#I was up and down on posting this but I’m like foaming at the mouth for sloose content | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

Visit Blog

Explore Tumblr blogs with no restrictions, modern design and the best experience.

Fun Fact

Mobile US users spent an average of 115.8 minutes on Tumblr app monthly.

#I was up and down on posting this but I’m like foaming at the mouth for sloose content

daydreams-after-dark · 1 day

Note

Hellaurr

I had a very interesting dream plz I'm desperate for Minho to facefuck me so so so so rough plz I'm literally foaming in the mouth for his cum (desperate ass call for desperate measures 🤣🤣🤣)

(with lots of degrading plz)

Hehe if ur comfortable could you make it a male!reader? If not it's fine hehe just make it gn or fem, heheheheheheh tysm 🎉✨💅

I was so excited when this ask hit my inbox. Thank you @chuuchuu1224 for sending me my first ever request for a male!reader 😘

I thoroughly enjoyed writing this, and it was so fucking hot in my head, but now I’m about to post it I’m a little nervous. As much as I love writing from a guys perspective (usually skz member’s perspective with fem!reader), I’m not a guy. So I’m never going to truly know the experience. I hope I did ok 🫣

To my female readers: I really hope you give this a read because I’m pretty sure you’ll enjoy it if you generally enjoy my work. Minho face fucking is a need.

Lastly, degradation is a challenge for me (I’m a praise baby, but I love reading degradation). I’m sorry if it’s not degrading enough 😬.

CW basically everything in the ask 👆

‼️⚠️As always MDNI⚠️‼️

You watched Minho perform every single week at the local theatre. Saying he was your favourite dancer was an understatement. You were well and truly obsessed with him. Your eyes would be glued on his incredible physique from start to finish, not even noticing the other performers.

Minho was everything. Strong and controlled. Fluid and graceful. He had an expression of disdain one minute, a cute flirty glimmer in his eyes the next. And the way he rolled his hips whilst looking down at himself? Well, that always got you leaking, right there in the theatre.

Every week, you'd grow hard in your pants while sitting in the audience, hoping the person who sat next to you didn't see the boner your were sporting.

You'd think about him all the way home, and more often than not, you had to fuck into your hand before you even made it into the house. You always made sure to keep a packet of tissues in the glovebox of your car.

Tonight, Minho's performance had you hornier than usual, and you made an executive decision to go find the bathrooms to alleviate your situation, before anyone had a chance to see the state you were in.

"Y/n? That is your name, right?" A voice stopped you just as you were about to walk into the bathroom. Startled, and a little panicked, you turned to the person speaking to you.

Minho. Fuck. Your hands quickly tried to hide the bulge in your pants.

Minho's eyes followed your hands to your crotch. "hmph." he grunted and raised an eyebrow.

"Y-yes...that's me." you smiled sheepishly whilst dying inside.

----

"I've seen you here before, y/n." Minho said as he stripped the last of your clothes off your body. "Many times, in fact."

You were laying completely naked on a huge couch in a back room of the theatre. You gripped your cock as you watched Minho casually undress himself, tossing the garments to the floor. "Do you come to watch me?" he turned and smirked at you, before his eyes dropped to where you held yourself. “Tsk tsk. I didn’t say you could touch yourself now did I?”

You immediately released your cock, letting it lay against your lower abs, and swallowed hard in anticipation. What was Minho going to do to you?

“I see your pretty little face in the audience. Every. Single. Week.” He sauntered towards you and ran his hand up your leg, then your torso, causing you to tremble. “Watching me with that slutty mouth hung open.” He cupped your chin. “And you know what I wonder to myself every time I see you?”

Your eyes grew wide as they stared up at the man you’d admired from afar for so long.

“What that mouth would look like choking on my cock?”

You groaned and closed your eyes, your dick hardening even more.

“Hmm.” Minho stroked your cheek. “You like the idea of my cock rammed down your throat.” He forced your mouth open, shoving two fingers inside. You moaned again and sucked on his fingers, showing him what a good, obedient boy you could be.

He pulled his fingers out abruptly, dragging your saliva all over your chin.

Minho moved to grab your legs and pulled you further down the length of the couch, then climbed over you to straddle your chest. His magnificent dancer’s thighs pressed down on your chest, and his delicious, mouthwatering cock, was mere inches from your face.

“Beg me for it.” He said coldly, gripping his cock with one hand and a fistful of your hair in the other.

Your eyes started to water at the desperation you felt. You wanted him so bad you’d do anything to have him just use you. Use you for his pleasure and discard you when he was done. You’d thank him for it.

“Pl-please… Minho… need…your cock. Need your cum.” You whined.

Minho rubbed the head of his cock along your lower lip, swiping precum on it like it was lip gloss. You started to wriggle, you needed him to put it inside you now!

“Use me… please…I wanna be your cockslut.” You sobbed. Minho kept rubbing the tip of his cock along the edge of your mouth.

“Yeah? Want me to fuck you good? Destroy your throat, hmm?”

You nodded desperately.

“Okay. If you think you can take it. Open.” He demanded, and you complied instantly. “No touching yourself or me.”

He pushed his cock deep into your mouth and hissed as it passed over your tongue.

“That’s it.. take it down…Such a fucking slut. Yes. Open wider.” He pulled out halfway and thrust his hips to push himself in further.

You couldn’t breathe. He filled your mouth so good. He tasted like soap and sweat. His skin so velvety and smooth, and the way the veins felt along you tongue did things to your insides.

Minho fucked into your mouth furiously, hitting the back of your throat every single time. Your eyes watered and you hoped with everything you had that you didn’t gag.

“You’re taking this a little too well.” Grunted Minho. With the hand that was gripping your hair, he pushed the back of your head into the couch, and angled his hips to push his cock in until your lips were wrapped around the base. The tip squeezed past your throat, making you gag with a gurgling sound, and your face turn red.

“Finally choking on it properly now.” He slapped your cheek, and fucking you harder still.

You were pinned under his strong legs, unable to escape - not that you wanted to. Your legs started moving about, and your hips began to jutt against thin air. You wanted some friction, but your poor cock had to just lay there, swollen and neglected.

Your hand came up to rest on Minho’s thighs. That was a big mistake.

Minho paused, still lodged deep in your mouth. “What did I say, slut? Take your filthy hands off me.” He said through gritted teeth.

You whimpered around his cock as you removed your hands.

Minho sighed and looked up to the ceiling, before looking back down at your fucked out face. “What am I going to do with you?” He asked himself.

He pulled out of your mouth and climbed off you. Your eyes widened. “No… please! Minho… I can be good… I wanna be good… please… need you..”

Minho simply ignored you and moved around behind your head to drag you so your head was hanging off the edge of the couch arm. Then he disappeared momentarily, returning with a soft belt from a bath robe.

“Little boys that misbehave must be punished. Don’t you think?” He said tying your hands together, then moving back to wear your head hung.

“Open wide little cockslut.” He said in the most condescending tone you’d ever heard. Of course you obliged, opening as wide as you could.

You knew he wasn’t going to be gentle. His cock pushed past your tongue and deep into your throat, until he was all the way in. The more you struggled and the more you gagged, the harder his cock became, and the further down your throat he forced himself.

“This is what you wanted isn’t it? You wanted to choke on it.” He growled as your lips pressed against his pelvis. “I’m gonna be real nice and give you exactly what you want. I’m gonna make you fuckin’ choke.” His hand came to your throat and pressed around where his cock was stretching you open.

“Fuck…so tight…shit…fuck.” He hissed, slamming himself into you brutally.

You had no choice but to gladly take it.

“So fucking pathetic, with your leaking cock. Bet you’re gonna cum untouched… so desperate… so fucking pathetic.”

You whimpered, moaned, thrashed around as Minho held your head in place with his cock and his hands. “That’s it. Take it like the desperate little cockslut you are.”

Your neglected cock was well and truly leaking, tears were streaming from your eyes, and your mouth was dribbling messily. Yet you needed more.

You needed Minho’s cum. You wanted him to completely fucking ruin you. Just the thought of tasting his cum had you on the edge of your own orgasm, and your demise came when you opened your eyes to get the perfect view of Minho’s ass. Your cries were muffled as the coil inside you snapped and you felt ropes of your own cum land on your stomach as your orgasm hit you like a tsunami.

“So pathetic.” Grunted Minho when he saw you make a mess on yourself, then he was filling you up. “Drink it up… That’s it… Like a good little cockslut.” He panted as spurts of cum hit the back of your throat, then he pulled out to paint your face with the reminder of his seed.

“Fuck!” He growled throwing his head back as he allowed himself to calm down.

You tried to catch your breath whilst trying to desperately lick as much cum from around your face as possible. You didn’t want to waste a drop.

Minho began to redress, raking his eyes over you as he pulled his sweats up. You thought he was going to just leave you there, naked and used. If you were honest with yourself you were thrilled with that thought.

Unexpectedly, Minho knelt beside you with a towel, wiping you up and untying you.

Then he did something more unexpected.

He took you in a deep kiss.

…..

@channieandhisgoonsquad @noellllslut @itsseohannbin @weareapackofstrays @kangnina @3rachasdomesticbanana @palindrome969 @xxkissesforchanniexx @chuuchuu1224

#skz smut #lee minho smut #lee minho scenarios #lee know x reader #lee know x male reader #sorshas after dark ask box #sorshas fic

68 notes · View notes

invaliowat · 1 month

Text

Guys guys guys guys guys !

I feel like I talk a lot about how in love with Nick Slider is but I NEED you to know Nick is just as stupidly in love with Slider as Slider is with him. Like, this is the photo GOOSE keeps of Slider in his wallet and when people ask who he has at home he shows them this photo (and very obnoxiously points out the ring on Slider’s finger and how he put it there and yeah yeah yeah) and then HE gushes for fifteen uninterrupted minutes about Slider.

So yeah.

In your brain imagine how stupid Ron gets over Nick and just know in your heart of hearts that that Nick is just as stupid about Slider.

GOD they’re the gayest people alive FUCK.

Oh yeah, new part of this is me trying series soon but I had to hop on here to proclaim to the world what I, like a prophet, have been told is true.

Yeah

Sloose supremacy!

75 notes · View notes

strawberrysturniolo · 4 months

Note

fic reqqq

can you pretty pretty please write a fluffy kind of sleep aid fic w chris where yall cuddle in bed tgth and u start snoozing and he tucks u in and everything🫶 np if not your writing is actually so bomb like everytime i see a new post from u i start foaming @ the mouth like a rabid dog and gnawing on my enclosure 😭

sleepy // bf!chris

soft chris

summary: you spend the day filming with your boyfriend and his brothers and can't wait to go home and snuggle in bed with him.

The entirety of my day has been spent following my boyfriend, Chris, and his brothers around while they film.

We started our day by getting lunch at a local diner, did some shopping afterwards at a flea market, then finished the night off with a few rounds at Top Golf.

“Good job, babe!” I cheer my boyfriend on as he makes a perfect swing.

He turns around grinning before handing his club to his brother, Matt. “That was pretty good, right?!” He sits down next to me and tosses his arm around my shoulder. I tilt my head to the left so it lays perfectly on him, and he pulls me closer, kissing the top of my head. When his other brother, Nick, leaves the table to film Matt’s turn, Chris leans into me, whispering, “I really appreciate you coming out with us today.”

My exhaustion is evident. I thoroughly enjoy spending time with them on days where they are filming, and while I’m usually hidden somewhere off-camera to maintain privacy, it’s still fun to watch my boyfriend do something he loves, and interesting to see him at work. I have to say, walking around all day so they can get content in, and now sitting down watching them golf only reminds me of how tired I am.

“Sleepy, baby?” he asks, nudging me lightly when he sees my eyes falling shut.

“Mhm,” I hum into his shoulder.

“I’m sorry. I know it’s been a long day.”

He uses his left hand to carefully push my hair out of my face, using his other hand to pull me closer to him, falling asleep right at the table.

“Alright Chris,” Nick calls out. “It’s your turn, come on.”

I can feel Chris’ head turn a few times, looking between me and his brothers. “Can you go for me? I don’t really want to get up.”

I struggle to push myself up because of how tired I am, but I manage. “No, go play. We’re almost done anyway. I just need to stick it out until we get home and I’ll sleep well tonight.”

“Are you sure?”

I nod, not wanting to kill the mood for them.

He delicately kisses my forehead before tossing his arms around his brothers, his energy back to 100% when the camera is on him.

One thing about Chris is, no matter how private he wants our relationship to be, he will always find a way to show some sort of PDA when we’re around people. Whether it’s holding my hand, putting an arm around me, having me wear his clothes. He may not fully makeout with me in a public setting, but he’ll still kiss my forehead and hold me in his arms so everyone can see how much he loves me without losing an element of our intimacy.

The boys finish up their game, and when we head back to Matt’s car, he suggests we go to get a late breakfast tonight. I of course am mid-yawn when this comes up.

“Why don’t we head home?” Chris counters. “We already have a lot of footage from today, and if we need more we still have tomorrow.”

Matt groans, but when Nick sees me half-asleep in the backseat next to him, he sides with Chris. “He’s right. Let me work through this footage tonight and see if we need to go back out tomorrow before we end up with an hour long vlog that will take me an extra day to edit.”

I end up passing out asleep on the drive back despite it only being 15 minutes. I’m lightly shaken awake and greeted by my boyfriend’s hushed whisper.

“Baby, let’s get you inside okay? We’re home and you can sleep in bed.” He unbuckles my seatbelt and carefully leads me out of the car and inside the house, guiding me downstairs with his arm around me. “Go change into your pajamas.”

I pull out a Fresh Love set from his closet and toss my clothes from today into the hamper while Chris is in the bathroom. He comes out with makeup wipes and pulls one from the package.

“I can do that,” I say quietly.

“No, I want to.” He flattens out the makeup wipe and gently rubs my face with it, checking it every few seconds to make sure the product is coming off on it. “You’ve had a long day and it’s partly my fault. Let me do this and then you can brush your teeth and wash your face.”

Another minute passes before Chris discards the now used makeup wipe into the trash. I then head into the bathroom and wash off any remaining makeup and brush my teeth, climbing into bed once I’m done.

Chris follows me through all those steps, laying in bed next to me and smirking at my choice of pajamas. “I love when you wear these.” I have no energy left in me to speak. I simply nod and hope he can read my mind. His fingers trace my face as I doze off, slowly going in and out of my slumber. His arms wrap around me and pull me into him, and my face nuzzles into his chest. He uses one hand to push the covers into our bodies, tucking us in and keeping us warm while the ceiling fan balances the temperature out.

He places one more kiss on my head as he rubs his hands over my back.

“I love you so much,” he whispers into my hair.

I mumble a muffled, “I love you,” back to him before falling asleep for the night, the last thing I remember being him holding me tight and feeling the rise and fall of his chest as he breathes.

#chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #nick sturniolo #matt sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo smut #sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo x reader

1K notes · View notes

sweet-as-an-angel · 1 year

Note

I’m foaming at the mouth thinking about laying könig on his back. Ghost is fucking him and reader is riding him at the same time. He deserves to be spoiled <3

Ghost, König and You

Wordcount: 1,589

Warnings: 18+, Submissive König, Dominant Ghost, Dominant Reader, Stomach Bulging, Big Dick Ghost and König, Anal Penetration, No Pronouns used for Reader except for ‘You’, Dick Riding, Teasing, Unprotected Sex, etc.

A/N: If you don't like this kind of content, don't flag it ! It really hurts us authors and our engagement ! Instead, consider changing your account viewing preferences so you aren't exposed to unwanted/NSFW content in the future :-), saving both you time and us the heartache. Here is a wonderful post which details how you can do just that <3

König's mouth hung open, his crown threatening to hit the headboard with every harsh thrust of Ghost's hips. He whined and gasped as he clawed at the bed sheets beneath him, trying something – anything – to ground himself. The sheets were coated in his sweat and liquids, perspiration beading on his forehead, mouth agape and drooling.

His bottom half was coated in his pre that had leaked down his shaft. With each slam of your hips against his, thin strands of love would connect the two of you, a wet, slapping sound filling the room, drowning out even a single cohesive thought in König’s head.

His weeping cock twitched inside you, bulging in your stomach as Ghost's did in his, throbbing, pulsing, pleading for release. His walls just barely allowed Ghost in, stretched out over his thick cock, a delectable burn sure to remain days after this ordeal. The knot in König’s stomach had only grown in these hours of torture, near ripping itself apart with its own size as Ghost's dick did to him, carving a bump inside him.

You hummed, head thrown back against Simon’s shoulder as he rutted behind you, shunting you with every savage thrust of his hips, making your hips rock against König’s. "Such a good boy for us, Köni," you told him, your eyes squeezed shut and hands gripping his chest, feeling his quivering, pounding heart beneath your fingers.

König could only moan, the ability to form full sentences having abandoned him long ago. Verging on tears, he couldn't take the forceful slamming of your hips, his walls tightening with each plough from Ghost. Simon’s grip on his thick thighs, flesh peaking between the valleys of his fingers, did little to ground König.

"I c-cant–" his voice was thin, high, laced with the need to sob. Ghost shushed him.

"Shhh, it's okay, Baby," came Simon's baritone. He grunted, ceasing for no longer than a second as he withdrew an inch or two, taking another angle and ramming back into König. König near-shrieked, his yelp tailing off into a moan as you leant down and pressed your lips to his, swallowing his doubts, his cries.

“S’okay, sweet boy,” you whispered. Your lips trailed from his down to his jaw, nestling in a soft spot between the bone and his neck. You lapped at the sweat that collected there. König shivered.

Simon’s hands slithered up from König’s thighs to your waist. His hands wrapped around your middle, and you both groaned. He could feel König’s cock pulsing in your stomach, a bump forming where you’d trapped him. He pressed down, making you whine and König drawl, moan, his back arching into you. Simon didn’t let up, a sly smile crossing his face.

One hand took yours and placed it upon König’s stomach, slick with sweat and something sticky. There, you felt Ghost piercing him, filling him past full. König whined, cowered, as your fingers crept along his middle. Looking back at Ghost, he nodded, and with a force you pressed down on König; not enough to crush the man impaling him, but enough that a strangled groan emerged from him, and a whimper from König.

Simon leaned in, rested his head upon your shoulder. “Takin’ him so well, Angel,” and he squeezed your waist, and, loud and sharp, you cried out, clenching even tighter. König, unable to handle the torment – the torture – yelled, his voice urgent and desperate as the plea that it was.

“Please, I can’t take anymore!” he cried. He tried thrusting up, but you pressed down on his stomach, making him yelp and become docile once more. “Please,” his voice was a whisper. Between slitted, tearful eyes, he looked up at you. “Please, mein Schatz – please let me finish,”

You looked down at König, the mountain you’d reduced to an anthill, and cast a glance at Ghost. His thrusts slowed, and, his chest heaving, he gave you silent confirmation – a look in his eye, a nod – to give König what he wanted.

Your attention returned to the whining, whimpering mess of a man caged beneath your legs. He was shuddering, body exhausted yet racked with enough euphoria to easily incapacitate two people. You slid your hands from his stomach to his chest, and raising your hips, glinted König a devious smile.

“You ready, Sweetie?” you said, a mocking tint to your voice. König no doubt noticed it, and whether out of fear or simply the need to cum, he didn’t acknowledge it. He only nodded, a string of rushed, needing ‘yes’s pooling from his lips as drool did whenever Ghost was pounding him face-down, ass-up into the pillows.

“You sure?” you teased. A look of sheer sorrow crossed König’s face as you denied him of his release. He tried reaching up to you again, almost knocking you off-balance as his hips shunted yours. When you regained your position, you scowled, took his face in your hand and squeezed. You felt him twitch inside you.

“Not until I say so.” Your voice was thunder, absolute, the lightning crack of a whip illuminating the simmering anger beneath the surface. Purely theatrical, of course; you found König’s display to be rather endearing.

Now, writhing and desperately trying not to, König nodded as incessantly as his energy would allow. You hummed, retracting and resuming your lion-esque position, hands on his chest, hips raised. Ready to strike.

Ghost hissed as he watched König’s cock become partially unsheathed, reaching a hand between the two of you to feel his soaking shaft, and the strands that tried desperately to keep you and König connected. His fingers trailed back to your hole, stretched wide over König and no doubt positively red and aching. A hum rumbled through his chest.

“I wonder what yours’ll look like when I fuck that tight arse of yours, Köni,” he said, withdrawing, nonchalant yet feral. König moaned, and, seizing the opportunity, you descended upon him.

Your rhythm was brutal, unflinching and positively cruel. König threw his head back into the pillows, eyes rolling into the back of his head as he took you and Ghost.

“Doing so well for us, Sweet Boy,” you cooed, resisting the urge to roll your head back as König hit just the right angle inside you. The behemoth only gave moans and gasps as a response, too fucked-out of his own mind to convey anything else.

Ghost gave his own input – encouragement – as he destroyed König. He reached a hand between you again, and, gently, took König’s balls into his palm, giving them a light squeeze. König writhed under Ghost’s touch, giving a tortured moan and rutting against you.

“God, such a sensitive little thing you are,” came Ghost, his fingers pulsing around König’s sack. “So raw after being fucked all night.”

König whined and you stifled a moan as Ghost’s words went straight between your legs and made the electricity building there spike, jolt. Then came Simon with a proposition. A command.

"You gonna cum inside (Y/N)?" His voice was as authoritative as his statement was demanding. And the thought made your insides clench, fixing König inside you. He groaned, a strangled, mangled moan entwined with it, his back arching into you. You smiled, dragging your hand up to trace the outline of his cock in your stomach again, pressing your palm flat against it. König all but squealed – shrieked.

"You can do it, Köni," you told him, voice soft and filled with love. "I know you can."

"I can–" König breathed heavily, exasperatedly, questioning rather than certain. Asking for permission. You rocked your hips against him, making his eyes clamp tighter.

"Come on,” you challenged. “Do it." You brought your lips to his ear and kissed the shell. "Cum inside me."

König couldn't take it anymore. With a final, laboured yell, his back arched, his hulking figure shivering and burning after the long night. His load was thick and heavy, filling you to the brim and then some. You moaned, giving yourself just a few more strokes on his cock until you were in a similar condition to him, emptying yourself onto him, globules of an unidentified mixture beading past your walls and racing down König’s shaft. He clenched his fists, knuckles turning white, his eyes squeezing shut.

Ghost’s hips stuttered behind you, and the accumulating force with which he destroyed König waned, once, for a beat, before he let out a strangled moan. His chest pressed to your back, skin sticking to skin, as he forced König to take every inch of him, submerging himself inside his hole to the hilt. You could almost feel the force with which his load erupted from him, pumping inside König and making him cower, cry out.

Both men panted heavily as their orgasms tore through them. In a cruel twist of fate, you took the liberty of pressing one hand to your stomach and one to König’s, smile twitching as you pushed down, making both behemoths fit in some way; Ghost more volatile than König as he grabbed your wrists and pinned them behind your back. Military. Tactical.

“You’ll pay for that, Sunshine,” he breathed, promised. His voice sent shivers down your spine, and you clenched around König, in turn making him clamp down on Simon, eliciting a weak moan from the mass of death who trembled between your legs, and another from the reaper at your back. Yet that did nothing to stop König from offering a sly smile, one which agreed wholeheartedly with Ghost and his claim.

Uh-oh.

Reblog for more content like this! It helps creators like myself tremendously and it is greatly appreciated :-)

Masterlist Masterlist [Continued] Masterpost Modern Warfare AI Masterlist

AO3 Wattpad

5K notes · View notes

xazse · 2 months

Note

(here is your answer for the naga scara x fem or male reader) DO ANY GENDER IDC IM JUST FOAMING AT THE MOUTH RN LIKE A DOG FOR YOUR POST RIGHT NEOWOOWOWOW NEOWOWOWOWO (I would prefer fem reader, but idc about the gender. Just gimme the story bbg) (Also, stay healthy!1 <3)

Notes: I know I have other requests but this was too tempting, thank you so much for the health comment!! I HOPE YALL ARE STILL AROUND!! Btw I’m not sure about Naga Anatomy so his cocks are like hidden in slits/pockets.

