres (also helps that they’re ur fave songs, bc if u love them there has to be something gud about them right?)

this song with y'all actually

if u see me adding more on this later, don’t worry ab it

⊗

#hobie brown x reader #hobie x reader #spiderverse x reader #spiderpunk #hobie brown #me??#writing????#and thats the power of hobie babey #across the spiderverse #atsv x reader #atsv #across the spiderverse x reader #spiderpunk x reader #hobart brown x reader #hobie۫ ִ✮

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usedtobecooler · 1 year

Text

hands on you | steve harrington x fem!reader

Pairing | Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader

Warnings | sexual content 18+ minors dni, unprotected piv sex, vaginal fingering, mutual masturbation, size kink, dirty talk. big dick harrington making his return.

Word Count | 2.3k

A/N | nobody say a damn word. not a damn word. dedicated to @loveshotzz <3

“That… Jesus, Steve,” You’re looking at him — or moreso, it — with a morbid curiosity and wide eyes.

His cock hangs heavy over his tummy, weighed down by its own sheer size, flushed a needy dark pink at the tip and curved ever so slightly to the right, “Babe, how has any girl ever taken that?”

And it’s really a genuine, valid question to ask. He’s so big it makes your mouth water and your pussy clench, though it niggles in the back of your head that he’s guaranteed to be such a stretch. Your hand lays on his thigh, caressing the tan, toned flesh under your biting nails, and you choose to ignore the way he’s hissing from such a simple touch.

“Nobody has, honey,” Steve answers honestly, looking down with blown out eyes as your hand inches closer, backs of your knuckles brushing over his heavy sack, “I mean, I've — I've obviously had sex before, that’s a given. Just that I've had to stop halfway, ‘cause it hurts them.”

“Fuck,” You mutter to yourself, ghosting your fingertips up the length of his shaft until it’s kicking up under your touch, a blurt of precum spilling from his slit, pooling into the dip of his bellybutton, “You’re real sensitive.”

Your voice is breathy, strangled in your throat and Steve whimpers, hips canting up when you wrap your hand loosely around the tip, thumb smearing through the mess he’s making. Your touch is gone as fast as it’s there, pressing your thumb into your mouth like it’s nothing — he tastes nice, almost. Like he clearly drinks water, which is more than you could say for most men.

“Please, honey,” Steve begs, watching you with lust blown eyes as you smack your lips together, savouring him in your mouth, “Y’gonna let me fuck you? I'll be so gentle, promise.”

You think it over — you don’t want him to be gentle. You want him to pin you down and make you take it, fill you up until he’s nestled in your fucking guts and spilling his load so deep you can almost taste it in the back of your throat. But you’re not stupid, you’re clearly not ready for that. Not yet.

He’s disheveled looking as he leans back on his mountain of pillows, lazily sat with you between his spread thighs. He lost all of his clothes long ago, and you’re only sitting in your underwear, the state you’re both in is a clear expectation that you were anticipating sitting on his cock and riding him til the cows came home.

“Gentle or not, Harrington,” You start, maneuvering yourself so you can tuck your legs under his thighs, spreading yourself wide and showing off the obvious wet patch on your silky underwear, “M’gonna need to prepare for taking that monster.”

Steve's not even looking at you, fully focused on the way you’re sliding your panties to the side and exposing your needy cunt to the warm air in his room — you’re soaked, folds glistening under the light as you spread them with your fingers.

He makes a noise, large hand coming out to grip at the base of his cock and squeeze, relieving an ache — he’s barely covering half of his length, your gut churns at that knowledge —, “‘M I not gonna get to touch you at least?” He asks, jerking himself slowly as he watches you in an almost trance-like state, the tips of your middle and ring fingers dipping into your slick entrance and breaching.

It’s not that you don’t want him to touch you, of course you fucking do. but watching him touch himself over you touching yourself is making your tummy quiver, “Patience, baby.”

“Fuck, okay,” Steve’s lazy with it, jerking his cock at a slow pace as you finally sink your fingers into yourself, a quiet moan pulling from your chest as you do it. You can’t stop watching him touching himself, clearly going slow with it so that he doesn’t blow his load before he gets to fuck you.

You’re so close together that the back of your wrist is brushing Steve's heavy balls with every slick glide of your fingers in and out of your gushing pussy, and it’s eliciting the prettiest noises from him. a flush of heat washes over you, tummy muscles clenching when the pad of your middle finger just barely catches on that sweet sensitive spot inside.

“Feel good?” Steve's voice is breathy, almost desperate as his eyes finally flitter up to yours, ripped away from the sight of your cunt pulsing and gushing around your fingers. He's squeezing the base of his cock again, in a desperate attempt to stop working himself up too quickly.

“It —,” You start, gasping when Steve adjusts his leg on top of yours and you’re suddenly hyper aware of his skin on yours, “My fingers are just a little short.”

You don’t even need to ask, Steve's up on his knees and pushing into your space before you can even comprehend it. His cock merely brushes the inside of your thigh and you both moan, the head catching on your flushed skin and smearing wet in its wake.

“Let me?” Steve's voice is barely above a whisper, hand coming up to brush his unruly hair out of his face. It’s hotter than you’d care to admit to, with his pretty pink lips hung open, watching you intently as you slip your fingers out of yourself fully, the sickening squelch making you both shudder.

You lean back on both hands, Steve's hovering so close over the top of you that his breath is hitting your face, fingers grazing up the inside of your thigh until he’s hitting your hot, wet folds. Two fingers swirl just barely over your clit, enough to punch a moan out of you, fingertips grappling on his comforter, before he’s sinking the same two fingers into your cunt, all the way to the hilt.

“Oh fuck,” You gasp, steve’s expert fingers crooking up into that spot you couldn’t quite catch and past it, rubbing at the spongyness until your hips are canting up. The leaky tip of his cock presses into the meat of your leg, a reminder it’s there, and it only makes you moan louder, hips rocking into Steve's hand.

“You’re so tight around my fingers, fuck,” Steve comments, watching between both of your bodies as your pussy swallows his fingers, clenching and fluttering on them — the slick slide is deafening in your ears, winding you up further.

His thumb swipes at your clit and it makes your eyes roll, the assault on your g-spot becoming almost too much, the heat in your tummy blooming quickly.

“You gonna cum for me?” Steve's grinning, leaning his forehead on yours, fingers speeding up ever so slightly, pads running in circles until you’re panting and crying out, “Can feel you gripping me, honey. C’mon, let me feel you cum.”

Your eyes squeeze tight as the blooming heat bursts into flames, a cry of his name leaving your lips as euphoria spreads through your entire body. You feel your cunt pulsing sporadically around Steve’s fingers, gushing wet and soaking the sheets as he fucks you through it, fingers slowing down until they’re almost at a stop.

Suddenly, the overwhelming desire to have Steve fill you up with his cock is clouding your brain, blurring your eyes at the edges. You can feel him, hot and heavy, brushing so close to your cunt it’s dizzying, “Need you to fuck me, steve. please?”

Steve's brows pull together, he’d clearly forgotten about his own needs and desires in favor of yours and that only makes you want him all the more, “You sure, honey? You’re gonna be so sensitive, can you handle me?”

His words shouldn’t affect you the way they do, but you moan, all high pitched and needy, “C’mon, Steve. Fuck me like you mean it.”

And who would Steve be to refuse you that? He gently nudges you down onto your back until you’re laid flat, pulling your shaking legs up until your knees are bent up.

You can feel the head of his cock snagging ever so slightly on your puffy cunt, still sopping wet and no doubt drenching him in your release. Your tummy quivers in anticipation.

He sighs, shaky, as he grips at the base of his cock blindly, unable to take his eyes off of yours, like he’s searching for a definite answer. You nod, another go ahead, and his cock properly presses at your entrance, knocking the breath from your lungs.

He’s. Well, he’s fucking big. The first few inches slip into you and punch a ragged moan from you, eyes squeezing shut as you beg your body to relax for him.

“Hey, hey,” Steve’s voice catches you off guard, his other hand grabbing for yours and lacing your fingers together at the side of your head, “If it doesn’t feel good, tell me to stop.”

“Don’t fucking stop,” You gasp, squeezing his hand. It’s not a bad burn, it feels fucking good. Teeters on the edge of too much, but the right edge.

“Oh thank god,” Steve chuckles a little, pushing in another inch and your pussy clenches instinctively, choking his cock, “Honey, I don’t think I could stop even if I wanted to.”

You giggle, the movement causing your cunt to flutter around him and he moans properly this time, rutting into you another inch or two, filling you out.

Steve’s hand that was on his cock suddenly grips at your hip, as he bottoms out with a low growl, you feel it rumble up his chest, “You’re so — so fucking tight, warm,” Steve grits his teeth, pushing his hips forward to make it obvious that he’s fully sheathed in you, his heavy balls pressing tight to your ass.

You feel. Full. Ridiculously full. He’s hitting everywhere inside of you, the curve of his cock pressing into all the right spots, thatch of dark pubes brushing against your sensitive clit.

His hand laced with yours grounds you, helps you relax and settle into it quickly, his chest flush to yours and pressing you down helps, too.

Your eyelids flutter when he ruts into you again, reminding you of the size of him, “Move, Steve, need you to fuck me, yeah?”

Steve grunts, pulling out just a few inches and pushing back in, eyes rolling as the wet heat of your cunt invites him back in, “Think your pussy likes me being here, honey.”

You cry out at that, pussy spasming. You’re at a loss for words, the only thing on your mind is how Steve invades all of your senses. He leans down, kisses at the expanse of your neck as he sets a good rhythm. You feel every ridge of him, pushing so deep you swear you feel him in your guts.

“Hear that?” He mutters against your flushed, damp skin as he fucks you properly now, knocking the breath from you with every harsh thrust, “She loves me, baby. Loves my big cock, fuck.”

Of course you can fucking hear it, the way your cunt is gushing, sloppy and soaking for him, more and more leaking around his shaft as he assaults your frontal wall. You whine, loud and beggy, fingernails digging into Steve’s hand where they’re still interlaced at the side of your head.

“Taking me so good, honey. Can’t believe you’re taking all of me,” Steve groans, pace quickening as he chases his high — you’re not far behind, the constant press to your spongey spot and the occasional catch of your clit against his pubic bone is getting you there fast.

It’s so fucking hot, the way he speaks to you. Your body is alight with need and want, “Keep talking, Steve. G’nna cum,” You breathe, leg tightening around the base of his back, heel of your foot pushing into his ass.

“Yeah?” Steve grins into your collarbone, you feel it against your flushed skin, “Cumming when you’re full on my big cock? Fuck, c’mon, show me how much she loves me. She’s so greedy, honey.”

