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celestie0 · 3 months

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gojo satoru x reader | college au [18+]

kickoff ch.5 these feelings are hard to find

ᰔ pairing. college au - soccer player! gojo x film major! reader (f)

ᰔ summary. gojo satoru is the most popular guy on your college campus. he's tall, funny, hot, not to mention he's the most talented soccer forward the school has seen in years. but he's also a frat dude, which puts him in a world very different from your own, as he spends most of his nights partying & drinking while you spend most of yours working on your annoying film major assignments. but when he reaches out to you for a favor, you realize that helping him out might have something in it for you too.

ᰔ warnings/tags. 18+, fluff, angst, smut, college au, fraternities, sororities, partying, drinking/alcohol, mentions of weed, romance, jealousy, pining, slow burn, opposites to lovers, friends to lovers, she falls first he falls harder, gojo being an idiot

ᰔ chapter. 5/x (probably 12)

ᰔ words. 10.4k

a/n. aaaa this chapter took me a while because i was having some pretty bad writer's block. i seriously can't believe it crossed over 10k words, i very poorly planned how much i wanted to get done by this chapter, but i didn't feel like splitting it into two so oh wellll. hope you enjoy! pls excuse any typos we all live on a floating rock.

nav. ch1 :: ch2 :: ch3 :: ch4 :: ch5 :: ch6 :: ch7 :: ch8 :: ch9 :: ch10 (pending)

☾·̩͙꙳ moodboard no.1

♬.*ﾟplaylist

“I really don’t understand why I’m here…” you’re grumbling as you, Mina and Todo make your way up the pavement of the driveway leading to the house party. You glance to your right where Mina and Todo are holding hands, arms swinging as they keep pace together.

It was finally Friday after a particularly long and stressful week, so you were extremely excited to just spend the rest of the night relaxing at home. You had already poured yourself a glass of wine when you returned from your evening class and were sitting on the couch with a blanket on, scrolling through Netflix, when Mina approached you while she was talking to Todo on the phone. She mentioned something about an SAE party tonight that she wanted you to come along for and Todo said he’d extend his other invite to you. When you politely declined, Mina slumped down on the couch and told Todo she had no interest in going unless you also came. And then Todo was bribing you with a hundred bucks. Easiest hundred bucks you’ve ever made.

“Don’t be a downer. You’re here because I think you’ve been working hard and you need to relax a bit,” Mina chirps, now clinging onto Todo’s arm, “and there’s no better way to relax than getting drunk.”

“I could be getting drunk at home,” you mumble to yourself, the night you were imagining for yourself all day being very different from where you find yourself now.

The guy that was bouncing for tonight’s party was scanning people’s phones and engaging in some small talk before allowing people inside. He was pretty handsome and you wondered if there was some sort of requirement written in the rules to the SAE fraternity that they must be good-looking to join.

“Hello, my brother,” Todo says as he approaches, smacking him so hard on the back in greeting that the man stumbles over slightly and sends an irritated glare Todo’s way before he regains his balance.

“Hey, big guy, are these your invites?” He gestures towards you and Mina, his eyes landing on yours and lingering for a moment. You blink at him.

“Yes, this here’s my lovely lady, and this here’s my lovely lady’s friend,” Todo says with a faux suave that only makes you narrow your eyes at him. The man at the entrance sighs and nods before stepping out of the way and motioning the three of you towards the entrance.

The minute you enter, you immediately realize that this party felt very different from the one you were at last week. It was slightly less crowded, but there were still plenty of people bustling around the large expanse of the ground floor with loud rap music that practically shook the walls. It was dark, much more edgy, with the only source of light being the sporadic flashing of lights over by the DJ’s booth. You felt disoriented from the atmosphere, and the smell of weed and alcohol only further dazed you.

“This is insane,” you barely hear Mina say beside you over the music as she looks around the expansive interior of the house. In between the brief flickering lights that lit up people’s faces, you register that Todo is grinning at her as though he was entirely satisfied by her reaction.

You only make it a few steps inside, trailing behind Mina and Todo, before feeling the need to excuse yourself to get away from the intense environment for a second. “Hey, I think I’m going to use the restroom real quick. Todo, do you have any idea where it is?” You feel like you’re shouting just to be heard.

He looks over his shoulder at you. “There are some downstairs but they probably have lines. You could try upstairs.”

You give him an appreciative nod and head over to the base of the staircase at the right, glancing up before making your ascent. There didn’t seem to be anyone else upstairs, which surprised you, but you figured you were just in luck and began to walk up step by step until reaching the top. The music downstairs begins to sound muffled as you turn around the railing post and make your way to the left into the narrow hallway likely leading towards the bedrooms. There's a white door somewhere in the middle of the hallway that could only be either a closet or a bathroom. You wrap your hand around the cold metal door handle and twist, satisfied that it wasn’t locked.

The mumbling noises of people inside doesn’t register in your mind until you’ve already cracked the door open half-way, and your entire body recoils in the immediate rush of embarrassment washing over you as you take in the sight of two people, a man and a woman, getting handsy with one another in the bathroom.

“Oh god, I’m so sorry,” is all you manage to squeak out, blinking dumbly at the scene.

You’re quick to avert your gaze and about to close the door, incredibly mortified by what’s just happened, when the familiar silhouette in front of you causes you to freeze. You slowly lift your line of sight from the bathroom floor until Gojo Satoru is looking you straight in the eye from where he has a girl on the bathroom counter clinging to his shirt.

“I…” you stutter, face feeling immediately hot as you let go of the door handle and look away from his shocked face. “Sorry,” you say again, this time barely above a whisper, before turning on your heel and making your way down the hallway in such a hurry that you don’t even realize you’re going the wrong way. You hear a feminine voice echo something in the bathroom like what the fuck are you doing?, and then there’s footsteps following after you that sound faster than your own. Ignoring the call of your name, you practically storm into one of the bedrooms, entirely relieved that it was empty, and can only take a couple of steps inside before a hand grabs at your wrist. A chill runs down your spine from the contact.

“Wait, y/n,” Gojo says behind you from where he’s followed you inside, sounding like he’s out of breath. His hand is still holding onto you, keeping you still and you can feel the roughness of his calluses against your skin. When you turn around to face him, he’s close to you and you see his chest is heaving, his hair is disheveled, his shirt is wrinkled at the front and there’s a crease in his brow.

Your eyes don’t stay on his for long before you’re looking away from him again. “I’m…I’m really sorry, that was really awkward,” you say with a forced laugh and an attempt to wiggle yourself free of his grip but he’s unrelenting. The image of his fingers sliding up that girl’s top was still burned in your vision and no amount of excessive blinking at the carpet beneath your feet seemed to make it disappear.

“No, I’m sorry, I was supposed to lock…” his trails off and you notice there’s a rough quality to his voice, “that was just-, we were just-”

You finally brave yourself to look up at him and he somehow seems closer than before, his face just inches away from yours and his eyes briefly flickering to your lips before he meets your gaze with a tense expression on his face. You haven’t seen him look so flustered before, and you’ve certainly never heard him struggle this much to find his words either.

His other hand rubs the back of his neck as he closes his eyes in what looks like frustration, then takes a deep breath to seemingly calm himself down before speaking again. “She’s…We’re just friends,” is all he manages to say.

There’s a silence between the two of you as you blink at him and he stares at you, his thumb pressing into the skin of where his hand was still wrapped around your wrist. You try really hard to bite back the words you’re about to say, but no amount of willpower could’ve helped you. Your chin tips up, looking at him more decisively, and his gaze is flickering to your mouth again. “Just friends…can’t say I’ve ever tried to get my friends naked in the bathroom at a party before.” You didn’t understand why your tone came off so hostile, but it felt good to criticize his choice of words for some reason.

His lips press together, gaze narrowing slightly and eyebrows furrowing further at your words. He leans in closer to the point where your senses were entirely occupied by him and it was impossible to think of anything else. “Well, you weren’t supposed to see that.” His eyes are contrite but his tone is vexed.

You relax your body language and use your other hand to forcefully slide his hand off of your wrist, encountering some resistance from him before he acquiesces. Your skin tingles from the absence of his touch and you take a step backwards away from him. His posture straightens slightly, eyes continuing to dart across the features of your face and wide in anticipation as though he was patiently waiting for you to say something that would put him at ease.

“It’s fine,” you say, trying your best to keep your voice as level as possible, “I accidentally walked in on something I shouldn’t have. You don’t owe me any sort of explanation for it.” Gojo seems to tense up even further at your words, his expression briefly contorting into one of confusion before it reverts to concern again.

You walk around him towards the bedroom door and see him in your periphery watching every step you take until you eventually exit the room. This time, you don’t hear his footsteps pursuing you from behind. It’s only when you make it past the bathroom, not even daring to take a look inside of it, and about halfway down the hallway that you unsteadily let out the breath you were holding in. Your hand takes its place over your chest in a flimsy attempt to calm your heart down as you quickly make your way down the stairs. There was a sinking feeling in your stomach and you knew you just had to get as far away from here as possible.

You’re barely able to spot Mina from where she stood with Todo in a corner near the backyard screen door, and briefly notice that Nanami, Geto, as well as a few of their other teammates were clustered there too. You politely acknowledge their pleasant greetings to you as you approach Mina, pulling her to the side.

“Woah, hey, what’s going on?” She asks, stumbling a little bit and you let go of her sleeve.

“I’m going to go home, not feeling well, I think I just got my period,” you easily come up with a lie, “Nobara says she’ll pick me up.” In truth, you were planning on just calling an Uber for home, but you knew that Mina wouldn’t let you go home by yourself. You didn’t want your confusing and heightened emotions ruining her night.

“Wait, are you sure? I’ll come with you,” she’s quick to say, taking a step towards you but you shake your head.

“No, it’s fine, stay here with Todo,” you demand, “and call me if you need me to pick you up. I’ll let you know when I’m home.” You give her a little hug and she’s standing there confused before hesitantly nodding, and then you make your way to the door. The loud music, flashing lights, and blurred faces around you were so intensely stimulating that when the cold air from outside finally hit your skin, you felt like you were human again.

The Uber comes by in less than ten minutes as you wait for it on the sidewalk. The driver drops you off at the entrance of your apartment complex and the biting chill of the air has you wrapping your arms around yourself as you wait for the elevator to take you upstairs. Glancing down at your phone to check the time, you see a message from Mina asking if you were home yet. You also see that it’s nearly one in the morning.

Finally making your way inside your apartment, you lock the door behind you and text Mina that you’re home, then slide down with your back against the front door until you’re sitting on the floor. The heat inside was so comforting that you just spent a moment to warm yourself up and just breathe.

Memories of your conversation with Gojo from just half an hour ago instantly come to the forefront of your mind and you’re shutting your eyes to try and repel the thoughts away. Still so embarrassed that you walked in on him making out with someone, your brain decides to mortify you even further by asking what if you had walked in a few moments later instead? What would you have seen then?

You squish your cheeks between your hands defeatedly before letting out a sigh and drawing your legs in towards you, hugging your knees to your chest. You didn’t understand why you were so affected by what you saw. You’ve only met Gojo twice, and you knew even before you met him that he was that kind of person. He had a reputation of being involved with a lot of women, so his rather eager desire to explain himself to you just puzzled you even further.