Pairings: Naga!Scaramouche x Fem!NaiveReader

Tags: Naive!Reader, 2 Cocks, Scara is kinda creepy but sweetish, fingering, Virgin!Reader, Sheltered!Reader, Fem!Reader, SMUT, NOT PROOFREAD

Naga Scaramouche who is entranced by the sheltered village girl: you, a pretty thing that won’t stray too far into the forest.

Naga Scaramouche whos very patient watching you from the trees, he watches as the short dress you wear rises up just a few inches when you pick a berry too high for you. The tight white panties seem to hug your ass so good.

Naga Scaramouche who can’t wait to have you underneath him, coiled in his tail and in his embrace.

Naga Scaramouche who finally has the opportunity to attempt to speak with you, you had gotten a little lost when you decide your pickings of berries weren’t up to standard, a lost lamb like yourself practically in tears searching every direction to try to remember where home is.

Naga Scaramouche who introduces himself and you’re scared shitless, you’ve only heard of his kind in the stories your mother would tell you to scare you into being good. He’s big, but you can’t deny how pretty he is, his tail is a deep purple hue as well as his pretty mauve long hair that cascades down his back and stops at his lower abdomen, mentioning that, he’s shirtless.

Naga Scaramouche who offers to lead the pretty lamb to safety, warning you that there’s dangers that would do awful things to such a weak thing like yourself. That he does, leading you safely to the outskirts of your village, during the whole walk you can’t stop stealing glances at the beautiful mystery man. He can hear your parents are calling your name with desperate urgency. You look back at him to offer a thank you, but discover he’s gone.

You who comes back a few days later at the spot he had dropped you off at, you bring a cooked rabbit stew as a gift to give to him or at least hope you can give it. a few minutes later you can hear rustling and a voice speaks up: “A gift? For me perhaps?” You face the man once again in all his beauty you nod quickly and he laughs at that.

Exchanges are had over the next few months, with you listening and talking to “Scaramouche” you learn his name is. He seems rather dodgy with questions about himself but wants you to talk about yourself all the time, you have no issues with it, deciding later on he’d become more open.

Scaramouche looks at you weirdly, a look you can’t quite decipher, it’s like he’s looking through you, and you hate that. You hate how weird and tingly it makes you feel, how you feel weird even down there. You don’t have anyone to talk to about this feeling so it’s bottled up and held in.

Scaramouche makes it subtle at first, glancing at you, making sure to make eye contact even though your eyes dart to avoid his, light touches on your arms, thighs, and neck. He knows what he’s doing to you and he doesn’t feel a bit bad about it, he wants to claim you already, his cock can only be contained for so long, it’s getting harder and harder but he feels a few more pushes will bring you right along.

After a whole week you’ve given up, you come to him with all your issues and how confused and foggy you feel around him, you suggest distancing yourself away from him for a little. He hates that idea you can tell by the dark swirl in his eyes, he calms himself and calms you. Putting his hand on the small of your back he whispers lowly on how he’ll help you, help you get rid of all your problems.

You accept of course, as pliant as ever.

He helps you relax on the forest floor, a beautiful light pouring in to emphasize the glow of his gorgeous tail. He starts by asking you to lift your dress, and you listen obediently. Your supple skin now for him to revel in, but it’s not nearly enough. Your panties are on display as well, the thing seems to be squeezing you just like the last pair. Thin fingers grab one of your thighs and lifts it up in the air in your direction, being mindful to watch his sharp fingernails as they clench around the fat.

He uses the palm of his fingertip to trace the outline of your wet cunt, that makes your breath hitch, his fingers are warm or maybe it’s you who’s warm as he continues to trace and examine you. Scaramouche presses on your clit just a little bit, he’s testing the waters. That does bring out a reaction: you clutch your fingers around the fabric of your dress that you still hold.

You feel impatient even though you’re just getting started, new feelings are swirling in your gut when he lays down on his stomach near your pussy. Scaramouche doesn’t want to rid you of your panties just yet, the wet patch in the middle arouses him so much. He pulls them to the side to reveal your glistening cunt: he’s never seen a humans area before not unless they were in books and he did quite a lot of studying on women’s anatomy but having the real thing makes his cock ache, he wants to be buried deep in you but before that he needs to prep you.

Scaramouche licks a long stride up your cunt from bottom to top, a whine leaves your throat at the new feeling of something foreign but not unwanted, based on your reaction he does it again and again till he’s lapping up a good bit of your cum: and god do you taste heavenly, he finds himself completely entranced with licking you over and over, you aren’t fairing any better with the way your hips have started to buck towards more pleasure. Lewd moans keep filling the forest around you paired with Scaramouches loud sucking, he guides his tongue to your clit, licking around it before completely engulfing the sensitive thing in his mouth.

A tightness is forming in your belly, you urge Scaramouche that something happening and maybe he should slow down, he doubles down and both of his hands are holding your thighs up: pinning you in place as he keeps abusing your poor clit. Your whining gets even more pitched up before you spasm and cum on his face. He takes the opportunity to slide a finger inside of your tight hole: it does prove to be difficult but he does fit about a quarter of one in. He starts up the process of stretching you out to accommodate him.

After a while you’re finally ready, but you can only take about half of him or he’s pretty sure you’d start up your crying. You lay staring at his actions with lust ridden eyes: he’s going to ruin you. His long tail grabs you by your waist, lifting you to sit right on where his cocks lays hidden.

He’s really had enough of edging himself, with your full attention he guides your hands to, two slits: intrigued you make a move to press your finger in and he jumps to grab your hand as fast as possible, you make a certain worried face at him and he shakes his head to reassure you. He decides that was a bad idea and takes his cock out himself, he has two but he doesn’t want to spook you straight away, well more than he already has.

He begins stroking himself while you watch, you lean forward: relaxing your hands on either side of his body. You’re thinking how his cock is just as pretty as him. A low groan slips from his lips, hes stroking himself from his balls to his tip: squeezing just a bit every so often.

When he’s done with that he lifts you up till your cunt is hovering over him, he lines himself up and slides in: a loud moan now leaves both your lips, for you it’s the stretch of his thick tip and for him it’s the tight rim he still has to push past. After a good bit he’s now leaned on a rock while holding your body so you don’t hurt yourself and end up having all of him in you, that’s for later.

A rhythm is developed, with him fucking you only last a certain point, your gooey insides feel so good around him, his head falls against the rock but he doesn’t stop lifting and pulling you back down. His head feels heady with need, he’d love to just shove you down all the way. You aren’t fairing any better, already seeming like you were cum again: dazed and dumb that’s how his cock had you.

Scaramouche thinks this feels better than those nights were he’d pump his cock to the thought of doing you like this, the real thing is so much more better obviously.

He speeds up his pace, angling his cock a tad bit deeper. He pulls out and slams back in, he brings you into a tight embrace before he’s cumming, the feeling of something warm also sending you over and you cream around his cock. Afterwards he’s decorating kisses all over your face, cooing at how perfect you are, how good you made him feel and how good you’ll both feel in the future

#genshin smut #genshin x reader #zsworks #fem reader #wanderer smut #wanderer x female reader #naga Scaramouche #naga wanderer #scaramouche x female reader #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche x you #kunikuzushi smut #kunikuzushi x reader

560 notes · View notes

dollietes · 6 months

Text

໒꒰ྀི´ ˘ ` ꒱ྀིა mimi’s fic recs !

in summary these are my fav fics that i’ve read recently and are living within the depths of my brain. this is just a way for my to show appreciation for the writers who had written them <3 please support their blogs and check out their other works as well!

please minors dni with the smut works. respect writers and their boundaries!!

f :: fluff / a :: angst / s :: smut

pretty girls make graves by @ijtaimes f

OBSESSED with this series!! the blend of the summer camp setting, the love triangle story, and the clever incorporation of horror elements?@)2)2) and the interactive storytelling it has with the outfit choices and other general choices?? ivy, cousin i love you and your sexy brain. i can’t get enough of it actually!

two peculiar swans by @astralnymphh f / s

WHEN I TELL YOU ALL I RAN LIKE THREE LAPS AND SAT IMMEDIATELY WHEN I SAW IT WAS POSTED. the writinggg!! so top tier! the dialogue, inner monologue how the story just flows so seamlessly?? i’m so excited for the rest of this series bro like aestra ate😋 HYPE IT UP YALL!!

loser!abby by @abbyscherry s

when i tell you all i profusely **** and ***** while reading both of the loser!abby works. like if i speak I would be deemed as insane, a mad woman it’s crazy. read them like bedtime stories before bed😭

cowboy!ellie + this by @catfern s

SAVE A HORSE RIDE A COWGIRL! COWBOY!ELLIE NATION RISEEEEE. these hcs had me foaming t the mouth like i need someone to hold me back before I ramble about how much I love these hcs and eat them up and will continue to eat up anything cowboy!ellie 😋

in for it by @brackishkittie s

ONE WORD. DIVINE. DELICIOUS. SCRUMPTIOUS. i could not stop smiling like a school girl while reading this it’s embarrassing actually. also vivian’s smau’s >>>> got me into the fandom actually

rockstar!ellie + this by @phantombriide s

i could write a thesis about how much i love this and rockstar!ellie works. like this is what i breathe, i eat, i consume everyday. it is the mantra i read to start my days. my daily reading to begin the day. god bless.

academic rival!abby by @beforeimdeceased f / s

ACADEMIC RIVALS CLENCHES FISTS. RAHHHHHHHHHHHH I LOVE IT I LOVE IT I LOVE ITTTTT. every bit of this series had me craving for more oml. like i need academic!rival abby in my bed immediately!

being pregnant with wife!abby by @bayasdulce f

baby fever has hit me once again what can i say?😞 I need wife!abby to take care of me so bad it’s getting sad at this point. I just this broke me down and worsened my baby fever (had me making a pinterest board and everything goodbye😞😞)

neighbour!ellie + this by @loaksky s / f

NEIGHBOUR!ELLIE NEIGHBOUR!ELLIE NEIGHBOUR!ELLIE MY FAV FAV FAV! i remember the influx of them on my dash and trust i was eating good 🍽️ both parts had me folding, giggling, smiling, swinging my feet everything and everything.

try it on by @moncherellie s

another work that got me into the fandom!! I remember reading this for the first time and hiding my face and giggling into my pillow and the audios lord i felt so giddy that night lmao😭

doctor!abby texts by @eightstarr f

doctor!abby has me in a chokehold like that’s my wife and mother of our three children everyone can leave pls and thanks😁 and i mean that with my whole chest. those texts are actual REAL evidence of what our convos look like you all can move (im joking pls don’t take what I’m saying seriously😭) I just am in love with everything zoe puts out because it’s so good and so dear and special to me

cutty love by @totheblood f

anything star puts out tbh >>>>> absolutely in love with cutty love actually! I am a whore for any fluff and PINNING (GIVE IT TEW ME). this is just so soft and sweet and it’s everything I need like uggggh. the audios too just chefs kiss love everything about it!

streamer!ellie hcs by @inf3ct3dd f

SIERRA’S HCS 🔛🔝 SO GOOD EATS EVERYTIME YALL like gen they all have made their home in my brain and I can’t go to bed without at least reading one of them before i hit the hay.

knight!ellie by @heavenbloom f

FIRSTLY written so beautifully?&* i love everything about this and i tend to go back to this work when I’m in need of a fluff fix! I absolutely adore how everything is written yes I’m reiterating my point because ‘green eyes thirsty for the well that was your beauty.’ LIKE WORLD STOP. ARE YOU SEEING THIS?? ‘she was utterly dedicated to you, body and soul, and she would be by your side until her very last breath. it was a fierceness, this love that consumed her, and it was all yours.’ LIKE WTF

partition by @whore4abby s

reserving my *clears throat* thoughts for now but just know * **** **** *** *** ***** **** * **** ***** *********!!! 😁😁😁 everyone should read this ASAP!

sun don’t set by @hier--soir f

another heavenly piece omg!! so in love with the writing in here oh my god. it’s so soft and sweet and it just felt like a warm hug on a cold winters day i just. please read this!!

you love it when i play with you by @ourautumn86 s

i think i like passed out and had three nosebleeds because of this. i think about this more than i should. I think about in the morning, throughout the day and night. my daily read at this point like it’s just sooooo😋😋😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫

my love mine all mine by @doepretty f

this one is special to me too like. for one the writing is so beautiful and it made me shed a tear and secondly I melted into a puddle like i want Abby so bad I’m going to be sick.

#🎀.favs #ellie williams #ellie williams x reader #ellie x reader #ellie tlou #ellie williams x you #ellie the last of us #ellie x fem reader #the last of us #tlou abby #abby x reader smut #abby smut #abby headcanons #fic recs #abby anderson fanfic #abby anderson fluff #abby anderson fic

600 notes · View notes

cissyenthusiast010155 · 27 days

Text

Reap What You Sow ~Post-S21!Daddy!Olivia Benson xFem Sub!Reader

Summary— Set in post season 21, where Liv is Captain. Reader decides to tease Olivia throughout the day and smutty punishment ensues later that night when Liv can finally do something about it…

Mommy… Master List

Requests & Prompt-List

Warnings: NSFW, 18+!!, smut, fingering, semi-public smut, spanking, daddy kink, degradation, praise, implied orgasm denial, degradation kink, praise kink, impact play, teasing, implied future smut, etc.

Enjoy (;

Your head hung low, over your shoulders and over the woman’s knees. It was after hours and you were bent over Olivia’s lap in her office. With another sharp crack to your barren ass, you jolted up slightly and let out a desperate mewl.

“Six—teen Daddy!!” You cried out.

You expect to feel another sharp smack to your ass, but instead you felt the woman’s hand gently rubbing your pink flesh.

“That’s it, such a good girl for Daddy.” Olivia cooed.

Pretty soon, her fingers trailed in between your legs and past your panties. She found your slick core, drenched in arousal, so wet it made you dizzy.

“Ooh Baby you’re soaked…” Liv purred, “Did Daddy make you this way…?”

You nodded vigorously, as one of her digits swiped through your folds.

“Yes yes all for Daddy, so wet for Daddy…!” You mewled.

After bringing her arousal coated digit up to her mouth and licking your juices clean off, the brunette gently caressed and squeezed your supple skin. Your body was left burning for more.

“Have you learned your lesson, sweetie…?” Liv condescendingly cooed.

You nodded vigorously.

“Yes Daddy yes yes please…!” You pled, “I’m sorry mm sorry—!”

“Sorry for what, baby…?”

“Mmm sorry for dressing up…! Sorry for distracting you!”

“You mean, you’re sorry for dressing like a slut, right…?? Daddy’s girl can’t just show up to work dressed to whore herself out… no matter whether Daddy will see her or not…” Liv spat.

You bit your lip and tensed up, as her digits dug into your left ass check possessively as she spoke. You let out a desperate mewl and nodded swiftly.

“Yes Daddy, I’m sorry please…!! I’m sorry I’m such a slut, can’t help it Daddy!” You babbled.

Your ass was smacked with a swift Crack!! again. This one went all to your core, as you felt your juices start to leak down your thighs.

“Oooooh Seventeen D-daddy!!” You cowled.

“Beg Daddy to give you mercy.” Liv demanded.

“P-please please Daddy— I… I need you Daddy!! I need your cock or your fingers or your mouth or anything Daddy please… I’ll be good I promise, Mmm so sorry Daddy pleaseee…!!” You begged.

In one fluid motion, two of Olivia’s fingers snaked back in between your legs and slid inside your gushing cunt. They pumped and curled inside you, making your toes curl and your mouth foam. You wanted to scream in pleasure, but you bit your tongue.