Your cunt grips him like a vice, that same blooming feeling from earlier back with a vengeance as you reach the end — it’s so hard to think, with him pressing so deep and rough. You nod, whining and crying out, “Fuckfuckfuck, ohmygod —!”

Your vision blurs at the edges, knocked dizzy and sick with it when your orgasm washes over you like tidal waves, fingertips digging into the back of Steve’s hand until he’s hissing and groaning, fucking you through it with a harsh snap of his hips.

“That’s it, so fucking tight,” Steve grunts, picking up speed and rutting into you until you’re practically screaming, “Gonna cum in you, fill you up with it, oh fuck —”

His hips still suddenly as he pushes his face into your neck and cums with a low grunt of your name. You feel every bit of his release shooting deep inside you, every pulse of his cock. Your walls flutter around him and he hisses in retaliation, smacking your hip gently.

He collapses on top of you after that, entire body spent. You can’t find it in you to care, as his cock softens slowly — you feel his cum spilling out of you, though you’re half asleep and struggling to comprehend it.

Your attention only piques when you feel fingertips at your puffy, used entrance, pushing the liquid back into your weeping hole.

It’s disturbing how ready you are for Steve, when he fucks himself back into you not long after.

#steve harrington smut #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fic #steve harrington blurb #mine #my work #my fanfic #x reader #this was meant to be a drabble but uh #i got carried away #as usual

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luxaofhesperides · 27 days

Note

Final hour Ghostlights request! Soulmate AU where when your soul mate dies your soul mark expands. Duke was really heartbroken at first but now his soul mark makes it really difficult to keep his secret identity hidden because he is covered in a map of the cosmos. He has to use his shadow powers almost constantly to keep all the stars hidden! And and maybe they light up like actual stars when he uses his light powers.

He meets Danny at orientation or something at GU and they brush against each other and he just lights up like a supernova, all his stars literally blazing and he's just like "YOU!" Both excited and also OH MY GOD YOU ASSHOLE.

....I rambled a bit here I'm so sorry.

The thing about soulmates is that you don’t really know who they are until they die. And even then, most people never know who their soulmate was, only that they outlived them.

Duke became one of those people when he was thirteen.

He didn’t even notice until he went to change and saw the watercolor swirl of nebula spill out from over his heart.

One moment, he was tired and angry, ready to sneak out of his latest foster home to search for his parents and do all the things adults have failed to do. The next, he’s collapsed on his knees, shaking, unable to breathe as he tries to rip his soulmark off of his skin. He couldn’t think past the shock and horror of realizing that his soulmate is dead and Duke didn’t even know until that moment.

They’ll never get to meet.

Duke had never felt so alone before.

He spent the next few days in shock, his mind a mess of static, unable to focus. He hid away in his room, buried under the covers, and his foster parents were understanding when he whispered my soulmate’s dead. They called him out of school and brought him food and water throughout the day, gentle encouraging him to eat something every few hours.

But disaster waits for no one, and Batman was gone, so Duke pulled himself out of his misery and hit the streets again.

So his soulmate’s dead. So his parents are gone. So Gotham’s falling apart.

No one’s doing anything about it, so it’s up to Duke to start fixing things. It’s not like he had much to lose.

Soulmates become a bit of a taboo topic to him, after that. He speaks of them to no one, avoids all conversation about them, refuses to stay when people talk about soulmarks. He tries not to look at his soulmark at all.

And then he takes a hit to the chest and patches himself up with shaking hands. For the first time in months he looks at his soulmark again and…

Did it… grow?

Duke prods it gently, letting out a hiss when his bruised ribs protest at the movement. He remembers the mark being right over his heart.

But looking at it now, it branches out, swirls of galaxy and constellations reaching out along his ribcage.

Panicked, Duke grabs for his computer and looks up soulmark growth and webmd soulmark abnormalities.

Neither give him any answers, though WebMD helpfully suggests skin cancer.

“I’m gonna ignore this,” Duke decides, and pulls on a shirt and goes to sleep. The less he thinks about his dead soulmate, the better.

Time passes and Duke goes from being a Robin to being the Signal, a legitimate vigilante working with Batman. It’s nice to see Gotham start to settle, things falling into place. For once, nothing is awful; Duke’s found his parents and doctors are looking for a cure for long-term exposure to Joker Gas, Batman’s taking care of Gotham with a number of other Bats, Duke is getting used to his powers and slowly making a good name for himself out on the streets.

He keeps his focus on protecting people and getting stronger, helping solve cases with the other Bats. No one mentions soulmates, so he keeps his ever expanding soulmark a secret.

The only problem is that it keeps growing and Duke is concerned that it’ll move to a place he can’t easily hide under his clothes.

And he does need to hide them. The more his soulmark has grown, the more obvious it is, especially when he uses his powers and the stars on his skin light up like the Fourth of July. He knows it’s abnormal, but it’s also his soulmark and he doesn’t want anyone, least of all Bruce, poking around trying to study it.

The grief still lingers when he looks at it, but Duke has long since grown used to it. If anything, these days he’s quietly annoyed by how far the galaxies on his skin spread out, forcing him to take tank tops and shorts out of his wardrobe.

There’s also the tentative hope that maybe his soulmate is immortal and keeps coming back to life after they die. And they must also have terrible luck, because they just keep on dying.

Case in point: his soulmark flares and spills out onto his shoulder and wraps around his bicep. It’s not the first time he’s seen it move, but it still startles him.

“Are you serious,” Duke mutters to himself, pulling at his sleeve to adjust it and hopefully hide his soulmark. The starts are bright against his skin, and while sometimes he likes to trace them with his finger, now is not one of those times.

As pretty as it is, his soulmark is also very obvious and will cause people to realize his identity if they ever catch a glimpse of it while he’s out as Signal.

He sighs. There’s no choice but to live out the rest of his life in hoodies and sweatshirts.

As if to spite him, his soulmark grows once more.

Did his soulmate just die twice in the span of five minutes? That’s concerning.

He wishes he could meet them just so he can shake some sense into them. Maybe tell them to stop dying since it’s stressing him out so much. Maybe stick by their side to make sure they never have to die again. He’s honestly not sure what he’d do if he ever meets his soulmate, but he has to do something. This has gotten out of hand.

At least seeing his soulmark grow doesn’t hurt as much as it did a few years ago.

Lazily, he pulls at the light around him to hide the new portions of the soulmark on his arm from sight. It takes some focus, but he can hold it up long enough for him to grab a snack from the kitchen and retreat up to his room without being questioned by anyone. He could probably even keep this shirt on for the college orientation he needs to attend later in the day if the light works well enough to keep his secrets hidden.

He’s expecting Alfred in the kitchen when he arrives, but is greeted by Dick clapping a hand on his shoulder, right where his soulmark has claimed space. Duke falters and works to keep the light from fracturing as he returns Dick’s grin.

“Hey man,” he says, “What are you doing here? I thought you were out until Friday.”

“And miss a chance to hang out with you? No way. Besides, I wanted to give you a ride to your orientation.”

“You don’t have to,” Duke starts, only for Dick to cut him off.

“I’m going to,” he says, as if it’s a threat. “It’s been too long since we get to spend time together without a mask on. Are you really going to deprive me of this?”

Duke shakes off Dick’s hand from his shoulder, walking towards the pantry to find a small snack. “I guess not. It’s going to be pretty boring for you, though. I’m just going to listen to people talk about what college is like for a few hours.”

“We could always just walk around campus afterwards. I haven’t seen it since it was rebuilt after the last time Freeze attacked it.”

“Sure, that sounds fun. Thanks for offering to drive me.” Duke pulls out a box of Poptarts hidden behind stacks of pasta boxes and pulls out a pack for himself. He opens it and isn’t at all surprised when Dick steals one right out of his hands.

“Meet me out front in an hour then.”

And with that, Dick leaves, his stolen Poptart in hand, and Duke is left to shake his head and shove the Poptart box back into its hiding place. He heads off to eat his own snack, making sure no one is in the hallway as he lets go of his hold on the light. Already he can feel a migraine building with the immense focus he had to use to make sure nothing looked out of place.

At least Dick didn’t notice anything was off. If he can fool Dick, he can fool anyone.

Still, just to be safe, Duke changes into something with longer sleeves before he leaves and hops into the car with Dick.

The drive goes quickly to the tunes of ABBA, both of them singing along as they head for the GCU campus. Parking is a bit tricky, but they manage to find a spot a street away and walk towards the student union, where tables are laid out for incoming freshmen to sign in and grab a folder filled with papers meant to help them.

He waves to Dick and heads in once he gets his folder, and grabs a seat in the auditorium that’s close to a fire exit.

It takes another twenty minutes for the presentations to start. The lights dim and Duke panics for a brief moment before drawing the shadows over himself lightly to hide the soft glow of the star etched onto his skin.

They start with introductions, bringing in advisors, professors, and student ambassadors. Most of it is basic information that Duke already knows, so he zones out and plays with some shadows at his feet, where no one can see the way he twists shadows together like some dark magic form of finger knitting.

For the next hour, Duke halfheartedly listens to people talk about preparing for classes and keeping on top of schoolwork and learning how to ask for help. He’s saved enough college students that he knows the gist of things, and the orientation really doesn’t give him anything helpful.

He probably could have skipped, but he wanted a normal college experience.

He should have known that normal means boring as hell.

As soon as the presentation ends, an advisor encourages everyone to follow the schedule tucked into their folder to give them a half day modeled after a typical student’s schedule. Of course, all the classes are nonsense just to fill up their time, made to help freshmen coming into the college by covering topics such as how to write an email and an introduction to majors and minors.

Duke already declared himself as a Human Services major, his first step into becoming a social worker like his mom was.

Also he totally knows how to write an email, what are these advisors on about? Do they really think people his age can’t write emails?

Yeah, he’s ditching. The main presentation is really the only part that matters in the orientation. He’s not walking out on anything he needs.

Duke files out after the rest of the crowd, carefully letting the shadows slip off of him once he’s outside again. Instead of finding the first ‘class’ he’s supposed to go to in the Modern Languages building, he wanders off to find a quiet place he can sit down and wait until Dick finds him.

Tucked away towards the back half of the campus is a small nook full of trees, bushes, and benches. Judging by the amount of cigarette butts left in the single trash can there, it’s a popular smoking spot.

No one’s there, so the air is clean and free of smoke, so Duke heads in, hoping to sit down.

Someone else apparently has the same idea. He hops down from one of the concrete planters that’s keeping a bush contained and nearly falls on Duke.

They both shout in surprise, then Duke is moving without thinking, reaching out to steady the startled looking guy who accidentally jumped down in front of him.

Duke only has time to take note of how blue his eyes are before his hands wrap around the guy’s wrist and Duke feels his soulmark flare with warmth.