Standing up, you head over to your bed and flop down on it. Your wrist still burns with the memory of the heat of his hand, and all you can see behind the lids of your eyes when you close them is the sight of him so close to you, stealing glances at your lips.

Somewhere along the night as you drifted in and out of sleep, Mina called to let you know that she was on her way home. When you hear her open the bedroom door and set her purse down on the nightstand near her bed, your body finally convinces you that it’s okay to rest, and that’s exactly what you do.

---

The weekend is over in the blink of an eye, simply not enough time to mope around in bed, and you’re walking out of your last class of the day on Monday. You check your phone pretty much every other minute to see if Gojo has sent you any messages regarding their new practice schedule for the week, which you’re sure he’s received by now, but there’s nothing. The last messages sent between the two of you were before the party on Friday, and an uneasy feeling has been settling in. You spent most of last week appreciating how helpful he was being so far, but you didn’t even consider the possibility that he could rescind his help at any time too.

You head over to the Department of Communication & Journalism building, making your way up the stairs until you reach the graduate division floor and walk down the hallway to Room 212. As you make your entry, a toasty and rich scent overtakes your senses.

“Ah, y/n, hello! So good to see you, thanks for coming by. I missed seeing you last week,” you hear Utahime say as she sets down a cup of coffee for you on the conference table in the middle of the room.

“Sorry, I was just…very mentally occupied last week,” you admit to her, setting your tote bag down on one of the chairs before taking the seat where the cup of coffee was placed, the fragrance instantly waking you up as you take a sip. “Thank you. How have you been?”

“I’ve been well, thank you, just working through my thesis,” she says with a sigh and takes the seat next to you. “Just a few more months…just a few more months, and I’m free!”

You smile at her and watch as she pulls out her laptop, the start-up noise chiming before she starts clicking away at the million tabs that were open. “Did you receive the email I sent you for the newsletter shots?” You ask.

Utahime was a 4th-year graduate student in journalism and was also the head of the school’s newsletter. She has so graciously allowed for Film Club photography shout-outs in every monthly issue for the past couple of years.

She nods. “I did,” she says, resting her elbow on the table and tapping her index finger to her chin, “how come I didn’t see any of your photos in there, though?”

You sigh, sulking your shoulders slightly as you peer down into the brown liquid of your cup and watch the steam evaporate. “I didn’t really take great pictures this month.”

“Aw, well are you working on anything right now?” She returns to clicking away at tabs.

“Yeah, I’ll be taking film photos out on the field of the soccer team’s game against Osaka Uni next week. It’s for an assignment,” you tell her and watch as her face lights up.

“That’s wonderful! That’s a pretty big gig, they usually only let professionals out on the field. How were you able to secure that?” Utahime asks you as she tips her head to the side.

“Ah…let’s just say I have some sort of deal with one of their players?” You say. Your heart drops a little when you remember the lack of communication from Gojo as of recently, wondering if he was able to get that referee permission for you.

“Which one?” Utahime asks with a teasing smile, leaning over to nudge you with her elbow.

“Gojo Satoru,” you say and then she’s pulling away from you and rolling her eyes, an annoyed look making its way onto her face. You let out a small laugh at her behavior. “Okay, well now I’m curious.”

She lets out an exasperated sigh as she peers beyond the window of the room. “I was his TA when he was just a wee-little freshman. He was always showing up late to class and trying to flirt his way out of completing assignments,” she grumbles, “is he still a little brat?”

You worry your bottom lip between your teeth, thinking way harder about her question than she had probably intended. “I don’t know…I don’t really know him all that well.” You look down at your hands. Despite the fact that you’ve only known Gojo for a short while, for some reason you felt like you did know him well. You knew the kinds of things that made him smile, you knew the look in his eyes when he was deep in thought about something. You knew what the heat from his body felt like, what the fragrance of his clothes smelled like.

Utahime is silent for a moment as she studies you. “Hmm,” she’s humming next to you, “well, tell you what, send me your photos when you’re done with them. If they’re good, I’ll use your photos for the sports recap in the newsletter instead of the professional ones we get sent from the school. I can compensate you for them as well.”

Your eyes widen as you look at her, jaw dropping a bit as you blink in disbelief. “Utahime…you would do that for me?”

She gives you a smile and a wink. “Of course, talent helps talent. And it’s my newsletter, I can do whatever I want with it. Besides, you want to get into the school’s film graduate program, right? I’m sure it would look great on your application that you’ve had some of your portfolio published to the school’s official reports. The photos have to be good, though.” She points a finger at you and gives you a strict look.

You feel tears prickle in your eyes from her words, so overwhelmingly grateful for her support, and can barely whisper out a thank you before she’s rushing over to the other table to grab a tissue box and set it in front of you.

“Gosh, why do all my undergrads cry in my presence?” she complains as she pulls out a tissue and hands it to you.

You dab it to your eye. “Because you have such wholesome mom energy.”

You say goodbye to Utahime after discussing a few more things and then leave the room. You check your phone and your heart skips a beat when you see Gojo’s name in your notifications.

|| 1:43PM Gojo Satoru: Hey, just wanted to let you know I was able to get that referee permission for you for next week

You let out a tiny gasp when you read his words then clutch your phone to your chest in relief. Utahime’s offer of the prospect of getting published in the school’s newsletter gave you a large sense of purpose, and you felt like it was time to take this assignment of yours extremely seriously to secure the opportunity. And Gojo was the one with the power to help you do that.

|| 1:52PM You: thank you so much, i really don’t know how to repay you

You sigh as you make your way to the stairs, grateful that you were getting some communication from him. The big game on the 28th was next Thursday, and you really needed to practice taking photos with your film camera. You open Instagram again to ask him for his practice schedule, but you see that he had sent you another message.

|| 1:54PM Gojo Satoru: No need to repay me, consider us even. Also sorry for the late notice, but we’re having a formal practice match in about an hour with one of the teams we played against earlier in the season. Do you want to come by?

After reading his message, you quickly shuffle your tote bag open and peer inside to see that you did indeed bring your film camera with you to campus today. Excited, you type out a response.

|| 1:55PM You: yes! i’ll hesd over right now

|| 1:55PM You: *head over

|| 1:55PM You: lol

You see little bubbles indicating typing in the left side corner.

|| 1:55PM Gojo Satoru: Meet me by the art sculpture, I’ll walk you over

You blink at the message for a few seconds, starting to type out a message before deleting it, and doing that a couple more times over. When someone tries to shuffle around you from behind, you notice you were standing awkwardly at the top of the stairs so you step away and lean against the wall. You press your lips together in consideration as you realize that today would be the first time you’re going to see Gojo again after that awkward interaction that you had with him at the party last Friday, and you were really not sure how you were going to feel having to be alone with him again.

|| 1:57PM You: that’s okay, i don’t want to trouble you

His response is instant.

|| 1:57PM Gojo Satoru: Just meet me there

Once you’ve made your way across campus, you spot Gojo sitting on the concrete barrier surrounding the art sculpture by the fields practically right in front of the please do not sit on the concrete barrier sign. His head is turned away from the direction you were approaching from, arms crossed at his chest and one of his legs impatiently bouncing up and down. You notice he’s wearing the school’s colors, a teal blue shirt and gray shorts that had some highlights of a sunset yellow, as well as gray athletic soccer shin socks and cleats. He looks so ridiculously sports boyfriend that you have to shake your head to try and physically fight the effect of how attracted you were to him.

He must’ve heard you approaching as you crossed the street towards him since he turned his head in your direction. He’s wearing a black sports headband across his forehead that’s pushing the hair up out of his face and you’re startled by the intensity of his blue eyes on you. When he stands up, his arms fall to his side, making you sad that you could no longer shamelessly stare at the way his biceps flexed when he had his arms crossed.

“Hey,” he says simply, staying perfectly still where he stood.

There was only one way to dissolve an awkward situation, and that was to pretend like it never happened in the first place. You tip your head to the side, giving him a curious look before skipping right on up to him. “Hello, there,” you cheerfully say. He looks at you with a borderline annoyed expression.

“You’re in a good mood today,” he comments, his voice sounding deeper than usual. Almost tired.

“Yes, very good mood,” you chirp as you walk past him, “I just got a very good offer.”

The sound of the bottom of his cleats on the sidewalk follow after you as you head in the direction of the softball batting cages. It's not long before he emerges at your side in your periphery. “What kind of offer?” You can tell from his tone that he was trying to restrain his curiosity.

“Oh, you’ll see,” you say as you look up at him and smile. He gives you an irritated expression due to your lack of transparency but you continue to skip forward until you’ve made it to stairs that lead up to the grassy hills.

Gojo’s about a step’s distance behind you as you lightly frolic across the land, your heavy tote bag bumping against your hip with every jump. You feel something fly out of it which halts you in your gleeful stride and look behind to where your bluetooth laptop mouse has fallen onto the grass right in front of Gojo. He’s sighing before crouching down to pick it up, then takes a step towards you and extends it out to you. When you glance up at him, he’s not looking at you and his face is hard to read.

You grab the mouse from him, fingertips brushing against the skin of his palm, and he ever-so-slightly shivers at the touch. His gaze finally meets yours.

With a sigh, you toss your computer mouse back into your bag. “I’m trying really hard to not feel awkward around you right now, but you’re making it pretty difficult.” You were so used to feeling like he has the upper edge of conversation when you’re with him, but now you felt like you were the one with the power.

He raises an eyebrow at you and when you look at his hands, you notice he was apprehensively cracking his knuckles with his thumbs. “Maybe you wouldn’t feel awkward if you actually stayed to talk last Friday.”

You cross your arms across your chest, disliking his tone. “Stayed to talk? About what? How not close you are with your ‘friends’?”

He tips his head up to the sky and closes his eyes, his brow furrowing like he was entirely frustrated by you, before he looks back down at you again. “If you don’t want to believe me, that’s fine, but what’s with you always running away whenever I try to talk to you?”

“I wasn’t feeling well that night,” you mumble to him as you turn away and continue to walk towards the practice field. It was the truth, you weren’t feeling well that night, and it was because seeing him kissing another girl made your stomach drop to the core of the Earth. But that wasn’t something you were going to admit to him. It wasn’t even something you were ready to admit to yourself. “Also, it’s not that I don’t believe you, it’s that I don’t care to believe you.”

“But why don’t you care?” he’s asking you, his voice sounding desperate now as he makes his way to your side again. He’s looking at you but you’re looking straight ahead.

You roll your eyes, continuing to march forwards. “Not everyone cares about your love life, Satoru. Contrary to what you might think.”

He jogs ahead a few steps, now walking backwards in front of you and you narrow your eyes at him. His tongue is poking at the inside of his cheek and then there’s a boyish grin on his face. “Say that again.”

“Say what again?” you ask.

“My name,” he says.

You almost roll your eyes out of your head when you see his amused expression. “I seriously can’t believe this right now,” you’re muttering under your breath and walk past him down the large hill leading to the practice field, his gaze on you burning through your skin until you’re rubbing at your cheek with the back of your hand in a feeble attempt to physically wipe the blush away.

The practice field was much more crowded and busy than it was during the first practice you went to last week. Looking across to the other side, you see a group of men huddled near one of the benches, all of them wearing maroon-colored shirts with black shorts that have gold stripes running down the side of them. None of them were wearing jerseys, but you assumed they were wearing their school colors as some sort of distinguishing clothing that would help them during the practice match.