“Such a good girl for Daddy…” Liv cooed lustfully.

~~~

Olivia Benson Masterlist

201 notes · View notes

cranberrymoons · 5 months

Text

peppermint chocolate

prompt: came back wrong (@steddieholidaydrabbles) rated: m word count: 766 words tags: vampire eddie, morning fluff, established relationship

welcome to Day 2 of the fic advent calendar – bite-sized fics posting every day during the month of december. enjoy!

---

So, it turns out vampires can go out in the sun after all, which is… good to know? They just can’t be out in direct sunlight for too long without whining about it, or – that might just be Eddie, actually, but he’s the only vampire who exists, or at least the only one Steve has ever met, so.

Whatever.

Steve never expected for the intricacies of vampire morphology to be relevant to his life. He also never expected to survive hell a half dozen times or get the shit kicked out of him about as often, but – here we are.

“Are you even really a vampire?” he’d asked when he got over the initial shock of Eddie being not dead. “I mean, you don’t fly, you don’t get burned by the sun, you’re eating garlic knots…”

And Eddie had looked up from the pizza he was actively shoveling into his mouth after a week presumed dead in an alternate dimension and just – shrugged.

Because whatever? Who knows what he really is.

The demogorgons aren’t actually demogorgons; that’s just what Dustin decided to call them. The Upside Down isn’t really the Upside Down; that’s just the best way to make it make sense in their brains.

And the vampire currently sliding his arms around Steve’s waist and hooking a chin over his shoulder and yawning with the sharp points of little fangs sticking out is maybe not actually a vampire, but the kiss he presses into the crook of Steve’s neck comes with a little nip that breaks the skin and makes blood bead up to the surface.

So… vampire.

Steve is used to it enough by now that he just grunts around his toothbrush and rubs a hand over Eddie’s forearm in morning greeting. He tilts his head to get him to shift his teeth to the skin of his shoulder where he’ll be able to cover it more easily when he goes to work later, lets his eyes fall shut as he feels the familiar pinch and pull of Eddie finding a vein to tap into.

“That’s enough,” he says after a moment.

He spits foam into the sink, and Eddie bends with him, still latched on. Steve feels his head start to spin with it, and he digs his nails into the back of Eddie’s hand to get his attention.

“Eddie. Enough.”

He feels the sharp points of his teeth pull out of his skin, and then the warm flat of his tongue laving over the pinpricks of the wound, and he takes a deep breath.

“Sorry,” Eddie says quietly. He presses a soft kiss to the mark, already healing over to be replaced by a bruise. “I’m hungry.”

Steve raises his eyebrows at Eddie where their eyes meet in the mirror. “You’ve got to let me eat something first before you take too much,” he reminds him. “There’s a reason they give you cookies when you donate blood.”

Eddie’s arms tighten their hold on his stomach, and Steve can feel the hot, hard press of him behind as he crowds in closer. He’s always like this right after he feeds: all hands and lips and tongue. He still eats normal food, too, but they’d figured out early on that he can’t go more than a few days without getting hungry for… well.

The other thing.

Steve turns his head to give Eddie what he’s after, lets him push his tongue past his lips into his mouth and lick over the ridges of his teeth. There’s an iron tang in Eddie’s mouth that mixes with the minty toothpaste taste on Steve’s tongue, and it makes him inch closer, letting Eddie nudge him up onto the countertop, crowding between his legs to get closer.

Eddie’s stomach makes a ravenous noise, and Steve pulls back to run a hand over the flushed line of his cheek, pumping warm with his blood.

“Go make breakfast,” he says quietly. He brushes another kiss over Eddie’s mouth. “Please?”

Eddie hums. “Is that the deal? Pancakes for blood?”

“That’s the deal,” Steve says. He raises his eyebrows. “No breakfast for me, no breakfast for you.”

“In that case, maybe I’ll add chocolate chips,” Eddie says. He licks out and lets his tongue catch on the backs of Steve’s teeth. “Or peppermint. Sweeten you up a little more. Stick a straw in you like a juice box.”

Steve just smiles, tweaking the ends of his hair where his elbows are looped over Eddie’s shoulders.

“If you make me mint chocolate chip pancakes, you can do whatever you want.”

[also on ao3]

#steddie #steddie fic #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #steddieholidaydrabbles #my fic

300 notes · View notes

lumosinlove · 3 months

Text

Vaincre

June part ii

Maybe Finn couldn’t play, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t gift himself fifteen minutes of watching Leo lay out on the mat and use a foam roller to stretch out his back.

“What you think you’re staring at?” Leo had his eyes closed, back arched over the roller, hands above his head. He’d turned the lights off for Finn’s sake.

“I don’t know, I think I might have a crush on you,” Finn said.

Leo laughed, a little out of breath as he bent his knees to moved the roller up near his shoulders. “Oh really?”

“Yep.” Finn adjusted his sling against his neck. “Pretty sure.”

“I thought you liked that Tremblay guy.”

“Who?”

Leo smiled and reached blinding for a resistance band to throw at him. “Stop your flirting. I’m trying to focus.”

Finn just rested his head back against the wall and grinned.

He should be more nervous. Game seven, enemy crowd, their entire season on the line. But it was different, being hurt and watching everyone else out on the ice. Something had gotten tangled, some tethers had twisted wrong, and suddenly there was a pane of glass between him and the game.

“Sorry,” Finn said. “Let me just reel in my adoration.”

Leo hummed and kept his eyes closed. He let out a breath when the roller hit a knot near his shoulder and kept it there, pressing down.

Finn let himself close his eyes for a few moments, too. He wasn’t sure when he would get the chance again without it looking, to any camera, like he’d fallen asleep watching the game. He could see the Instagram posts now, the tweets.

“Fish.”

“Yeah?”

He opened his eyes when Leo didn’t reply. Leo was staring up at the ceiling. The foam roller had become more of a neck pillow now and his hands were folded across the Lions logo on his sweatshirt.

“I’m scared,” Leo said softly.

Finn sat up. He looked hard in the dim room at Leo’s expression, but it wasn’t changing. He appeared calm. As calm as his voice sounded. These words—I’m scared—didn’t even sound small in his mouth. Finn would never have admitted to fear so easily, so cleanly. He—and Logan, he suspected—would have never let those words free on a day like today.

Finn pushed himself up from the wall and knelt across the mat until they were laying side by side on their backs. Leo ditched the roller and pushed their shoulders together.

“I don’t want it to be Logan,” Leo whispered. “I don’t want it to be Logan who gets through.”

Believe me, Finn thought to himself. I know.

“Who says anyone will?” he said aloud.

“Finn…”

“You’re so, so good, Le.”

“I—yes. I’m good but…”

“I know that doesn’t make Logan easier.”

Leo hesitated for a moment. “I almost thought it would be easier if we weren’t…if we weren’t on the best terms when this game happened. After the stuff about you and everything. I thought—I think maybe that’s why I was okay leaving without saying goodbye to him. Maybe part of me thought it would make this not so awful.”

And it was awful. They’d been trying not to call it that—who wanted to call reality awful?—but they missed Logan like air. And Finn, despite the concussion being minor, had been as terrified as everyone around him. And Jack had put pressure on them like an ocean current.

Finn watched the way one of the ceiling lights flickered. “Only Lo is one of the sweetest creatures.”

“Exactly.”

“God, he’s so nice to you, what a dick.”

Leo laughed and slapped him in the chest, avoiding his sling. Finn turned his head and found them nose to nose. He smiled at Leo’s smile and brushed the tips of their noses together.

“For the record, I think you’d be a truly insane person, not just a crazy goalie, if you weren’t nervous for a game seven.” He reached out his good hand and Leo put his own into it. “But you’ve done it before, baby. You’ve won it before.”

Leo nodded. His eyes darted around Finn’s face, as they sometimes did.

“Yes, I do have freckles, thanks for noticing.”

Leo laughed again and, with a groan, rolled into Finn’s side.

“Floor snuggles in the gym.”

Leo nodded closing his eyes. “Just for a second.”

Finn placed a kiss in Leo’s hair. “Wish I could have your back tonight. I really do.”

Leo picked his head up, hand on the lapel of Finn’s game-day suit. “You do. You always do. And you’re wearing the tie I bought you.”

“I am.”

“And you do look very nice in your suit.”

“Thanks, Butter.”

Leo groaned as he pushed himself to his knees, like he didn’t want to get up. “C’mere. Let me kiss your head Finn O’Hara.”

Finn laughed as Leo put his palms on each of Finn’s temples and pressed a kiss to his forehead. “Why did you say my name like that?”

Leo bent farther and kissed Finn’s mouth quick. “Cause I got a wicked crush on you.”

The soft sound that came out of Finn’s mouth was was not one he recognized, somewhere between a laugh and a hum.

“Text me when you find Logan,” Leo said as he rose, then ducked out of the room to jog a few laps around the arena. Finn let himself lay on the floor for a moment, smiling, before getting up, too.

So, it wasn’t all bad, being with the team but not having to get ready for the game. He and Kasey sat in their stalls anyway, suits and all, and watched the locker room chaos. Sirius barely said a word to anyone besides Remus whenever he passed him by. He was locked in, and that sight was almost comforting. Finn could tell that it made the rest of the room feel more ready, too.

They had called up a kid named Hugo Holm as Leo’s back-up, and he looked like he was thinking about making a run for it. Leo didn’t seem to mind. He was being his usual, friendly self, but Finn could tell he was proud that he was the one keeping his cool.

Finn wandered around, too—he never could be still for long. MSG had interesting plaques on the walls. Famous concerts, famous athletes, and other celebrities who had made history there. He was stopped a few times by press, and once by Marlene who gave him his pass up to the players and families box to watch the game, but other than that, he kept his mind clear.

And looked for Logan.

He found Luke first. He was coming in from sitting out on the bench in his sweatpants and sweatshirt, blue-on-blue, and looked surprised to see Finn walking towards him.

Finn put his hands up. “I know, I know. Enemy territory. Just boyfriend-seeking.”

“It’s all good.” Luke took both of his AirPods out. “He’s probably—”

“About to sharpen his skates,” Finn said. Maybe he felt a little flare of competition. Luke was a good line-mate for Logan. He was. But he wasn’t Finn. “It’s that time of the evening.”

“Right.” Luke nodded. “You’d know.” He cleared his throat. “Hey, how’s the head?”

“Fine, thanks,” Finn said. “Third time’s a charm, right?”

Luke winced.

“Sorry.” Finn laughed. “That was supposed to be a joke.” He flexed his fingers on his sling side. “It’s really just this that needs to heal up, so. But at least I can take the sling off more now. Itches.”

“Right.”

This was awkward. This shouldn’t be so awkward. Finn wasn’t awkward, and yet here he and Luke Deveaux were, sizing each other up like they were on the ice.

“Well, glad about the head,” Luke said. He had ducked his chin a little and was fiddling with his phone in a way that, Finn realized, reminded him of Logan. “Um—”

“Thanks,” Finn heard himself blurt out.

Luke’s eyes darted back to his. “What? Oh, yeah. Sure.”

Finn shouldn’t feel competitive. He’d never thought of himself as jealous, but maybe that only applied to Leo.

“No, I mean…Thanks for Logan.”

Luke tilted his head. “What do you…”

“I mean, look, the trade was really…” Finn didn’t stumble over his words. Usually. Something about Luke’s intense steady gaze made him do that now, though. It was like trying to gauge Logan, in the early days at school. Trying to read what he was thinking. Finn took another breath. “It was hard. I’m just trying to say you sound really great. And he talks about you a lot. And I’m glad he has you. You know. Over on the dark side that is not Gryffindor.”

Luke had looked vaguely uncomfortable under the praise, but he cracked a smile. “The dark side, huh?”

“I said what I said.”

Luke smiled more fully and ducked his head again. “Well, that dark side’s gonna beat you thanks to your boyfriend—among other things.”

“We’ll see.”

Just then, Logan appeared from the Rangers locker room, on his way to the equipment room with his skates. He was wearing a backwards blue hat and a tight, gray undershirt that outlined every single muscle in his chest and stomach. He had a piece of rainbow sour strip candy dangling half out of his mouth.

Finn rubbed a hand against his jaw, trying to hide at least some of the shameless expression Luke must’ve seen on his face because he turned to look.

Logan did a double take, then broke into a grin.

“Un intrus,” Logan called around the candy.

“Whatever you say, 71,” Finn replied.

“Sirius, send happy emoji!” Logan shouted back, and Finn extended his slinged hand’s middle finger as he walked towards him.

He turned back to look at Luke. “Good game.”

Luke had a funny expression on his face, but he covered it with a brief smile. “He called you an intruder, by the way.”

“Oh, I bet he calls me all sorts of things.”

Luke just scoffed and put his headphones back in.

Finn didn’t see Logan as he entered the equipment room—he was typing out a quick text to Leo—until two hands grabbed his suit jacket and pushed him—gently, mindfully—up against the wall by the door.

“Wow,” Finn said, looking down into Logan’s green eyes. The candy was gone. “Hello there.”

“Stupid sling,” Logan said.

“I agree.”

Logan had deposited his skates near the sharpener and had his fingers in Finn’s hair, combing it back at the sides. “You come looking for me?”

“No, I wanted to get Luke to sign my chest.”

Logan made a face. “Shut up.” Then he kissed him. Sour-sweet. Finn let Logan take away the tension in his neck and jaw.

His green eyes were happy when he pulled back, if not a little tense. He was thinking about the game. He was still stroking Finn’s hair like he was trying to distract himself.

“You okay?” Finn asked softly, rubbing a hand down his side. Logan’s finger caught a slight knot and when Finn winced Logan switched to petting his good shoulder.

Logan pressed his lips together in a gesture that reminded Finn of Noelle. “Did you already text Leo?”

“You’re petting me like a dog.”

“You like it.”

“Well, damn, truce.”

“Did you hear what I said?”

“Sorry,” Finn said. “I can’t hear anything over your abs.”

Logan pinched his side. “Shh.”

“Of course I texted Leo. Did you hear what I said?”

Logan was frowning like he was working up the courage to answer Finn’s question, when his eyes caught on something in the hallway.

“Le,” he called. “In here.”

Leo poked his head in. “Oh. Fuck, I almost just walked into your locker room. That would have been terrible.”

“Luke said he’d sign my chest,” Finn said. “Bet he’d do yours, too.”

Leo’s eyes turned bewildered. “Excuse me?”

Logan slapped a hand over Finn’s mouth. “He’s stupid.”

The hand went back to combing through Finn’s hair seemingly against Logan’s will.

Leo just shook his head, smiling, and leaned against the wall beside Finn. “You know, Lo, we technically outnumber you. You should be the one in enemy territory.”

Finn raised his eyebrows. “Knut speaks the truth. The Knuth.” Leo’s eyes turned imploring. “Sorry, this is my first time outside in a while.”

Logan spread his hands. “You could have texted me! I was just here and—Finn appeared!”

Finn clicked his tongue. “You know, I felt a little more welcomed when I was being pushed up against the wall.”

Leo laughed. He reached out a hand and pulled Logan to him in one smooth motion. Finn liked watching them always, but especially lately. They had to be so careful with him just now and he liked seeing the easier, more reckless touches.

I’m scared, Leo had said. Finn saw it still in the way he arched his neck down to press his forehead against Logan’s. Logan must have felt it, because his green eyes looked at Leo’s shut ones for a long moment, before closing, too.

“I hate this,” Leo whispered. Finn put a hand low on his back.

“Je sais,” Logan replied, so softly that Finn’s chest hurt. “Me too.”

Finn held himself back. He knew this was between the two of them.

“One of us keeps going, or not.” Logan’s voice was low and sweet. “Still get to come home to you.” Then he said, even more quietly, what Finn had been someone shamefully feeling. “I almost don’t care about anything else but another summer with you two.”

It made Leo let out a surprised laugh, and Logan smiled, pleased with himself.

“Almost, I said.”

Finn had to leave them to it eventually. He made his way up to the box and narrowed in on Natalie and Noelle with their elbows on the railing. They each wore their half Gryffindor, half New York jerseys and had cold plastic cups of beer in their hands. Finn wrapped his good arm around Noelle’s shoulders in lieu of announcing himself.

“Hey Harz,” Noelle smiled.

Finn had always liked the way she looked at him—well, not always. There were those few summers, and that awful period of being a Lion with Logan but not being Logan’s. Noelle hadn’t glared at him, exactly, but she hadn’t not glared at him, either. It had been a soft, pitying sort of glare. A get your shit together sort of glare.

Now, she wrapped a hand around his waist. “You feeling alright?”

“Yeah,” Finn said. “I mean, my boyfriends are about to go head-to-head in the most important game of the season, but I’m super.”

“Don’t use the phrase head-to-head,” Natalie said with a wave of her manicured hand—red and blue. “It’s too on the nose for you.”

Finn snorted. “Very funny.”

In truth, he’d probably have to take a little break from the lights at some point. At least, those were some of his instructions. At least his shoulder didn’t hurt. He sighed and went to the bar to get a water, giving Julian Lupin’s hair a tussle along the way. Was this really how he thought of his life now? In terms of it could be worse?

He hoped not.

New York’s lights went down with a down-spiral, bass-filled sound. The players below became silhouettes. Blue or red—they looked surprisingly similar in the semi-darkness. Both faded into something like purple. Finn leaned his good forearm on the railing beside the girls and resigned himself to being able to do nothing but watch.

Sirius did everything he usually did. The pull, the need to not mess up made everything feel like a mess up in itself. He didn’t like the hum of the New York crowd. They shouldn’t have sounded so sure of themselves, not in the murmur of so many voices, not in the twang of their feet against the stadium stairs.

When the lights went down and some opera singer was announced to sing the anthem, they shouted out for their team over the lyrics like the fate of this game was unavoidable. Unstoppable. He could see many red jerseys that had made the trip to New York, but not enough to compete against the let’s go Rangers chants.

He would win the first face-off. He would set them up right. He wouldn’t think about the fact that they didn’t have Kasey or Finn. He caught a flash of sandy hair before being shaken out before it was covered by a number six helmet.

He had Remus.

A number seven jersey was talking a mile a minute at Alex O’Hara from one still dark bench to the other.

He had James.

If MSG did one thing right, it was the a pump-up. Lasers, blue and red, danced over the ice. It flashed against his gloves, momentarily making the black take on a blue-ish tinge that felt like a stain. He tucked his gloves closer to the red of his jersey, as if he could fight off the blue, and looked up towards the Lions’ box. He couldn’t see much, but he knew Regulus was up there. Remus’ family, too. Julian.

He knew it was just a cup made of silver. It didn’t do anyone much good. It was heavy and bulky and merely a representation of something, not a real…thing. It wasn’t victory, he just thought of winning when he thought of the cup. But he still wanted to win it for them. Regulus, Hope, Lyall, Julian. Remus. James. Leo. Finn and Kasey. Logan.

Himself. Even himself. That was new. Remus caught his eye and gave a firm nod. He wanted a lot of things for himself it turned out. That had taken the place of the nervous, horrifying need to win it for his parents.

Alex got kicked out of the opening face-off, much to the crowd’s outrage, and suddenly Sirius was face-to-face with Logan.

Sirius sighed. “It’s you. Hi.”

Logan smiled. “Are we really speaking English right now?”

Sirius just smiled.

“Well,” the referee said. “I guess I don’t have to tell you two to keep it clean.”

He dropped the puck.

Sirius knew James and Remus would fan out behind him if he won it—and win it he did. He could imagine them back there, the beautiful curves of their skates as they pushed backwards. He sent it right onto Remus’ blade, felt it snap there like magnetism. There was no time to look and watch, only to get into position—or, well, this was Remus he was talking about. There was no time to look and watch, only to try and keep up with him. He pushed forward hard as Remus evaded Logan. Sirius hit his stick on the ice and Remus snapped it back to him. Sirius tried not to take a breath as he brought his stick back—

The puck went right past Saint’s shoulder.

Sirius tipped his head back and closed his eyes briefly at the muted roar that followed. Thank you, he thought. Thank you.

He swooped his skates to the side, his feet knowing where the boards curved all on their own, and opened his arms for Remus. Maybe it was the adrenaline, maybe he was just in love, but he ducked down, visors clashing, and kissed Remus’ grin.

He wanted that photograph on the front page of every newspaper in the entire world, and he wanted a copy of each one.

Finn got a little choked up, watching that replay. The goal was in the first minute. The goal was just one goal. The kiss was everything.

Noelle rested her head on his shoulder briefly, and then put a hand on one of his cheeks and kissed the other.

Remus looked so surprised, and not so surprised. Sirius just let Thomas and James crash into the embrace and listened to his heart in his ears.

“All I gotta know,” James shouted right in his ear. “Is if that’s a new team superstition!”

Sirius just laughed, and James knocked their helmets together. He didn’t take his eyes off of Remus, who was still smiling, delighted. Remus brought his glove up and gave Sirius’ helmet a little shake. I love you, it said.

The first period stayed like that. Miraculously. Strangely. So unusual for the play-offs. Sirius didn’t feel any momentum shifts. The goal, gorgeous and quick as it had been, felt almost non-existent. It could hardly be called a lead and they were all playing like they had everything to lose—which they did.

The hits got worse, too. Kota had taken Logan out against the boards twice. Sirius wasn’t upset at Kota…both times had led to amazing chances on goal. Neither James or Thomas had been able to finish the job. But Sirius was worried. He knew Logan. He could tell Logan was doing his best not to respond in the way he usually would. All bite.

The whistle went for off-sides and Sirius saw Saint pull Logan into the blue paint by his jersey.

“Take the fucking mittens off, Tremblay,” Saint snapped at him. His blocker dug uncomfortably into Logan’s shoulder from Saint’s hold on him. Saint’s eyes were wild behind his mask. “I swear to fucking God. Forget them. You have to forget them right fucking now.”

Logan felt sweat dripping into his mouth. Leo. LeoLeo. “I’m trying to keep it a clean game.”

Saint made a disgusted sound and let go.

“Seb.” Luke skated up beside Logan. He had a slight cut on his upper cheek from a high stick. “We got you. It’s all right.”

“I don’t feel got.” Saint pushed his mask up for water as the referee called them to the circle.

Logan clenched his jaw and turned away.

“He just wants this,” Luke said, staying close to his shoulder.

“We all want this.”

“Saint wants it more.” When Logan looked at him, ready to brush that off as bullshit, Luke’s face, the green fleck bright in his brown eyes, was serious. “Saint wants everything more.”

“More than you?”

It occurred to Logan that there were different ways Luke could take that question. Luke didn’t answer any of them.

“Remember,” Luke said softly to him. “If I can, I’ll take the shot.”

The rest of the sentence was left unsaid. Luke turned away and put his mouth guard back in. He tapped Alex’s calf encouragingly as he got ready to face-off.

If I can’t, you have to. You have to.

Leo took some water, then squirted some down the back of his neck. He looked up at the clock. He looked up at the crowd and wished he could find Finn. Logan hadn’t looked at him yet while on the ice, which was probably a good thing. Leo couldn’t handle that green right now. It still took him a moment to recognize the 71 on his jersey.

No breakaways yet, which was something at least. He liked their defense. He didn’t feel that jump in his muscles whenever the puck crossed the blue line like he sometimes did. There was trust in this game, and Leo needed to lean on that now more than ever.

Alex raced towards him after puck drop, the rubber disk on his stick.

Leo watched. That was so much of what he did. Watch. That little black dot. He curled his fingers tight inside his glove and blocker and stayed low, following Alex’s feet, then Logan’s, then Luke’s. Where their feet pointed, they would shoot. It was like the tell that magazines wrote about attraction. The feet went where the person wanted to go.

Logan’s feet were pointed right at him, the hard toes of his skates pushing hard and outpacing Kota—but only just. Leo could have predicted that Kota would steal that puck from Logan, poking it out of his control with his longer reach.

Leo saw Logan’s face tense as he easily swung himself back around, his and Kota’s sticks clashing. Kota had been going hard on Logan tonight, but cleanly, and Leo knew Logan was used to it. He liked it, putting pressure on his opponents and receiving pressure in return. That didn’t mean Leo liked standing there with nothing to do but watch as Logan took a hit from some one who, in Leo’s mind, still looked like Logan’s own teammate. Red. Logan should’ve been in red right now.

The puck went back to Alex around the center line, and Leo watched for off sides, ready to raise his glove in protest, but Alex pulled it off clean. The ref spread his arms to signal it to the rest of the ice. Luke was waiting for Alex, holding his own against Thomas. He acted quickly. No sooner had he caught Alex’s pass as he raced up the ice than did he send it cross-ice to Logan—probably meant to make Leo have to stay up on his feet. Leo knew Logan. If Logan kept it—and he might—he’d stay back. He’d shoot from farther away. Leo edged a little farther out of the blue paint in front of the goal. When Logan passed it back to Luke, he sank back in, the posts coming into the edges of his vision. Luke was about to pass it back, Leo watched his feet, but no sooner had the puck begun its track across the ice than did Kota slam into Logan in a mid-ice hit. Clean. Clean, Leo reminded himself as his heart jolted with fear. No contact above Logan’s shoulders. That didn’t mean it didn’t make him hiss in a breath through his teeth.

The crowd roared again, and then louder when Logan pushed back up to his feet. He looked at Kota and Kota looked at him. Logan said something that had a snarl to it and Leo thought, this is the person who took your place.

They dropped their gloves at the same time.

“Lord,” Leo breathed to himself.

He pushed up and out of position, but kept his mask on. When Logan was fighting, the mask let him watch in private. Kota knocked off Logan’s helmet almost as soon as Logan knocked off his. His dark hair was sweaty and curling, and his fists looked strong as he made a grab for Kota’s jersey and latched on.

“Lo…” Leo whispered to himself. Kota had a good head over Logan, but Logan had him on his back in a headlock in five seconds. Easy. He snarled something else and then got up and skated to the box without any prompting from the timid looking referee. Madison Square Garden was on its feet, and they were about to play their first four on four of the night.

They were still 1-0 Lions as Sirius waited by the door for everyone to file off the ice at the first intermission. Remus came to him last, and Sirius was sure there were about four TV cameras on them, but Remus didn’t even try to hide his smile, or his laugh, happy and tumbling.

“Quoi?” Sirius asked, grinning back.

“Oh. I just wish we had been in a home crowd for that.”

“Don’t worry,” he said as he followed Remus off the ice. He reached up to brush his glove against the hands of a few screaming Lions fans. “We will be.”

Leo was pulled out of the line for the first intermission interview, and Sirius, upon seeing Kasey leaning against the side of the doorway to watch, decided to stop, too.

“How’s the kid?” Sirius asked, even though Leo hardly felt like the kid of the team anymore. He hadn’t ever, really.

Kasey had his hair pulled back into a bun, scruff on his cheeks. He thought for a moment, rubbing at his jaw, then said, “Powerful.”

Sirius nodded. “Looks good out there.”

“Yeah,” Kasey said, then sighed, watching Leo wipe his face with a towel as he listened to the question. “Looks tired up close.”

Sirius wouldn’t have said it. At least not out loud. And Leo was good at hiding it either way. He made Marlene laugh. He smiled and let his blue eyes flash up towards the bright light of the camera in his face. He thanked her graciously and stayed a moment to talk even when the camera had lowered, the feed having cut away.

“But powerful,” Kasey repeated. “Like I said.” He looked over at Sirius. “Nice celly out there.”

“Well deserved,” Sirius said.

Kasey laughed. “Sure thing, Cap.”

Kasey followed him into the locker room and Sirius stripped off his jersey, handing it off to be replaced with a fresh one. He wished it was their home locker room. He wished he knew its every corner. The back and forth to New York lately didn’t even come close to the familiarity he had with Gryffindor.

But Remus. Remus knew his every line and shape. He was standing with Layla near the water bottles. Something about his posture, the way he had his arms crossed, made Sirius feel like he was still wearing his PT uniform, the Lions logo small and over his heart rather than taking up his entire chest on a jersey. Sirius sat down in his own stall slowly. He unstrapped his elbow guards without looking away. He couldn’t entirely believe he had spent so long thinking that this, glimpses of Remus all the way across a room, was as close as he was ever going to get.

Remus felt his gaze. Caught him at it. Smiled.

Sirius had to shake himself. 1-0 was nothing in the first period. He should be thinking about their defense right now. And stupid penalties. Definitely not about that ring tattoo he had promised himself. Definitely not about summer.

He sighed, briefly wondering why everyone thought being the captain was so great, and pushed himself back up. He pulled his shoulder and chest pads over his head and dumped them in his stall before striding towards Kota.

Kota had the decency looked a little worried. He knew that he’d pulled them down a man twice, nearly back to back. He knew they were starting the second period four on four because of him, plus an extra two for roughing. The Rangers would have the advantage for two whole minutes after resting for a whole fifteen. Logan would be pissed. Alex would be pissed. Montague would be really pissed.

Kota pulled his headphones out of his ears. “I know, Cap. I know.”

Sirius nodded slowly. They didn’t know each other that well—not compared to the other guys—but Sirius appreciated a player taking responsibility when he saw it. He didn’t appreciate the way Kota looked like he was going to spend the fifteen minutes until they were back in the tunnel kicking himself.

“I know you know,” Sirius said. “And those were clean. I’m just saying…unless you think a hit will draw something, let’s keep it even strength.”

Yeah,” Kota said. “I know…You’re right.”

“Look. I’m not—I didn’t come over here to tell you that you messed up.”

Kota sighed. “Well. Thanks, I guess.”

“Just…try to reset.” The words felt ridiculous, coming from him, and Sirius swore he felt Remus look at his back, overhearing. “It’s a new game next period.”

Hypocrite, he could hear Regulus say. Like you’ve ever reset after a period in your life.

What did he do then? Saying being up one in a knock-out game was nothing was anything but a reset. God, he just kicked himself and kicked himself until he forced the good in him out. Until he played well.

“It’s not, though,” Kota said softly.

Sirius huffed out a laugh, tasting the bitter sound. At least he wasn’t the only one.

“Non,” he conceded, and set a hand on Kota’s shoulder. “Stay out of the fucking box.”

Kota smiled a little. “Yeah. That’s more what I thought you were gonna say.”

“I was trying to be nice.”

“I wish Tremblay would try to be nice.”

Leo, sitting beside him, laughed out loud. “Good luck with that, K.”

Finn had tried his best to not miss any of the action, but he needed a break when he needed a break. He never wanted to be back in a place where the lights took on a glare at the edges, colorful and impossible to look at. He had memories of Logan from Harvard haloed in strange glows. Kissing his cheeks and neck in that dim fuzzy light. He wasn’t sure which ones were dreams.