In the shade of the trees, the glow of each star on his skin is obvious. It’s visible even through the fabric of his shirt. His soulmark, at this point in his life, stretches across his chest, his ribs, his back, and now his shoulders and upper arms. All the stars in that watercolor galaxy are shining brightly as if the night sky has been draped across his body.

Soulmarks only react like that for one reason.

“You!” Duke shouts at his soulmate, both elated to see that he’s alive and annoyed that he made Duke’s soulmark so large. “Stop dying! Do you have any idea how much stress you’ve caused me?!”

“Oh my god,” the guy says faintly, eyes fixed on Duke’s chest where his soulmark originally rested, shining brighter and bigger than any other star, as if he’s tucked a sun into his heart. “Oh my god,” he says again, with more feeling.

“I’m so happy you’re alive, but please stop dying. It’s bad for my health.”

“I think I need to sit down?”

He does look very pale and faint. Duke tightens his grip on his soulmate’s arms and guides him to a bench, gently sitting him down.

“You’re not about to die, right?” Duke asks. “I don’t think my heart could take it if meeting me killed you somehow.”

“No, no,” his soulmate manages to say, “I’m not going to die. Um. Wow. I didn’t know my soulmark would do that? Sorry.”

“Well, it’s not like you had any way of knowing. It’s all good, man. Just please stop dying.”

His soulmate winces. “Yeah, that’s not gonna be possible. Sorry. Again.”

What does that mean, though? What does it all mean?

“Can I maybe get an explanation as to why you have to die again.”

“Mmmmm no. We just met and it’s kinda personal so. No.”

“Dude.”

Duke’s soulmate shrugs helplessly. “It really is personal! I know your my soulmate and all, so I’ll probably tell you one day, but right now I don’t even know your name.”

Oh shit. He’s right. Introductions completely slipped his mind, too busy reeling over the fact that his soulmate is here and alive. Which, honestly, would be enough to throw anyone off balance.

“Shoot,” Duke says. “Sorry. You just really caught me off guard. Hi, I’m Duke, I promise I’m more put together than that.”

“Hi Duke, I’m Danny, and I’ve apparently been traumatizing you for the past few years by making you think I keep dying.”

“Well. At least we’re thrown head first into the crazy. Best way to know if we’re be a good match.”

“You sure you can handle this? You seemed pretty frazzled a second ago.”

Duke flusters and lightly whacks Danny’s shoulder. “That’s normal! Anyone would do the same when meeting their soulmate for the first time!”

“Fair enough,” Danny laughs. “This is a totally weird request and you can absolutely say no, but… can I see?” He presses a hand against one of the glowing stars beneath this collar bone, looking up at Duke with wide, hopeful blue eyes, and Duke finds it so cute that he’s willing to do anything Danny wants.

“Here,” he says as an answer, pulling the collar of his shirt down a bit to reveal the nebula spilling onto his shoulder.

“Oh,” Danny breathes, tracing a light finger against it. “It’s beautiful.”

“I’m guessing you like space?”

“Love it. I wanted to be an astronaut, but uh…. It’s never going to happen. Health problems, you know?”

“Well, I know it’s not the same, but I hope the stars you put on my body will be a good enough replacement.”

Danny cheeks turn red and he turns away, flustered. “Don’t smooth talk me right now, I’m not ready for it,” he mutters, bringing up a hand to try to hide his expression.

“Sorry, sorry,” Duke laughs, “I’ll try to keep the flirting down to a minimum. It’s just really great to finally meet you. And I’ve been wondering, what’s your soulmark look like?”

“Oh, well…” Danny fiddles with the long sleeve of his shirt. “I had a pretty bad accident years ago that kinda affected how my soulmark looks. So if it looks weird, that’s why, okay?” He takes a deep breath, then pushes up his sleeve, holding his wrist out to Duke.

The first thing Duke notices is the soft yellow glow, Signal yellow to be precise, running down his arm as if sunlight fills his veins. Then he sees Danny’s soulmark, a sun with rays that wrap around his wrist. And running through his soulmark are Lichtenberg scars, glowing yellow as if stealing the color from his soulmark.

“Guess we both got super obvious soulmarks, huh? At least we kinda match, that way.”

“That’s one way to look at it,” Danny agrees.

“Man, what a day.”

Danny looks more relaxed with him now. It’s much better than the startled, tense version of him that first sat down on the bench. Duke hopes he chooses to stay with him; he doesn’t admit this often, willingly, or to other people, but he’s a romantic at heart and has always wanted to live a happy life with his soulmate. It’s still far off in the future, but he hopes Danny feels the same way.

“So, are you ditching the orientation classes to?” Danny asks.

“Yeah, there’s no way I’m going. I mean, a class on how to send emails? They can’t be serious.”

“I know, right?! I saw that and thought I was being pranked. I mean, we’re going into college. We better know how to send an email by now.”

“Since we’re both free for now, wanna grab lunch with me? It can be our first date, if you want.”

“I’d love to! And you can show me around Gotham a bit. I’m coming here for college, but I haven’t really seen the city yet. It’d be nice to explore it with someone who knows where things are.”

“Are you free for the rest of the day? ‘Cause I wouldn’t mind showing you around, if you want.”

Danny smiles, radiant. “I am. I’m in your hands for the rest of the day.”

“Cool,” Duke says, trying not to think too much on that wording. It’s very suggestive, very flirtatious, and he’s looking forward to getting to know Danny more so he can start properly flirting. “Lemme just let my brother know to not wait up for me.”

He pulls out his phone and sends Dick a text that just reads: met my soulmate. going on a date now. i’ll see u back at the manor!

Then he puts his phone on silent and tucks it back into his pocket. He’ll tell Dick all about this later; for now, all his attention is on Danny.

Soulmates get priority, even stressful ones that give him the largest soulmark he’s ever seen.

And right now, he’s on a mission to find the best lunch spot to take his soulmate to for their first date. Everything else can come later; for now, he’s going to enjoy the time he gets to spend with Danny.

He hopes they’ve got a future together as bright as the stars in his soulmark.

Despite it all, Duke is sure they’re going to be alright.

#ghostlights #dc x dp #dp x dc #dcxdp #dpxdc #prompt fill #my writing #dannys obv not going to be able to keep his identity as phantom hidden for long in gotham #esp since he wants to protect people and transforms to do that #and one of those times will be in front of duke to protect him from some goons trying to kidnap duke for his connections to the wayne famil #duke ends up using his powers as well leading to an identity reveal on both ends #and then the dots connect and duke yells THIS IS WHY U KEEP DYING and danny has to sheepishly apologize for how large dukes soulmark is #he does kiss all the new stars that show up on dukes skin tho so hes forgiven very quickly #(not that duke was ever mad. he's just worried)#thanks for the prompt!!

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vroomvroomwee · 8 months

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Aziraphale's vest

I'd like to take a second and talk about his vest because I think it's a really good metaphor for Aziraphale's internal feelings.

At first glance it's obvious the vest is quite old. Really old in fact if you note the way it's practically disintegrating.

And it got me thinking a bit. The way the white practically bleeds from the edges of the neck, shoulders and buttons, going further and further, one day if he's persistent enough to wear it, it might even take over the entire vest. You could say that that, somehow, mirrors Heavens influence over Aziraphale. Slowly, slowly, biding their time, until it has completely ridden him of any colour. Until it has completely washed him of his identity, of his originality, of his character.

Take a look at his clothing when he's up in Heaven.

Completely and utterly white. Every piece of clothing he's wearing is pure and untarnished white. Upon entering Heaven, against his own accord, it has stripped him of his uniqueness, of anything that might distinguish him from any other angel who blindly follows orders and who's sole purpose is to do Heavens bidding.

Now, he could miracle the white patches on the vest away easily. But he doesn't want to.

The thing is. He likes the imperfect. He likes partaking in human activities and pleasures, like food, music, etc. Likes to indulge himself in earthly things Heaven would label as sinful or "sullying." And as someone who bas been on the receiving end of Heavens ridicule and passive aggression for millenia, as someone who for centuries has been told that he's underperforming and needs to do better, as someone who is all too aware of his own impurity by the standards an angel should hold and of the quite frankly unholy behaviour in performing immoral temptations and directly going against Heavens orders no more than a few times throughout the eras, it's no wonder he finds comfort in the imperfect.

He keeps the deteriorating edges because they are a perfect representation of his own internal feelings and image. After all, there's no rule that says he can't. And a big kudos to the costume department, for the patches perfectly encapsulate his religious trauma. Without it, he would probably be a very different person. He wouldn't be the same Aziraphale we know and love. The same way he likes being old-fashioned with his clothes and how that is a part of who he is, his trauma is a part of him as well, along with Heavens influence that has shaped him into who he is today, whether he likes it or not.

Every part of the vest illustrates Aziraphale's character and internal feelings, which brings me to another point I want to draw attention to, and that is the BACK of the vest.

It's DARK. And I don't think I'm mistaken when I say that most of us didn't expect it to look like that from behind. We all just assumed that it would be the same beige colour as the front, which is in tune with the rest of his attire. After all, seeing him wearing a dozen different outfits all throughout history, all of them some shade of white, it was the logical conclusion.

But no.

It's not white. It's a dark, slightly viridian or a dark blue colour. "Dark blue suggests a more mysterious depth or ominous quality. Power and authority: Dark blue signifies power and responsibility. "

Not what we would have expected that colour at all. Similarly to how one wouldn't expect an angel to perform temptations or be gluttonous, or envious, or slothful, or hedonistic. Not at first glance anyway.

Not unless you look carefully.

Not unless you know him.

The coat almost acts like a cover. The light over the dark. Almost as if it's trying to hide something. The only times we see Aziraphale not wearing the coat is in his bookshop. Which is logical, of course. You wouldn't wear a coat indoors, obviously. Except he DOES. He wears the coat when he and Crowley are drunk, he wears it when he's reading Agnes Nutter, he wears it when Gabriel and Sandalphon pop in, he wears it when he's talking to the Metatron, he wears it when he's listening to Shostakovich, he even wears it at the Ritz where it would be custom to take off your coat while dining. And it's worth noting that during the events happening (at least in the first season), the season is summer. Which would make it quite ridiculous to be wearing so many layers everywhere you go and therefore risk boiling. But he still wears the coat.

The only times he doesn't wear it is in the first episode after the sushi, when he's all ALONE, and in season 2 at the bookshop when Crowley comes back and in 1941.

And there's something oh so personal about that.

I don't think it's a coincidence that the darker part is specifically the back of the vest. There's always been this natural human instinct to protect yourself by never ever turning your back on a foe. And I don't think this is a conscious effort on Aziraphale's part, but rather genius writing, directing and costume design, and anyone who's watched and read Good Omens knows that almost nothing is coincidental.