“Satoru! Where the hell have you been?” You flinch upon hearing Coach Yaga’s stern voice nearby and you look over to where he had his arms crossed and glaring at Gojo through his thick sunglasses.

Gojo walks past you towards the benches and gives Coach Yaga a salute. “Sorry, sir, personal business.” He then makes his way over to the rest of his teammates that were huddled on this side of the field. There were a few tables located on the sidelines that had refillable water stations, bottles of Gatorade, towels and all sorts of other athletic gear. You walk up to one of the tables and fix the settings on your film camera before taking a snapshot of the items laid out on it.

The atmosphere is light since this wasn’t an official match and so you spend some time fidgeting with your camera before they get started. You can only imagine how tense it must be during a proper tournament game at the actual stadium off-campus, the thought of thousands of people spectating from stands sending a shiver down your spine. Athletes were of a whole different breed, despite how wholesome and down-to-earth most of the UTokyo soccer players you’ve met so far were.

Eventually, Coach Yaga and the other coach from the opposing school blow their whistles, both acting as referees for the match, and the players scatter themselves across the field. You notice Gojo is at the center of the circle in the middle, his foot on top of the ball as he scans his eyes across the field to each of the players with a focused look in his eyes. He draws his foot back, and just when you think he’s about to kick it forwards to where he was looking, the back of his heel makes contact with the ball instead and it’s sent swiftly behind him towards Geto. Instantly, all the players begin to move across the field, some of the offensive opposing side charging towards Geto as he shuffles the ball between his feet before kicking it way ahead of him to another one of their teammates. You bring your camera up to your face and take a snapshot when one of the opposing team’s defenders makes an attempt to steal the ball.

The play continues further, both teams playing a push-and-pull with the ball. Gojo makes an attempt at a goal before the opposing team’s goalie lunges for the ball that was flying in the air straight towards the net, catching it in his arms and then crashing down onto the ground. Somewhere along the intense match, the coaches call half-time and you’re shocked by how fast the first half went by.

Some of the players retreat to the benches to quench their thirst and wipe the perspiration off their faces with their towels, while others remain on the green expanse to pace around while catching their breath. Your attention is drawn to Gojo who stood at the center with his hands on his hips and breathing visibly heavily. He leisurely shuffles the ball between his feet with an innate rhythm before passing it off towards Geto who stood a few feet away from him. Gojo pulled his headband off of his face, his hair falling over his forehead onto the sheen layer of sweat above his eyes. With each breath, his chest rises and falls, lips parted in a display of exertion, and then he grabs at the hem of his shirt to lift it to his face, exposing his toned torso, as he wipes away the sweat at his temples. Your eyes widen at the sight, almost entranced as a wave of arousal suddenly consumes you, before he releases his grip on the fabric and it falls back down. He pushes his hair back up out of his face with one of his hands, the other securing the headband back onto his forehead with a snap, and the muscles of his arms tense fluidly with every motion.

You quickly look away from him, afraid he'll catch you staring, and blink at the grass as you notice the fast beating of your heart. Coach Yaga's whistle blows, causing you to look back up again. Players were making their way back onto the field and Gojo found his position at the center again. His eyes darted across the field, making their way onto the faces of each player, and then they eventually landed on you. There’s a glimmer in his eyes, the corner of his mouth twitching upwards slightly into a small smile before he's looking back down at the ball by his feet. And then they start the kickoff.

UTokyo ends up winning 3-1, and by the end of the match the sun is starting to set, painting the sky beautiful hues of purple and orange. You lean over to pick your things up off the grass as the players make their final retreat to the benches, and you gently place your film camera back into its case when Gojo’s voice next to you makes you jump.

“Hey. Please don’t run off,” he says. When you turned to look at him, he was still breathing a bit fast and he had a flushed, almost serene, look across his face. “Give me your phone.” He extends his open palm out to you.

“My phone?” You ask him, reaching for where it was located in your back pocket and pulling it out. He nods without any further explanation. You place it in his palm and he’s tapping away at it before handing it back to you. When you look down, you notice he gave a random number a call.

“That’s my number. Save it,” he says. You blink at him. His expression is soft for a moment and then he’s turning around and away from you, heading over to where his teammates were crowded around one of the tables and giving each other pats on the back.

You tip your head to the side to watch him as a couple of his teammates sling their arm around his neck and smack his chest, masculine laughter and jokes filling the air. You can’t help but smile before you pick up your things and start making your way up the hill away from the field, back towards the heart of campus.

---

The following days of the week where you don’t see Gojo play soccer seems like a waste, because why weren’t you spending every single day of your life watching him play soccer? You sigh to yourself at the question as you use clothing pins to hang up the film photos you took up onto a wall in your school’s photo lab. You finished developing the photos from Monday’s practice match, only to realize that you accidentally took them on one of your black-and-white rolls instead of full-color. You step back to take a look at all the images you had clipped onto the string pinned to the walls, snapping a shot of the collage with your phone, before pulling them all back down and stuffing them into a Manila folder.

The only time the photo lab wasn’t bustling with other film & photography majors was usually after sunset, but by the time you finished having dinner with one of your friends on campus, you had made it there around 7PM. By the time you leave and make it to your parked car, it’s pitch black outside. As you step inside your car and turn the key to ignite the engine, the windshield wipers automatically swiping as the control lights inside come to life, the clock on your dashboard reads 10:37PM.

The GPS for some reason prompts you to take an alternative route back to your apartment that avoids the freeway in an attempt to save you from twenty minutes of traffic, and you consider what to do for a moment before the exhaustion in your bones convinces you to take the allegedly faster way home.

As you begin to head in the unfamiliar direction, the excitement you had to make it home as soon as possible slowly starts to dwindle more and more as the streets morph from well-lit and bustling with people to dark and surrounded by trees instead. What used to be a three-lane street turned into one, and you count the seconds between every passing car you see coming by in the opposite direction. You’re worried when your counting makes it past sixty seconds.

You turn your music up in your car to distract yourself from the fear of driving down the secluded and dark road. There was a slight fog settling up ahead in front of you to where you could only see clearly about thirty feet ahead. You spot something on the road, blinking rapidly to focus your vision, and then your eyes widen when you realize what it was. Rocks.

You’re instantly swerving your car to the side, attempting to deftly avoid the scattered rocks but unfortunately you drive over a few of them, causing your tire to pop and you let out a scream when you lose handle on your car. One of the rocks flies up and hits your windshield, cracking the glass, and suddenly you’re driving up over the curb to the right before you finally regain control of your car and swerve back onto the road, slamming on the brakes.

Your heart is beating fast in your chest, adrenaline rushing through your body, and you grip onto the steering wheel while you try to regain your breath. Your windshield had a large crack in it, large enough to where the cold air from outside was whistling its way inside your car, and you were slanted in your seat due to the punctured tire at the front. As you took deep breaths, you noticed how alone you were on a dimly lit street where you hadn’t seen a single car in more than five minutes, fear and anxiety surging through your body. Your hands reach for your phone, shakily turning it on and exhaling in relief when you see that you have reception, then call the emergency telephone line.

“Hello, how can we help you?” a feminine voice on the other end of the line says.

“Hi, um,” you say, voice sounding shaky, “I just got a flat tire on Musashi road, about five miles from the Main Street intersection. I don’t have a spare on me, and my windshield is cracked too…could you send roadside assistance?”

“Yes, absolutely,” the woman says kindly and begins to take down some information from you. “Thank you, ma’am. Unfortunately, there has been a big accident on the freeway, so many of the tow-trucks and officers have been dispatched to that area. It may take about an hour for help to arrive. Are you able to call someone to come stay with you as you wait?”

“Oh…” You press your lips together in thought. “Yes, I should be able to.” After working out a bit more logistics with the woman on the other line, you hang up and then you’re scrolling through your contacts. You first call Mina’s line, which goes straight to voicemail, and then you remember that she was out of town for tonight and half of tomorrow visiting her family. You call Nobara, who also doesn’t pick up, and then a couple of your other friends who go straight to voicemail as well. You start to panic slightly before calling your friend Maki who lives two hours away.

“Hello?” You hear her voice say when she picks up.

“Maki! Oh my gosh, thank you for picking up,” you say to her through the phone, your hand on your chest as you sigh. You explain your situation to her and she’s instantly providing you with soothing words.

“Is there no one that can come stay with you? I feel awful that I’m so far away,” she says.

“It’s okay, they said that help will be here in maybe fifty minutes now…I just really wanted to talk to someone,” you say, peering out into the darkness of the night. You’re still shocked you haven’t seen a single car drive by in the past ten minutes. You pull your phone from your face to check the time and see a notification on your phone that says 5% battery remaining. “Oh, shit.”

“What?” Maki asks worriedly.

“My phone is running out of battery…” you say with a defeated tone. Your anxiety starts to rise in your chest again. “I don’t know if I can stay on the line.” You scroll through your contacts again, finger halting the screen when your eyes land on another name. “I…I think I have someone else I can try calling.”

“Good, try that. I don’t want you to be stuck out there with a dead phone and a flat tire. Let me know if this person doesn’t pick up, okay?” She’s saying to you and you send her your location before hanging up.

You’re breathing heavily from fear when a particularly harsh gust of wind pushes more cold air through the crack of your windshield. Pulling your phone from your face, you click on the name in your contacts and bring your phone to your ear. It rings once, twice, almost a third time before you hear a click and then a voice.

“Y/n?” Gojo’s voice calls out, sounding surprised.

Hearing his voice immediately causes a wave of relief to wash over you and you lay back in your seat, having to muffle the abrupt sob that threatens to erupt from the tightness in your throat. “Hi,” you whisper.

“Hey, is everything okay?” he asks.

“Mm…no,” you admit to him, sniffling slightly and swiping at the stray tear that rolls down your cheek with the sleeve of your shirt. “I’m just a bit scared right now.” Your voice cracks towards the end of your sentence and you silently berate yourself for not mustering enough emotional strength at the moment.

“Tell me what’s wrong,” he says, his voice starting to sound uneasy.

“I was driving down this road, it was dark, I couldn’t really see much…but I ended up driving over these rocks and my tire punctured. I called for roadside assistance and they said it would take about an hour for help to arrive,” you ramble, “I tried calling Mina, and some of my other friends to come and wait with me, but-” You run out of breath to finish your sentence and you’re sniffling again.

“Send me your location, I’m heading over right now,” he says and you hear what sounds like keys jingling in the background along with some other shuffling noises, “can you stay on the line?”

You pull your phone from your ear and see that you’re at 3% now before sending him your location. “No…my phone is running out of battery.”

He’s silent for a second on the other end. “It says I’ll be there in twelve minutes. Just…hang tight, okay? Make sure your doors are locked.”

You nod before remembering that he can’t see you, so you say I will. He’s hesitant to hang up on you but when your phone flashes from 3% to 2%, you tell him you don’t have much of a choice and then he’s giving you another word of caution before reluctantly hanging up. You’re all alone to your thoughts in your car again, shaking from the anxiety and blinking tears away.