He waited, at least, for a TV time out, and watched Leo and Logan skate to opposite benches for water before pushing out of his seat. He found a section of the inner hallways that was dim and quiet and tilted his head back against the wall. His sling was digging into the collar of his shirt and he sighed. He wished for sweatpants and a bed, or a jersey and the ice.

Finn didn’t realize Natalie had followed him into the dim hallway until she cleared her throat. He opened his eyes just as she leaned on the wall across from him, crossing her thick-soled, dark red combat boots.

“Just a little light sensitivity,” Finn said. “Supposed to take breaks. Maybe I could wear tinted glasses inside? Don’t know how I feel about looking like a shitty rock star.”

Natalie smiled. “I think you could pull it off.”

“No, you could pull it off.”

“Well, I won’t argue with that.”

Finn smiled. His eyes had dropped to the ring on her finger, holding a glare of its own, and she must have caught him at it because she began twisting it. Almost nervously. And Natalie didn’t get nervous.

“Very shiny,” Finn said. “I mean, I think that’s probably, like, a requirement with rings, but damn. That thing got a light bulb in it or something?”

Natalie raised unimpressed eyebrows at him. “Just say it, Finn.”

“Say what?”

“I’m very versed in O’Hara maneuvers. Just. Say it.”

Finn’s mind began trying to jump ahead. Trying to figure out, as it always seem to, what she wanted him to say. The best way to say it.

He ended up with the truth, blurted out and soft. “You’re not going to marry Kasey and then suddenly decide…” He thought of Alex’s small figure, down below on the ice.

He didn’t know why he was choosing now to be worried about this. Why she was choosing now to talk it over. Period two was going on and—

The stadium erupted. They both listened until the goal song played—The Rangers had scored, then. Leo, was his first thought, and then Logan?

“1-1,” he said, he pushed up from the wall. His head still hurt but he wasn’t sure how to talk about this. Yes, maybe he was worried about Alex. But that wasn’t because of Kasey and Natalie. It was because Alex would do anything for anyone.

“Are you going to suddenly ditch Leo?” Natalie asked.

Finn shot her a disgusted look. The announcer, echoing over the ice said, Rangers goal by number 10—Finn’s heart stopped before he remembered that wasn’t Logan’s number anymore—Artemi Panarin! He let out a relieved breath.

“Well then don’t ask me that question if it’s so fucking absurd.” Natalie pushed up from the wall, too. “What the hell, Freckle?”

“Okay,” Finn said. “All right. I get it. I’m sorry, I just…”

“You just. I’ll tell you what you just. You O’Haras just sure like the feeling of the entire world on your shoulders.”

“Not really.”

Natalie looked at him for a long moment, then sighed. “Yeah.”

Finn watched her as her gaze dropped to her shoes. He’d seen Natalie at parties, whirling on the dance floor. He’d seen her on stage, performing small venues packed to the brim with people that adored her—one time waltzing around stage in nothing but a Winter jersey and tiny, tiny shorts, and knee high boots. He’d never seen her looking down like that before. It made her hair fall in her face, sort of the way Leo’s did when he was down. And he’d been down so much lately.

Another goal horn. Another goal song. It was the Rangers again. 2-1. Finn closed his eyes. The Lions were behind, scored on nearly back to back, within minutes of each other.

“It was Kasey and I for a long time,” Natalie said. “You know?”

“I do and I don’t.” Finn put his hand into his pocket. “It was Logan and I for a long time…but it also wasn’t. You know?”

Natalie nodded. “I know. I know what you must be thinking but—God, Finn. I do love your brother.”

“I didn’t mean to make you think I didn’t know that.”

“I know.” She held out a hand, lips pressed into a melancholy smile. She shook her blond hair out of her face and tilted her chin up. The way Leo did when he was proud, or winning. God, please let him win. Logan, I love you, but please.

The announcer, deep and booming, said goal by number 71, Logan Tremblay!

“Fuck,” Natalie said softly, looking towards the sound of the crowd. “Logan. Leo…”

Finn couldn’t say anything. This was awful.

“Come on,” Natalie said. “We’re missing all the action. Just a little longer and one of us will have one boyfriend each back around the house again.”

Finn sighed. “That’s good for no one but us.”

“Then we’ll keep our glee to ourselves and kiss them until it feels better.”

Leo threw off his top pads and jersey and went to the restroom mostly to have a moment by himself. The cool air in the hallway made goosebumps raise over his bare, sweat-slick shoulders and chest, and he pushed into the bathroom to run warm water over his hands, then ice cold water on his face. It was an old trick of Kasey’s. He’d told Leo about it just a few days into his first season. Leo wasn’t even sure what the trick was, but it helped. Maybe it was just because Kasey Winter had told him he did it.

Sirius had called for players only in the locker room, but he needed a minute. Just one minute. He tried looking at himself, but that felt like too much and so he closed his eyes, hands braced on either side of the sink. 2-1. He’d let in back-to-backs and one of them had been from—

Two arms suddenly went around his bare waist and his eyes opened, looking forward into the mirror.

Logan’s green eyes looked back at him from around his shoulder. He dropped his gaze for a moment, nervous, then looked back at Leo and turned his face against his bicep, lips brushing the skin. He was still wearing his undershirt and shoulder pads. They scratched against Leo’s back. Logan’s body felt hot from skating, but his hands were freezing against Leo’s stomach. His dark hair was a dripping sweaty mess all over Leo’s shoulder, his knuckles were busted and had dried blood on them…Leo couldn’t have loved him more.

Leo turned in Logan’s arms and leaned down until he could bury his face against his neck. Logan said something soft, maybe more of a sound than a word, and held him tighter. They were quiet. Leo wasn’t sure what there was to say. An apology felt wrong. It was all just part of the game. They also didn’t have the time. He had to go back in. Listen to Sirius. He had to get dressed, the buckles and the straps and the tightening. Logan had to get back to his locker room.

It was all the game—all of it except this. Logan letting Leo pull back. Logan’s eyes falling closed as Leo pressed a kiss to his forehead. Logan pressing a kiss right over his heart. Logan letting Leo leave the bathroom first before following. Logan looking back at him as he walked away and catching Leo doing the very same thing. That moment hadn’t been the game. That had been just for them.

Coach hadn’t resisted when Sirius called for players only during the second intermission. He’d simply taken his clipboard and his staff and left the visitor’s locker room to Sirius and his boys.

It wasn’t quiet, exactly. No one was speaking, but it wasn’t quiet. There was a thrum, energy mostly. Dissipating, then building and dissipating again as if with each player’s breathing. Sirius could feel every single one of them around him from his place in the center of the room. Like rays of heat, coming towards him. Leo had his eyes open, staring up at the ceiling without an expression on his face. Thomas had one earbud in. Pascal had ice on his thigh. James had ice on his shoulder. They were beat up. It had already been a long season and they weren’t finished yet. Each and every one of them was feeling that. Sirius knew. Remus had his eyes closed, hunched over with his elbows on his knees and his fingers locked. He looked like he was praying, but Sirius knew better. By the slight flick of his eyelids moving, Sirius knew he was rehearsing.

It was a show as much as it was a game. It was a plot, and everything was twisting, changing, always.

Two horrible goals let in by sloppy playing. Sirius wanted to grab that moment by its very fabric and rip it away, bundle it back in to where no one could see it. It had happened so fast. He saw, in Remus’ face, when he reached that point in his mental image of the game. His mouth pulled tight and he winced, sitting up and opening his eyes with a harsh exhale.

“I used to wish I could rehearse it,” Sirius said, keeping his eyes on Remus. Remus’ eyes softened. They said, of course you knew.

“Alors,” Sirius sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. He looked behind him and found a stool. It had wads of used tape on it, misses from one of the garbage cans, and he brushed it off and sat, right there in the center of all of them. “Just—rehearse it and then do it. Playing well. Playing right.”

He looked up again and realized it was quiet now. Silent. Quieter than he’d ever heard their locker room. He looked down against a burst of hesitation. One of the stick tape balls had latched onto the bulk of his padded pants and he picked it up, mostly just for something to do with his hands. He knew he should be looking at them. Looking around the room.

Look up when you are speaking, Sirius. His mother’s voice came to him suddenly and his flinch was as exposed as Remus’ had been about the game. His eyes, involuntarily, darted to Pascal. Yes. He had noticed. Sirius looked back down. He didn’t have to look to see if Remus and James’ had.

“Wouldn’t that be nice,” James’ voice came and Sirius nearly closed his eyes he was so grateful. He had always been grateful for James.

James smiled at him from across the locker room, elbows on his padded knees. Sweat kept his hair out of his face and he had his contacts in. It made him look entirely different, Sirius had always thought. But not when he smiled. Then he became himself again.

“Ouais,” Sirius said with a slight smile in return. He looked down at the tape sticking and unravelling then reforming into a ball between his restless hands. “Yeah.” He took a breath. “Listen, part of me still feels weird, doing things like this. I didn’t say more than three words to half of you when I first came and I was a dick to the other half.” That got him a few laughs. He risked a glance up at Remus, who was suppressing a smile. “And it’s not like this is some speech and then we go out there and get the Cup. Non, we go out there and get to the next round which gets us to the next round….And it feels long this year.”

Some murmurs of agreement. Pascal shifted his ice to his other thigh—no, his hip. Sirius wanted to take all the pain from them and press it into himself.

Again. His father’s voice. Again, again.

“We’re one behind,” Sirius said. “It’s not much. The Rags are down the hall right now thinking about how dangerous a lead that is.”

“So, let’s be dangerous.” Thomas smiled wide.

“We are dangerous, T,” James said.

“If we are, we’re not playing like it,” Sirius said. “And none of us are okay with that, right? We have to fight harder.”

“Montague has an emotional game,” Leo said suddenly. “If you keep crashing the net, something’s going to piss him off and he’ll miss something.”

Sirius’ eyes went to Kasey, who looked back for a moment before returning his gaze to Leo. Tired. Powerful. He thought of Logan’s tipped-in goal, and how he’d stared after the puck for a moment as if he hadn’t meant for it to go in at all.

“I want to win back to back,” Sirius said. “Who else?”

Thomas, predictably, was the first to shout. He rose and pounded three times on the side of his stall. James laughed, Evgeni let out a loud shout—maybe something in Russian—and then they were chaos. All that quiet energy being let out as they made their way back towards the ice tunnel. Coach didn’t say a word to him, but when they had skated a few laps to the riotous sound of Madison Square Garden, Coach didn’t even look down at his line-up card before putting Sirius, James, and Remus out there first.

Logan’s wrist tweaked every time he turned it just so. Luke had gotten his cheek stitched up before the start of the third. Will had iced his shoulder until the very last minute after a solid hit by Evgeni, and Saint had kept his eyes closed nearly the entire intermission, zoned out to anything but the game. Crazy goalie, Percy had said as he passed him, but the words carried no real heat. They were banged up and tired, but the adrenaline filled the ice like water. Logan didn’t even try to keep his head above it. He breathed it in so that he didn’t think too hard, and so his body didn’t dissolve into any post-game pain.

He’d held Leo for a moment. That was what mattered as they stepped back out onto the ice for the third period. He’d scored on Leo, and Leo had still let him take him into his arms.

Alex skated up beside him and Logan knew he had something to say by the set of his mouth alone. It was very Finn.

“I know, O’Hara,” Logan said, but he sort of thought he needed to hear this anyway.

“If—let’s just say, if the opportunity presents itself…” Alex winced but continued. “You should probably try to make it seem like you meant to score this time around.”

Logan had heard it on the Rangers intermission report on TV, the commentators having a bit of a laugh at his expense. Sure enough, the game video showed him—and they had put it in slow motion, thanks a lot—blinking down at the lit up goal as his teammates put their hands up in celebration, as if he hadn’t remembered it was there.

“Shut up,” Logan said, but he really meant I’m trying.

Remus was aware of the ache in his muscles, but only barely. He was aware of the crowd, but only in the same way he became aware of their air conditioner in the first moments of waking up. A sound that meant nothing. It was just noise.

The force of his own body colliding against the shuddering glass thanks to Percy Marshall brought it all back into focus. The crowd roared with the hit, and Remus forced the breath out of his lungs. He ignored the fear—the phantom twinge in his shoulder and neck. He dove back for the puck.

He couldn’t watch himself lose this game. He couldn’t allow it. And yet, he had a sliver of control over it. He could pick the puck right off of Percy’s stick, but whatever greater force there was didn’t stop Luke Deveaux from being right there to block the lane he had thought was clear. He was pushed back behind the net, behind Leo, who turned towards him without taking his eyes off of Luke.

“Okay?”

“Yeah,” Remus said, then did his best to push into a burst of speed.

It worked for a second. He blew past Luke, who he heard curse as he skated hard backwards before turning to race after him.

“Re!” He heard Sirius’ stick tap twice on the ice and Remus passed. Sirius caught the puck in the cradle of his blade and then Remus was swinging his skates around with a sharp sound. His back was to the net, waiting for a pass back while also wanting to keep Luke in his sight. They crossed center ice cleanly, but Remus could almost feel the moment Logan got on the ice. The crowd changed, hoping—or maybe even expecting another goal from their newest member. Remus wondered if Leo’s posture had changed in the net.

He watched the way Sirius fought through it, the energy shift. His grey eyes were clouds and steel as he pulled his stick back. It should have sent Luke lunging forward into his path. Instead, when Sirius faked and passed to Remus, and when Remus got down on one knee to slap it hard towards the goal, Luke jolted the correct way. Even as Saint’s glove raised too slow, Remus’ shot hit Luke squarely in the shin and then rolled harmlessly until Saint covered the puck with his glove.

The whistle went and Luke stayed on his hands and knees, grimacing. Remus stopped hard inches from him.

“You okay?”

“Fuck, Lupin,” Luke groaned.

Saint was in his face in a moment, shoving him back, eyes hard behind his mask. “Can I fucking help you?”

“Whoa,” Remus put a hand up. “I—”

“He’s checking on me,” Luke said, pushing to his feet. “Yeah. I’m good.”

“Are you?” Saint turned to look at him. His eyes raked up and down, checking.

“Yes,” Luke said, and it was much more gentle.

Remus tried to catch his breath as he turned. He caught Logan’s eye for a moment, but they both looked away.

He looked up at the big screen to see the reply—to see what had given him and Sirius away. He only caught enough in time to watch Sirius’ face fall, in slow motion. Eyes closing, mouth forming a thin line of disappointment.

They weren’t getting through. They just weren’t.

Sirius skated beside him, taking his mouthguard out. “It was my fault.”

They skated to the bench together and Remus reached for the iPad once they were in their seats. “I missed the replay, so we’ll see about that.”

But he didn’t have time to look. Thomas slugged him hard in the arm and, when he looked up, it was to find Pascal alone in front of a gassed Fox and Lindgren. He’d broken away. He was headed right towards Saint.

“Merde,” Sirius breathed from beside him. “Please…”

Pascal faked one way, then the other, beautiful, smooth skill that Remus had admired for years.

Then Pascal took the puck, as if it were part of his own body, and put it right under Saint’s left pad.

Remus heard Sirius and his own shouts mingle as they rose to their feet, sticks raised.

Pascal was grinning by the time he made it back to the bench, glove held up to be bumped down the line.

“I think I still got it, boys!” he called.

2-2. Something had to change.

Logan was becoming increasingly wary of a frustrated Sirius Black. He knew better than anyone what that meant, and it didn’t matter that there was six minutes left on the clock.

He caught a shot of Leo with his mask up on the big screen. He looked good. Anxious, but solid.

“So,” Alex asked as they sat down on the bench, breathing hard. “How was he?”

“Quoi?” Logan tried to catch his breath between drinks of water.

“Secret lover rendezvous.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Alex just shook his head and smiled.

The clock was at five minutes and thirty seconds by the time Logan got back on the ice, and then four minutes and twenty seconds, and then three minutes and fifteen seconds. Still, nothing. Neither team was budging.

One minute seven seconds now. Coach was double shifting him and Luke. There was no time to think. Logan jumped the boards and skated hard to catch up with the action. Will had forced a turn-over and was now trapped between Olli and Pascal. It was a good coaching call. Arthur had obviously thought Logan’s line would rest another shift, but the Rangers hadn’t given him the time to put Sirius and Remus out against them once again. Logan knew they were the better line and that this was their chance to even the score.

The whistle went at forty-five seconds remaining for over the glass deflection right near Saint’s goal. When he looked towards the Rangers’ bench, Coach shook his head. Stay on.

That should have felt better than it did. It should have felt like trust and confidence. Instead, Logan filled with dread.

“Hey.” Luke bumped their shoulders, holding a glove him to his mouth so no camera could read his lips. “Remember what I said. If I can, I’ll do it.”

It was kind, but it was a fantasy. There was no guarantee, and they would both be killed by the coaching staff, not to mention the media, if they over-passed at such a high stakes moment.

“Thanks,” Logan said, because they both knew the truth. Luke’s smile was tight. Logan wondered if some part of him actually did wonder if Logan could follow through.

The thought struck a competitive chord within Logan that he wanted nothing to do with.

Alex got kicked from the face-off yet again—along with a sharp stop mouthing off, O’Hara! from the ref. It left Logan face-to-face with Sirius again, just as he’d been at the very beginning of this game.

They looked at each other. Sirius, who had seen him at his worst and at his best. Sirius, who he’d gone from looking up to, to calling one of his closest friends.

Sirius offered a small smile. “Friends either way?” he asked in French.

Logan nodded. “Toujours.” Always.

Sirius won the puck, but he didn’t hold onto it. It was a strange scrabble. Logan found himself playing from his knees at one point, fighting against Sirius and James’ shoulders and sticks.

“Tremz!” Luke shouted.

Logan shoved the puck towards him in a motion that carried enough momentum to land him sprawled on his belly.

“Merde,” Sirius cursed, and they both scrambled up.

Part of his mind was only on the fact that Luke had the puck and that he hoped the others could keep it if they were going to score. That didn’t mean he stayed out of position, but every part of him fought and wavered. Take the shot. Pass. Take the shot. Luke, obviously, was trying to keep the puck away from Logan, too.

But Percy didn’t know about their pact. When he was cornered by Remus, he sent a clean pass straight towards Logan.

The puck hit his stick blade right in front of Leo—and there was no time. There was no time to look for Luke. There was no space. A pass would send him, and maybe Luke, too, spilling right into Leo’s blue paint and goal. Logan realized he was holding his breath because it felt like the ice was closing in on him, so cold that it burned.

He looked right at Leo. He could hardly see his blue eyes through the mask’s shadow, only the red and gold gleaming paint and the lions teeth drawn around the cage. He could see Leo recognize his movements though. He knew Leo would recognize his movements. He knew Leo’s play just as well as Leo knew his.

Don’t. Every muscle in his body screamed the word. Not him. Don’t do this to him.

But Leo would hate him if he knew he was holding back, wouldn’t he?

Logan would hate himself either way.

There was no time.

Remus could only watch as Logan pulled his stick back. If this went in, it was over. If this went in, the Lions were finished.

“Read him,” he heard Sirius say in a fast rush of French. “Read him, Leo, read him—”

Please, Remus thought. Please.

Please, Logan thought, wind on his face.

Please. It filled his whole being.

Please, he begged, someone, anyone. He didn’t even know what he was begging for.

He whipped the puck forward, right at Leo, and watched it leave the ice, flat disk wavering against the air.

#vaincre lumosinlove #hockey au #coops #wolfstar #lelo #finnlo #sunfish #o'knutzy #finn o'hara #sirius black #Logan tremblay #remus lupin #Leo knut #sweater weather lumosinlove

195 notes · View notes

saltofmercury · 1 year

Note

that break in post was adorbs 🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻 if ur reqs r closed just pls ignore this (except for the first part, ur writings gorgeous) but can i req an actual breakin scenario :o like w angst maybe- maybe going further in with reader’s feelings toward konig and his “different persona” after all that happens during an actual break in when theres genuine danger

thank u!!

“The Intruder”

Summary: An intruder comes into the house with König is home with you.

A/N: let me know if I hit or missed!

It had been over 4 months since the raccoon incident. The break-ins had stopped around your apartment, König had felt better with you staying at his place. Everything seemed to go back to normal again.

During this time, König had left on a small mission, returning back almost a month and a half later. He seemed different this time around, he was more on edge, always on guard, and protective. He seemed tense, always looking around his shoulder, looking out the window, at his surroundings, at the tops of his neighbors houses, down the street from his house, it was almost as if he were wishing something would come out.

You could sense him differently too. The way he had built a routine every night on shutting and locking his doors and windows. When walking and entering shopping malls or small restaurants he would enter first almost as if to make sure it was clear and then held the door for you and gently pushed you in with his hand on your lower back.

“We’re okay babe,” you would say to bring him back to reality, and he would nod back to you absentmindedly.

Then one night, it happened. The home you and König had made together, had been tarnished.

It was right before you went to bed, you were brushing your teeth when you heard something down the hall. König had been in bed already dozing off to whatever movie he had been trying to watch for the past week. You peeked outside the bathroom,

“Did you hear that?” You said with foam running down your mouth

He was still fixated on what was on the screen.

You spit out the foam and rinsed, you called out to him

“König?”

He looked up at you, dazed, then brought back to reality with glass breaking in the background.

It was with that sound that the König you slept next to was now replaced with König, from KorTac.

Almost as if he had anticipated this, König pushed himself out of bed, reached for a knife he had stored under his bedside table, pulled the mask to conceal his identity, and then the bat he had stashed in the closet.

“König what are you doing!? — wait!” He had grabbed you by the wrist and brought you aside towards the end of the bed.

“Shouldn’t we call the police?” You had to try to speak with a level head. Only you and König knew what was really waiting for the person.

“The police have nothing to do with this.” He spit out harshly, his accent coming out.

“This person comes into my home, they get to deal with me.”

Panic had bubbled into your stomach, beads of sweat behind your neck.

You heard a couple doors burst open, then one more door burst open, followed by a shrill of a voice unknown to you cry for help. You rushed to the voice.

In the middle of the living room, König had the stranger lifted up by the neck, 3 limbs moving in the darkness. You turned on the lights.

The bat König held was on the ground. You panicked, knowing König could kill the guy in an instant, you immediately began to think of a rational solution to all this. This wasn’t a KorTac mission, this was your home.

“I’ll call the police,” you began,

“I don’t need the police,” he spat out. His back still turned to you, “when I’m finished with him he’s going to have to pick up his guts.”

A chill ran through your body. This wasn’t the man you’ve shared a bed with. It wasn't the man you got to know these past months. You saw the man choking, barely moving, and rushed to his side.

“Please put him down” you pleaded, “You’re not out there right now you’re here with me.”

König dropped the man down roughly, the man coughing up and attempting to breathe again. König stood watch above the man, his gaze piercing through him, he quickly bent down towards him, the man winced in pain and fear.

You ran into the room to dial the police.

It wasn’t until the police arrived that you realized König had broken the man’s leg. The police took the report from König and collected the man, you took some breaths to collect yourself.

König had been sitting on the table playing with the knife. As if nothing had happened. Anxiety crawled back to your stomach. Would he have really killed a man inside his house?

“König—”

He wouldn’t look at you. It made you feel sick.

“K-König you could’ve killed him. In our h-home. In front of me.” You said softly. The picture of the man in a red face kept flashing back into your head.

König said nothing, toying with the knife in his hands.

“Aren’t you going to say anything? Does it not worry you that you could’ve done that in front of me?”

He peered up at you, “I told you what I was, what I was capable of.” Closing the knife up.

It sent chills down your spine. You suddenly feared to be near this person. You were terrified. Turning towards him and spoke softly,

“I’m gonna go home, I think it would be best for us to get some space after tonight.”

He didn't speak a word or try to stop you. Just as the man had encountered pain and fear from König, you just left with the same.

#könig #konig call of duty #konig x y/n #könig x reader #ask #könig drabble?#call of duty

2K notes · View notes

norman-fucking-reedus · 29 days

Note

I read your submissive Scud post and it literally had my foaming at the mouth. I was wondering if you would expand on that? (Especially the pegging part💀)

Thank you!! You’re awesome!!! I love your work!!

THE PEGGING THE PEGGING THE PEGGINGGGRAAAAHHHH 😝🎀🔥🦅🦅

We’re both foaming at the mouth okay I get the urge to fuck the shit out of him every hour of the day its not a want its a need I desire that I NEED THAT

Anyone who says Scud wouldn’t be into pegging needs to immediately get their eyes checked. That is a cock lover in the flesh. Like i’m telling you guys he loves to just get bent over any surface and be completely stuffed.

This brings me to my secret headcanon abt him, I firmly believe that he’s been double stuffed before. Maybe he bumped into some hot guys on a mission who he totally didn’t lure into the back of his van for them to literally ruin him, and he totally wasn’t getting his little throat and ass destroyed on all fours. Wrong guy. Not him. Never ever.

Now let’s not get it twisted Scud still loves women. Thing is, his cock has always had a lot more nerve endings than the average male, so he cums fairly quickly, but don’t worry because all of Norman’s characters come pre-equipped with pussy eating powers. And Scud is pussy eating machine. He wants it for breakfast lunch and dinner. He has to be forcibly removed and pried away before he thinks about stopping. The jaw cramps just means that hes doing the damn thing.

Back to the original topic.. When you first brought the idea up to Scud, he had absolutely no fucking clue what pegging was, until you dumbed it down for him, to which he almost immediately agreed. Getting his back blown out by a literal goddess? Umm, somebody better sign him up twice.

Now again, Scuds cock is a tender one, and good boys dont need to be cumming after a few thrusts, so you cutely and quietly stop that from happening. How?

“What’re ya tying?” Scud mumbled against your lips as he you looping something around his balls and the base of his cock, jerking slightly when you pulled the ribbon tightly, tying it into a small bow. “Just something special for you” You kiss him, and he needily kissed back, dick twitching from your gentle contact.

Scud gets very, very turned on by kisses. Especially ones that are deep and sloppy with lots of tongue and spit. He gets so drunk off them and it’s the easiest way to get him to submit, because lord he’d do anything you say just as long as you keep kissing him.

Okay the actual pegging part, Scud is not the foreplay type. He physically cannot take it and needs pleasure as soon as he can get it. He’ll whine and squirm as you finger him open, babbling out begs for you to hurry.

He likes to be fucked as if he were a literal ragdoll. Please pound into him as hard as you can, he needs it. He needs to be a moaning mess on the desk. Also Scud is so. fucking. loud. His whimpers and whines bounce off the walls for everyone to hear, and while yes kissing does work, yanking back on his choker works a lot better.

Scud has a choking kink to the max. A very dangerous one at that. He likes to be almost strangled, racing between his orgasm to see if he would cum or pass out first. His choked off gasps and sobs only get him fucked harder.

Oh and the ribbon. The amazing ribbon. When Scud’s orgasm starts to build, he can feel it in his gut, tingling in his toes and shooting through his spine, so close, getting closer and closer yet never quite falling off the edge. It starts to hurt, his dick starts to painfully twitch at the lack of release, whining loudly as you continued rocking into him, a smile pulling your lips. “Hey Scud. Wanna see how cool my cock is?”

He mumbles something out, lips glossy with spit as a small puddle started to form on the table. You fished a remote out from your pants pocket, clicking once, twice, glancing up to Scud’s twisting face. You swiftly pulled your hips back, leaving only the buzzing tip of the dildo before completely burying it all back into your boyfriend, pressing right into what you knew was his sweet spot from the lewd and loud whimpers that Scud couldn’t stop from coming out, each thrust sending his eyes so far into the back of his head.

Scuds cock ached, orgasm building so rapidly once again as you fucked him stupid, turning his brain into nothing but the sex clouded mess that it was made to be. When you amplify the vibrations speed, and it makes each snap of your hips pump pure ecstasy into his body, and he just needed so much more.

“Please, mmngh, please let me cum mommy, please fuck me so hard and let me cum,” He babbled, whimpers and moans tearing from his chest when he felt you increase your pace, skin slapping skin. “Is this what you want, hm baby? To be fucked like the dirt slut you are?” You cooed, leaning down over him. Scud brainlessly nodded against the table, choking on his words as he spoke. “Yes! Want mommy to pound me so deep- so, very fucking deep!” He gasped, shaking like a leaf when he felt the you pulling the ribbon loose, almost sobbing when his orgasm crashed over him finally, cumming harder than ever. You fucked him through it until he was twitching and whining, actually you fucked him until he came again, high moans spilling past his lips with every buzzing thrust to his sweet spot, so overstimulated and sensitive yet you just kept going.

Scud could barely keep his eyes open, groaning which each slap of your hips. You fucked him like he was your own sextoy, pulling orgasm after orgasm from him until he would just collapse, so used and destroyed. His toes curled at a particularly hard thrust, choking in surprise when you suddenly yanking his head back by his choker, holding him down onto your vibrating cock pressed blissfully into that bundle nerves inside him. Scud choked his moans and cries out, desperately rocking his hips as his third orgasm raced off the edge. Oh God, he was so fucking close, vision starting to turn black and his ears ringing as he practically fucked himself on your strap, orgasm slamming into him–