Note this is probably the first time Aziraphale has called Crowley his friend, seeing how uncertain and doubtful he was to even say the word in this scene and how quick he was to deny their friendship in the Shakespeare scene. And the camera immediately cuts from Crowley to Aziraphale, who is turned away, whose back is turned to Crowley oh so casually without a care in the world. Just before he calls him his friend. His back is turned, and so is the dark part of his vest.

The dark part he only shows in his bookshop, when he's alone and there's no one there. The part that he now only shows to Crowley as well. Crowley who knows him so well and who's been with him through everything. "I won't tell anyone if you won't." And "you said trust me""and you did". Just this small motion of Aziraphale depicts exactly how much trust he has in Crowley not only that he'll keep him safe and protected but to accept him just as he is, to not judge him, to not demean him for his imperfections as an angel. Practically mirroring Crowley's self-protection mechanism that is reflected in his motions to hide his eyes with his sunglasses (there's a wonderful meta on this by @simply-brightly-zee here )

And it might just be clothing, or it might just be genius symbolism, but note how self-aware Aziraphale is of his looks when Gabriel pops up.

The desire to impress is almost unconscious in this scene, and how does he go about doing it? By making sure he looks presentable. Presentable, despite the white patches and the vest that is falling apart, he doesn't even realise it. Therefore, it's clear Aziraphale puts thought into his clothes, whether consciously or unconsciously.

I personally dont think any of this (the coat, the patches, the way he turns his back, when, where and around who he's most comfortable) is a deliberate and intentional act on Aziraphales part but rather creative brilliance from the directors and producers. So him being shown to expose the back of the vest only in scenes with Crowley (and the one in s2 infront of an amnesiac Gabriel with the intelligence and awareness of a squirrel) is a master move on the costume department's part. The symbolusm being so small and imperceptible, but holding so much meaning. This small metaphor shows how much Aziraphale trusts Crowley and how comfortable he is around him. Crowley who knows about Aziraphale's transgressions, sins, unholy behaviours, lack of interest and dedication to his job, and overall "incompetence" as Aziraphale might put it and how he's "just enough of a bastard to be worth knowing". Crowley, who will accept him and love him no matter what. Not despite those things, but because of those things.

They have found their "own side".

Edit: Not that important, but I just want to mention how, despite being tattered and falling apart, the vest is still in perfectly good condition. No matter the white seeping in and draining its colour, the vest doesn't have a single seam torn, not a button lost, perfect as the day it was bought. No matter what it's been put through, it's still kicking, whether by miracle or sheer willpower. Very much like the person wearing it.

#good omens #goodomens #aziraphale #crowley #goodomenss2 #good omens 2 #ineffable husbands #good omens season 2 #aziracrow #goodomenss2spoilers #good omens meta #good omens analysis #analysis

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zayneslady · 2 months

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hey!! loved that angst fic you wrote xx can i request the boys reaction to when the reader/mc and them are in an argument, and they accidentally said something extremely hurtful and it made reader cry. make the boys regret it so much pls hehe😼 thank you 💗

warnings: angst, open ending again hehe and again, reader is not MC

characters: Zayn, Xavier, Rafayel x reader (separately)

a/n: my first request *-* thank you so much! This exact trope is one of my favorites. I hope you enjoy it! Get your tissues ready! Also thank you to everyone's support in my first post! I'm so happy! ❤️

Classification: scenarios

ZAYNE ❄️

You didn't want to admit it, but you were sick. During the day you felt a little sore in your throat and your nose was stuffy. Arriving at Zayne's house after work, it was more than obvious that you had a fever. Your face was red and the chills running through your body made you shiver.

There was nothing else to do, you would miss work tomorrow to fully recover. Furthermore, with the care of your loving doctor, you knew you'd be fine in no time. So you quickly took a shower and after drying your hair, you grabbed a blanket and curled up on the couch with a cold patch on your forehead, waiting for Zayne patiently.

To your surprise, he arrived at a normal time and your heart vibrated with joy when you saw him enter. He had his head low as he stepped out of his shoes and closed the door behind him.

"Zayne! Welcome back! How was your day?” You greeted him as he shrugged his coat off. “Guess what," you said, giggling softly because it was quite obvious by your funny voice that you were sick. "I got a little sick after yesterday's ra-

You jumped a little when Zayne suddenly groaned, whipping his head up to look at you. “Oh my Lord,” he said, annoyed. “Can't you see I'm fucking tired? You do not know when you shut your damned mouth? I can't stand you! Why are you so clingy?”

Your eyes widened and your face turned bright red. Your mind went blank and you didn't notice the tears streaming down your face until Zayne's face changed from complete anger to guilt. He looked at you from the door as if he didn't know what had happened just now. He didn't recognize himself. How did he dare to talk to you like that when you-

He gasped softly, “you're sick.”

You tried to clean your tears with your hands as you got up from the couch. Zayne made an attempt to come close to you, but you quickly ran to the bedroom only to come back after a couple of minutes with your shoes and coat on.

“Excuse me,” you said, as you approached the door.

“What? Where are you going like this? You need to rest.”

You nodded, trying to keep some distance from him. “I know. I'll rest back home. So please move.”

“Stay here. I'll take care of you,” he grabbed your hand and more tears fell down. How could he talk so sweetly right now after what he said.

You shook your head, pulling your hand away and pushing him aside so you could open the door. “I don't need you, Zayne. Not when you can't stand me.”

“I was wrong, please.”

“I was wrong too. Goodbye, Zayne.”

XAVIER ⭐

“My poor Xavier,” you mumbled, gently cleaning a wound in Xavier's side. You winced when he did and your heart broke. You knew perfectly well that this could happen because of his line of work, but you felt terrible every time he came home hurt. “Oh, Xav, is it too painful?” You asked as you started to bandage him.

He shook his head, breathing heavily and resting his head against the pillow on his bed. “It could be worse. Thank you for helping out.”

“No need to thank me,” you said, smiling at him as you placed a tender and loving hand over his now bandaged wound. “I wish you didn't have to do this. It's so dangerous.”

Your words had no poison. You clearly didn't want Xavier to suffer in any way. Why couldn't he have a regular, safe job? Maybe he's just strong because he has to protect everyone. You said those words from the bottom of your warm heart, so you were more than surprised to hear Xavier's response:

“What? Are you saying I'm weak?” He spat and you blinked.

“N-No! I'm just saying that I wish you had another job because-

“Is that so? So you rather have a bunch of wanderers attacking innocent people? Just because you don't want me to get hurt?”

“It's- It's not like that! I never said that. I just get worried sick for you and-

“Maybe I should really stop, huh? Just turn a blind eye to everything that's happening like egoist people like you di.”

He just kept vomiting out words, one harsher than the last. Every time you tried to speak and fix this misunderstanding, his irrational words drowned out your voice and it made something heavy and nauseating settle in your stomach. This was not going to end well in any way.

“Xavier, my love, please listen to me. I do not-

“Maybe one day a wanderer will actually kill you. And believe me, I won't even bat an eye at you,” he said, crossing his arms and turning his head away from you.

Your eyes had never filled with tears as quickly as that moment. Your body began to shake with suppressed sobs as you felt heat and disappointment throughout your body. Did Xavier just... wish for your death? And in the hands of a creature as horrible as a wanderer?

“Oh no,” he suddenly said and you flinched when you felt his touch against your cheek. “I am so, so sorry.” You cried a little harder before getting up from his bed. “W-Wait, my star. Please, I'm sorry.”

No words came out. You simply grabbed your bag and left the room.

He called your name and then groaned in pain as he tried to move. “Pl-please, come back! Where-

You couldn't hear more of his words as you closed the door of his apartment. Did this mean the end? You truly thought so.

Rafayel 🐠

"Ah, welcome back, Rafayel!" The amount of excitement that rushed through your body whenever your eyes landed on him was almost overwhelming. It wasn't that you hadn't seen him in a long time, but a second without him felt like a century.

His eyes, usually warm and sparkling, looked cold and even angry at seeing you in his house. "Hello," he said dryly as he closed the door behind him. You frowned slightly. "What are you doing here?"

"Hmm, nothing much. I just wanted to visit you. Is that alright?"

He sighed, placing a paper bag on the table. "Yeah, sure. I gave you a key after all."

You cleared your throat, nodding awkwardly. "Did... you have a good day?"

He sighed again and shook his head as he stepped out of his shoes. "I didn't. It was terrible for the very first moment I opened my eyes. You see," he started and you nodded, listening carefully. "I overslept so I lost precious time for my painting. Then I didn't have time to eat so I didn't eat anything but a piece of bread."

You immediately got up to make dinner for him, maybe after eating he'd feel better?

"And the worst thing was," he said, collapsing onto his couch. "I couldn't find my emerald green paint so I had to go all the way to the art store and get a new one! Ugh!"

You blinked, frowning a little. "Your emerald green?"

"That's what I said."

"Hmm, I'm very sure I put it in all of your greens?" You left the ingredients aside as you walked to the paints. "Here it is."

He got up and looked at you with an astonished expression. Confusion quickly turned into anger and he was yelling at you in a second. "Why didn't you tell me?!"

"You saw me last night!" You explained, carefully leaving the paint back in place. "You said you wanted your paints to be more organized and I asked you if I could help you out! You even told me you liked how I organized it by colors!"

Rafayel let out a frustrated sigh as a hand carded through his hair. "I can't believe I just lost all of that precious time because of your stupid mistake!"

"Excuse me?"

"Every time you try to help, you just mess things up! Can't you keep your little hands to yourself for once? I was just stupid for letting you help me out! You are way too much, I can't stand you sometimes.”

You were stunned. He had never said anything like that about you, you couldn't even remember other times when you wanted to help him and you ruined it. Besides, it wasn't your fault. The green paint was there all along and he just hadn't taken the time to look for it properly.

You knew it wasn't your fault, but his harsh words and the anger and hatred in his eyes were too much. Tears quickly filled your eyes and began to fall down your reddened cheeks.

Rafayel realized his mistake a bit too late. Letting out a gasp as he watched the first tear fall, he hurriedly approached you, but you backed away, putting space between the two of you. He couldn't say anything, too surprised by his own words.

What was just a moment seemed like minutes, endless hours with deafening silence. Only your sobs echoed around the entire house, until your voice, small and trembling, made him jump.

“I won't touch your stuff again, Rafayel,” you said softly, avoiding his eyes.

“N-No, I didn't mean-

You nod, “if you don't mind, I'll sleep in your guest room. Goodnight, Rafayel.”

Deep inside you so desperately wanted him to stop you, but he watched you disappear into the hall and never called you back.

You knew it was going to be a very cold night.