The twelve-minute wait felt so long, and eventually Gojo texts you that he’s one minute away when your phone is at 1% battery. You see headlights approaching behind your car in your rearview mirror, the first sight of another human being you’ve seen in probably the past thirty minutes stepping out of the driver’s seat and you immediately recognize his silhouette. He walks up to the passenger side door and tips his head down so he’s visible through the window. At the sight of him, you finally release the breath you were holding in before opening your car door and stepping outside. You both look at each other across the top of your car and you notice him letting out a deep breath of his own as his shoulders relax at the sight of you.

He makes his way wordlessly around the front of your car to you and he’s studying your face intently. You look away from him when you realize he could probably tell that your eyes were puffy and that you had been crying. From your periphery, you see the back of his hand reach out when he’s right in front of you, hesitating slightly before it briefly brushes against your cheek, dabbing at a tear that you must’ve missed. His hand is warm against your skin and the sudden desire to hug him consumes every single fiber of your being, but when you look up at him, the soft expression on his face renders you still.

“Thank you for coming,” you’re whispering to him.

He lets out a short comical exhale through his nose. “I wasn’t going to not come. What kind of person do you think I am?”

You shiver as another gust of wind passes through, crossing your arms across yourself. Gojo slips the jacket he was wearing off, revealing a beige sweater underneath, and then he’s circling around you to place it over your back. It’s cozy and it smells like him.

You’re about to voice your concern for him but his voice behind you cuts you off. “I run warm, don’t worry.”

He walks around to the front of your car, bending over to the side to assess the flat tire at the front, his hands shoved into his pockets. You pull his jacket around you tighter. “Damn, the tread on your tires is horrendous. No wonder. You should really check on them more often.” He straightens himself up and peers at the crack across your windshield. “And that’s definitely not gonna be cheap to fix.”

You sigh in annoyance, his casual tone causing your eye to twitch slightly, but when you noticed your heart was calm and your breathing was normal again, you looked at him with the realization that him just being here managed to soothe you.

He looks back over at you with a considerate expression. “Do you want to sit in my car? It’s chilly out here.”

You press your lips together before shaking your head. “I feel like I need the fresh air.”

Gojo’s walking over to the patch of grass on the pavement at the side of the road and sits down on the curb. He pats the spot next to him with an awaiting look on his face and you make your way to him, sitting to his left. He looks down at the distance you’ve put between the two of you, almost three feet, and he’s sighing before scootching closer to you. “Don’t be greedy with your body heat. I said I run warm, not that I’m a furnace.”

His shoulder brushes against yours and his knee bumps against your thigh as he gets comfortable. You bring your legs closer to you and wrap your arms around them, resting your chin on top of your knee. Gojo was leaning back onto his outstretched arms behind him, legs extended in front as he tipped his head back up to look at the sky. You look over at him. His gaze slowly shifts from one point in the sky to the other, and you wonder what he’s mapping with his eyes.

“Thank you for getting the referee permission for me,” you say, realizing you never thanked him in person. “I’m excited to take photos out on the field next week.”

“Sure thing, my freaky little photographer. I’m sure you are,” he chimes.

You stick your bottom lip out in an annoyed pout. “So, we’re even now.”

He looks over at you and smiles. His blue eyes were a bit darker underneath the starry sky with less light to reflect off of them, and the quality made them look gentle. “No, you’ve gotta make sure Mina stays interested in Todo.”

You can tell he’s just joking, but you respond as if he’s serious anyways. “That was never part of the agreement,” you say, “besides, I don’t really think that’s necessary. She seems to be pretty taken with him already.”

He laughs. “And you’re not worried about that?”

“What’s there to worry about?” You ask.

“I don’t know, the fact they hit it off so fast?” He shrugs and you feel the friction of the movement against your shoulder.

“Hmm, no. Mina’s a smart girl, she’s good at sniffing out those red flags,” you say assuredly before lifting a suspicious eyebrow at him, “should I be worried? He's your friend. Enlighten me.”

Gojo shakes his head musingly at your concern. “Todo’s a good guy,” he says in a soft voice.

“He’s not on the soccer team, right? I didn’t see him the past couple of times I was on the field,” you say with realization.

“Nah, he’s just a mad lad I met in my freshman year econ class. We’ve been friends ever since,” he says, swaying his knee from side to side. “He’s the one that got me to join the frat.”

You two are silent for a moment, listening to the noise of the wind through the trees and crickets chirping in the distance. The previous anxiety you had from the night completely dissipated into peacefulness instead, and the man beside you was responsible for that shift.

“Can you tell me what that offer was that you were so excited about earlier this week?” he asks.

You look up to the sky briefly, trying to remember what he was talking about. “Oh. I might be able to publish the photos I take of the game next week to the sports recap in the school newsletter,” you say.

He turns his head to look at you, eyes widened. “Woah, seriously? That’s so cool. Can you make sure I look hot?”

You roll your eyes and go back to resting your chin on your knees. “Sure.”

A comfortable silence settles before he’s speaking again. “What inspired you to be a film photographer?” He’s turning his body so he’s facing you a bit more directly.

“Well, the end goal is film movie making…but my professor says that it’s important to understand the art of film photography before that,” you say, twiddling with the zipper of his jacket. “He says that ‘if a filmmaker cannot master the single frame shot, then how can they possibly put together a film composed of a million of them’?”

Gojo is humming beside you and nodding in agreement. He turns away from you to face forward again and he starts tapping his foot on the pavement of the road. “Huh. That’s kind of similar to something coach says during drills.”

You glance over at him, a little surprised. He continues to stare forward with a somewhat innocent expression on his face, and then you can practically see the moment another question pops up into his head.

“Why don’t you make your Instagram public? Your photos would probably get a lot more views or likes that way,” he says in an excited tone, like he’s cracked some code.

You let out a small laugh and bury your face into your knees, your voice sounding muffled when you speak. “I did have it public for a while. Until a troll spammed a bunch of hate comments on my posts and I quickly switched it to private after that.” Saying it out loud, you felt a bit silly. You’re apprehensive as you say the next few words. “I guess I’m scared that I’m not good enough to be acknowledged or successful, and that somehow other people will see that truth before I can.”

“Oh come on, y/n,” he’s saying beside you, gently nudging your arm with his elbow. The contact causes your breath to catch in your throat. “You just have to go for it. You can’t accomplish anything if you don’t face your fears.” When you watch those words leave his mouth, you notice he now has a thoughtful expression as he stares ahead to the other side of the road.

Another beat of silence goes by. “Why did you start playing soccer?” you ask.

He’s quiet for a long time as he blinks, to the point where you’re unsure if he even heard your question, but then he finally answers. “My dad used to play in college. He introduced me to the sport when I was younger and I fell in love with it.” Your perk up slightly and tip your head to the side in curiosity. He’s looking down at his lap now.

“That’s really wonderful, Satoru. Was he also center forward in college?” When you ask him this, you don’t miss the way his eyebrows pinch together for a split second before his expression relaxes again.

“Yeah, he was,” he responds, “he got injured in his last year, though. Never got to play after that.” There’s an inflection at the end of his sentence that makes you think he’s about to say more but he doesn’t.

Your face softens when you see him stare down at the curb with a slightly troubled expression. In a moment of tenacity, you place your hand on his thigh and his eyes widen when he sees the movement before he’s looking over at you.

“I’m sure he’s really proud of you,” you say softly, your hand reaching up to brush a few strands of his hair away from his eyes. Both of you are shocked at the intimate gesture and you’re quick to withdraw your hand.

Your faces are close, his side still pressed against yours, and neither of you break eye contact. You take a moment to study the handsome features of his face and your heart aches a little. The cold air has you licking your lips and Gojo’s eyes dart to them, gaze lingering, and you blink slowly when he leans forward slightly. Blue eyes find yours again and he stills himself, searching your face for something, and when he doesn’t see it he continues to lean forward and you lean towards him too. And then his lips press against yours, so chaste and so light that it’s possible you could have imagined it, but just when you feel his warm hand cup your face and he’s about to deepen the kiss, a loud honking noise startles the two of you and you both jump, pulling away from one another. You see Gojo’s face illuminated with bright golden lighting as he winces and holds up one of his hands in front of his face to shield himself from being blinded by it.

You turn your head to the left towards the source of the light and see a tow truck approaching. “Hey! Is this the flat and windshield crack?” you hear the driver shout out from where his head was stuck out the window.

You’re speechless, cheeks feeling flushed from the realization that Gojo had just kissed you, and you turn to look at him. He silently stands up with a weary exhale and a calm expression on his face and then shoves his hands into his pockets. “Yeah, it is.” He makes his way over to the tow truck and you hear him make conversation with the driver as well as the man in the passenger seat. You’re still sitting stunned on the curb, bringing your fingers up to gently touch your lips that were still searing from earlier. Gojo’s suddenly standing in front of you and you’re staring at his legs before you tip your head back up to look at him.

“Do you have any valuables in your car?” he asks, jerking his head in the direction of your car.

“Ah…my phone and my tote bag,” you say. He crouches down in front of you, earnest eyes level with yours, and his hand reaches into the pocket of his jacket where you had stashed your keys. He removes only your car key from the ring, handing the set of other keys back to you, and then he’s unlocking your car to get your stuff out of it.

You remain on the curb, watching as Gojo handles the entire interaction with the tow truck helpers. When they’ve successfully anchored your car to the tow truck and one of the men comes around to shake Gojo’s hand, you see him reach into his pocket, pulling out his wallet and handing the man some cash. You stand up in a bit of a panic and head over.

The tow truck is already pulling away with your car from the curb when you make it in front of Gojo. He hands you a business card with the towing company information on it and then looks down at you with a mild demeanor, letting out a long exhale. “Ready to go home? You’ve had a long night.”

Exhaustion suddenly consumes your entire being and you hesitantly nod.

The interior of Gojo’s car is nice. It’s clean, smells like him and pine, with nice leather seats that have warmers. You’re still wearing his jacket, clenching it tightly around you, as he inputs your apartment address into his GPS and starts to drive you home.

Neither of you say a word to one another during the ride. You watch his hand tighten its grip at the top of the steering wheel occasionally as he drives. He turns his car into the entrance of your apartment complex and parks in the loading zone. You watch as he makes his way out of the car to the passenger side door, opening it for you. You step outside and thank him.

“It’s okay, I’ll head inside from here,” you say, already feeling like you’ve caused him enough trouble. You abruptly remember that Mina isn’t home and the realization that you’ll be all alone tonight creates a hollow feeling in your chest.

He raises an eyebrow at you. “Come on,” he says, walking past you to make his way to the elevator and pressing the up button. It dings before immediately opening and he walks inside like he’s the one that lives here. He places a hand out to hold the door sensors when he sees that you don’t follow him inside. You jump out of the mild trance you were in and quickly rush in before he withdraws his hand and the elevator door shuts.

“Which floor?” He asks, finger hovering over the control pad. You tell him three.

Once you reach the third floor, you step out into the hallway and he follows suit. Your apartment was just seven units down towards the right and the two of you eventually made it to the door. You turn around to look up at him. His expression becomes slightly distressed and when you don’t say anything to him, he shoves his hands further into his pockets and sways back and forth slightly.

“Alright, mission accomplished, I got you home,” he says with a forced jovial tone, a hand rubbing the back of his neck. You notice he does that when he seems nervous about something.