“Scud? Y/n?” Blade’s voice rang out from the hallway, and you quickly pulled out and away from Scud, who gripped the table as his orgasm continued washing over his whole body, bitting down on his lips as he muffled a pained yet so pleasured sob, hips thrusting into the air as ropes of white shot out from his swollen and totally untouched cock, “Fuckin’ hell Scud” You grumbled, shutting off the dildo and having to just stuff it in your underwear, pulling your pants up quickly and searching for anything to wipe up the mess you’ve created.

Blade approached the workshop, steps echoing throughout. You groaned when you couldn’t find anything, and settled for wheeling a chair ontop of it, shoving Scud in it so his still halfway exposed bottom was covered, leaning against the table as if everything was totally normal.

The man swung the workshop door open and lingered at the top of the stairs, staring down at you and Scud with a questioning face. “What are you two doing?” You shrugged, responding with a casual “Nothing.”

Blade’s eyes landed on Scud, who was still very visibly fucked out, eyes droopy and lust riddled, hair pushed back and messy, not to mention the bruises forming on his neck from his choker being pulled. “Mhm. Whenever you get done doing ‘nothing’, come find me” He spoke flatly, before turning and exiting the room, shutting the door behind him. You sighed in relief, glancing down at Scud and his ruined state.

You leaned down, tilting his head up to kiss him on his glossed lips, smiling playfully. “I am not done with you, Scudster”

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

I got a little carried way I just need. I need. I need him guys.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★

#i need him #tearing my own clothes off #scud fanfiction #scud #scud x reader #scud frohmeyer #scud blade 2 #norman fucking reedus #the walking dead #daryl dixon #the walking dead daryl #daryl x reader #daryl fanfiction #daryl x female reader

117 notes · View notes

heich0e · 2 years

Text

polluted geto suguru, gojo satoru, ryomen sukuna, kamo choso/f!reader word count: 11k warnings: 18+ MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DO NOT INTERACT, recreational drug use (weed), dubious consent, slight sexual coercion, sex under the influence, gangbang, oral sex (f! and m!receiving), double penetration (oral and vaginal), biting, spitting, creampie, snowballing, pussyjob, fingering, choking, squirting, hair pulling, generally rough sex, implication of non-consensual filming/photography, shotgunning, college!au, no curses!au, slight dumbification, ft a cameo from nanami. a/n: this is a continuation of a drabble i posted ages ago (the first few hundred words of this fic!) feel free to skip that if you've already read it. also these tags alone are sending me to hell. enjoy! never talk to me about this again! crossposted to AO3

"D'ya want some?" Gojo asks up at you, his head in your lap as you tap at the screen of your cellphone idly, leaving a heart on a friend's perfectly filtered photo that only makes you feel a little bitter when you look at it.

"Hm?" you ask, glancing down towards him as he peers up at your face. He has a bag of gummy candy resting on his tummy, and you part your lips and stick your tongue out slightly, asking for one of his sweets.

He lets out a little heh at your expression before popping a pink and blue candy–dusted with a sweet-sour crystalline coating–into your waiting mouth.

"I meant the weed," Gojo answers your earlier hum only once you begin to chew the treat he'd just fed you. He sticks his thumb in his mouth, licking it clean of the tangy sugar that clings to it. "D'ya want some?"

"Oh," you reply, eyes flickering to the other side of Gojo and Geto's dorm room where Choso is seated on the floor, a pillow on his lap and an old DVD case on top of it. He's diligently packing the ground up weed into a rolling paper–little bits of green clinging to the tips of his fingers like the sugar had to Gojo's. "I don't think so."

You really shouldn't.

"Why?" Satoru asks petulantly. He's not smoking either–isn't allowed to since the last time when he threw up in Geto's backpack and ruined his social anthropology textbook–but he seems indignant at your refusal.

Choso's dark eyes flicker up to you too, as though interested in your reply, but when he sees you looking back at him he busies himself with his rolling once more with a streak of pink curling across his cheeks.

He's still a little shy around you.

"Who cares?" Sukuna chimes in from where he's reclining in Gojo's desk chair at the end of the bed, tossing a miniature foam basketball up into the air idly before catching it in one large hand and repeating the motion. "Means more weed for us. Fushiguro said this is good shit when I picked up earlier, too."

"That guy with the scar?" Geto asks, peeking out from under his textbook and Sukuna grunts out some sort of affirmative.

Suguru is sprawled out across his bed directly opposite you now that Nanami left to return to his own room–finding the rest of you too distracting to get anything done during what was supposed to be a study session.

You feel something prod against your lips and look down to see Gojo attempting to feed you another sweet. You let him.

"You didn't answer my question," he singsongs as you bite down on the chewy confection between your teeth.

You push most of the rapidly melting, sticky-sweet candy into your cheek with your tongue to talk around it. "I get really.... annoying when I'm high."

Gojo stares up at you for a moment before pulling himself into a seated position at your side.

"What do you mean?" he asks.

A chuckle from across the room tears your eyes away from Satoru's inquisitive gaze, and towards Sukuna who has suddenly stopped tossing the basketball and instead has his attention fixed on you.

You glare at him weakly, knowing what he's thinking without him saying it. "Shut up."

It only makes him laugh again, a sharp smirk on his lips.

"What?" Gojo whines, missing the unspoken words you and Sukuna have exchanged.

"Weed doesn't make her annoying," Sukuna drawls, tossing the basketball up again, only this time away from him–you watch as it curves gracefully in the air, swishing through the little net Geto and Gojo have affixed to the back of their door. "She's always annoying."

"Kuna–" you mumble warningly, your cheeks flushing hot as you squirm nervously atop the rumpled sheets of Satoru's bed.

Everyone has stopped what they're doing now: Suguru's textbook set aside, Choso's fingers stilling with the edge of the nearly finished joint pinched between them.

Sukuna's smirk turns into something even sharper, a smile unfurling slow and wicked across his face.

"Weed doesn't make her annoying–it makes her into a whore."

Everything is hot.

The prickle of smoke in your lungs each time the joint is held to your lips—though you’ve lost track of whose fingers are holding it out to you now.

The flush that curls up your neck and through your face. It burns, almost; blood rushing too close to the surface of your skin to be comfortable.

The three sets of eyes you feel on your skin from various places around the room.

Sukuna’s mouth.

The dorm room smells unmistakably of weed–heavy, earthy, dank—even with the window open and a fan on to whisk the curling plumes of smoke outside. There’s a grimy old towel crammed into the space underneath the door to keep the scent from seeping out into the hallway, but the boys’ RA has let them get away with far worse in their time in residence. At this point you’re not exactly sure what it would take for them to earn a warning knock, much less any sort of formal reprimand.

You guess it pays to have your family’s name plastered on most of the buildings on campus like Satoru’s does.

There’s music playing in the room, bass heavy and slow, and you know it must be Geto’s doing even if you aren’t sure when he turned it on. You recognize the familiar sound from late night drives you’ve taken with him in his car—an old silver sedan that he takes immaculate care of, constantly tinkering away at it—and the songs he sends you to listen to from the other side of your table in the library while you study. The music, like the towel, serves its own purpose.

To mask the sound of you.

“‘Kuna,” you pant raggedly, fingers twisting into his blush pink hair and tugging. He sucks harder at the sensitive spot on your neck that he’s been lavishing with attention for the past few minutes—the one he’s more than familiar with from previous hookups—in retaliation. “Kiss me, kiss me.”

He chuckles, but indulges your desperation, mouthing his way back to your lips: up your throat, along your jaw, eventually slotting his soft mouth to yours.

“She’s so whiny when she’s high,” Gojo says breathlessly, but he sounds closer to you than you expect him to.

You peel your heavy eyelids open only to see him hovering just over Sukuna’s shoulder, blinking when you spot his unsettlingly blue eyes watching you raptly. You try to pull back from Sukuna’s rapacious kiss, startled by Satoru’s proximity, but the boy beneath you’s insistent hands hold you even more firmly to his lap in protest–earning him another needy sound from your throat as your hips grind down against his own. Your lips part in a silent cry of objection, and Sukuna takes it as an invitation to press his tongue even deeper into your open mouth.

“When’s someone else gonna get a turn?” Gojo complains, reaching out to tug on a bit of your hair beside your cheek childishly.

You’d chastise him if Sukuna’s tongue wasn’t mapping the depths of your throat.

“Relax, Satoru.” Geto snorts from his place on his dormitory bed.

Suguru’s textbook has long been discarded on the floor, the page he’d been reading marked but the time for revision evidently passed, and his hair has been retied into a neater knot at the top of his head, pulled back from his handsome face. His eyes watch carefully as Sukuna’s hands slip up underneath the hem of your top, thumbs dipping beneath the cups of your bra to sweep against the soft flesh. Suguru glances at the blonde still lingering over you from where he sits reclined–his legs crossed and body language apathetic though his attention feels anything but.

“We’ll all get our chance, so just enjoy the show.”

Sukuna draws back suddenly, lips parting from yours with one final wet smack.

He hums, nosing at your cheek as you try futilely to chase his mouth, whimpering as he denies you it. There’s a smirk curling, smug and cruel and sure, at the corner of his lips.

“He might have a point, y’know,” Sukuna drawls.

You make a little sound of confusion, your hands slipping from the back of Sukuna’s neck to the front of his t-shirt, pressing against the hard planes of his chest as you balance yourself atop his lap. The rolling desk chair you’re straddling him in really isn’t meant for two, especially not when you’re as dizzy as you currently feel, but Sukuna keeps you steady with his large hands braced on your hips.

He’d coaxed you over after your first few puffs and hadn’t let you leave his grasp since.

“Stop teasing,” you murmur, eyes tracing his pink, spit-slicked lips covetously.

“But if I fuck you first, that’s not really fair is it?—”

He tilts his face up and kisses you, deceptively gentle, and then pinches your bottom lip between his sharp teeth—pulling away until it slips from his bite and snaps back into place. You’re bewildered by his comment, peering at him curiously as your lip stings.

When has Sukuna ever cared about being fair?

He chuckles at your expression, as though he senses your thought without you saying it.

”—Not when I know just how you like it.”

“Do you two do this a lot?” Geto asks from his bed on the other side of the room, his tone level and impassive. Sukuna’s scarlet gaze flickers to him over your shoulder, and he grins—sharp and mean.

“Only when she begs for it.”

You’d refute the claim, but it has its grounds.

“That’s big talk, Ryomen,” Geto remarks, but there’s an unmistakably competitive undercurrent to his lighthearted tone.

“Too much talk,” Satoru interjects exasperatedly, cutting between the two men’s tense exchange and dragging you up to your feet in one swift motion. He’s at the end of his non-existent patience.

You move easily, pliably, under Gojo’s greater strength and imposing stature as he hauls you up; you stumble forward into his chest, unbalanced on your feet as your head swims. You’re dizzy, everything a little fuzzy around the edges, but he holds you steady with his palms cupping your cheeks and ducks down to crush his mouth to yours.

Satoru tastes sweet like the candy he was eating earlier, though you can’t honestly say how long it’s been since he’s polished off the bag, and he sounds just as tooth-achingly saccharine. Little moans and groans of praise slip from him unbidden as he topples back across his bed and drags you down with him.

“Toru, be careful,” you complain against his eagerness, the words half-lost to his lips, but he doesn’t seem to care.

He flips you over so you’re the one on your back, rising to his knees and pulling your hips down towards him so they rest atop his thighs. Your shoulder blades press into the soft give of his mattress, blinking up at him as he curls forward over your frame until the two of you are nose to nose. His breathing is notably faster, heavier than it had been before, as his hands trail up and down your sides, mapping every divot and curve of your thighs, hips and ribs.

“You’re so pretty,” he sighs infatuatedly, before locking your mouths together once more.

Satoru’s hands are greedy and relentless: pawing and groping at any part of you that he can reach. When he stretches his fingers wide, you’re almost startled by just how much of your torso they can span, digging into your flesh in fervent squeezes.

“I bet you taste good,” he breathes hotly against your mouth, pulling back to look at you with his pupils blown wider than you’ve ever seen them—it’s hard to believe he hasn’t taken a single hit from the joint at all with the way the inky black threatens to swallow the striking blue of his irises.

You hear a deep exhale, and the smell of smoke in the room thickens for a moment. Your head lolls to the side against Satoru’s soft cotton bedspread, and your unfocused eyes slide to Sukuna as he breathes out a wispy cloud of grey. His next words are directed to Gojo, but his attention is only on you.

“Why don’t you find out for yourself?”

Satoru heeds his advice zealously, and makes his way down your body while you writhe beneath him. It’s a little inundating, the way he touches you—the pressure of his body on yours, the heat of his big big hands, the praises that he whispers into every place his lips graze.

“Toru, I’m hot,” you complain, squirming as he kisses along your ribs.

He peeks up at you over the curve of your tummy, toying with the hem of your shirt between his fingers. His bright eyes are wide with excitement and his cheeks are flushed a pretty shade of pink. “I can help you with that.”

Eagerly he works to peel your top off over your head, it’s a little uncoordinated but you feel an immediate relief as the cool air from the fan meets your sticky skin. Satoru ducks down once your top has been shucked aside and you’re laid flat against the bed again, sucking a stinging mark into the swell of your chest that peeks out from your bra. He cups one palm around either breast to push them together and further into his drooling mouth. But still he doesn’t linger, frenetic in his avidity, moving quickly back down to the waistband of your pants and toying with the button of your jeans that holds them closed.

“Please, Satoru,” you mumble, almost shyly but undeniably strained, as his fingertips stroke the soft skin just below your navel.

He looks at you with a cheshire grin, pleased beyond anything to have you begging, and he needs no further encouragement to pop the closure open.

You lift your hips so Satoru can tug your jeans down your thighs, but he wastes no time in settling back between your parted thighs.

“Oh, look at her,” he coos, his thumb pressing against the damp patch of cotton between your legs. Your hips squirm at the pressure, but he keeps you pinned in place. “You’re so wet.”

With no warning, he dips down and sucks against the material lewdly.

“Toru!” you gasp, a hand flying to his hair and tugging on the impossibly soft white strands, though it does nothing to pry him away from his prize.

“Shh, shh,” he quiets you, pinching at your thigh punitively until your grip slackens, “I don’t wanna waste it.”

In seconds the cotton is soaked through with his spit, clinging to the lips of your cunt as he pushes it between your folds with his tongue. He hums happily with every debauched slurp.

“This is nasty,” Geto says with a laugh as he watches the spectacle unfolding from the bed opposite, sounding every bit as though he’s enjoying himself. “You’re always such a freak, Satoru.”

You’re a little too far gone to catch the implication that you’re not the first girl the two of them have shared. Probably not even in this very room.

“Give her another hit, Kamo,” Sukuna chimes in from his seat at the end of the bed, leaning back leisurely in his chair as he takes in the scene before him.

You’d almost forgotten Choso was there, honestly, especially with Gojo’s tongue toying with your clit through the thin material of your panties. You tilt your head to the side, looking through the hazy dorm room to see the youngest (and the quietest) of the four men watching you with pink in his cheeks, and another unlit joint between his fingers.

Another one? How many have you gone through now?

Choso approaches trepidatiously, and crouches next to the bed beside your head. He clicks the purple plastic lighter held in his fingers, sparking it to life, and holds it to the end of the joint pinched between his lips. He takes a small puff to start it off, pursing his mouth to the side on his exhale as he tries not to blow the smoke into your already teary eyes. He gently holds the unlit end to your lips in offering once it’s burning.

“Just a little one, okay?” you say warily, wrapping your lips around the little paper filter. He nods with his gaze on nothing but your mouth, and swallows thickly.

You feel the first prickle of smoke in your burning lungs at the exact moment Gojo wraps his lips around your clit and sucks hard.

You gasp, drawing in a breath too deeply, and immediately choke on the bitter, acrid taste that floods your throat. You cough and cough, smoke slipping from your mouth and nose while your back arches high off Satoru’s bed with every hack, and spit dribbles from the corner of your lips messily.

“Are you alright?” Choso asks, immediately tossing the joint aside into the grody, chipped ashtray resting under the window. He quickly wipes the saliva on your chin away with the edge of his hoodie sleeve, looking at you with panicked eyes.

“Oh, Satoru, that was mean,” Geto calls from his place across the room, but he sounds almost pleased.

“She’s not paying attention to me.” Gojo pulls back from between your legs, a pout on his slick, swollen lips. A long, viscid string of saliva stretches and breaks between his mouth and your throbbing clit.

Sukuna laughs, thoroughly entertained. “Maybe she’s tired of you sucking on her g-string like a perv.”

“Is that true?” Gojo asks you, sounding almost wounded as he drags you down towards him across the mattress. You’ve still barely caught your breath, your head spinning in a way you don’t quite like as he drops to his knees on the floor. He positions your hips at the very edge of the bed and hooks your knees over either one of his shoulders, your thighs parting further to accommodate his broad frame.

He doesn’t bother to wait for a response to his own question as his lithe fingers pry your soaking wet underwear down your thighs, and the tell-tale sound of cotton tearing tells you that you won’t be putting them back on again. He tosses the tattered remains towards Choso who catches them in confusion, glancing between the sopping scraps in his hand and the man who had thrown them at him.

“You can play with those while you wait your turn,” Gojo says to him, his voice shifting from the cloying, petulant tone he’d used with you into something low, firm, and warning. He suddenly sounds every bit the young scion you know him to be.

Satoru’s blue eyes flicker back to you, as if to make sure you’re watching, and then he dips down and seals his mouth against your bare pussy.

It’s hot, wet, and overwhelming—a sound not dissimilar to a squeal is torn out of you as Satoru’s tongue moves, messy and relentless, between your legs. You’d almost call his technique uncoordinated if it wasn’t so disastrously effective; pleasure curls tight in your belly with every slick suck against your clit, though it’s a mounting burn like panic.

“Toru, I—ngh, haa—s-slow down please I—“ you’re babbling and you know it, barely coherent as your head swims. Before you can even formulate a complete utterance, each fleeting thought less tangible than the last, Satoru’s teeth bite down into the flesh of your inner thigh and you shriek.

“So fuckin’ noisy,” Sukuna muses flatly from his chair at the end of the bed. He’s got a front row seat to watching Gojo devour you—and to the angry red imprint of teeth he’s left burning on your thigh—but he stands, shuffling across the room towards the window by your head. You’re too distracted to keep track of his movements as he plucks your panties from Choso’s hand and approaches the bed where you lie defenseless under the ministrations of Gojo’s tongue.

Sukuna stares down at you for a moment, but you can barely keep your eyes open to meet his gaze.

“Open up,” he says, tapping your cheek with the knuckle of his crooked index finger.

You oblige without thinking, lips parting and tongue pressing forward slightly between them. Without any warning, he stuffs the remnants of your undergarment into your mouth.

The fabric tastes of your slick and Gojo’s spit, sticky and tangy and obscene, and it makes your already dry mouth feel even more desiccated as your moans bleed into the material.

Satoru whines into your cunt, a thoroughly pleased sound at the debauched sight. He grinds shamelessly against the end of his bed as he kneels at the foot of it, his hands holding your hips even firmer against his face as his tongue laps against your twitching hole all the way back up to your clit.

“You gonna cum for him?” Sukuna asks, watching the way your eyes are fighting to stay open, the way your fingers are gripping weakly into the blankets beneath you.

You nod, your mouth stuffed too full for anything else, with tears burning in your bleary eyes.

He smirks. “Give ‘em a good show then, will ya?”

He takes his seat again, knees spread as his hand passes lightly over the half-hard swell of his own cock, ready to watch you fall apart.

Your back bows on a particularly enthusiastic suck against your clit, your thighs clamping down hard over Satoru’s ears. Electricity thrums live through your veins, crackling from one end of your body to the other until you see it spark behind your eyes, and the sound of your desperate voice stops registering in your empty mind as your own as your muffled cries turn rapturous.

“Wow,” you distantly hear Geto—at least you think it’s Suguru’s voice—remark approvingly, watching the way your thighs twitch around his best friend’s neck as your orgasm rips through you.

Your muscles go slack as your clit throbs dully, still victim to Satoru’s insatiable tongue, your legs nearly slipping off his shoulders as your pulse thrums in your ears. Your trembling fingers reach up to fish the panties out of your mouth as you pant desperately for breath.

Satoru’s bed is surprisingly comfortable, you can’t help but notice as you fight to draw in air. It’s way more comfortable than your own standard issue dorm mattress, and you wonder if he’d brought his own to furnish the room on move-in day as you sink back into it. Your eyes are shut, and you feel like you could slip away to the call of sleep if you just—

“That was so pretty, you’re so pretty, god you taste so good,”—Satoru scrambles up, leaving you no time to recover from the sedulous talents of his overactive mouth, pulling his hard cock out of his jeans and shucking them down to mid-thigh hurriedly—“you’re so perfect.”

Your eyes flutter open and down to watch as he runs himself through the mess he’s made, rutting just the underside of his cock against you as precum oozes from his slit. Your breath hitches as you catch sight of him for the first time.

“Satoru–”

He holds both of your knees together with a single hand, twisting your hips slightly to one side and grinding himself against the wet heat of your pussy, but never sinking inside. You’re not sure you could even take it, he’s so big; anyone else’s dick would look small in comparison to Satoru’s hands, but his is perfectly, terrifyingly proportionate to the rest of him.

Fortunately for you, he seems content to fuck himself against you like this– or too desperate to do much of anything else—the patch of neatly trimmed white hair at the base of his flushed cock brushing against the back of your thighs on every frantic thrust.

“Your pussy is so soft, so wet,” Satoru prattles on incessantly as he grinds against you, his hips clapping against your ass with every rut, “so good. D’you know that? You know that, right?”

You don’t answer him. Can’t answer him. Struck dumb by the ebbing glow of your orgasm, the sight of his enormous cock, and the THC flooding through your bloodstream. Your silence doesn’t seem to bother him in any case—he seems far more interested in the sound of his own voice than in anything that you might have to say in reply.

Satoru stays vocal as he chases his own pleasure, moaning and praising you blindly as he humps himself between your thighs. It doesn’t take much longer until he cums across your stomach with a blissed out keen that puts every pornstar you’ve ever seen to shame. His hands hold you tight against his twitching hips as he cock kicks and gives one last long splatter of white across your tummy, all the way up to the valley of your ribs.

The room is quiet in the aftermath, save for the steady buzzing of the fan, the music playing from the speaker on Suguru’s desk, and the sound of you and Satoru’s laboured breathing.

But not for long.

“Jeez, do you always have to be so messy?” Geto asks, rising from his place across the room. But there’s no real bite in his comment—and there never is when it comes to Satoru. “You really need to learn to clean up after yourself.”

Gojo grabs your discarded panties from beside you on his bed and swipes them through the cum drying to your skin with a little giggle, barely cleaning you up at all.

Geto gives him a harmless little knock against the back of his head, but doesn’t truly seem to mind.

“You know, I really didn’t take you for such an exhibitionist,” he says to you as he pries your limp body up off Satoru’s bed, weak-kneed and unsteady as you may be, and helps you across the room towards his own.

Suguru leads each of your wobbly steps like a dance—one arm wrapped snugly around your waist, and his other hand clasped around yours as he steers you across the narrow strip of floor between their respective halves of the room. He pulls you down to straddle his lap, your knees sinking into his mattress (not nearly as plush as Satoru’s) on either side of his hips as you bounce lightly on the creaky springs, while he rests with his back against the dorm wall.

“I’m not, Suguru,” you mumble petulantly, fisting his t-shirt as he holds you flush against him. He smells good, even through the stench of the weed clinging to him and you and everything else in the room—like new paper, laundry detergent, and the conditioner you’d bought for him once that he never stopped using—and you nuzzle instinctively into his neck to get closer to the scent. You must be making a mess of his grey sweatpants, but he doesn’t complain.

“Sure, sure,” he says breezily, and you feel the gentle warmth of his hand on your chin as he tilts your face up towards him.

He kisses you and it’s hungry.

Tongues sliding, mouths parted, teeth nipping at your already sore lips.

Kissing Suguru is nice, you think. It feels familiar even in its foreignness. Welcome even in the head rush. You’d be lying if you said you’d never thought about it before, even if your relationship has only ever been platonic: in quiet moments in his beloved car, late night study dates in isolated corners of the library, midnight walks across campus to the convenience store to sate an ill-timed craving. His lips had always been tempting, but it’s even better than you may have hoped.

You lose yourself in it, a little bit—whatever is left of you to be lost, anyway.

You barely notice as his nimble fingers undo the clasp of your bra, easing it away until you’re completely bare against him; too preoccupied to piece together that you’re the only person in the room who isn’t fully clothed. He tilts his face away from you for a moment, leaving you to kitten lick at the corner of his mouth distractingly.

“Pass me the joint,” he grunts out towards Choso, tossing your bra aside as haplessly as Gojo had discarded the rest of your clothes, and his junior hands the half-burned spliff to him obediently.

“Don’t want any more,” you murmur against Suguru’s cheek, dipping down and tucking your face into the crook of his neck again.

He laughs, and you feel the sound reverberate through his chest and into yours.

“Just a little bit?” he urges you, an affectionate arm snaking around your waist and squeezing. “For me?”

You shake your head as much as you’re able with your burning face hidden against his throat.

“Here,” he coaxes you out with a gentle knead of his fingers into your thigh, and you find yourself peeking up at him against your better judgement. “You’ll barely even get high from this, it’s just to keep you feeling good.”

You don’t know if what he says is true, but you let him do it anyway. He takes a long drag from the joint, his serpentine eyes watching you carefully as the cherry flares bright red and angry, and then he seals his mouth over yours and exhales.

You breathe in the heavy, polluted air from his lungs like a reflex.

“There you go,” he says, drawing back and watching contently as you exhale a little cloud of smoke. It’s fainter than if you’d taken the hit yourself, and burns less in your chest, so you think he must be right. “Easy.”

Things get fuzzier after that.

Suguru has you on your hands and knees, though you don’t quite know how you got there. Maybe you’d moved yourself, maybe he’d instructed you, or maybe he’d maneuvered your pliant body with the force of his own two hands. But here you are, your face pressed into a pillow that smells of him, his body curving over yours from behind.

You feel his bare chest against your back, and wonder when he’d taken off his shirt. Wonder if it’s the only thing that’s bare. Suguru mouths at the nape of your neck, his breath hot against your skin.

“Y’know, I’ve been waiting a long time for this,--” he whispers the words so softly that you’re sure only you can hear them. They rattle around through your brain for a moment, incoherent in the buzz.

Once they finally do register, there’s a part of you—a distant, more sober part, that’s watching things unfold warily—wonders if he means longer than just the time he’d watched Sukuna and Satoru play with you. His fingers trail down your sides, and you shiver.

“--but it’s okay. I’m patient.”

“Suguru!” you cry out as he slips the head of his cock inside of you without warning. You aren’t ready, even though you’re wet—Gojo hadn’t stretched you out, and Suguru’s fingers, for all their teasing and toying, had never pressed inside.

“God, how’s your pussy so tight?” he hisses through his teeth, the stifling heat of his body fading as he draws himself up to rest on his knees. He has one hand on the small of your back holding you down, while the other is on your ass–spreading you apart so he can see the way he’s pressing into your pussy.

He’s still barely inside of you, but his hips still as he takes in the way your walls are stretched around him, sucking him in. He takes a moment to collect himself, then glances over his shoulder at Sukuna.

“You must not actually be fucking her as well as you think you are.”

Sukuna scowls. “Fuck you.”

“Bit busy right now,” Suguru replies, feigning flippancy as he snaps his hips forward harshly, sheathing himself all the way to the hilt. He grinds against your ass as you whimper into his pillow, the sound muffled beyond recognition by the cotton of his pillowcase. “But hit me up later.”

Geto is brutal in the way he fucks you: unyielding, rough. But he touches you tenderly. Praises you gently under his breath after every thrust. It’s almost confusing; his hips at war with his hands, his actions at war with his words.

The initial pain and discomfort subsides quickly, thanks to Suguru’s fingers carefully rolling against your twitching clit. Every time you want to complain, he compensates his cruelty with something so pleasant that the protest dies on your lips.

“Fuck, you’re squeezing me so tight right now,” Suguru groans, fingers skirting up to pinch at one of your pebbled nipples. You clench down around him instinctively at the sensation. “You want to cum?”

There’s too much saliva in your mouth to answer him properly, too much blood rushing to your head to do anything more than whimper and nod as your fists twist into his blue bed sheets.

“Do you deserve to cum?” Suguru asks, his hips easing to a torturous grind behind you, dragging slow against your fluttering walls. “Gojo already made you cum once, and you didn’t even thank him for it.”

“Suguru, you’re being a bastard again,” Gojo laughs brightly from the other side of the room, though you can’t see him from where your head is pressed into the pillow.

“If you could feel how tight her little pussy just clamped down around me you’d know she likes it,” the man inside you laughs, something mean and manic in the sound. He curves himself over your back again, brushing a bit of your hair away from your face. “You tell Gojo thank you, and I’ll let you cum, how about that?”