#love and deepspace #love and deepspace x reader #love & deepspace #love & deepsace x reader #zayne x reader #xavier x reader #rafayel x reader #love and deepspace zayne #love and deepspace xavier #love and deepspace Rafayel #love and deepspace scenarios #zaynslady #*scenarios

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megumishotgf · 6 months

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more jjk + mha fic recs !! ˖ ࣪࿐ྂ

in my unemployed era so i have hours to scroll on this damn app... here are more fics that i loved!! featuring: megumi, satoru, nanami, toji, yuuji, yuuta, katsuki, izuku, shouto (whew there's a lot of them today. your girl has been READING) credits to all these talented writers!! pls check them out!! masterlist more fic recs pt. i pt. iii

: ̗̀➛ megumi fushiguro x reader

you and gumi bond over books (he reads a book you're interested in just so you have someone to discuss it with. bawling)

multiple-part enemies to lovers smau!! (this is SO FUNNY. i cried from laughter more than once)

more enemies to lovers (lengthier fic, so so good + smutty)

you give megumi valentines day chocolates (so so cute he just loves u so much)

secret relationship trope + poor yuuji walks in on you making out (poor baby is traumatised)

more secret relationship + getting caught (i love this one so much)

your silly tired bf just wants kisses

it's late, you're wandering in your ducky slippers and see megumi patching himself up

megumi falls in love with milf! reader (omfg... i love this sm. i've never considered being a cougar until now)

friends to lovers with megumi (high school a.u + gumi buys reader sanrio)

thinking about megumi's hands (i js know they are pretty. thinking of all the unspeakable things they can do)

comforting insecure megumi (my poor baby. a lil angst but dw there's a happy ending)

: ̗̀➛ kento nanami x reader

kento comes home early (so cute and precious. im crying i need him to be real so bad)

he gets hurt bad and you can't stop crying (angsty but also fluffy don't worry this doesn't end like shibuya)

: ̗̀➛ toji fushiguro x reader

riding toji until he whimpers omfg (he gets embarrassed and teaches you a lesson ahhh)

your fiancee toji finally gets freed from prison (they finally freed my man anyway you suck him off while he drives omfg)

sex as payback for your noisy ass neighbours (im losing it)

really cute dating headcanons

more on toji being a simp for you (HES SOOO)

: ̗̀➛ satoru gojo x reader

"my girl is mad at me i hope i die" that's it

y/n + satoru being stupidly in love (now this one has a kick to it.i'm crying)

satoru is obsessed with you but you're oblivious (pining satoru)

boyfriend texts w/ satoru

fucking satoru in the prison realm (AHHHH)

satoru begs to fuck you at some high profile event (u js look so cunty in that outfit and it drives him crazy)

car sex with satoru AHHH

satoru lets u try on his blindfold (hes such so :( so so adorable)

you get hurt and satoru is worried (wow this is so well written. happy ending + gojo centric)

: ̗̀➛ yuuji itadori x reader

fucking ur friend yuuji in a club bathroom (this is so so good)

"if we had a baby would it be mine or sukuna's" (this is hilarious)

yuuji comforts his gf who's not his 'usual type' (its me im the short gf with a big chest) (i’ve been coming back to reread this daily)

: ̗̀➛ yuuta okkotsu x reader

blowing ur big dick bf yuuta (canon)

really really romantic sex w/ yuuta (straight up making love)

: ̗̀➛ katsuki bakugo x reader

domestic headcanons (i love them and i love him. help)

more cute relationship headcanons

katsuki is obsessed with gossiping and eavesdropping when you and your friends spill the tea (this is so funny i love it sm)

dragging katsuki to the club bathroom because u love him (this is so wholesome im crying)

kiri notices how whipped katsuki is for you

guard dog katsuki is jealous

: ̗̀➛ izuku midoriya x reader

mating press with izuku (this actually drives me crazy. written so well and in character)

izuku is just so fucking precious (i can't take it anymore)

: ̗̀➛ shouto todoroki x reader

shouto gets halved by a quirk but not like gojo, there's js two of him (there is one obvious thing to do now)

dr. todoroki promises to breed you properly (i'm convulsing)

you're insecure after giving birth and shouto comforts you (with loving words and his dick)

resolving an argument w/ ur bf shouto (so cute!!)

eating u out in the kitchen (omfg)

there is an overwhelming amount of smut i'm sorry this is kind of embarrassing i'm just super horny lmao

#mha x reader #jjk x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #shoto todoroki x reader #megumi fushiguro x reader #satoru gojo x reader #yuuji itadori x reader #yuuta okkotsu x reader #izuku midoriya x reader #toji fushiguro x reader #kento nanami x reader

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irisintheafterglow · 6 months

Text

if he's a ghost, then I can be a phantom

summary: the strawhats are summoned back to baratie so sanji can cook for a high-class diner. they can't figure out why zoro is so nervous. (opla!zoro x you)

wc: 2k

cw/tags: swearing, mentions of food and eating, established relationship, pet names (sweetheart, doll, lover, pretty), spoilers if you squint, sanji being himself and zoro having absolutely none of it

note: this was requested by an anon a few weeks ago and i finally got around to writing it!! every time i write for zoro, i have a new favorite fic i've made because he's just so fun to write for. hope you enjoy!!

likes, reblogs, and replies are always appreciated <3

“You know, they’re a lot hotter in person.”

“Shut your mouth, waiter, or I’ll skewer it closed,” he mutters with palpable distaste. Another swig of rum burns down his throat and, for the first time that the crew can remember, Zoro seemed nervous. It wasn’t obvious, but they’d sailed long enough to know that he never stopped surveying a room for threats, no matter how familiar he was with it. Today, though, the only thing that took his attention was the rim of his glass and he was subtly avoiding the eyes of the crew’s target. “This is the dumbest idea you’ve had in a long time.”

“Thank you for your input, Zoro. I will, however, be belaying it,” his captain replies brightly, unfazed by the blank expression of his first mate. The uneasy faces of his crew only makes him beam more, giddily excited for the anticipated challenge. “C’mon, guys. We’ll be fine. They just need to see how awesome we are and they’ll totally give us a new sail!”

“Loud, loud, too loud,” Zoro warns in response to the increasing volume of Luffy’s voice. They were already causing enough of a scene, as is, and he damn sure didn’t want other guests looking in their direction. To make matters worse, the amount of alcohol in the table’s bottle was dwindling too quickly for comfort.

“Hey, if we’re lucky,” Usopp offers, “we might just get a whole ship. You know, maybe one that Captain Usopp can command as the second ship in the Straw Hat fleet.”

“You think we’ll get a whole fleet?”

“Hell yeah. Maybe, we can all captain our own ships–”

“Alright, let’s get our heads out of the clouds,” Nami cuts in. “We still need to figure out how we’re going to get over there, in the first place. And just for the record, I’m with Zoro on this one.”

“First time for everything,” he deadpans. She smartly elects to ignore his sarcasm and continues to argue why the plan is a bad idea. The call from Zeff came at an opportune time and during an unfortunate situation when the Merry sailed straight into a torrential thunderstorm that ripped the main sail clean down the middle. Despite their best efforts to patch it up, it was beyond repair; with the Marines constantly on their tail, having a working sail was a matter of survival. Zeff’s reluctant summons for Sanji to cook for a special guest provided a means to buy a new sail and have a little extra spending money. But, in his wildest dreams, Zoro could not have predicted that the special guest was you. The smug look on the chef’s face snaps him out of his thoughts. “Shouldn’t you be in the kitchen, waiter?”

“Shouldn’t you be downing the rest of this bottle, drunk?”

“I’ll smash this damn bottle on your head, I swear–”

“No, no. Zoro has a point,” Luffy agrees. Sanji gives him an odd look and he quickly realizes what his statement insinuated. “Not about smashing the bottle on your head. We need you to bring them your food so then I can go over and talk with them.”

“You don’t think I can charm them on my own?”

“Don’t look so aghast, blondie,” Zoro answers and receives a knife-sharp glare in response. “This is not someone who will entertain your theatrics.”

“How would you know anything about them, hmm? I believe you’re a little too dead inside for their liking,” Sanji baits and Zoro’s on the verge of biting before Nami steps in again.

“Sanji, get in the kitchen. Let’s just get the money and get out of here.” Zoro silently thanks her in his head for effectively ridding the chef of the table for the time being. His gratitude turns into a grimace when she turns to him expectantly. “You’re gonna hate me for asking–”

“Then don’t ask,” he finishes. She doesn’t relent.

“How do you know them? It seems like you’re nervous about being here, but we’ve never met them before as a crew.” Hitting the damn nail on the head. “So, you must’ve met them when you were still hunting down pirates. Am I right?” He grumbles an unreadable response, but the slightly pink shade of his face tells the table everything they need to know. “You’re terrible at covering up secrets.”

“I don’t remember asking.”

“Ah, you’ve got him on the run, now. He’s deflecting,” Usopp chuckles, immediately shutting up when Zoro shoots him a deadly scowl. He hated that all of them were right and would never admit it to save his life. After all this time, seeing you still made his heart rate skyrocket and cause his hands to clam up with boyish nervousness. You were just as beautiful as the last time he saw you, instances that were too few and far between for his own liking. Your father would have a fit if he saw you in such an unregulated environment as Baratie, but he knew that you were safe. As long as you breathed the same oxygen, he vowed no harm would come to you.

“I met them when I first started hunting,” he admits and the words felt wrong on his tongue. Every nerve in his body was telling him to stop revealing his relationship to you. It didn’t matter if he’d almost died surrounded by his crew; his connection to you was sacred and something he was going to take to his grave. It was mostly for your safety, the late-night sneaking out and stolen displays of affection. In another life, he wouldn’t have to hide you from other hunters that wanted to see him fall. “Their father is a captain in the Marines. When I first met them, they were training with Mihawk. Their father wanted them to be the most feared Marine in the seas.” The jaws of his friends fell to the table and he knew how wild it sounded, a legacy Marine trained by a pirate lord. “But, Mihawk taught them more tricks than just swordfighting and their father fired him on the spot.”

“He taught them sympathy for pirates,” Nami concludes and he nods. “Why are you so shifty around them?” He shrugs half-heartedly and tries to make it look like his face wasn’t on fire.

“Just haven’t seen them in a while,” he states, zeroing in on the blonde asshole waltzing to you with a plate. Your surrounding guards stiffen, hands flying to the weapons at their belts. You, however, roll your eyes and tell them to stand down. He knew you hated going out with security because they were always watching, watching, watching. “Eyes up. The waiter’s making a move.”