Your mind recalls the kiss from earlier, the feeling of Gojo’s lips on yours, the heat of his body pressed up against you in the cold, the tender way his hand held your face still so he could have more of you, only for it to be cut short. Your heart is beating fast in your chest and your cheeks flush with warmth. He’s looking down at you intently and you’re looking up at him pensively.

You didn’t want to admit it to yourself. Not yet.

Your hands reach into your tote bag to pull out the keys to your apartment. “Yes, home.” He watches you jingle the metal in your hands. “Thank you.”

“Anytime,” he says and he takes a step back. Turning around, you push your key into the keyhole with shaking hands, turning it, and open the door to your apartment, letting yourself inside. You look at him from the entryway with the door still ajar.

“Good night, take it easy,” he says to you.

“Thanks, you too.” And then he’s out of your sight as you shut the door.

You lean back against the front door, letting out a sigh and biting down on your lip, the thumping of your heart pertinent throughout your entire body. There was a lingering truth to all of the emotions that you’ve been having recently. It followed you in the early hours of the morning, it followed you as you tried to fall asleep at night, it was present in the silence, lurking in the dark, and it was there with you tonight for every second that he was by your side.

You had feelings for Gojo Satoru.

a/n. thanks sooo much for reading and i hope you enjoyed aaa idk this week felt off for my writing for some reason but i heavily edited it so i hope it came out okay in the end.

➸ take me to chapter six!

tag list: @who-can-touch-my-boob @getitsatoru

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aemondsbabe · 4 months

Text

Love is Patient and Kind

summary: hand holding & dry humping || you aren't ready to take the next step with your monk, luckily for you he has the patience of a saint

pairing: osferth x f!reader

warnings: mature/explicit, 18+ (minors dni!), no use of y/n, afab reader, dry humping, very fluffy, osferth being cute and understanding and ruining other men for everyone, let me know if i missed anything!

word count: 2.5k

a/n: welcome to day one of 12 days of smuff!! hope y'all enjoy this one! Can be read as part 1 to Wind’s Howling or as a stand alone!

12 days of smuff masterlist

gif creds to @thecruel!

likes, comments, & reblogs are very appreciated but never required!

🌟add yourself to my taglist to be notified when i post new fics!

“Are you sure you do not wish for me to carry that, my lady?” Osferth asks for the millionth time, nodding his head at the basket, laden with various herbs and medicinal plants, in the crook of your elbow.

For the millionth time, you merely shake your head with a crooked smile. “I wish only for your company, monk,” you glance over at him as the two of you walk through the forest, admiring the way the early afternoon sun casts a golden halo through his hair, “I told you as much when we left camp this morning.”

Osferth merely nods in reply; your man is one of few words. A soft blush blooms across your cheeks at the thought – your man, but it was as good as true. Osferth was the first man in Uhtred’s company you felt comfortable with when you joined their cause all those months ago when they’d stopped in your small hamlet in need of a healer; you’d been by their side ever since.

In the months since, your relationship with the monk had steadily grown from hushed whispers around the campfire in the dead of night, when sleep eluded the both of you, to heated glances, delicate touches, and stolen kisses. More recently, Osferth had all but insisted on accompanying you nearly everywhere you went, which is how he’d come to follow you as you walked through the forest to gather the variety of curative plants you need.

A content sigh passes your lips as you tilt your head up, taking in the way the tips of the trees stretch up toward the blue sky. “I had almost forgotten what the sun looked like,” you joke, your heart squeezing proudly in your chest as the monk chuckles next to you, “But hopefully this summer will be dryer than the last.”

“I have prayed many times for sun,” Osferth says with a nod, blue eyes soft as he gazes at you, “Unfortunately, the Lord seems to ignore those requests.” The corner of his lips tilts up as he huffs a laugh at his own joke.

Suddenly, a branch snaps loudly not too far off the winding path the two of you have been strolling down. Osferth acts quickly, ever vigilant, and takes your hand to usher you behind him as he draws his sword. Your breath quickens as you peek around his shoulder, pressing yourself tightly against his back as your hand grips his; you’d been assured by Uhtred’s scouts that the forest surrounding camp was perfectly safe, but in these times danger seemed to creep up from every corner.

A buck appears a little ways down the path, followed by two more deer, each sparing you and the monk only a quick glance before scampering into the forest once more. The two of you let out a collective sigh of relief as Osferth sheaths his sword with a shy smile.

“Perhaps now would be a good time for a break, my lady?” He suggests with a soft smile, “We’ve been walking since morning.”

“I think we’ve earned a break,” you nod, gazing up at him through your lashes, the two of you still close enough that you could make out soft flecks of green in his blue eyes, “I believe I saw a clearing a few paces back.”

“Lead the way.” Osferth nods, keeping in pace with you as you backtrack to where you’d spotted a lush clearing through the trees only moments ago. As you walk, nearly shoulder to shoulder, the monk silently takes your hand again, his rough fingers threading together with yours. Neither of you speaks, though you can nearly feel his pleased smile from your periphery, twin to your own.

After only a few moments, you veer off the path as the two of you step into a sizable glade, the trees giving way to a field of tall grass. Your hands stay clasped as you walk together, basket still tucked in your elbow as you lift the skirts of your linen gown to prevent it from snagging on the high blades of grass; your chest tightens once more when you glance down and notice how Osferth takes great care to step over any flowers in his path, the ones that sprinkle the meadow with pops of yellow and lilac.

Soon, you come to a spot where the ground seems to be drier, however the monk grasps your forearm to stop you as he slips the thin, grey wool cloak off his shoulders and drapes it over the ground.

“Osferth,” you gently admonish, though a smile does creep across your lips at the sweet gesture, “I am perfectly capable of sitting on the ground.”

“A lady should not have to,” he says simply, nodding to the cloak, “Please.”

With a final glance, and a good-natured roll of your eyes, you comply, setting your basket down before relaxing atop his robe. After making sure you’re settled, the monk joins you, setting his sword to the side as he sits and leans back on his hands, scanning the treeline.

“It’s so lovely here…” you smile as you glance around, a soft breeze causing the grass to rustle around you.

Osferth sits up beside you, a relaxed smile on his lips as he takes your hand and pulls you closer to him. “I find the company to be far lovelier,” he whispers before capturing your lips in a sweet kiss, never taking more than you seem keen to give. The two of you easily fall into a lazy rhythm, your lips moving together as he guides you to lie against his chest. You lay your hand against his chest, right over his heart, thankful that he’s forgone his usual leather armor and chainmail today as you feel his warmth through the soft tunic he wears.

He sighs against your lips, his fingers gently weaving into the locks of hair at the nape of your neck, sending a shiver down your spine and making you cling to him all the more tightly, his other hand wrapping around your waist before settling in the small of your back, holding you to him.

After a few moments, the two of you part to catch your breath and he studies you with a warm gaze as you relax against his chest. “We are meant to be stopping in a town tonight.” Osferth says simply.

“That we are.”

“We could get a room together,” he breathes, making you gasp as he trails kisses across your jaw, “Just the two of us.”

Immediately, you tense up and untangle yourself from him, sitting up with a sigh. He quickly sits up next to you and you can feel him eyeing you with concern, though you dare not meet his gaze.

“My lady, I didn't mean to offend you…” He says hesitantly, placing a hand on your shoulder.

“You didn’t offend me, sweet monk,” you turn to him with a bashful smile, “I am simply…I don’t know if i’m ready.”

“Ready for what?” His head tilts to the side as he eyes you curiously.

You chuckle nervously, unsure of how to broach the topic. “Osferth, I have heard enough tales of your…prowess around the campfire to know that my skills do not match your own.”

The crease between his brows only deepens as he continues staring at you, blue eyes flitting between your own. “My prowess?”

“With more…intimate relations…” You say slowly, glancing away from him.

“Oh,” he says softly before his eyes widen comically, a dark blush cascading over his fair cheeks, “Oh!”

You can’t help but laugh softly at his dumbstruck expression, your lips quirking up into a soft smile despite your nerves.

The hand on your shoulder tightens as he leans closer to you. “My love, you need not fret over it,” he whispers, blue eyes conveying a deep seriousness, “We can get a room at the tavern and not do anything at all.”

Your eyebrows knit together in confusion – you’ve always been told to expect a very different answer from men. “What?”

He huffs out a soft laugh and pulls you back down to lie on the grass with him once more. “I mean what I say,” he says softly, one hand stroking your hair, “We can get a room and just kiss or cuddle or merely talk, I don’t care.” You look up from where you’ve had your cheek laying against his chest, the emotion in his eyes shocking you for a second, “I just want to be with you.” He whispers finally.

You can feel yourself blushing as he speaks, the apples of your cheeks heating up deliciously under his kind gaze. A girlish giggle erupts from your lips before you can stop it, which only makes him laugh too as you bury your head against his chest and bite your lip, breathing in his familiar scent of leather and campfire smoke.

After a moment, the two of you calm down and you finally look back up at him, “Kissing sounds good…” you nearly whisper, suddenly shy as he surveys your face.

Osferth merely chuckles, low in his throat, and rolls the two of you over. Normally, this is when you’d be pushing any other man off of you with some mumbled excuse, but you can’t help but feel safe with the sandy haired monk, taking him at his word that whatever you were willing to give would be enough.

“We have time, and plenty of herbs already,” he rasps, his voice thick with an arousal you’d only heard on a very scant few occasions when the two of you had shared frantic kisses in the night once the rest of the men were asleep, “Why wait until tonight?”

A small giggle escapes you once again as the blush on your cheeks extends down, almost all the way to your chest, but you nod nonetheless, your arms coming up to snake around his neck as you pull him down to you. A small whimpery breath escapes you when his lips touch yours yet again, and he responds in kind with a low groan, the sound rumbling from his chest. His lips are soft against your own as the two of you move leisurely; once again, he lets you set the pace, only licking at your bottom lip after you do the same to him first.

Your thighs spread as your kiss deepens and you moan again when he slots himself between your thighs, the linen of your dress hiked up just above your knees. A shiver rolls through you at the feel of him on top of you, so warm and weighty.

“Is this alright?” He breathes, navy eyes blinking between each of yours as he checks for any signs of discomfort from you, visibly relaxing when he finds none.

Wordlessly, you nod, bobbing your head eagerly as you pull him back down. His hands roam carefully over your body as your lips and tongues move together, breathlessly licking into each other's mouths. You whine into his mouth when you feel a hardness pressing against your center, a pleased hum emanating from your chest at the realization that you’ve affected him this much with only a kiss; the pride in your heart twists into something different, something deeper as a knot forms and begins tightening in your belly.

“My lady –” Osferth mumbles as he starts to pull away from you, an apologetic smile on his handsome face.

“Don’t!” You say quickly, tugging him back to you and surprising even yourself as you wrap your legs around his trim waist, “Please, I – It’s good.” You confirm breathlessly, eyebrows quirked up with need as you look up at him through your lashes.

“Yeah?” He asks, unable to wipe the pleased grin off his face as he settles back on top of you, careful to keep most of his weight off of you as he presses against your center again.

You nod, already threading your fingers into the short hair at the back of his head to draw his lips back to yours. A breathy, high-pitched moan leaves you at the feel of his clothed length pressing against you, the ties at the front of his breeches only adding to the pleasurable sensations that zap through you as he starts rolling his hips against your own.