Geto’s fingers wrap themselves around your throat, pulling you upright with a hand cupped under your chin. There’s spit and tears on your face, and you feel them cooling against the breeze of the fan on the other side of the room as you blink against the brightness of the fluorescent light overhead.

You turn your head slightly with Suguru’s help, meeting Gojo’s eye from across the dorm. He’s got a cherry-red lollipop in his mouth now, staining his swollen lips. He’s seated with his legs crossed at the end of his bed, and he’s watching you intently as you peer over at him.

“Thank you, Toru,” you rasp, moaning when Geto’s hand squeezes a little bit tighter around your windpipe.

“For what?” Suguru urges you to continue, lips pressing against your hairline. He gives a slow, tantalizing roll of his hips, and he feels so much deeper at this angle–like he’s pressing right up against the inside of your stomach.

Your eyelids flutter, and you struggle to swallow under his grip.

You meet Gojo’s eager gaze again.

“Thank you for m-making me cum, Satoru.”

Gojo grins ferally around the candy in his mouth, and Geto hums, appeased. Goosebumps prickle across your skin as he presses a kiss to your sticky temple.

“Good girl.”

The hand not loosely cupping your throat snakes down between your legs, orbiting your tacky clit in quick, vicious circles—your reward.

You cry out, nails scrabbling against his forearm near your throat blindly, your body slackening against the sudden onslaught of pleasure building in your core. Geto strength is the only thing keeping you upright as your body trembles.

“It’s okay, sweetheart. Let everyone see how pretty you are when you cum on my cock.”

And you do.

You cum so hard under the relentless swipes of Suguru’s fingertips that it almost hurts. Your thighs shake as you come undone, the tightness in the centre of your core snapping like a cord wound up too taut. His hips don’t stop fucking you through your peak, your chest bouncing on every thrust, even as the pangs of overstimulation begin to twist the pleasure into something painful.

You hiccup over a sob.

“Please, please,” you beg him, watery and desperate, slumping even further forward against his hold. “Suguru, s’too much, I can’t.”

He relents, mercifully—letting go of your throat and wrapping his arms around you from behind, pulling you upright against his chest again and pressing kisses to your neck. His tongue flicks out to taste the perspiration on your aching throat.

“You’re so good to us, aren’t you?” he murmurs into your skin, and you feel yourself nodding as his arms tighten around you.

Choso is still sitting on the floor beside the head of the bed, and his dark doe-eyes blink at you in surprise as your dizzy gazes meet—almost like he’s not anticipating being seen. He’s running his hand along the visible swell of his cock in his black joggers absentmindedly, but his touch is featherlight and barely there. He watches you watch him through a heavy-lidded gaze.

“You’re up, Kamo.”

Suguru sounds warm, gregarious even, in his invitation, and it takes both of you by surprise. He shuffles away behind you, drawing back and leaving you terribly empty. You whine, falling forward to your elbows and narrowly avoiding landing on your face now that he’s not there to keep you upright.

“Su’gru, wait,” you slur needily, reaching behind you with your hand to grasp blindly where you expect him to be. You wiggle your hips in search of him, and feel your pussy fluttering around nothing.

Suguru’s fingers dance teasingly across your palm and then over your spine, down to your ass. He grips the soft give of muscle and fat, squeezing down into the flesh as laughter bubbles up in his throat.

“Make a bit of room, sweetheart. Choso needs a turn too,”—he gives you another squeeze, this time insistent—“you’ll let him use your pretty mouth, won’t you?”

You hum some sort of agreement.

Choso stands and approaches the bed, watching your expression carefully. He’s intrigued, undeniably, but seems poised to flee at the slightest indication of uncertainty on your part.

“Hi Choso,” you say as you blink up at him, sniffling as you push yourself weakly onto your haunches, your hands resting atop your knees. He’s blushed down to his throat as he dips his head at you in quiet greeting. Your hand reaches up to trail against the prominent outline of his cock below his waistband. “Can I?”

He nods, but it’s hesitant. “If you’re sure.”

Choso lowers himself into the bed, making sure not to jostle you too harshly as he finds his place with a leg on either side of your body, propped against the headboard.

You crawl forward towards his lap, nuzzling against the tent in his joggers and mouthing at the tip until you can taste the salty tang of his precum seeping through the fabric. He brushes some hair back from your eyes as you peek up at him.

His gaze is heavy, like the droop of his eyelids, and this close to him you see just how warm the deep brown of his eyes really is. So dark they almost look black, from this angle you can see the honey that runs behind the stygian surface.

He’s really very handsome in his own strangely delicate way, you can’t help but think.

Your hand creeps slowly below the waistband of his joggers, fingers following the little trail of coarse hair below his navel until you wrap your hand around him. His cock is hot and heavy, and you can feel it give a palpable little twitch as your fingers circle the surprising girth. Gently, you pull him out.

Even Choso’s cock is pretty. Long, curved, with purpled veins that run the length of him all the way to the flushing, leaking tip. He’s so hard. Achingly hard. You can’t believe how lightly he’d been touching himself when you see just how desperately aroused he is.

You dip forward and take the head of him into your mouth, suckling around him. Desperate to give him some sort of relief. Choso hisses in surprise as your lips seal themselves around the flared head, tonguing at the slit—almost like he hadn’t been expecting you to touch him at all.

Your eyes watch him intently, your brow quirking in curiosity.

“S’hot,” he explains, his deep, raspy voice incongruously diffident. “Your mouth is hot, s’all.”

You focus your attention on Choso’s tip for a while, because he seems so sensitive there—little gasps and twitches of his hips giving him away. Your drool drips slowly down to his balls, the waistband of his joggers tucked beneath them catching it, and you use your hand to slowly stroke the slickness back up from the base towards your mouth.

It sounds messy–it is messy–but no one vocalizes the slightest bit of complaint.

Behind you, Suguru’s fingers dip just barely inside of you–twisting, curling and scissoring before they withdraw and roll slowly over your neglected clit. You’re not as sensitive as you had been, and the sensation is nice but never enough. Your hips cant back unconsciously towards him as you chase his touch for more, and it makes him laugh, but never quite indulge you.

Choso shifts slightly, taking the hem of his t-shirt that’s rucked up over the bottom of his tummy obstructing his view of you and bringing it up to pinch it between his teeth. As he lifts his shirt to expose his skin, he reveals two pink pierced nipples that make you keen in interest.

You pull yourself off of him with a lewd slurp.

“Those are pretty,” you say with a breathy sigh as you admire the little piercings, stroking his cock languidly in one hand. It makes a wet shlick shlick sound with every slippery pass.

Choso lets out a garbled little sound of thanks around the t-shirt in his mouth. You reach up to brush over the metal, curious and experimental, and his thin frame is wracked by a shiver at your gentle touch—the muscles in his abdomen tightening before your eyes.

“Take him in your mouth again, baby. Deep.” Suguru’s voice urges you from over your shoulder, reminding you of the task at hand.

You obey, though you’re a little disappointed to have to tear your attention away from the stainless steel barbells on Choso’s flushing chest.

There’s a bit of discomfort as the fat tip of Choso’s cock squeezes its way past the entrance to your throat, but it’s nothing you can’t handle as you dig your fingertips down into his thighs to ground yourself. He groans, spit soaking into the material of his t-shirt held between his teeth, his eyes so heavy-lidded that they’re barely open as he watches you swallow him down. His cock gives a palpable twitch on your tongue as the pressure of your throat welcomes him in.

You moan around his length at the sensation.

With no warning at all, Suguru presses inside of you again from behind, stretching you open and filling you full full full. You might panic if not for the haze of your mind, but not even that delirious calm can keep you from involuntarily gagging around Choso’s cock as it nestles itself more firmly into the very back of your throat.

“Oh, you tightened up even more,” Suguru says happily, squeezing one of your ass cheeks as he rolls his hips into you, suffocating you even further on Choso’s cock, “do that again.”

You can’t breathe with Choso this deep, especially not with Suguru fucking into you from the other end, forcing any meagre amount of air you do manage to take in through shaky breaths promptly back out through your nose. Your lungs burn. Your jaw aches.

“Gojo, think you can get it up again? There’s a whole other hole going empty back here.” You suddenly feel a hot trail of spit drop against you, and Suguru’s slick fingertip traces teasingly around your rim.

“Ngh—”

You rip yourself upright, desperate and frightened, saliva flying from your mouth as you cough now that Choso’s cock is no longer carving its way down your esophagus. You push yourself up onto your knees with your hands on Choso’s trembling thighs and instinctively try to crawl towards him, away from the man behind you.

You toss a panicked glance over your shoulder.

“—Suguru, no. I-I don’t like that.”

It’s the first time you’ve made eye contact with Geto in some time, and definitely the first time you’ve denied him anything. His skin glistens with perspiration, hair slightly messy as it hangs around his shoulders from where half of it has fallen out of his bun at the crown of his head. His eyes are a little wild, but he softens at the sincere look of upset in your tearful gaze–using his grip on your hips to drag you back into his arms.

He presses little kisses across your face, as familiar and comforting as a lover might.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” he soothes you, pecking his way along your cheeks to your quivering lips. “You know I’d never do anything you don’t like, right? I’m too crazy about you to ever do that.”

Something twists in your gut that doesn’t feel nice, though you can’t quite put your finger on why.

The song playing in the room trails off, and there’s a few beats of silence before the next kicks in.

“You trust me, don’t you?”

Do you?

You let him kiss you into submission once more, held tight in his embrace.

Geto’s hand finds yours and slowly guides your touch back to Choso’s cock, encouraging you to pump your hand up and down the slick length as he continues to kiss you senseless—he’s moving in time like a rhythm you can’t quite follow, resigning yourself to being swept along with the motions. Suguru’s hand around yours grips Choso so tight, and the boy laying on the bed grunts but doesn’t complain, and you realise that he likes it a bit rougher than you’d been with him.

“You’re not gonna break him,” Geto encourages you, mirthful even in the quiet tone of his voice, and it bolsters your confidence to wrap your hand a little bit tighter around the girth of his throbbing cock of your own volition. Choso moans prettily into the hem of his t-shirt, his hips lifting up off the bed.

“I don’t think poor Choso’s gonna last much longer, are you gonna help him cum?” Suguru murmurs into your mouth, and your foggy gaze slides over to the young man in question, writhing on the bed as Geto grips him even tighter on an upstroke with his hand still clasped over yours.

“Mmmhmm,” you agree, and Geto smiles into one last kiss before pulling away.

You get back down on your hands and knees between Choso’s parted thighs, continuing to stroke him with the same intensity that Geto had set. He’s slick not only with your saliva but the liberal amount of precum beading at his slit now and dribbling down his length, and the bitter taste blooms across your tongue as you lick a long stripe from the base to the top. He whimpers as you press the very tip of your tongue just underneath the sensitive head.

“You gonna cum in her mouth or on her face, Kamo?” Sukuna drawls from his seat across the room, and the reminder that he’s still there—still waiting for his turn—makes your thighs press together as your pussy gives a needy throb. “She looks good both ways.”

Choso finally lets the sopping hem of his t-shirt slip from between his teeth, staring down at you with shiny lips and flushed cheeks as his chest heaves.

“Mouth?” he asks raggedly, forming the request like a question—like he’d let you say no. You smile softly.

You like how sweet Choso is with you. How he treats you like you’re delicate.

You stroke his weeping cock once, twice, three times more, and then wrap your lips around him and swallow him as deep as you possibly can.

Choso cums with a beatific moan, his narrow hips jumping up off the creaky mattress of Suguru’s bed. His hands twist into the sheets beside him like he’s trying not to thread them through your hair and hold you flush against him, and you appreciate the courtesy. Once he paints your mouth white, a few hot spurts slipping down your throat, you pull away and make a show of letting your tongue loll out so he can see what’s left of him clinging to it.

“Can I kiss you?” he asks, fighting for breath, and you nod—coy and demure like you don’t have a stomach full of his cum.

He cranes up towards you, pressing his lips to yours gently. You kiss him with his cum still in your mouth, his tongue sweeping forward to taste it off you.

“Damn, you might be nastier than I am, Kamo,” Gojo cheers from the other side of the room in absolute delight.

“Fat fuckin’ chance,” Sukuna snorts.

Choso kisses you until you can’t feel any more of his spend lingering in your mouth, though the salty, bitter taste still faintly remains. Your fingers creep up under his shirt to brush over the warm metal of the barbells pierced through his skin as the two of you explore each other’s mouths. You pinch down gently and it earns you a little groan of pleasure as the tip of his tongue traces against your palate. You kiss him–lazy and messy and gentle–and it feels so good you momentarily forget you have an audience.

“How sweet.” There’s something condescending about the way Geto coos it, patronising even. “So good to our shy little junior.”

You pull away from Choso—a long strand of saliva stretching and breaking between your kiss bruised mouths, remnants of it landing on your chin. Geto’s poised on his knees at the other end of the bed, watching you with a smile that makes his eyes narrow and curve into half-moons. There’s nothing kind about it.

He runs a hand along his still stiff cock as it stands proudly between his legs.

“I’d say that’s enough now, wouldn’t you?”

Choso pulls himself up out of the bed without complaint, his fingertips grazing your chin as he cleans the spit from it for the second time that afternoon—though this time the mess is his, at least in part, instead of only yours.

Once it’s just the two of you left atop the bed, Suguru flips you over and presses your legs back. He kisses up between the valley of your breasts as he slots himself between your legs, dragging the flared head of his cock between your soft, sticky folds. He’s already made you cum once, but he hasn’t yet reached his limit.

Part of you wonders if he’s been holding off for this.

“Did you put on a condom?” you ask, the thought appearing suddenly and starkly. You hadn’t thought about it before–hadn’t had the presence of mind to do so–but now it seems the only thought rattling around in your hazy, delirious brain.

“Oh, I forgot,” Suguru says, though he doesn’t sound remotely apologetic as he sucks against your pulse-point. You’re sensitive there, and it makes something flutter in your tummy that threatens to distract you from the topic at hand. “That okay? You’re on birth control, aren’t you?”

You nod, because it’s true in part—the latter part specifically.

You don’t have time to bring up the former issue before Suguru is fucking himself inside of you again—a thrust so hard you slide a little further up the bed. You gasp at the sudden stretch and claw at his back, your nails dragging against the musculature of his shoulder blades as he fucks you down into his mattress. He bites and tugs at your lips, kissing you meanly, his hips jackhammering as he chases the release he’s denied himself up until this point.

His dark hair falls completely out of the knot it had only loosely been holding onto, falling in a curtain around both of your faces. For a moment it’s just the two of you. Laboured breaths. Skin on skin.

Suguru swallows your needy mewls with his esurient mouth, drool spilling down your chin with how messily he’s kissing you.

“Take it, take it,” he rasps, a fissure crackling through his carefully maintained composure as he nears the end of his fraying rope. “Show them all how you were made to take my fucking cock, baby.”

Your thighs shake where they’re pressed up to your waist, his fingers digging into the soft flesh behind your knees as he pushes them even higher up. He uses his grip as leverage to swing his hips down even harder against your own, your jaw going slack on a wordless wail.

Suguru watches the way his cock is carving into you for a few thrusts more, and then he snaps–burying his face in the crook of your neck and clamping his teeth down viciously at the juncture where your throat slopes into your shoulder.

Your back bows off the bed and you scream at the exact same moment that Suguru pitches over the edge, your nails clawing down his back blindly as he stuffs you full with rope after rope of hot, sticky cum—fucking you through his peak with lazy, arrhythmic thrusts that grow sloppier with every throb of his spent cock buried inside of you.

You collapse back onto his bed, boneless and aching. You don’t even know what you feel, how you feel. It’s all just a bit too much to sort through in your addled mind, dulled to an incoherent cacophony of sensations all fighting for attention you don’t have the wits to give them. It’s all out of focus, warped beyond comprehension and only partially due to your inebriation.

Suguru slumps on top of you, your chests meeting. You smell his conditioner again. Familiar. Nice. He’s heavy, but you almost welcome it–it distracts you momentarily from the throbbing in your neck.

“C’mon, Suguru, you almost broke her and now you’re gonna squish her too?” Gojo jeers from the other side of the room, and Suguru laughs as he pushes himself up, the tacky skin of your chests peeling away from each other.

You blink up at him tiredly as he holds himself over you, his dark hair hanging in his eyes. His lips quirk, cupping your face in his hand. It’s tender until it’s not, his fingers pressing into the fat of your cheeks until your lips purse.

“She liked it,” he tosses over his shoulder towards his best friend, sitting up on his knees. He brushes his hair back from his face with one hand, and spreads your quaking thighs with the other. He laughs, his thumb tracing the bitemark Satoru had left for you there, watching the way his cum drips out of you as you clench weakly around nothing. “At least this part of her did.”

You reach up to hide your face under your hands, letting out a plaintive little sound as your cheeks burn. You feel the bed shift as Suguru gets up.

“What are you being shy about now?”

You pry your hands off your face and let your heavy eyelids flit open, though it takes a concerted amount of effort, only to see Sukuna standing above you with a brow quirked. He perches himself on the edge of the bed and swipes a warm, calloused hand over your tearstained cheek.

“You look out of it.”

“Kuna,” you murmur weakly, pouting. You’re grateful to see him in spite of his snark, and when you nuzzle your nose into his rough palm he chuckles. There’s something comforting about his presence, though you may be the only person on earth to ever think that.

“Still got one more in you? For me?” he asks, running his thumbnail–painted black though the polish has long begun to chip–along the edge of your bottom lip.

You nod.

Sukuna kisses you even though you’re messy, crawling over you on Suguru’s rumpled bedspread. He pulls off his t-shirt and kicks his sweatpants and boxers gracelessly off the end of the bed to deal with later.

Your body feels funny, like it’s yours but not quite. Tangible and yet somehow shapeless—given form only in the way that Sukuna’s hands trace it.

The tip of his cock catches on your puffy, slick hole, and you wince.

“Sensitive,” you murmur against his mouth, wriggling underneath him in discomfort, and he nods because he knows.

It always surprises you how gentle Sukuna is as he eases inside, and this time is no different. Your head spins at the familiar, toe-curling stretch, and he curses lightly as he seats himself balls-deep inside of you.

“Best pussy on campus, I swear,” he groans against your stinging lips, squeezing your tits which he has cupped in each hand appreciatively.

He pulls out slowly, making sure you feel every curve and ridge of him as he withdraws—like he wants you to feel how empty he’s leaving you before he’s bullying his way back inside of you again. He begins to rut into you in slow, agonizing strokes, all with near impossible accuracy. The pace he fucks you at is deep and unhurried, just like he’s had practice to know you like it.

Sukuna links your fingers together as he presses both of your hands up over your head.

“Feeling good?” Sukuna laughs against your clumsy tongue, seeing the way your eyes are crossed and barely open.

You nod, beyond the point of saying anything that isn’t his name as your fingers tighten minutely around his own.

“Fuck, you sound sloppy,” he breathes and you whine, your legs squeezing around his waist in warning. He clicks his tongue at your indignant little sound, but he’s still indulgent as he fucks into you–careful and slow. “Y’know I like you like this.”

Sukuna frees his hands from yours so he can pry your legs from their cage around him, pressing them back into the mattress so your knees are butterflied apart. Your fingers tangle into the hair at the nape of his neck as the bed shakes–the rickety old frame rattling as it knocks against the dorm wall when his hips pick up the pace, the rhythm of his thrusts building in speed.

“Gettin’ pretty tight,” he grunts, his voice more strained now than it had been only a moment prior. “You wanna cum?”

You nod frantically, tears of exertion welling in your eyes.

“Gonna, hnn haa–Kuna, I’m gonna–!“

He hums, understanding your garbled pleas even though they never take shape into anything articulate. He presses down on the bottom of your stomach with one hand, an almost blinding pressure panging in your core.

“Let go for me then, princess.”

It all goes white.

“Oh fuck, did you guys see that?”

You fight to gather your bearings as your pulse pounds viciously under your tongue. Your head rolls to the side in Suguru’s bed, a tear dripping down towards your temple, only to see Gojo staring at you in wide-eyed astonishment, his sucker hanging out of his mouth.

What does he have his phone out for?

The bed is still knocking noisily against the dorm room wall, but it’s surprisingly well in-time with the beat of the music that’s playing.

It smells like sex, and sweat, and weed.

And everything is so, so wet.

Your eyes flicker down your body towards Sukuna. It’s slick along the bottom of his tensed abs and both of your thighs; dripping down your skin and seeping into the duvet on Suguru’s bed.

Oh.

You’re not even sure if you properly came or not, but everything is light and heavy at the same time, torturous and divine. Your walls flutter around Sukuna’s cock all the same, and it leaves him stumbling over his words.

“Fuck,” he rasps, his hips slamming down into yours. “So. F-fucking. Messy.”

He yanks you up into his arms, bouncing you on his cock as your arms wind themselves weakly around his neck. You have no strength in your grip, but he holds you tight. The loud lewd slap of skin on skin fills the room as he pummels into you relentlessly.

“Fuck, fuck.” Sukuna thrusts up into you one last time as he cums, holding you down at the same time that he humps against your ass–his hips twitching as his cock gives a heavy throb buried inside of you. You feel hot and almost uncomfortably full; spend drips filthily out of your cunt around the base of his cock, though you can no longer tell what’s his, yours or Geto’s anymore.

It’s a finish befitting the show that you’d promised.

Sukuna sets you down gently, grunting slightly as his flagging cock slips out from the vice of your cunt. He rearranges your legs into a more comfortable position, and with a final affectionate pat on your ass, he stands from the bed.

Gojo whistles appreciatively as you recuperate, tucking his phone back into his pocket and shooting you a wink as your tired eyes flicker over to him. His glossy lips wrap around his lollipop, pushing the candy from one side of his mouth to the other with his tongue, as he watches you fight to keep your eyes open.

You lose the battle against your fluttering eyelids quickly, your vision going dark.

“Didn’t know she could squirt,” you hear Suguru say icily—but he sounds far away, like you’re overhearing the conversation from underwater.

Gentle hands ease your aching body up off of the bed, and something soft is wrapped around your shoulders. You burrow into it, eyelids fluttering but never quite lifting, as someone slips into place behind you, propping you up against their warm chest. You rest slack in their hold.

Your eyes peel open to see Sukuna pulling on his shirt on the other side of the room, his shoulder blades flexing as he lifts the tee up and tugs it over his head. He laughs, but it’s not a particularly friendly sound, as his head pops out through the neck hole. He claps a hand on Suguru’s shoulder, who stands beside him with his arms crossed over his chest. The gesture is fraught with tension.

Sukuna shows a sharp, smug flash of teeth.

“Yeah,” he says, “and she lets me fuck her ass, too.”

The corner of Suguru’s nose twitches like he’s trying not to sneer.

You let your eyes close once more, though if you had the energy you’d be rolling them.

There’s a sudden knock at the boys' dorm room door.

It’s a single rap. Sharp. Irritated.

They don’t even bother trying to hide the weed, Sukuna—brazen as he is—actually tucks an unlit joint behind his ear as he kicks the towel away and pulls open the door.

“Yeah, what?” he asks the unsuspecting knocker brusquely, leaning indolently against the doorframe on one arm.

A tut of admonishment comes from the other side of Sukuna’s frame, followed by a beleaguered sigh.

“Do you guys mind? Some people in this building are trying to study while you’re in here—”

The familiar voice falters to a stop.

Sukuna laughs, nudging open the door a little bit wider so that the man on the other side can get a better view at what exactly it is that’s caught his attention.

Nanami’s eyes widen as he takes in the scene before him. You’re only half-conscious sprawled across Suguru's bed, naked save for Choso’s unzipped hoodie wrapped around you. Your head rests against the aforementioned man’s chest as he quietly strokes your side, trying to get you to take a drink from the room temperature bottle of water in his hand– though you’re more preoccupied with playing with his long, elegant fingers wrapped around it.

“Hi Ken,” you giggle weakly as your head lolls in his direction, perking up at his unexpected appearance.

Choso sets the bottle aside on Geto’s bedside table and holds your waist carefully as you push yourself up, like he doesn’t quite trust the way your limbs wobble underneath you as you shuffle towards the end of the bed near the door. You lean towards the two men in the doorway on your hands and knees, the hoodie on your frame falling open.

Kento swallows, not sure where to look, and the tips of his ears go pink.

You sit back on your haunches, knees parted, and you feel the slow ooze of cum as it drips out onto Suguru’s stained bedspread between your legs. You smile at him dazedly, titling your head to the side so the imprint of Geto’s teeth are on full display on the side of your marked up throat.

“Is it your turn now?”

#gojo x reader #geto x reader #choso x reader #sukuna x reader #gojo satoru x reader #geto suguru x reader #ryomen sukuna x reader #kamo choso x reader #choso #gojo satoru #geto suguru #ryomen sukuna #jjk fic #jjk writing #writing

3K notes · View notes

mcmookiemeal · 1 year

Text

Giving Donkey Kong a bath

“If you would just sit still, this would go a lot easier.” You frustratedly sighed.

Donkey kong sat impatiently in the large wooden tub filled with soapy water.

You were the one who practically forced him into this tub after finding out he doesn’t properly bathe most of the time.

“You’re scrubbing too hard!” He snapped back at you, crossing his arms like a child throwing a tantrum.

You scoff and continue to sponge around all the spots where dirt is potentially hiding under his fur.

You honestly wondered if Dk had been bathing in mud for all these years.

He plays with the small rubber ducky you gave him to keep him distracted while you clean him thoroughly.

“I like this little guy.” He laughs as he squeaks it with his large fingers.

You harshly scrubbed behind his ear causing him to flinch a little bit to which you apologize softly.

“You’ll be glad to hear I’m all done with the scrubbing.” You confirmed as you threw the soap back into the water.

Grabbing the strawberry scented shampoo bottle from the counter, you squirted a generous amount on both your hands before returning your focus back on Dk

“I think you’ll enjoy this part.” You giggle.

Taking both of your hands, you gently massaged deeply through the fur on his head. Fingers moving all around his head in a thorough manner.

“Oh wow…”. You can hear the smile in his voice.

Once his head was completely covered in the white foam you figured it was time to wash it out. You took a cup from beside you and filled it with the water from the tub.

“Lean your head back.”

“What? why-” You cut him off and poured the cup of water on his head. His wet hair falling over his eyes as he coughed out some of the water that got in his mouth.

You told him to lean his head back and he didn’t listen so that was on him.

“What was that for?!” He yelled, angrily throwing the rubber ducky at the water.

You shrugged and smirked.

But lucky for him bath time was officially over and it was time to dry off with a nice warm towel.

You quickly grabbed a towel for him and helped him step out of the tub.

His wet fur dripped onto the wooden floor as he shivered from the light breeze that flowed through the tiny hut.

“Here, this’ll warm you up” You took the towel and dried his body off.

After he was all dry he looked extra fluffy, almost like a blanket that was just freshly taken out of the dryer.

Dk lifted his arms up to his nose and took a few sniffs.

“Wow…I smell amazing!” He exclaimed and pulled you into a near bone crushing hug.

“Im glad you like it but please put me down, I cant breathe.” You wheeze.

He apologizes quickly and drops you back onto the floor.

Suddenly his eyes light up and he stares at you with a huge toothy smile on his face. He looks like he might be on the verge of exploding.

“We have to tell my dad about this new magic stuff that makes me smell good!”

“Its called shampoo-”

“Yeah yeah whatever!” He grabs your arm and pulls you out of the hut and pretty much throws you into the passengers seat of his kart.

You buckle up and grip the dashboard as he gets into the drivers seat and revs up the kart.

It looked like giving Dk a bath was gonna be more than just a one time thing.

A/N: This is my first post on this blog and I hope you enjoy the Dk content because the sweet guy deserves more!!

#donkey kong x reader #donkey kong #mario movie #mario x reader #nintendo x reader #nintendo #super mario movie

412 notes · View notes

luvfy0dor · 6 months

Note

I think you knew this was coming

I hope you don’t mind

And you can take as long as you want

But it me

The dad Fyodor anon

Dropping back in

For more parenting requests

Why? Because that’s what I do

And I just had an idea y’know. True to my name I have a dad Fyodor thought in my brain but I think I’ll save that for another day

Honestly your post about dad Dazai (that I did request ik) got me thinking

And now I want a lil mini story of Dazai trying to bond with his newborn child and adapt to being a father. Cuz as you covered in the headcanons, he’d be struggling with a lot in the beginning most likely. And I really desperately want to expand on that

The reader’s gender is your choice. You can make it another part of the accidental pregnancy ask, or a stand alone, or not mention a reader at all and just focus on Dazai and his child

But you brought up some interesting thoughts there and if you’re comfortable playing with some a little more you know I would SNORT that up like a BEE

I’m not entirely sure why I wrote that last part. But I was just thinking of bees so, I’m saying bee. We made this choice

As always, the one and only, Dad Fyodor anon

P.S. If you ever want me to request other characters and expand more on these topics, please say so I will like do it in a heartbeat

“Oh, baby !!” - Dad!Dazai Bonding W/ His Child ੈ✩‧₊˚