A strange sense of nausea washes over him as he watches you smile politely at Sanji, laughing softly at his jokes and kindly nodding as he explains the dish to you. You trust them, Zoro keeps telling himself. That waiter doesn’t stand a fucking chance. All the reassurances don’t stop his gut from churning when Sanji does his signature lean-down-and-whisper-suggestively into your ear. To his surprise, however, you don’t immediately meet the chef’s eyes. Your attention flicks to Zoro, instead, with a look that he knows all too well.

Please get me out of this.

Despite the protests of the table, he’s standing in an instant and walking with his hands on his swords like your guards didn’t even exist. His sight becomes tunnel-vision on nothing but you and he bypasses your guards with ease. Your shoulders relax when he stations himself protectively behind you, much to the confusion of the chef in front of you. As subtle as he can, he rests his hand on the back of your chair, inching closer until he’s just barely touching your shoulder. It’s small, but speaks wonders for his presence.

“Zoro,” you murmur without looking up, your fingertips brushing against his knuckles. Your touch on his skin after so much time away feels electric.

“Hey, sweetheart.” Sanji stiffens at the term of endearment so easily leaving Zoro’s mouth and you can sense the boost it does for his ego. “Whatcha got there?”

“My new friend was just telling me about the dish he made. He said he crafted it especially for me, with his own hands,” you inform him with a sly sparkle in your eye. His jaw clenches unconsciously. You knew exactly what was going on in Zoro’s mind and he knew it, too. “Apparently, he can work wonders with his hands,” you remark casually and you can hear the chair crack under the force of the swordsman’s hand gripping it. To your delight, Sanji’s face has also taken on a slightly darker shade of red at how crassly you echo his suggestion. And in front of his rival, no less.

“Was he, now?” His tone is lethal and it sends goosebumps up your arms. “Well, it best be time for him to get back in the kitchen, no?”

“Mmm, but he said he had a proposal for me–”

“I had one for you too, though I did ask you in a much finer establishment than this one.” You can’t help the smirk that spreads on your face and you have to look to the side to keep from laughing aloud. Zoro’s jealousy was rearing a very indignant head; you’d be lying if you said you didn’t find it a little hot. “Got that stone on your left hand to prove it.” Sanji’s eyes darted to the band wrapped around your finger, a ring that looked suspiciously like the one hanging from a chain around Zoro’s neck. “Give us some time alone, yeah?” His question becomes rhetorical as he pulls out a chair next to you and tugs your seat closer until you can cross your leg across his. His palm rests possessively over your thigh and the chef gapes for a few moments more before turning back to the kitchen.

“That goes for all of you, please,” you order your guards without looking at them, absentmindedly tracing Zoro’s jawline with the back of your pointer finger. “Take my bag and buy however many drinks you want. I’m safe,” you state with absolute certainty. Once they’re gone, all you see, feel, and know is him.

“Hi,” he breathes.

“Hi,” you smile just as softly. “What’re you doing in a place like this?”

“I can ask you the same question, pretty.” His eyes shine with nothing but adoration. You forgot just how much you missed him.

“Took a detour to prolong my time at sea. I didn’t want to go home just yet.”

“Your old man’s being an ass again?”

“You know how he is,” you reply. “Why are you here?”

“Believe it or not, that blonde shithead is my crewmate. We’re here to get some extra Berry for a new sail.”

“Sail, hmm? I always knew you had a little pirate in you,” you tease and he sticks his tongue out immaturely. “Heard you fought my esteemed mentor. I don’t know what the hell you were thinking.”

“You don’t think I can beat him?”

“I don’t think I can fathom what will happen if you don’t,” you say quietly, swallowing a lump in your throat. “Don’t do any dumb shit, okay?”

“You’re acting as if I’m already leaving you again.”

“Aren’t you?” Your smile is sad and it makes his chest ache. When he beat Mihawk and killed your bastard father, he was going to give you the life that you deserved.

“Not yet,” he promises. “I don’t wanna go yet.”

“I don’t want you to go, either. How much do you need for that sail?” He gives you a number and you don’t even blink. You just nod and reach into your coin purse, fishing around and deciding to just give him the entire pouch. “Will that cover it?”

“Doll–”

“It’s a yes or no question, husband,” you say with lighthearted sternness. He shakes his head in exasperation but can’t hide the grin painting his features.

“Yes, lover. It’s more than enough.” He presses a kiss to your forehead and you hum in contentment. “Thank you, sweetheart.”

“Of course. D’you mind introducing me to the rest of your crew besides the flirty waiter?”

if you enjoy my writing and would like to support me, you can buy me a coffee on my ko-fi! you can also check out my full masterlist here :)

#zoro x you #zoro x reader #zoro x y/n #roronoa zoro x you #roronoa zoro x y/n #one piece x you #one piece x reader #opla x you #opla x reader #opla x y/n #zoro fluff #opla fluff #ask iris!#one piece x y/n

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unfinishedslurs · 1 year

Text

gay bar (steddie)

“Well, well, well,” says a voice from behind. “Steeeeeeve Harrington. I must be dreaming.”

Steve turns around to see a guy, dressed in black and chains. Rings decorating his fingers, studs in his ears, curly hair pulled back in a ponytail. He’s hot, yeah, but something about him has Steve squinting, trying to figure out why he looks so familiar.

“I know you from somewhere,” he says, pointing out the obvious. The guy knows his name.

The not-a-stranger snorts. “Of course you don’t remember me. Why would the likes of King Steve stoop to—“

As soon as the nickname leaves his mouth, Steve’s brain lights up. “Munson!” He exclaims, snapping his fingers. “You used to climb on the lunch tables to give speeches.”

It was so obnoxious, too. The kind of thing that had him and Robin reminiscing late at night, celebrating some of the weirder shit about Hawkins that didn’t come from monsters, or Russians, or government conspiracy. Remember that one asshole? Yeah, he stepped on my lunch one time!

Condolences to Robin’s pb&j. She never sat at that table again.

Munson’s whole face turns pink. “Seriously? That’s what you remember?”

“It was pretty fucking memorable, dude. Like, gross, doesn’t this guy know not to put his feet where people eat? Dustin thought you were so cool for it too. I had to nip that in the bud before he started imitating you or some shit.”

“Oh,” he says, voice gone flat. “Because God forbid some poor kid try to immolate the freak.”

Steve gives him his bitchiest, most deadpan stare. “Feet,” he says slowly. “Nasty, fifteen year old boy feet. On my kitchen table. He almost slipped and cracked his skull, and I would have sent you the hospital bill.”

He had to get creative to make him stop, too. Stood there, hands on his hips, and made Dustin tell him exactly how many germs he thought were on his shoes. Then when he tried to do it barefoot, decided the only course of action was to stuff Dustin’s abandoned sock in his mouth and ask if he wanted that shit with every meal. Erica still has the photos.

Munson has the decency to look embarrassed, face flooding an even brighter red that wouldn’t be out of place in a tomato patch. “What are you even doing here, Harrington?”

What does he think Steve’s doing here? It’s a fucking gay bar, it’s pretty self explanatory. “My friend is here somewhere,” he says, waving out at the crowd of people. “She’s going through a dry spell, so…”

“Right,” Munson says. Steve squints at him. Does he look disappointed?

Eh. Doesn’t matter.

“You gave my kids the best freshman year of their nerdy little lives,” he tells him, because he knows Dustin would want him to. Plus, the guy was Mike’s gay awakening. He should probably get some credit. “So thanks for that.”

He lights up. “Yeah! How was Hellfire in my absence?”

“I had to hear them bitch and moan for months about how it ‘wasn’t the same,’ but it’s doing pretty all right. Erica Sinclair is running it now.”

“Erica Sinclair…” Munson mutters, snapping his fingers. “Lucas Sinclair’s little sister? Lady Applejack?” He beams when Steve nods. “She kicked ass. Best finish to a campaign my entire high school career. How’s Lucas, anyway? And the rest of the runts.”

“He’s doing great,” Steve says. “College basketball at Yale. Pretty sure he’s dying under the workload, but that’s what you get for majoring in physics. Dustin’s at MIT, and Mike’s taking a gap year.”

He whistles lowly. “Yeesh, I don’t blame him. How about Byers?”

“Which one?”

“Zombie boy.” Steve’s hackles raise, but Munson just grins. “God, that nickname was badass.”

“How do you even know about that?”

Munson taps the side of his nose. “A magician never reveals his secrets. Besides, all it took for you to remember me was calling you by your high school nickname.”

“That wasn’t my nickname.” Steve rolls his eyes. “Literally three people ever actually called me that, and you were one of them.”

He has a feeling it was Tommy who started it, bitter and vicious. Told himself Steve was self possessed, high and mighty, above it all. That’s why he left his old friends behind. Not because he was in love, or because he wanted to be better. No, King Steve just sits alone in his castle, looking down on the peasants with contempt.

Billy must have taken his angry ramblings and run with them. After all, what better way to get a start in a new town than declaring yourself royalty? Never mind that Steve hadn’t cared about anything like that for almost a year by then.

Munson had just been a drama-loving asshole.

“That can’t be right.”

“I stopped being popular in junior year. Why the hell would anyone call a sophomore King?” Steve points out.

“You were Prom King.”

“Again, in junior year. Pickings were slim. Who else would it have been? Tommy?” He has to laugh.

Luckily, Munson takes the hint and swerves the conversation into new territory. “You know, I always figured you’d be homophobic.”

Steve snorts. “What, and get kicked out for nothing?”

Munson stares at him, and Steve furrows his brow, looking into his glass like it will have the answer to why the hell he said that to this guy he barely knows. He just decided he wasn’t going to spill all his daddy issues to a near-stranger in a dingy bar, dammit. Is he already on his fifth drink?

Actually, this might be his sixth. That tracks.

“What?”

“My dad caught me kissing a boy,” he says. If he’s going to give Munson his life story, he might as well commit. “Can you believe that boy ruined my life in three different ways? Two of them didn’t even have anything to do with the gay thing.”

Maybe four ways, if you accounted for the way he broke his goddamn heart, but everyone and their mother saw that coming a mile away. Even Steve. Especially Steve.

No offense to Jonathan. None of those things were really his fault. Or actually life ruining, but it sure fucking felt like it at the time.

He should give him a call soon, actually, see how he and Argyle are doing. He misses the guy. Maybe he and Robin should save up for a visit to Cali. Get Nancy on it. They could see San Francisco while they were there, that’d be cool. Apparently it was the queer capital of the country.

He’s thinking about asking the bartender for a napkin and a pen to write down the plans he’s forming when Munson speaks up again. Steve honestly forgot he was here.

“I thought you said you were here for a friend.”

What?” Steve blinks, confused, and then catches on. “Yeah, to get her laid. I’m not in the mood right now.”

Munson cocks an eyebrow. “Wearing that? Could’ve fooled me.”