His pace quickens as he breaks away from you, panting against your skin as he traces wet kisses down your jaw to your neck. Your head lolls to the side as you whimper and whine underneath him, eyes rolling to the back of your head as you feel his hard cock twitch against you, even through the fabric of your smallclothes.

You’re quick to match his pace, using the leverage of your legs wrapped around his middle to ruck yourself up into each thrust, earning grunts of pleasure from the monk.

“My lady,” he groans, one hand fisting into your hair as the other trails down to run appreciatively over the bare skin of your thigh, “Y-You are bewitching.” He gasps, mouthing at your neck, his cock no doubt leaking into the leather of his trousers.

Your only reply is a choked out moan of his name as your back arches underneath him, the knot in your belly winding tighter and tighter as the ties of his breeches rub over your pearl deliciously, your smallclothes no doubt soaked.

Blessedly, Osferth seems to understand the desperation in your voice and movements and pulls back to look at you, both of his hands quickly grasping yours, fingers threading together as he holds them to the earth beside your head.

“Sweet girl,” he grunts as he gazes down at you, a rosy blush cascading beautifully over his high cheekbones, “P-Peak, my lady, please,” he pants as his fingers tighten against your own, “I’m, God be good, I’m right behind you.”

You nod frantically, your only sound a choked out sob as you tense underneath him when his hips rut perfectly against yours, the knots of his pants catching against your sensitive bud in just the right way to tip you over the edge. You twitch underneath him, white knuckling his hands when you feel your center clenching helplessly around nothing as pleasure buzzes through you.

Osferth reaches his end mere seconds after you, humping against you two or three more times before tensing, his eyes squeezing shut as his own high washes over him, cock spasming in his breeches as his spend leaks into the waiting fabric.

“You’re beautiful,” you declare softly, the words tumbling from your lips as soon as you think of them.

The monk blushes somehow more heavily above you, though a soft smile graces his lips. With a soft sigh, he falls to his side, bringing you with him. Your cheek once again finds its home against his chest and you smile at the sound of his heart thumping wildly as he pulls you closely to him, one arm wrapping protectively around you as he tucks the other under his head, letting his eyes flutter shut.

“You flatter me, my lady,” he says lowly, a pleased rasp to his voice. “You are truly an angel,” he continues after a moment, “A beautiful, precious angel.”

You smile contentedly, his heart thudding steadily in your ear as you let your eyes drift shut, happy to stay in this still, safe bubble with your monk for as long as the outside world will allow.

tagged lovelies: @helloworldiamnotarobot @drakonflames @marysucks-blog @watercolorskyy @valeskafics @iamaegontargaryenwife0 @aemshaircare @1997babyyyy @lovellies @little-moonbeam-666 @blackswxnn @alerisc

(tags are based on your answers to my google form; if you were mistakenly tagged, please contact me & update your answers on the form! thank you!)

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exhuastedpigeon · 5 months

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Season 7 should just fully ignore Eddie and Buck's respective love lives for the first 8-9 episodes. Let the show should focus on the other main characters and give them major story lines since 6b was very Buck centered (rightfully so the man died).

I want- no I need - to see Hen and Karen learning to balance being mothers to a newborn baby and a pre-teen and working. Let us see them figuring that out and supporting each other.

I also want to see Bobby and Athena back from their honeymoon and glowing and realizing that there's so much more to life than their jobs. It would be very fun to see them start talking about retirement with other people and seeing how the other characters react.

We need a Ravi story line too! Ravi begins??? We could use a Ravi begins. Let us see Ravi's backstory and his childhood in and out of hospitals. Let us see his family react to him becoming a firefighter.

Maddie and Chim are obviously planning their wedding, but I also want to see Maddie at the call center stepping up and maybe training to be the next Sue? Or even better, maybe Maddie thinks about getting back into nursing.

And Chim's story should be about how he's finally got the family and home he's always dreamed about and he doesn't know what comes next. Give us Hen and Chim bonding about feeling like you're waiting for the other shoe to drop when things are going too well in their personal lives.

Eddie should have a story line outside of his love life and outside of being a dad. He's been so defined by fatherhood, firefighting, and being a widower, he needs something in his life that's just for him. Maybe Eddie has a bit of a mini breakdown about Chris growing up and we see him spending time with each of the other characters trying to figure out who Eddie is. We hear a bit about him and Buck without Chris trying different hobbies together while Chris is at sleepovers and being a 12/13 year old.

Our main lens to Buck's personal life should be through him helping Maddie and Chim plan the wedding (clipboard Buck please and thank you!), through seeing him with the Diaz boys doing domestic stuff like making dinner and game nights, and hanging out with Eddie. We never SEE Buck and Eddie hanging out alone, but we hear them talking about it.

THEN in episode 9 or 10 we should see everyone getting their invites to Maddie and Chim's wedding and both Buck and Eddie RSVP 'plus one' except we haven't seen them with a girlfriend all season?? What the fuck is up with that??

Only for them to show up to the wedding together. And the audience thinks it's because Buck is Maddie's Man of Honour and Eddie is one of Chim's groomsmen. But then we get a shot of Eddie helping Buck with his tie or something and then after he pulls him into a kiss. And it's clearly not a first kiss, it's a gently peck like they've been doing it for months.

AND THEN after the wedding we get an episode that's the missing Buck and Eddie scenes from the season. We always heard about them but it wasn't ever shown. And it turns out all those little adventures were dates and they've been dating for months without telling anyone.

#911 #9-1-1 #911 abc #buddie #9 1 1 on abc #eddie diaz #evan buckley #hen wilson #chimney han #maddie buckley #ravi panikkar #bobby nash #athena grant #madney #henren #bathena

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imfinereallyy · 11 months

Text

Shared Kisses

for @steddie-week I’m behind on it but I couldn’t resist day 3, and it’s a little late because I fell asleep while writing it, that's how sleep deprived I am haha. prompt: first kiss

“Okay, okay! It's my turn now. Sir Steven, Lady Birdie, tell me, who was your first kiss?” Eddie giggles from his spot on the carpet. He smells like stale menthols and pine; Steve can’t get enough of it. He has to resist from leaning his head into Eddie and taking a breath of him.

Steve is starting to believe he needs his head checked. Again. Wanting to smell one of his friend's necks isn't normal.

Steve is also starting to realize that maybe that is because he wants to be more than friends. God, he is such a loser sometimes.

“Oh, this is unfair! You know the rules state that we can’t ask it back now. Boooo.” Robin chants from her place on the couch, where she hangs upside down. Steve is for once glad they aren’t playing a drinking game; he is sure Robin would have vomited by now otherwise.

“I still think this a weird game to be playing.” Steve dodges the question and nudges Eddie with his knee.

“C’mon Harrington, questions is an absolute solid getting-to-know-you game.” Eddie nudged his knee back.

“Dude we’ve been friends for six months.”

“Yes but there are so many layers I have yet to peel.”

Robin grunts from her upside-down position, Steve can tell all the blood has finally rushed to her head, and she tumbles onto the ground next to them. “Gotta agree with Metal Man here, Steve-o. I’ve known you even longer, and I still don’t know everything. And we are practically connected.

Steve blows air from his lips, “So this is just a ploy to expose all my secrets.”

Steve can tell that Robin, who might as well share a soul with him at this point, can sense how uncomfortable he is beginning to feel. Her teasing softens for a moment. “What if I went first, yeah?”

Steve pauses, “Yeah okay.”

“You got to promise not to make fun of me.”

“Of course, Robs.”

“I make no such promises.” Eddie interrupts but ultimately cuts the tension in the room. Steve kind of feels like it is on purpose, by the way his eyes skim Steve carefully, and the way Robin lets out a loud snort.

“Wasn’t talking to you doofus. I don’t actually respect your opinion of me.”

“Hey!” Eddie protests, but they all know he isn’t really offended.

Robin chuckles lightly, but continues. “It was in middle school, at one of my first girl-boy parties; gross, right? I hate that we called it those. Anyway. They decide to play spin the bottle, and I feel pressure because my only friend at the time is Barb, and she didn’t come and Colleen Walsh is doing it, and she—well, she’s the prettiest, most popular girl in school at the time and I’d be an idiot not to follow along. So we’re playing Spin the Bottle, right? And rounds go by, and it doesn’t land on me, and I’m grateful but Colleen notices. She goads me on to do it, take a spin since it isn’t fair I haven’t kissed anyone. So, wanting to get over being the center of attention, I reach over and spin it, and it lands on—“

“Wait.” Steve stops Robin, realizing she is about to out herself to Eddie on Steve’s behalf. He doesn’t want her to do that but on anything but her own terms. “Are you sure about this, Robs?”

Robin throws her head back and laughs, “Yea, I’m sure dingus. No need to worry. Anyway, you’ll never believe who it lands on.”

Eddie wiggles his eyebrows, “C’mon buck don’t leave us hanging.”

“Tommy Hagan.”

Eddie and Steve both start choking on air while Steve screams, “What!?!”

Eddie collapses on the ground with a dramatic groan, covering his face with his hands and mumbling, “why cruel world?” Robin giggles at his antics.

“You’re telling me it wasn’t….?” Steve trails off, hoping Robin gets the hint.

“That it wasn’t a girl? No dingus, just because I’m a lesbian doesn’t mean all my experiences are with women. Besides, I was 12; I didn’t realize staring at Colleen’s boobs wasn’t jealousy.”

“Oh, thank god, you know; I thought I was going to have to break the news to you that your gayer than the men’s locker room after a winning game,” Eddie mumbles behind his hands still on the ground.

“Only you would make a sports reference in relation to gayness, Eds. Also, wait, you knew she was lesbian? How did you know? Why are you freaking out then?” Steve rapid fires questions.

Still covered with his hands, “Like seeks like, Harrington. It’s like a sixth sense.”

Steve’s mouth goes dry, “You’re gay?” He says hopefully.

Eddie finally removes his hands from his face but doesn’t sit up. “Yea, Stevie, thought you knew, honestly. Not like it’s a secret, all of Hawkins talks about it.”

“I try not to listen to the rumor mill.”

A soft smile graces Eddie’s face, “One of the many things I love about you sweetheart.”

Steve tries not to blush, but ultimately fails. “Still doesn’t explain why you’re freaking out about Tommy. Sure, he sucks, but like I reacted that way cause I was friends with him at some point. What’s you’re excuse?”

Finally Eddie sits up with a groan. “Okay, promise not to laugh or freak out?”

Robin and Steve both nod and mumble a little “yea of course”.

Eddie rubs a hand down his face, “Okay, I freaked out because even though it’s not my turn to answer and I don’t have to, well—it’s because. Okay, I’m stalling; it’s because Tommy Hagan was also my first kiss. When I was 15, under the bleachers.”

Robin and Steve are both silent, Eddie looks at them expectantly. “Are you guys going to say anything?”

Robin speaks up first, “I think this is the closest we can get to not freaking out.”

“I think I would prefer that over the freaky twin silence.”

Steve still stays quiet while Robin proceeds to react, “Oh my god Munson! This is the funniest and freakiest thing ever. And not in a freak way you like! This is magnificent, oh my god….” Robin continues to cackle and make fun of Eddie, but Steve tunes it out. He can feel all the blood rush to his ears, blocking out all the sound from the room. Tommy. Tommy. He has kissed both of his best friends, one of which he wants to kiss himself. That just seems unfair to Steve. It hurts Steve, and he doesn’t know why. Actually, he knows precisely why.