Warnings; erm I did some research for this but I'm not completely sure that I didn't just run my mouth at some points tbh, reader is only mentioned like once

Description; Dazai bonding with his infant child

A/N; dawg I actually start convulsing every single time I get a request from you like foaming at the mouth I get so excited omg istg I snort your asks like a bee too so I feel that, but dwdw! Your asks are always perfectly fine! And request whoever you wanna read for, it's my job to supply things that y'all like. But now that you've mentioned that new dad Fyodor thought.........................hmu about that 🤭🫡

Headcannons !! ༊*·˚

★ I think Dazai would be confused on how to go about bonding with a child, because what do infants do? Sleep? Eat? So he takes every chance he gets to feed and rock the baby in his arms.

★ He plays peekaboo with the child, too. He also makes as much eye contact as possible because he read somewhere that it's a good way to communicate non verbally with a small baby.

★ When it reaches about 4 months old, as long as your child is laughing, that means he's doing something right. Until your child is bigger and is able to express their deeper emotions and feelings, he will settle for the amused squeals and laughs.

★ He also reads to the kid, turning the book around to show them them the pages while they sit in their tiny little baby swing. When he reads picture books, he goes all out, voice impressions and everything.

Scenario !! ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥

Dazai sat on the floor, staring at the newborn baby in her little swing. His legs were criss crossed as he observed her, watching every small movement she made in her little swaddle. He watches with adoration, still so amazed that he could create such a beautiful thing; such a miracle. He had never previously imagined himself having a family, especially not so soon, but he couldn't be more thankful now that he did.

He's torn from his thoughts when he hears the soft cries of his daughter, her face contorted from her recently peaceful one to one of sadness, and so did his. "Aw, what's wrong, honey?" He says, gently picking her up. He hushes her softly while rocking her back and forth in his arms, to no avail. Her cries become a little louder and he starts to internally panic a bit. "Hey, hey, you're alright, I promise!" He murmurs to her. "Are you hungry? Is that what it is?" He says, setting her back down in her baby swing for a moment and dashing off to the kitchen.

He makes her a bottle, shaking the formula and mixing it up while simultaneously speed walking back to his daughter. He sets down the bottle and scooches closer to her swing, taking her back into his arms and holding the bottle up to her mouth. She starts to suck on the top piece, slowly but surely draining the bottle. He smiles while watching her, removing the bottle from her mouth after a bit. He gently wipes her any excess formula from her mouth, giving her a bit of a break.

Dazai readjusts her posture in his arms, supporting her head as her small little eyes open and stare at him. He stares back, almost as if he were intimidated by the young baby. He felt silly about it, but at the same time he couldn't really help it. "Don't worry, I passed my good genes on to you." He says playfully to her. Her face makes a small grimaces again, and he knows it's probably because she wants the rest of her bottle, but he can't help but feel a little offended.

"Hey...you're not a very nice baby, are you? You probably got that from me, too." He murmurs, an eyebrow raised as he feeds her the bottle again. She seems content, which makes him smile. He feels her squirm a little bit and he quickly removes the bottle from her mouth, a bit of liquid remaining. He again wipes any remaining formula off her face before holding her to his chest. He sits down on the couch and carefully lays down, his head leaned against the armrest of the sofa.

He resumes his activity of just staring at her, so bewildered and actually astonished over what his life has come to. Positively, ofcourse. His fingers lightly caressed her head that was littered with teeny tiny baby hairs already. He can't keep himself from grinning, so proud of himself for not running away from a situation for once. Sure it has been difficult and he had his insecurities along the way, but he had a lovely partner to help him out of those holes he unintentionally mentally dug himself.

That support from you helped Dazai a great deal, as did holding his daughter for the first time. He actually cried when he did. He felt as though she was the most fragile thing in the entire world; a fragile thing that could be tainted solely by the blood on her fathers hands, the sins he has committed, yet every day she proves to be the most heaven-sent thing he has and ever will come across.

While he's sucked into his own thoughts, he can't help but smile subconsciously at the life has made for himself and refusing to let his past hold him back. He couldn't be happier, and he truly believed nothing would ever make him more ecstatic than his unforeseen family.

145 notes · View notes

porcelainseashore · 3 months

Text

Ghosts from the Past (3)

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Agent! Leon Kennedy x Dancer! Informant! Fem! Reader

Summary: 7 years after leaving behind everything you’ve known, you’re suddenly thrust into facing a ghost from your past, Leon. Navigating where you stand with him brings up old memories, painful truths and countless questions. At the same time, you have to deal with a bunch of strange occurrences at your dance company. Set after Resident Evil 4 Remake.

Warnings: 18+ Swearing, Recreational Drug Use, Alcohol, Eventual Smut, No (Y/N), Canon-Typical Horror and Violence, Blood, Injury, Torture, Infection, Medical Experiments, Psychological Trauma, Nightmares

Content: Post-Resident Evil 4, Exes to Lovers, Partners to Lovers, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Lack of Communication, Romance, Fluff

Author's Note: Spoiler alert, but I want to be completely transparent here. There may be slight dubcon present: two characters were coerced into a kiss by a third party, with one of them being on ecstasy, though they consented to it before and after with check-ins.

AO3 Link

Chapter 3: Confession

“No!” Silje’s disapproval resounded against the four walls of the studio. “You’re not concentrating!”

Taking a drag of her cigarette as she walked up to you, a cloud of smoke swirled from her mouth. “What is going on with you?”

“I-” You looked down sheepishly, upset that you were performing way below her and your standards lately. Dealing with Leon coming back into your life and the impending event of betraying her coming up sooner than you expected, were distracting you from giving your best.

“I’m sorry, Silje. I don’t know what has gotten into me,” you apologized. “I’ll try again.”

With a flick of her wrist, she commanded, “Sit.” You knew better than to question her and did as she asked, planting yourself on the floor by the mirror, hugging your knees like a child who had been relegated to the quiet corner.

Pointing to one of the other principal dancers, she barked out another order, “Take her place.”

Silje turned over to you again with a harsh reminder. “The premiere is next week. If you’re not ready by then, you will not be a part of it.”

This performance was an important one for the company and you didn’t want to let your mentor down, much less miss out on the opportunity to dance the leading part to a grand hall filled with spectators, including the big-wigs of the arts world.

“I understand,” you nodded your head respectfully. “I will do better next time.”

Everyone got into position as Silje counted down to the start of the piece for the piano accompanist. The movements began like clockwork and you tried to remain attentive to the steps where you had slipped up earlier on. However, you couldn’t shake off the memory of your previous meeting with Leon, where he had almost caressed you with a tenderness you missed from back when you were both in love. You shivered at the invisible touch, like your body remembered and craved it. But maybe you were wrong and had just imagined the whole thing.

As you focused back on the choreography again, the principal dancer who had taken your part stopped abruptly, as if she was in a daze, only to start covering her ears like they were in excruciating pain.

“GET OUT! GET OUUUTTT!!!” Her screams pierced through the room as she shook her head violently, clawing at her face, leaving angry, red marks across her pale skin.

For a moment, everyone stood still in complete shock, unsure of what to do. The dancer dropped to the floor, eyes rolling all the way to the back of her head, as she convulsed and frothed white foam at the mouth.

“Someone call an ambulance!” Another dancer yelled, as people dashed around, trying to prop her up, holding her flailing arms and legs down so that she would not hurt herself.

You noticed a flash of dark veins that seemed to swim across her body, before disappearing again.

By the time the paramedics had arrived, the affected dancer had calmed down, but was in a catatonic state. The first examinations didn’t find anything particularly out of the ordinary, except for an irregular heartbeat, but they took her away on a stretcher to the nearby hospital to get her further checked out.

You eyed Silje’s concern as she tried to allay the fears of the rest of the company, passing it off as nerves and imagination. The stress of the premiere could take its toll after all.

Leon’s words about bioweapons and viruses came back to haunt you, while your hands trembled in response. Was this what Silje meant as the gift? Would you end up like the poor girl?

You felt the buttery, smooth texture of Silje’s gloves against your cheeks as she cupped your face gently. “My child,” she cooed. “Don’t worry.” Then, she stroked your hair lovingly like how a mother would. “I’ll make sure you’re prepared by then.”

Staring into the abyss of her black tinted sunglasses, you prayed silently that you would be when the time came.

━━━━━━━━━━━

After an exhausting dance practice and sending a follow-up report to Bergmann and Leon about the accident at the theater, you set off to have an early night as you would need to handle the meeting with Till at an unearthly hour the next day.

When you woke up it was still dark as night. The early morning chill greeted you as you rubbed sleep out of your eyes and prepared your makeup and outfit before heading to the club. Rounding the corner to its entrance, you saw the familiar endless queue lines which stretched out far into the distance. You wouldn’t be caught dead joining them.

At the side of the building, you spotted Leon with his trademark pout leaning against the wall. He was wrapped tightly in a longer coat, instead of his usual leather jacket, covering what you hoped would be the outfit you gave him the other day. As you came closer, you were relieved to see the leather harness peeking out from underneath it.

“Hey, you ready?” you breathed, misty vapor emanating from your mouth.

“I look ridiculous,” he complained.

“We should have a tip jar for every time you’re a Negative Nancy,” you joked, hoping to put him in a better mood.

His sour expression shifted to one you interpreted as slight amusement. “I’m always up for a challenge.”

You laughed, continuing, “Besides, I bet you’d look hot to the club patrons.”

His frown returned as he cocked an eyebrow. “And I’m supposed to find that reassuring?”

Rolling your eyes, you dragged him by the arm towards the bouncer guarding the door, ignoring the dirty looks you were given by those waiting in line. One of the benefits of being a regular was that you could skip to the front, even without your name on the guestlist, as long as you turned up the charm of course.

Throwing on the brightest smile you could muster, you let go of Leon and turned your attention towards the bouncer. He was a stout, beefy man clad in black, topped with a beanie and adorned with facial tattoos and piercings. You gave him a hug and a peck on the cheek. “Hallo, Bruno. Wie geht’s?” (Hi Bruno, how’s it going?)

Bruno was the typical tough guy bouncer you’d find at most clubs in the area, intimidating and not afraid to put up a fight when needed. Although he wasn’t one to be bribed financially, he had a weakness for beautiful women or charismatic ones like yourself.

Holding onto you in the embrace for a little longer than necessary before letting go, he sighed and shrugged in response. “Tja, viel los heute.” (Well, very busy today.)

Motioning to you and those surrounding you, he questioned, “Wie viele?” (How many?)

“Zwei.” (Two.) You pointed between yourself and Leon behind you.

Bruno’s face dropped, as he sucked his teeth and sized Leon up, obviously unimpressed. “Mit dem Amerikaner?” (With the American?) He attempted to clarify, as if hoping you would disagree.

Damn, he must have heard the last bits of the conversation you had with Leon in English before heading over to him.

“Ja.” (Yes.) The corners of your mouth were aching from maintaining the cheery smile.

The moment you saw the leery grin slowly spread across his face, you knew what he was going to ask for. You forgot how Bruno enjoyed his little power trips sometimes.

“Zeig mir, was du trägst.” (Show me what you’re wearing.) He indicated for you to open up your coat, even though he knew you always adhered to the dress code. He was merely tolerating Leon because of you.

Speaking of the devil, you saw Leon brush past you to confront Bruno. “Hey-!”

Bruno shoved him back roughly, sneering, “Was geht denn bei ihm?” (What the hell is wrong with him?)

You quickly placed yourself between the two of them, before Leon could get more aggressive and turn this into a makeshift fight club. Placing a hand on Leon’s chest and raising your other in front of Bruno as a sign to hold off, you whispered to Leon, “Come on, don’t.”

Leon caught your gaze with concern, his eyes seeking some form of acknowledgement that you were sure about this. Giving him a weak smile, you nodded. At this, he backed off grumpily, allowing the scene to unfold before him.

Bracing yourself for the cold, you unbuttoned your coat, taking in a sharp breath as you slipped it off your shoulders and bared yourself to the bouncer and those within the vicinity. Bruno’s eyes widened and he licked his lips as he took in the sight of your rope corset, intricately tied along your waist and framing your breasts, which were left open except for a sprinkle of rose gold glitter covering your nipples. Below, you wore a matching pair of nude rose, lace panties and garters holding up your thigh-high stockings.

To sweeten the deal, you gave him a 360-degree turn with a seductive smile to boot. From your peripheral vision, you saw Leon’s blazing blue eyes staring at you with an unreadable expression. You couldn’t tell if he was dumbfounded, appalled or awkward, but he couldn’t hide the redness that crept up from his neck to the sides of his face, as he swallowed thickly and bit the inside of his cheek.

Bruno shamelessly admired your outfit however, giving you a low wolf-whistle in approval. With that, you placed your coat back on, hugging yourself while trying to stop your teeth from chattering.

“Damn… Sexy Outfit.” He grinned.

Phew, fucking finally.

He pushed open the thick set of formidable-looking doors to the club, motioning for you and Leon to enter, grunting, “Viel Spaß!” (Have fun!)

Ducking in, you sensed the annoyance in Leon’s voice as he muttered under his breath, “Arschloch.” (Asshole.)

Inside, as per the house rules, you left your coats and phones in the cloakroom, though Leon took an unwarranted amount of time to remove his outerwear. It felt like coaxing a young child to eat their vegetables, but you got there in the end.

You were pleasantly surprised that he had done exactly as you asked him to. The translucent crop top and leather boxers fitted over his muscular physique like a glove, with his sculpted abs on show. As a finishing touch, the harness hung perfectly over his sinewy chest. He had managed to figure out how to wear that thing properly. Not bad.

“So, you approve?” He waved his hand up and down in front of your face, smirking.

Shit, were you staring? You blinked. “Uh-”

“Next time, take a picture, it’ll last longer.” He flipped his hair, gesticulating at you to lead the way, as you groaned at his cheesy comeback.

Pumping techno music blasted through the sound system, the heavy bass vibrating through your bones. Beckoning Leon with a curled finger to follow behind you, you waded through the swarm of practically naked bodies past the dance floor and the maze of rooms - one with filled with static TV screens in a midnight garden, another littered with confessional booths and hot pink neon lights, the dungeon area, an empty space save for a golden cage and a pole, and so on. It was like being Alice in Wonderland. In every corner, you could find all sorts of hedonistic acts in full, public display. From drug taking, to S/M play, to anonymous sex with strangers in dark rooms, people were completely unabashed, as if they wanted to lose themselves to the night and party like there was no tomorrow.

You wondered how Leon was faring with all of this, knowing it could be rather overwhelming for those new to the city’s nightlife culture - yourself included when you had first stepped into this establishment many years ago. Turning around, you noticed he attracted a lot of attention from the usual club-goers, as you had earlier predicted. He was busy trying to fend them off, growling, “Not interested,” each time through his gritted teeth.

“You ok?” you called out.

He pinched the bridge of his nose with his thumb and index finger, shutting his eyes as he sighed in exasperation. “Yeah, just get me to Till already.”

“Um, I could leash you, if you want?” You offered, holding up the item in your hand and quickly explaining, “To stop them from coming on to you.”

“What?!” He sputtered.

“They’ll think you’re owned.”

Now you wished you had held your tongue, as Leon’s eyes nearly popped out of his head when you mentioned that.

“Ok, forget I said anything!” You raised your hands in surrender, but just as you were about to move off, you felt a firm grip on your shoulder.

“Wait.” He looked at you stoically, but you could tell how he was unnerved at the same time. “Do it,” he commanded.

You obliged, slowly reaching out to clip the leash on to the collar ring of his harness, giving him enough time to back out if he wanted to, but he didn’t. Gently, you tugged at it, bringing him further into the club, behind staff doors and underground, where your contact would be.

Reaching a backroom obscured by a beaded curtain and two bodyguards at the entrance, you informed them about your meeting with Till and they let you in, telling you to wait by the lounge chairs until you were called. You heard Leon clear his throat and realized you still had him by the leash, which could be taken off now that he was out of the rabid grasps of the crowd.

“Oh, yeah. Sorry.” You blushed, chewing your lip as you undid the clasp and put it away. “I wasn’t too rough, was I?”

“No.” He shook his head, as he rubbed the leather strap that was digging into his neck, unused to the sensation he felt there.

“If you’d asked me whether I saw this coming back in high school, I’d never have guessed it in a million years,” he laughed softly and for a brief moment you caught a glimpse of the same sweet-hearted boy you had grown up with.

He straightened himself, running a hand through his blonde locks, as his gaze shifted around you nervously. “So, you’re really into this sort of thing, huh?”

You puffed out a deep breath. It was a long story. To be honest, you put yourself out there as a way to adapt and survive in a city that was so different from anywhere you’d ever been to. You explored all its nooks and crannies, along with its vices, so to speak, making fast friends and taking any distraction you could get to suppress the loneliness and nightmares.

“Well… it’s alright,” you commented vaguely, avoiding any sort of eye contact with him. “I guess I just wanted to escape from the past.”

Before he had a chance to respond, you heard someone calling your name from the next room. Getting up, you made your way to a sectioned-off area laid with tatami mats. Billowy, white linen curtains draped around it, and behind them was a man sitting cross-legged with a deck of tarot cards spread out on the table in front of him.

The moment he spotted you, he leaped out and embraced you, giving you a double kiss on the cheeks. “Darling…” he greeted with an odd sing-song. “Always such a pleasure to see you.”

If there was a stereotype for how a criminal fence looked, Till wasn’t it. He wore a colorful kimono top and loose harem pants. His hair was covered in glitter and his face decorated with bold and flamboyant makeup that put yours to shame.

That said, Till could be friendly and light-hearted to a certain extent, but also incredibly shrewd and knew what things were worth. If you got too comfortable with him, he would bare his fangs. The shadows of his bodyguards always lurked nearby, never quite out of reach.

“And your friend?” He turned his attention towards Leon and winked. “Oh, he’s a handsome one.”

“Name’s Leon,” came the gruff reply. His hardened expression returned as he took a step towards Till. “Shall we get down to business?”

“Ah… so tense.” Till circled around, giving Leon a brisk massage on the shoulders which he attempted to shrug off. “Relax.”

“Come here.” Till gestured towards the mat, indicating that you should sit down, as he brought over two conspicuously red files, placing them at his side.

He then proceeded to empty out an off-white, crystalline powder from a resealable plastic bag onto a hand mirror lying on the table, using a card to cut up a thick line. Giving you a brazen grin, he extended the mirror over to you along with a straw. “It’s your favorite. Go on, you know the first one’s free.”

Just as you were about to give in to your temptations, Leon grabbed your arm and squeezed it tightly, his eyes clouded in a mixture of worry and disapproval.

“Tsk tsk, you’re no fun!” Till tutted at Leon, shifting the two red files towards him. “Don’t worry, I haven’t forgotten about you.”

Leon reached out to take the files with his other hand, but Till slid them back like a cat-and-mouse game. “Uh uh. Money first, then pick one.”

“What about the other?” Leon questioned suspiciously.

“We’ll get to that when the time comes.”

At this point, Leon let go of you reluctantly, but not without giving you a warning glance, before trawling through his waist pack and dumping out a wad of notes onto the table.

“I think you and I both know that this info is worth another stack,” Till remarked testily, wearing a shark-like smile on his face.

“Fine,” Leon spat, tossing out another bundle.

Till purred in satisfaction, as he took the stacks of euro bills, giving them a huge whiff and soaking in the earthy smell of old paper.

As Leon picked up one of the red files and peered through its contents, you slinked forward, ignoring the awkwardness of getting your fix in front of him, and snorted up the line of MDMA that Till had divided for you earlier. The substance burned your nasal membranes and your eyes watered as you sniffed a couple of times for good measure, dabbing at your nose daintily with your fingers. The bitterness of it trickled down your throat, creating a foul taste in your mouth. The high would take at least half an hour to kick in. You made flimsy excuses to yourself that with all the recent happenings, you deserved to let loose just this once.

Leon observed you momentarily in silent disappointment, then went back to inspecting the fine print on the documents, his brows creasing in unease the more he went through them.

“Interesting, isn’t it?” Till’s melodic voice rang out, disrupting both of you from your reveries. “Who could imagine something as simple as mold held so much potential?”

You looked up in confusion until Leon handed you the file to review.

“Who else knows about this?” He shot Till a piercing stare.

“You’re the first client it’s passed through,” Till admitted composedly. “The contact details of the scientist who created that report is in this other file.” He waved it around in the air smugly. “Wouldn’t it be nice to acquire his access card?”

The report was about the experimentation going on in the labs and unlike what had been previously suspected, it wasn’t the Plaga. It was something entirely new, which Leon seemed not to have much of a clue about. A project named NEXBAS was underway, currently in the B-Type series, whatever that meant. You skimmed through a couple of female-sounding names given to specimens they infected with the prototype mold. It was an ambitious project that aimed to create B.O.W.s capable of mind control.

Shakily, you handed back the file to Leon. So this was the cause of all the hallucinations that the people at the theater had experienced. However, you still didn’t understand what Silje’s gift meant. Did she plan to make you a bioweapon too?

As Leon continued to take out additional cash to purchase the other file, Till giggled mischievously. “Oh no, no! I don’t want any more of that. It’s so… what’s the word? Boring.”

“How about we play a small game of truth or dare?” He suggested.

“What the hell?” Leon raised his voice in disbelief.

“Just one round.” Till looked in your direction. “Come on, darling. Entertain me. Truth or dare?”

Till definitely liked keeping people on their toes. He was a sly one. “Truth,” you replied, sealing your fate in this warped fantasy of his.

Leon sulked in the corner, awaiting what Till had in store for you.

“Have you two fucked?” He quizzed, unflinchingly.

Talk about being brutally blunt. You sucked in a quick breath as you heard Leon choke on his saliva.

“Yes,” you whispered, looking down at your feet in humiliation, unwilling to lie in fear of jeopardizing the meeting.

Till chuckled. “Aww, so shy… how cute!” He clapped his hands together in glee before facing Leon, who resorted to giving him death glares. “And you, big boy. Your turn.”

Leon pursed his lips. “Dare.”

“A man of few words,” Till rightly noted. “And so much tension!” He shook his head mockingly. “Tell you what, why don’t you go relieve some of it with her, right here?” You gasped, aware of the underlying meaning of his sentence as he pointed at you.

“You’re fucking insane!” Leon cried, getting out of his seated position immediately.

“I know, that’s what my shrink tells me!” Till roared with laughter. “Alright, since you’re my favorite customer-” He fluttered his eyelashes at you. “-I’ll make it simple. How about a hot, steamy kiss, hm?”

“And you’re just about coming up on that high, aren’t you? Delicious,” he added, smacking his lips suggestively.

You couldn’t deny how perceptive Till could be at times. The increasing waves of euphoria were clawing its way up from the pits of your stomach to your chest. You felt dizzy, but connected to every living and non-living thing in the room.

“Go direct your porno elsewhere, freak!” Leon yelled, before helping you to your feet, in an attempt to leave the place.

Till drew out his lighter, flicking it open at the remaining file in a threatening manner. “You sure about that?”

The drugs made you feel less inhibited, but the reason you favored them over alcohol was because for the most part, you still remained in control of your own actions. Tracing Leon’s jawline with your fingers, you tried to appeal to him calmly, “We need that file, Leon. It’s just a kiss anyway?”

“I-” He froze up, casting you a pained look. “I can’t do this to you. It’s not right.”

“I’m ok, if you’re ok with it,” you affirmed. “It’s not the drugs talking, I swear.”

He closed his eyes and sighed into your caress. “Let’s make this quick then.” Though his voice was still laced with doubt. “Promise you’ll stop me at any time you don’t feel comfortable. I mean it.”

“I promise,” you breathed.

Till tapped his foot impatiently. “Don’t keep me waiting.”

You nodded, stroking Leon’s cheek and encouraging him to go ahead. With that, he leaned in, taking your lips into a gentle kiss, soft as velvet like the first time he had kissed you under the starlit sky. Memories of when you had been together came rushing back, filling the emptiness that ached in your heart for years. You clung to him desperately as he pulled you closer into his arms, deepening the kiss which grew in intensity and it felt like your body was melting into his. Parting your lips, you allowed his tongue to slip inside and run it along yours, the sensation sending wild tremors through your nerves. It had been so long since you’d been kissed like this, you wondered if Leon felt the same way as you did in that very instant.

“Wow!” Till exclaimed, fanning himself with the file. “I’d say that was a 10 out of 10.”

You and Leon broke away from each other, lips wet and swollen with need, breathless and panting away heavily. You already missed the warmth of his mouth against yours.

“Wasn’t so hard now, was it?” Till held out the file to Leon, who snatched it away from him in disgust.

“By the way, in exchange for the access card, the scientist wants a guarantee of safe passage.” Till disclosed casually. “He specifically told me to reach out to someone like yourself.”

It dawned on you in horror that this whole time Till had played the game just to mess with the two of you. You actually didn’t need to ‘pay’ anything for the information, because it had already been paid for. By the scientist.

Leon was fuming, but it seemed like he knew better than to resort to physical violence with a man of connections who was well-guarded, and likely had a weapon or two hidden under his sleeve.

Till waved goodbye as you were escorted out the room. “It was a delight working with you!”

His statement was met with Leon raising his middle finger back at him.

━━━━━━━━━━━

Leon had insisted on watching over you, as you came down from your high at his place. You suspected he felt terrible about the whole ordeal with Till, but you didn’t know how else to convince him that it was fully consensual until you were sober. So you lay in a bathrobe on the living room couch, drinking plenty of water and listening to soothing music, while Leon typed up a report for HQ.

At some point, Hunnigan had gotten in contact with him about the updates she had researched. There were no Los Illuminados members involved in the current case. The remaining stragglers were disenfranchised and left in Spain. No trade routes between them and Germany had been found.

Based on the details you had given them about Silje’s ‘business partner’, they managed to capture footage of him from cameras they had planted outside the building. It turned out that he went by the name of Brandon Bailey, and was part of the crime syndicate known as The Connections. They had been building a base of operations for their bioweapon products in the surrounding regions.

Leon was given a deadline to close the base in Berlin before the upcoming shipment could take place. By the end of next week, everything had to be terminated.

A couple of hours later when you sobered up, you tried to broach the subject of the kiss with Leon. There would never be a good time to bring it up and you decided it was better to do so now than leave it to fester for later.

“I’m fine. I still feel the same as before,” you reassured him. “Do you?”

“Yeah, I do,” he murmured, yet he threw a troubled glance in your direction. “Doesn’t make it right though.”

“I mean, it was fucked up, but I-”

He cut you off, intent on following through with his line of reasoning. “You don’t deserve this.”

Don't deserve what? To be put in the firing line? You chose this life to be an informant yourself. Even so, the guilt was eating away at him. From his interactions, you were beginning to see how he wanted to protect you from getting hurt and doing things you would regret in the mission. But was that all?

Despite the countless thoughts running through your head, you carried on with the confession you never got to make when he had left for Raccoon City. “Leon… I still love you.”

It felt like all the air had been knocked out of your lungs as the words tumbled out of your mouth, so pure and unadulterated, and meanwhile, an overpowering sense of fear started to set in. Was it too soon to say such things?

He tensed up noticeably; the exact reaction you were dreading.

“What’s wrong?”

He pressed his lips together with a sullen look on his face. “There’s been someone else…” he trailed off.

Another woman. Your heart sank and you heard the sound of blood rushing into your ears. Well, at least you could move on now, right? That was your closure and consolation prize, along with feeling like such a fool.

“I see.” You tried to mask the quiver in your voice but to no avail.

“I’m sorry.” He held your hand for a fleeting moment, before he realized what he was doing. Letting it go, he excused himself and walked away, hiding the tears forming in his eyes.

From afar, a lady in red with long, black boots watched the window to the apartment closely, planning on when to make her next move.

#leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy #leon kennedy angst #leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy fluff #re4 leon #re4 remake #resident evil 4 #resident evil #porcelainscribbles

114 notes · View notes

gavisuntiedboot · 1 year

Note

Hello, if your taking requests at the moments I have one that I’d love to see though it may be a little difficult!

Gavi and the reader (an actor) are dating but are in different counties due to the reader going aboard to film a new show! The young couple decide to go on an Instagram live together to hang out & a lot of fans join!

Hello and welcome to a new series I’m calling “boot on the bus”, where I see how much I can write of an ask on my bus ride home. Whatever state it is at at the end of my ride, I post! (Also so sorry to this anon who sent me this req literally months ago)