Steve looks down at his Springsteen T-Shirt that Robin cropped, and picks at the frayed hem of his shorts. Okay, yeah, they’re on the skimpy side, but in his defense it’s summer and even if he’s not cruising Steve likes being looked at. “Yeah, yeah. What about you? Here for anything in particular?”

“Just to talk to some pretty boys,” Munson says, leaning on the bar to flag down the bartender. Steve smirks, reaching out a hand to tug at the hanky in his back pocket. Pinned, damn.

Munson whirls around, a flush starting to crawl onto his ears.

“Wearing that?” Steve echos snarkily. “Could’ve fooled me.”

He swears that for a minute Munson’s eyes darken.

He’s almost tempted to follow through, high school reputation be damned, when someone crashes into his side and nearly sends him careening.

“Steeeeeve,” Robin yells happily into his ear. “This is Bernie, she’s gonna take me home, see you la—oh, hi!” She says, noticing Munson. “I know you from somewhere.”

“Eddie Munson,” Munson greets. “Steve and I went to high school together.”

“Munson! That’s it, you climbed on tables and had shit music. I’m Robin. Okay, I’ll call the apartment and leave a message when we get there. Bernie’s waiting on me, it’s-nice-to-meet-you-bye!” Just like that, she’s gone.

Munson’s mouth has dropped open. “You told her I had shit music?” He demands. “Wait, you talked about me?”

“She went to school with us, dumbass,” he says, as if he can talk. He still barely remembers her as more than a vague, glowering figure in his peripheral. “It’s not my fault you blasted your screamy music for everyone in the parking lot. Such a fucking headache, God.”

Munson turns his nose up. “Sorry for having offended your jock sensibilities.”

“Oh, I don’t play anymore,” he says, and knocks on his head. “Concussions, yanno. Apparently brain damage will fuck you up. Who knew?”

“What, like the fight you had with Byers? He did you that bad?”

“He did me just fine,” Steve blurts out, before he can stop himself. Munson chokes. “Shit, sorry, I’m kind of a horny drunk.” Weird thing to say, Steve. “Also, I cannot stress enough how much I needed to be punched in the face. It was a monumental moment for me, you know. Started me on the path for changing my entire worldview. Plus, he was my first guy crush.” He swirls his empty glass, lost in thought, before brightening up. “I should call him!”

Munson is staring at him, mouth opening and closing like a fish.

“What?”

“You’re drunk.”

“Well, yeah. Duh.”

“I should probably stop you from booty-calling the guy who punched you in the face.”

Steve wrinkles his nose. “It wouldn’t be a booty-call,” he says. “He and Argyle are happy together, man. I’m not gonna ruin that.”

“Oh, so you’d call him because…”

“I call him all the time,” Steve says, confused as to why this is such a big deal. “We’re friends.”

“Jonathan!” He yells happily into the pay phone. Munson is standing to the side, looking on in annoyance. Whatever, it’s not like Steve asked him to do this. “Jonathan, man, how are you?”

“…Steve?”

“Yeah!”

“It’s like…” he hears something clatter in the background, like Jonathan is looking for something, “two in the morning there. You okay?”

“I’m doing great!” He exclaims. “How about you? It’s been ages, man, I miss you.”

“This is so fucking weird,” Munson whispers behind him. Steve ignores him.

“Are you drunk?”

“No,” he says. “Well, maybe a little. Do you not miss me too?” He pouts, and Jonathan sighs loud enough he hears it over the phone.

“I just talked to you yesterday.”

Steve frowns. “Yesterday? That can’t be right, it’s been, like, forever. Oh, hey, have you heard from Nance lately? How’s your mom? I love your mom, she’s so fucking cool. Does she know I think she’s cool? How’s Will? It’s been so long, is he taller than me yet? How’s Argyle doing with his degree? I miss you guys.”

“We miss you too, Steve.”

“Awww, Byers, getting soppy on me? Gross, man.”

“You literally just—yeah, okay. Are you alone?”

“Nah, I’ve got this guy with me, he’s walking me home. Oh! Dude, do you remember Munson?”

“Munson?”

“Yeah, Eddie Munson! From high school! The one who used to climb on tables and shit, remember him?”

“Jesus Christ,” Munson groans. “Please let that die.”

“No one is dying,” Steve informs him seriously, and turns back to the phone. Munson sighs.

“Wasn’t he a drug dealer?”

“Yes! Yeah, drug dealer Munson! Did you ever buy from him?” He turns to where Munson is looking around furtively. “Did Jonathan ever buy from you?”

“How about we not talk about this here,” Munson says through gritted teeth. Steve sighs and turns back to the phone.

“Never mind, he says he doesn’t want to talk about that. Not like we can judge him, but whatever. Maybe the guy’s turned into a prude—“

“Okay, give me that.” Munson wrestles the phone out of his hand, and Steve whines at him. “Hey, Byers,” Munson says. “Yeah, it’s Eddie. Or Munson. Whatever. Listen, I’m getting kind of sick of standing here watching Harrington slobber all over the receiver, can he call you tomorrow? What? No, I don’t sell anymore—yeah, total bummer, whatever. Listen, I’ll get him home safe—no, I’m not going to serial murder him. He’s gonna be fine, he’ll call you tomorrow—Nancy Wheeler? Like that girl he dated? Didn’t you—shoot me? Jesus, okay! I’m not gonna kill the guy, Christ. He’s gonna be fine, oh my God. He’ll call you tomorrow. Uh-huh. Uh-huh. Yeah, okay. Bye.” He slams the phone into its holder with more than a little contempt.

“Hey!” Steve protests. “You didn’t let me say bye.”

“You can call him tomorrow and apologize,” Munson says. “Now c’mon, Harrington. I’ve been tasked with getting you home safe, and if I fail, apparently Nancy fucking Wheeler is going to shoot me in the balls.”

“Oh, yeah, she’s really hot when she does that,” Steve says fondly, and Munson splutters.

“What, does Wheeler just go around shooting people? Does she even have a gun?”

“Of course Nancy has a gun.” Steve frowns. It was one of the sure things in the universe at this point. The sky is blue, Hawkins is fucked up, and Nancy Wheeler has a gun. “And she doesn’t shoot people, stupid. Well, she shot at Billy, but he deserved it.”

“Billy?” Munson mutters, starting to usher Steve in the direction of home. “Who the fuck is Billy?”

“He was trying to kill her first!” Steve defends. “I hit him with a car before he could, so she was okay.”

“Okay, yeah, sure. Why wouldn’t you hit some guy with a car?

“It wasn’t some guy,” Steve says. “It was Billy. He was, like, possessed or some shit. Oh, and he beat me up. Total psycho. And that was before the melted flesh monster.”

Munson stops and stares at him. “You know what, sure. Demonic possession. Yeah, okay. Some guy named Billy kicked your ass—wait, are you talking about Billy Hargrove?”

Steve lights up. “Yeah! You remember that? That’s one of the concussions I was talking about. I gotta wear glasses 'cuza that shit. Man, fuck that guy.”

“Didn’t he die?”

“Oh, yeah,” Steve frowns down at the ground. “Shit, I’m, like, speaking ill of the dead, aren’t I? Max wouldn't like that. Unfuck him, or whatever.”

“You wanna come up?” He asks. “For old times sake?”

Munson stares at him like it’s the craziest thing he’s said all evening. “‘Old times’ was your asshole friends calling me a satan worshiper and pushing me around in hallways, Harrington.”

“I know.” He grins. If he was sober he’d definitely feel worse about that, but as it is he’s pretty single minded. “Don't you kind of want to make me cry about it?”

Deer in headlights isn’t usually a good look, but Munson’s got the eyes to make it work. Or Steve is drunk. Either way, it’s kinda cute.

“You’re drunk,” he finally says, stumbling over the words a little. If Steve pays close attention and ignores most of reality, it almost sounds like he’s trying to convince both of them. “You’re so incredibly drunk.”

“I’m not that drunk.” He totally is.

“I just had to supervise you calling Jonathan Byers so you didn’t say something you’d regret in the morning.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Steve asks, offended. “I love Jonathan! I tell him all the time. Just because I said he ruined my life—“

“That was him?”

“Did I not say that? Huh. Whatever. Point is, I’m not that drunk.”

“You’re definitely drunk,” Munson says. “I’m not—yeah, no. I’m not coming up.”

“Damn.” Steve shrugs, not too put out about it. It’s a bummer, sure, but he handles rejection like a champ. Just ask Robin. “Worth a shot. See you ‘round, Munson.”

“Don’t kill me,” Steve says.

“Oh, god, did you punch him?”

“No, I, uh.” Steve rubs the bridge of his nose. “I think I tried to fuck him.”

He has to hold the phone away from his face so Dustin’s screeching doesn’t break his eardrums.

“Your exes are weirdly protective of you,” Munson says blandly. “Also, didn’t they date?”

“Yeah,” Steve shrugs, not exactly eager to start spilling his life story again now that he’s sober. Munson doesn’t need to know more about his dating history than he already does. “We’re all a little weird about each other, sorry.”

“Weird about your exes,” he hums. “No wonder you’re single.”

“Oh, fuck you. It’s not like that.”

He raises an eyebrow. “No?”

“Are you always this nosy?” Steve asks, a little waspish.

“Absolutely,” Munson replies without hesitation. “I’d say sorry, but I’m not. When did you even date him?”

“Dude.”

Munson just cocks an expectant eyebrow, hip resting against the bar. He can’t imagine why someone would be so interested in the romantic lives of their old high school classmates. It’s not like Steve is about to ask what was going on between him and Chrissy Cunningham.

“Well, Harrington?”

“First grade,” Steve answers, deadpan. He grins when Munson chokes. “Nah, it was actually after he and Nancy broke up. Fall of ‘86.”

Arms squeeze him from behind, and Robin slides into view, leaving one hand wrapped pointedly around Steve’s waist. She gets clingy when she thinks someone is bothering him, or when she’s just on the side of drunk that she gets possessive. She told him, embarrassed and hungover, that it’s because she registers someone he’s getting along with as infringing on “her Steve time.” Steve thinks it’s hilarious and kind of sweet, an obvious lesbian trying to pretend he’s her date. Especially because he gets the same way when he’s tipsy and feels like he doesn’t have enough of her attention, so she can't yell at him for being a cockblock. Cuntblock. Whatever the lesbians call it.

He wonders what category she thinks Eddie is. Of guy, that is. Not block-anything.

He'd actually be pretty damn happy if the guy miraculously changed his mind and decided to sit on his cock instead.

“What’s going on here?” She asks, almost cattily. He loves when Robin gets bitchy. It brings him back to their Scoops days, except he gets to see it turned on someone else.

“I’m telling Eddie my life story,” Steve says blithely.