“My first kiss was when I was 13,” Steve says abruptly, not making eye contact. The both of them stop their bickering and turn to Steve. They stay silent, as if they know Steve needs it to get through it. He is thankful for them both.

“I was 13, and my parents weren’t home. It had become the usual at this point, but I was sad because it was my birthday, and this was the first birthday they didn’t even send a card. And Tommy decided to come over to cheer me up; this was back, I guess, when he still cared too. And we didn’t do much; I didn’t like to make a big fuss about my birthday even then, but it was a nice night out just before the break of summer. So we decided to stargaze on the roof. And I don’t know how it happened, but one second we’re trying to find the Little Dipper, and the next, Tommy is kissing me. It was nice, honestly. To have someone you care about show you affection. And when he pulled away, I smiled at him, but he just stared. And then—“ Steve swallows thickly before looking up at Eddie and Robin, who both look at him with rapt attention.

“Then his face turns angry, and he punches me. He punches me so hard that I almost fall off the roof. He tells me not to be a queer, and if I told anyone, who would tell everyone what I was. And it seemed unfair, right? Because he kissed me, I only smiled. I haven’t kissed a boy since.”

Suddenly there is an arm around his shoulder, “Stevie….” Eddie tucks Steve’s head into the crook of his neck, and Steve begins to sob.

Robin quietly gets up, “I’m going to make us some tea.” Steve knows she can sense that he needs a moment with Eddie. Steve loves her more than life.

“I’m sorry this is stupid. I don’t even know why I’m crying.”

Eddie rubs soft circles on his back, “It’s not stupid, honey. He hurt you in more ways than one, and traumatized you from exploring yourself. You have every right to be upset. Thank you for telling us. You didn’t—you didn’t have to. You could have lied, or told us your first kiss with a girl.—“

“Colleen Walsh.” Steve interrupts into Eddie’s neck.

Eddie barks out a laugh, “Of course it was. Anyway, Steve, thank you for sharing. I’m glad you feel safe with us.”

Steve’s tears are no longer. “I always feel safe with you, Eds.” And the Steve finally does the thing he’s been wanting to do all night. He takes a big sniff of Eddie. Steve doesn’t care if it’s weird because he settles a sort of calm in him.

Eddie grips his waist tight, and puts a finger under Steve’s chin, pulling his face close to his own. “Yea, I do? Does that mean you also trust me?”

Steve can feel Eddie’s breath on his lips. He knows it’s probably not good how quickly his mood has changed, but he can’t find it in himself to care. The air between them is electric, and intense. Steve can feel it make his whole body come alive. “Of course I do.”

Eddie leans even closer, “Good. Because I think it’s a damn shame a pretty boy like you hasn’t kissed another boy since.” Then Eddie presses their lips together.

Steve isn’t sure if someone were to ask what his first kiss with Eddie was like if he would be able to answer. It’s indescribable; it’s perfect. But if he is to try, it would be this, soft, slow, deep, and oh so very good. Steve can feel the heat from Eddie’s lips pulsing into his own. Eddie’s hands' grip Steve’s face, angling him deeper as he slides his tongue into his mouth. Steve pulls him closer by his t-shirt. Going crazy off the taste of salt and chocolate that now swipes his tongue.

They both pull back a little breathlessly, hands still gripping each other. They lean their foreheads together, and Steve smiles. He smiles so big his face hurts. And Eddie does the most thing in return,

He smiles back.

The moment is broken, though, when Robin enters the room again with a bowl of popcorn and a loud “Oh thank god, I was sick of the pining. From both of you.”

Eddie sputters while Steve just laughs at her. “I thought you were making tea Birdie?”

Robin sits down next to them again, “Too much work and I was snacky.”

Steve throws popcorn at her head but isn’t upset at all. He leans his head on Eddie’s shoulder, and Eddie kisses the top of Steve’s head.

Robin smiles fondly at them. Then her face scrunches up in pain, “Wait, all of our first kisses was Tommy Hagan?”

“Yep.”

“Unfortunately so.”

“God I do not want to give that twerp any more credit in life than I have to. Why are we all like this?”

Steve giggles while Eddie shrugs.

Robin can’t keep a straight face anymore and falls into laughter. “Wait, does this mean we are all bounded by this? I completely unrelated, non-upside down experience?”

Eddie speaks up before Steve, “I believe so, Lady Buckley. A trauma outside of other worlds binds us. We have been bound since before the slain of Vecna.”

Robin shrieks, “Awee, guys! We were always meant to meet then.”

Then Robin tackles the both of them to the ground in a bear hug. Steve’s not even mad that she’s in the middle of Eddie and him.

Because this, right here, is all the love he’ll ever need.

***

I'm behind on steddie week, but I want to throw my hat in the ring. Have a written a first kiss thing before? Yes I have. But I can’t resist. Thank for the read, love this community so much.

#steddie #steddieweek2023 #Steve Harrington #platonic stobin #robin buckley #Eddie Munson #bisexual steve harrington #gay eddie munson #steddieweek #stranger things #first kiss

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btsvt-bar · 18 days

Note

I’m imagining Hoshi sneaking under your desk at work to eat you out while you’re still trying to work. Bonus points if he keeps going even when another member shows up to your office looking for him!

i actually went insane while writing this. i hope you like it ♡

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・

you work in the creative team at hybe, that's how you first met hoshi.

of course you knew who he was, you're always into kpop. so you tried not to freak out and played it cool when he approached you and your older sister, who worked there too.

"noona! long time no see!" he greeted her happily. "i'm hoshi, nice to meet you." he bowed a little when talking to you.

you mimicked his actions. "Y/N, nice to meet you too." "hoshi, this is my little sister. she's working with us now." your sister said with a proud tone, making you blush. "oh, that's nice! welcome to the team." "thank you!"

you felt really shy talking to an idol, but hoshi was always sweet and he kept greeting you every time you met. he introduced you to other members and, eventually, you started to have coffee together.

you never imagined that two years later, you'd be dating him.

and you also didn't expect that he would show up to your office, after hours, and beg you to eat you out.

"soonie, we're at work." you ponder. it's past 11pm and almost everyone went home by now, but you can't risk it. "also, i have to send this in by 12."

"baby, please. i'm really horny and i need to taste you." he just finished practicing for seventeen's new comeback and came straight to you. "i promise it'll be good."

you give in when he gets on his knees. hoshi approaches you with a wicked smile and hides under the desk. you slide down your chair and he opens your legs with his warm hands.

"keep working, baby. you have a deadline to meet." he smiles smugly at you when you tilt your head back as he distributes small kisses and licks on your thighs.

you bunch your skirt up and help him take your panties off. you're trembling in expectation, thinking you actually went insane by allowing him to do this.

but then his tongue licks on your clit and your mind goes blank.

he licks and sucks your wet cunt with passion. you buck your hips and your thighs involuntarily close around his head, so hoshi grips the flesh so hard you're sure you'll have bruises.

every time your eyes meet hoshi's, you feel more slick pouring out of your hole. and with every flick of his tongue you have to stop yourself from screaming.

he drags a finger over your slit and you tremble. his tongue worked you up enough that he easily slips two fingers into you, lips wrapping around your clit.

that's when someone knocks on your door, and you gulp down the loud moan trapped on your throat.

"tell them to come in!" hoshi whispers and goes back to what he was doing. you try to look like you were working, yet you're sure you just looked messed up.

"co-come in!" you shout and Woozi appears.

"hey, Y/N! have you seen Hoshi? he's supposed to give me a ride home." the man smiles at you.

you grip the edge of the desk, trying to keep yourself grounded. your heart is beating so fast and it seems like hoshi only works faster. he keeps alternating between fucking his tongue into you and sucking your clit into his mouth.

"I'm n-not sure." you stutter, afraid of talking more and end up moaning.

"hm. weird. I assumed he came to see you, but maybe he's waiting for me in the team room." he comments and you nod, wanting him gone. "are you ok? you seem a little pale."

of course Hoshi doesn't let up, instead he starts to caress the soft spot inside your pussy. you take a deep breath before answering. "Ju-just tired."

"it's late, you should go home. and that's coming from me." Woozi chuckles and you try to follow along. "anyways, whoever finds him first, calls the other."

"yeah, will do." you reply and he leaves, remaining unsuspicious that his friend was right there.

Hoshi detaches from your pussy as soon as the door closes. "you heard him, baby. can you cum for me, so we can go home?"

your entire body feels like it's melting. Hoshi starts to fuck you with his tongue and uses his fingers to play with your clit. soon enough, you allow the knot on your stomach to be untied and cum all over his face, thick globs of arousal coming out for him to lick and gulp down like it's the best drink ever made.

his mouth is glistening when he comes up for air, his lips sporting a proud and satisfied smile. you pull him in for a kiss, tasting yourself on his tongue.

"let's go home so i can fuck you." Hoshi declares and you whimper, wanting him immediatly. "Jihoonie's waiting, and you need to finish your e-mail."

you never typed so fast in your life.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・

#seventeen smut #hoshi smut #seventeen fanfic #hoshi fanfic #seventeen scenarios #hoshi scenarios #seventeen x reader #hoshi x reader #seventeen hard hours #hoshi hard hours #my works #anon request

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queerbuckleys · 1 year

Photo

you might not think so right now, but you made it a point to come here today.

[image description: 6 large gifs from season 6 episode 12 of 911 with a quote by Wendell from the episode. gif 1: flashback to 2018 and Bobby’s first AA meeting, he is sitting in the last row, his arms crossed. The text reads, “I know those crossed arms” gif 2: present day, Buck sits at Eddie’s kitchen table, arms crossed. The text reads, “are supposed to be a sign” gif 3: present day, a man who is sitting with his arms crossed in the back row of Bobby’s AA meeting.The text reads, “that you don’t want company.” gif 4: flashback to 2018 of Wendell approaching Bobby at the meeting, understanding written on his face. The text reads, “Sorry to tell you,” gif 5: Present day, Eddie glances at Buck, reading him and taking note. The text reads, “for me it’s a sign” gif 6: Present day, Bobby approaches the man in the last row, he has an understanding look on his face. The text reads, “that someone needs support.” /end ID]

#911 #bobby nash #eddie diaz #evan buckley #tuserksn #janielook #userceecee #userbon #usermaripal #tuserarah #tuserjw #userac #911verse #useroliii #alielook #userabs #*ajgifs #*911

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precious-little-scoundrel · 1 month

Text

Masters of the Air Fanfiction

Requested: yes…Virgin!Gale + Maureen/Gale bonding

Universe: Friends in the Crucible (pacific au)

Summary: “Get laid, Buck.” Doc Egan prescribed with his peculiar brand of deathly serious compassion, “Hell, I’ll write you a prescription for it, if it soothes your conscience, but I’m serious. Serve your jitters better than any syrette or Amphetamine.”

Warnings: all the sex! 18+.|| both tender and feral || Doc Egan being a unorthodox but loving menace, a theme of ptsd and body tremors/insomnia -poor Gale is going through it after a whole war, drug mentions, erectile disfunction, Maureen is aggressive but everything’s consensual, usage of the word “Jap”. Graphic descriptions of Gale’s virginity loss, male overstimulation and an amusing amount of thought given to Bucky’s existence during the act … im sure that won’t lead to anything when Maureen returns to base and reports to Egan about it, right? Hahaha of course not, that would be craaazy

Word count: 10k

“Buck, come on now, it’s not a prison sentence, it’s just a little time off.”