~~~

[incoming call]: pablito ❤️😡

“Hello?”

“Amor!! Finally!!”

“Pablo, why are you making an international call right now?”

“I can afford it. You have three seconds to explain to me why you haven’t been answering a single one of my FaceTime calls. I’ve been worried and, more importantly, bored out of my mind!”

You laughed lightly and relaxed back into the plush cushions of the hotel couch. You had forgotten that the last time you were out of Spain for filming was before you had met Gavi. Being on a successful HBO original came with a lot of perks, but also a lot of pain, both physical and emotional. You had joined the royal drama “Heavenly Bodies” in the middle of its first season, instantly being thrown into a love triangle between the two male leads. Viewers ate it up, creating theories and art (and ofc fan fiction) about you and your costars, foaming at the mouth to know what would happen next. The high demand lead to your current situation, where you were cooling off in a high hotel room overlooking Dubai, listening to your boyfriends complaints 2 months earlier than scheduled.

“I haven’t gotten any of them, Pablito. FaceTime is blocked here.”

You heard a loud scoff over the phone.

“If you are too busy to talk just say that, princesa. How could FaceTime be blocked in Dubai? That makes no sense!”

“Google it.” You retorted, laying back on the couch and cracking open a cold soda. You heard yells of “Ale! Google this for me!”, followed by a long pause.

“Oh wow. It is blocked.”

“See!” You yelled into the receiver, causing Gavi to complain about his sensitive eardrums. You sat back down, continuing what would probably be a very expensive phone call with your boyfriend. As you two talked, he sighed loudly, and you heard his body hit the couch.

“I miss seeing your face, princesa. Don’t get me wrong I love the sound of your voice, but it’s just different. Is there no way we can video call?”

You could basically hear the pout and puppy dog eyes in Gavi’s voice, and it made your heart swell. He was so enamored by you, so taken by the way you looked and spoke and laugh, that all he wanted was to once again cup your face in his hands and pull you in close enough to share his breathing space.

“Well, we could always just go on live together.”

“Huh?”

“Like do a live stream. On instagram or something. We would both be calling but there would just be other people there.”

Gavi paused once again, playing around with the idea in his mind.

“But what if I… want to say “not appropriate in front of people” stuff?”

“That’s what Snapchat is for.”

His laugh resounded through the phone, and you couldn’t help the large smile that squinted your eyes and filled out your cheeks.

“Okay, Vamos, let’s do it.”

You got onto instagram and started a live, inviting Gavi to join. Every one of your 10.5 million followers who has their notifications on started to pour in, the messages of “I love you 😍” and “hi from Brazil 🇧🇷” flying at unreadable speeds. Gavi’s end connected a second later, and the fans went mental. Gavi was beaming like the sun when the line connected, finally able to see your face again.

“Hello again, Amor. I missed that pretty smile.”

Your fans and Gavi’s were now in the chat trying to prevent a mass cardiac arrest incident.

Ynbiggestfan: MOTHERRRRR AND FATHERRR

gavi3096: nobody let Madrid see this they’ll know how to make him soft

Ynandgavicloset2: the way he calls her amor time to take a nap on an electrical wire in the rain

You weren’t reading any of it thought. You were staring at Gavi who was staring at you, the two of you making idle conversation about your trip and your show and his upcoming matches. He looked at you with so much love and affection that it made you blush, turning you into a much more shy and cuddly mess than people were used to. The sexy and strong power couple were now just a bunch of teenagers giggling and kicking their feet on instagram live. A strand of hair fell in your face, and Gavi reached out to his phone before remembering he couldn’t sweep it from your eyes on a different continent.

“Princesa, from now on, no filming on location unless I can come.”

“Why Pablito? Can’t live without me?” You teased, expecting a sharp reaction.

“Correct. Im literally itching and shaking from withdrawal. I love you and miss you come back faster.”

The chat got so overwhelmed they crashed the live.

~~~

Hey guys! Hope y’all enjoyed this little imagine. Ik not everybody wants super long works, but I don’t know how to write fast or short so then things sit in my inbox forever. So here’s to length variation!! Love y’all, time to take a nap.

#gavisuntiedboot #gavisuntiedbootasks #pablo gavi #pablo gavi x reader #gavi #gavi x reader #pablo gavi imagine #gavi x you #fc barca #gavi imagine #gavi fluff #gavi fic #pablo gavi fanfic #pablo gavi fanfiction #pablo gavi fluff #gavi fanfic

302 notes · View notes

Last Seen Blogs

kunikzhs

eden

angelsburgersblog

sheesh

koshkaproject

Product & Food Photographer

yopie2001

Naamloos

anunknownerrorhasoccured404

Hopeless And Romantic