“Ugh. Who would want that?”

Eddie grins. “I’m curious about the adventures of a former king.” He dips his head in a bow, waving his hand in a flourish. “I don’t know if you remember me from last time, I’m Eddie—“

“Munson, I know. You stepped on my lunch in junior year.”

Eddie turns beet red in record time.

“Aww, Robbie,” Steve almost coos. “Leave him alone. I wanted to be the one who made him blush like that.”

“It’s not my fault your boy’s easy.”

“Not my boy, clearly,” he mutters under his breath. “And if he were easy, I’d have gotten fucked by now.”

Eddie’s mouth drops open with a choked little sound. Whoops. Steve forgot volume control again.

Robin takes one look at Eddie’s face and bursts into cackles.

“He was asking about,” he waved a hand in the air, “the whole Nancy-Jonathan thing.”

Her eyebrows jut up. “You told him about the threesome?”

“The what?”

Steve sighs. “No, Robin. I did not tell him about the threesome.”

“…oops.”

“When?” Eddie demands.

Robin gives him the evil eye. “Why are you being weird about this? It’s not gonna make him fuck you.”

Steve wisely keeps his mouth shut.

Eddie does not. “Your boy here already asked,” he smirks, leaning closer. “I said no.”

Then, as an added punch to his ego, he twirls a strand of Steve’s hair around his finger and tugs slightly. Steve’s too stunned to protest.

Robin watches the exchange. “Oh, no thank you,” she says. “Nope. I’m out. I don’t want to see whatever this is. Ugh, stop making me hear about your sex life.”

Hypocrite. “We have thin walls, Buckley,” Steve reminds her. He turns to Eddie and stage whispers, “She likes her girls loud.”

“Steve!”

“You do!”

“Oh, because you’re so quiet,” she snaps, smacking him. “How many times have I had to bang on the wall because you couldn’t keep it down? You wanna talk about loud? I know more about you than I ever wanted to.”

His mouth drops open in mortification. “You know it’s rude to be mean to the man who told you how to eat out,” he hisses.

“I’m not dying without fucking Eddie Munson,” he declares. “I mean, his high school nickname was literally ‘The Freak.’ He’s got to be good in bed, right?”

“I think that was mostly because everyone thought he was communing with the Devil or something.”

“Maybe the Devil gave him sex magic.”

“Of course he thinks I’m cute.”

“I do?”

“Do you not?” Steve turns to him, widening his eyes in the same pout that always has Robin throwing something at his face, or the kids reluctantly agreeing to do what he wants. He’s found it’s useful for guys too, especially if he ducks his head to seem smaller and looks through his eyelashes. Makes them imagine him looking like that on his knees.

Munson is no exception. He melts faster than Steve can say gotcha. “You’re very cute, Harrington,” he purrs, and Robin snorts into her drink.

“You’re a weak, weak man, Eddie Munson,” she tells a blushing Eddie. Then she kicks Steve. “Stop bringing out the ‘fuck me’ eyes when I’m around, I’ll gag.”

“You could leave.”

She gasps, affronted, and kicks him harder.

“So you would fuck me if I wasn’t drunk?”

“Uh…” he looks everywhere but Steve’s face, which is just rude. He has a very nice face. He’s been called dreamy before.

Which made Robin laugh so hard she fell off the couch when he told her, but he’ll take the lesbian’s opinion with a grain of salt.

He makes his way onto the dance floor. He’s not a particularly good dancer, but he shakes his ass like he means it. Gets up close with a guy, stares at Eddie the whole time. Keeping eye contact as the guy puts his hands on his hips.

Look, he means to say. This could be you. You could lose your chance if you’re not careful.

From the burning in Eddie’s eyes, he gets the message.

The message is a bunch of bullshit. It’s been over four months, he’s in too deep to go fuck off with someone else now. Still, he enjoys the way Eddie’s hands flex on his thighs, like he had to stop himself from reaching out.

The thing is, Steve’s not an asshole. He can take a hint. No means no, and all that jazz. If Eddie really didn’t want him, he’d fuck right off and find someone who did. He even started to.

Except Eddie pouted up a storm when he flirted with someone else. Got even clingier when Steve tried to back off. At this point, he’s accepted that Eddie does want to fuck him, and maybe even be more (no one flirts with someone as long as they’ve been doing without wanting something like a relationship out of it. At least, he hopes there’s something more on the horizon), but has some weird hang up about Steve being even a little bit buzzed when it happens. Even though they only ever see each other at this fucking bar.

The problem is Steve has no idea when Eddie will be at the bar. He’ll stay sober one night, hoping to see him, and then go home alone only for next time to be when he sees telltale curls and a wide smile. It’s driving him up the wall.

Robin has been similarly affected.

“It’s been six months,” she growls as Steve looks eagerly around. “Six fucking months of you two dancing around in the worlds most annoying mating ritual. I’m going to kill both of you.”

“We’re not that bad,” he says absently.

“You don’t even have his phone number. It’s pathetic. I swear to God, if you see him again and don’t get laid I’m reviving the scoops board. I will go out and buy a whiteboard to keep track of all the times you strike out with a man who used to walk on tables. He stepped on my lunch, Steve. Do I need to keep bringing up the fact he stepped on my delicious, nutritious PB&J? I can’t believe that’s the guy you decide to be obsessed with, that’s so fucking embarrassing for you.”

“Embarrassing? You mean like your crush on my ex girlfriend?”

She screeches wordlessly, pulling her keychain off her belt loop and attacking him with it.

Naturally, that’s how Eddie finds them.

“I swear you guys get weirder every time I see you.”

Steve grins guilelessly at him, holding a flailing Robin in a headlock.

“Eddie! Hey! It’s been a minute.” He hasn’t been able to come in a month, and it’s been longer since he’s seen him. It’s honestly one of the deciding factors on whether it’s a passing fancy or a full blown crush. He still went to sleep every night thinking about Eddie. It didn’t even have to be about sex.

Although maybe not sleeping with anyone else for half a year should have tipped him off sooner.

“Sure has, big boy. I was starting to think you were getting sick of me.” It’s a joke, but Steve catches an undercurrent of insecurity.

“That’d make my life easier,” Robin snorts. She finally wiggles her way out of his hold. “I saw Arty somewhere around here, I’m gonna see if I can crash at her place tonight.” She levels Eddie with a look. “He hasn’t had anything to drink. If you don’t put him out of his misery, I will. And it won’t be the good kind. It will be the bad kind. With bad screams. Lots of screaming, and someone will call the pigs, and I’ll be arrested and jailed for life. Do you want me to go to jail, Munson?”

Eddie shakes his head dumbly.

“Good! Then do something about it.” She slaps Steve’s back, a mocking echo of his jock days. “Go get ‘em, slugger!”

With that, she’s gone, disappearing into the crowd.

“She is,” Steve remarks with amusement, “the worst wingman on planet Earth. Mars too, probably.”

“I dunno, I think it might be working.”

“I’m not doing anything without a condom,” he says, eyes narrowed like he’s waiting for an argument.

“Me neither,” Steve agrees. “Robin has, like, this big fear of diseases. Totally got me with it. She pulled out the library books, those pictures were fucking disgusting. Shit showed up in my dreams, man. Neither of us do anything without protection.”

“I’m going to be totally honest with you, because I haven’t been and it’s starting to eat at me,” Eddie says, hovering above Steve.

Steve wrinkles his nose. “What is it? Are you a spy or something? Are you Russian? Do you have superpowers? Is your name not actually Eddie?” He pauses. “Oh, God, you’re not even Eddie Munson, are you? I’m just some asshole who’s been calling you by my old classmates name and you were too embarrassed to correct me. Shit, we made so much fun of you for walking on tables too—“

“What?” Eddie covers his mouth, expression hovering between amused and baffled. “What the fuck, why would I go along with that? No, Jesus, I’m Eddie Munson. Moved to Hawkins when I was eleven, took senior year three times, walked on the fucking tables, could you let that go?” He moves the hand covering Steve’s mouth to play with his hair, looking annoyed for a minute before it smoothes to trepidation. “No, I, uh, I just felt like I needed to tell you that I used to have a hate-boner for you in high school. Like, I used to jack it to the thought of kicking your ass and making a mess outta you. In more ways than one.”

Steve stares.

“Also, that’s kind of why I approached you in the bar in the first place,” Eddie blabbers on. “And then you said you were just there for a friend, and I was disappointed but it’s whatever, yanno? And then then you told me about your dad, and threw my expectations to the fucking wolves, and then you asked me to come up to your apartment except you were drunk and you probably didn’t mean it. But then the next time I saw you, you kept flirting with me, which you were not supposed to do, and I kept pretending that wasn’t the reason I even talked to you in the first place, and, uh, yeah.” He smiles nervously. “Surprise?”

“I mean, not really.”

“You’re such an asshole, fuck off. At least pretend to be shocked.”

“It’s not my fault you stare at my legs all the time,” Steve says, affronted. “I know I didn’t do too good in school, but I’m not dumb enough to miss that. Like, hello, my eyes are up here.”

Eddie lets his arms give out, flopping on top of Steve heavily. Steve wheezes. “Am I really that obvious?” He whines into his shoulder.

“You got sad and pouty when I even looked at another guy.”

“You could’ve fucked him,” he mumbles. “The guy you were dancing with. It wasn’t any of my business. I’m a big boy, I can deal.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t want to fuck him,” Steve says. “I wanted to fuck you. Can we go back to that please?”

“Thought I was fucking you.”

“Someone’s getting fucked or Robin will kill both of us. I’d like to live tomorrow morning. And not have to deal with any more of her teasing for having no game.”

“You have unfortunate amounts of game,” Eddie sighs, tracing the side of Steve’s neck. It tickles. “It’s kind of embarrassing for me.”

“Yeah, yeah, are we using those condoms or not, Moodkiller?”

“Oh, I’m the mood killer?”

“Yes,” Steve says matter of factly, and pulls him in for a kiss before he can protest.

#gay bar au #steddie #stranger things fanfic #eddie munson #steve harrington #robin buckley #featuring robin as the worlds worst wingman #i'm never not going to bully eddie for walking on those tables #'why does everyone here hate me🥺' mf it's bc you keep putting ur nasty ass shoes where people eat #i've said it before and i'll say it again. someone should have yanked on his leg and made him faceplant. he would have deserved it #we stay billy bashing 💪#in this au the byers didn't move to california #jonathan still goes to school there tho #why? bc he and argyle are soulmates and time and space moved for them to make sense next question #i need u to know eddie does not have sex magic and steve isn't actually as smooth as eddie thinks. they r just obsessed with each other #that one person who was in my notes truthing ab a stoncy threesome. i was excited when i saw that bc i had this written hope u see it <3

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