“I don’t need time off.” Gale reiterated, a panicked sort of fierceness creeping into his tone as his appeal now stretched into something longer than the usual flippant favors Egan was customarily so eager to dole out.

“Those hands suggest ya do.” John gave a not unkind glance of sympathy at the twitching fingers rattling on the armrests of Cleven’s chair.

12 rescue missions in 15 days. Flying upwards of ten hours each. He’d done worse before, but then again, that had been when he was fresh, younger, less banged up from the head hitting the cockpit wall.

“Sending me to go watch flamingos and contemplate sand or some shit isn’t gonna make me steadier.” Gale very much feared his gripes were beginning to sound like begs, “Don’t send me off like this. Don’t.”

“Petrified of flamingos?” John hummed, glancing down at his chart as if contemplating making a note of this new malady, “Maybe if your dad had taken you to a zoo once or twice as a kid you’d not be scared stiff of the prospect.”

Cleven stared back at him with the most hurt eyes John had ever seen. He balled his own fist up to remember the rightness of his point, even if he’d delivered it about as clumsily as a marriage proposal at a funeral. “The hell would you say something like that?” Buck whispered, not even angry, just utterly lost.

“Buck, I’m just sayin’ -inability to slow or be alone, it’s classic symptoms of battle fatigue.”

“I don’t wanna sit on a beach when I could be helping, I’m perfectly capable of still helping! You know it!”

“But you can’t sleep.” John circled back to where this all began, with Gale asking if there was anything to knock a fella out when 82 hours of insomnia wasn’t sufficiently exhausting.

“Give me something, you’re a doctor! Goddamnit, John!” Gale finally broke, voice raising and fists clenched.

“Surgeon, technically.” John gave him a wane smile, “And I can’t dope up an active pilot.”

“Just an active surgeon.” Gale sneered, tit for tat on the insults.

John nodded grimly but murmured, “The day Gale Cleven becomes John Egan is a day this whole operation can pack up and go home.”

“So you're being the better man,” Gale scoffed, “-sending me to watch flamingos.”

“I’m not givin’ you shit.“ he confirmed, “Unless it’s an assignment.”

“Will it keep me outta the flak asylum?”

“If you comply to all the regulations, maybe.” Egan shrugged.

“Go on?”

“Get laid, Buck.” his friend prescribed with his peculiar brand of deathly serious compassion, “Hell, I’ll write you a prescription for it, if it soothes your conscience, but I’m serious. Serve you better than any syrette or Amphetamine.”

“That’s your ultimatum?”

“No, no, my ultimatum is that you go on a little sabbatical with one of my nurses, she’ll keep an eye on you and you can make yourself useful, helping her unload heavy shit at the aid station they’re setting up at Peleliu. My recommendation is that when she comes into your room at the end of the day and drops her knickers, you lay back and think of Wyoming.”

Major Cleven had thought of a million and one ways to bribe or ally the prospective nurse to his side of the deal once he knew which unfortunate female Egan was going to pick for this deplorable detail. Calling his friend a pimp and a bastard had done little good, threatening malpractice and a hardness of heart towards Gale’s own principles -even less. So Gale figured when the time came he’d just gently turn the well meaning comfort gal away and maybe pay her off to lie that they’d done it: for his hand’s sake.

After all, if she was willing to do this, was she even a nurse or was she someone Bucky dressed up in Red Cross arm bands like some sleazy fantasy? Gale didn’t think any of the nurses he’d encountered would be willing to go along with such a sordid “assignment.” Sure, some of them were -carefree. Indulgent. Easy, as the men sometimes called them before getting a stinging cheek that proved them wrong. But they were a proud bunch and they had earned it.

Rolling a toothpick in his cheek, Buck pondered these things while sat on the bench of a Goony Bird waiting for his nurse to hop into the cargo hold with him and off they’d go to Pelilu. The situation was made worse by the suspense of who it might be and the insulting foreignness of being on a plane but not piloting. It made Gale feel an odd sort of feeling close to self pity that he hadn’t felt in ages, not since he was a kid and the nostalgia of it wrung him out of all energy. He made himself sit on that metal bench motionless as the heat index rose on the tarmac and made up a fun little game involving trying to see if he could get his hands to stop tremoring for five seconds straight.

So far he’d lost his own wager each time. He told himself if he could make it to five seconds then the nurse Bucky had sent would be a gray haired matron and this really was just a sabbatical to lift boxes and breathe ocean air and get Gale to laugh at himself.

Then Maureen Kendeigh climbed into the hold and squeezed past their cargo of medicine crates and plopped down right next to him, leg bumping his and breathing like a race horse. “I have jogged here the entire way from administration.” she wheezed, tugging at the collar of her shirt where her glistening throat was bobbing in thirst. “Sorry I’m so late, Major. Am I late?”

It could have been Bucky sat next to him: the choice of phrasing was so familiar, the damnable ability to force forgiveness for tardiness with a single smile so predictable. Gale found dread knotting his stomach at the realization it would be her, even as a warmth spread all over him at her sweet presence that had the odd effect of steadying his hands despite the panicked fuzz of his brain at her proximity.

Oh he didn’t want this. No, no, no. He’d like to think of Maureen very much apart, apart from anything but her heroism, not her wide spread stance on the bench beside him or the idea of her dropping her knickers and making him think of Wyoming. He preferred her very much not attainable in the deeper ways and very much not what he saw himself with when all this was over. Whatever she and Doc Egan had was between them and he’d held it up like a shield to keep himself in check, a boy's code of honor about not encroaching on his friend’s girl. Even if said friend didn’t have the decency to make said girl “his” girl.

But to have Maureen dished up to him on a platter by John when John must have suspected some of Gale’s appreciation for her professional merits -it was somehow worse than any dressed up floozy or the easy new intern. He’d not be able to pay Maureen off without insulting her. Or outing Egan’s intent. Maybe she didn’t know. What if Gale spilled the beans and she was as harmless as himself? What if—

“God, Major, did you sleep at all?” Maureen’s steady fingers were gripping his expressionless face and suddenly turned him towards her, one thumb swiping a tender crescent in his under eyes.

Gale’s eyes seemed to forget blinking was a thing, they grew wide and stayed wide at her inspection and the sandy wind blowing in from the tarmac stung at them as they dried out. “No,” he found his voice and it came out more winded than hers, “you’re not late.” he lied.

Once they get to the island, touchdown and unload, there’s then three hours of driving around the pitted old warzone to the aid station. There’s more foliage the more they go, less mortar pitted earth, but the increasing tropical paradise surroundings put Gale on edge. Maureen drives them to their unexplored destination as confident and recklessly as Bucky would, little surprise there. Gale can’t help glancing at her with unabashed amusement for the way she keeps her pistol propped on top of the steering wheel with one grip, facing out like a top turret for their hood, while keeping the map balanced on her thigh.

He cradles his own BAR with loose arms, ready to use it. Sure they secured the island months ago, but still, not infrequently some Jap comes out of his hiding hole, a cave, or whatever fucking tree he resides in and surrenders. Or, conversely, some of them have charged with guns blazing or sword drawn, deciding to go out and a bang of glory and take with them whichever hapless American happens to be nearby. That Emperor worship shit ain’t happening on on Gale’s watch, and so Maureen gets to drive -she didn’t have to beg like that, he was going to let her- and he shoulders the duty of keeping his eyes peeled for the next bush becoming animate and running at them, pulled pin grenade in hand.

“Some relaxation.” he jokes as their jeep lurches into another crater. If it’s not the bomb pits it’s the massive roots crawling over the smashed earth the Marine Corps call a road.

“It’s a reverse strategy!” she informs, grin wide as a shark’s and Gale could almost draw a little pencil mustache above that top lip and pretend it’s Bucky torturing him thus -hey, that might be a good mode of thought to keep everything strictly professional- “Like when nothing else works, you kick the broken thing.” Gale politely ignores the urge to argue about being broken, that’s not her point… he hopes, “You’re all shook up,” she goes on, voice raised to be heard over the rev of her driving, “and calm hasn’t worked, so why not shake you up worse?!”

He squints at her, fully aware he isn’t being chummy like she is trying to be, knowing he’s being a stick in the mud but he’s dying under the uncertainty, chafing under the pretense. Does she know? Or does she not? Five times today he’s resisted the urge to slap her chest like he would Demarco’s and ask her levelly, man to man, if she knows. “If this doesn’t work then what?” he asks anyway, sober as hell despite the comedic jostling and even Maureen’s joviality dims in the face of his dour mood.

“Then we’ll have to get real unorthodox.” she replies, allowing something close to annoyance at his attitude to seep into her own expression and Gale refuses to pull his eyes off her.

Do you know? He wants to ask.

“Stop scowling at me and watch for Japs.” she snaps at him so suddenly and so heated he genuinely spooks and turns his body back towards their horizon.

It’s worse than he thought. Worse than he imagined on the times he lost the bet with his hands and let his mind go somewhere besides a practical joke from Bucky and a gray haired spinster nurse as his companion. The aid station is on the edge of the new camp, far off enough to be genuinely secluded from both sights and smells of the navy station. It’s a tiki hut, thatched roof and swinging mesh door and lovely little veranda and palm trees and waves lapping up the back steps.

It looks like the sorta place people advertise for honeymoons and Gale stares at it with a 100 yard stare once Maureen grinds the gears to park.

“Jesus.” he knows his mouth is curling in disgust and beside him Maureen huffs in disgust with him.

She jumps out of her side of the jeep, not a shred of amusement left on her face. Gale sits and stares and listens to the roar of surf and the clinking of the cooling engine.

“Not bad.” she grunts under the burden of a crate which Gale should be lifting if he could just make his legs work and his mind obey. “But I bet it’s gonna be a bitch to keep the gnats out though, so much foliage around.”

Her hips sway like a tantalizing pendulum when she jogs up the bungalow stairs, her waist somehow accentuated by the way her arms are lifted to keep the crate hoisted on her strong shoulder and Gale has the perfect seat to watch it. How did he never notice the lines on her before she was doing hard labor? Then he recalls, she’s mostly been in flight suits around him, he’s never seen her paired down to collared shirts and belted pants. How’d he never notice the lines on that gi-

“Don’t make me drive this thing in the surf to wake you up.” her slap on his listless forearm rouses him to realize she’s back out at the jeep, standing beside him looking at him as he sits here catatonic like the mental case he’s showing symptoms of being. “And take your jacket off, you’re gonna get overheated being so formal.”

“Are you in on it?” he snaps suddenly as she grins at him over his first crate. He can’t tell if she’s mocking him or not but he’s damn tired of it.

“In on what?” Her face falls.

He can’t do it. He just can’t do it and he hates himself for being such a coward. “This.” he chooses vagueness and it tastes foreign and awful on his tongue.

“It’s a week out of the cockpit in paradise, Cleven,” Maureen’s own expression holds back no disdain for his pissy attitude, “man the hell up.”

What Maureen, Gale and five other technicians had loaded into the jeep and it’s buggy in the course of two hours, takes the mere two of them close to four to unload. And that’s even with Gale keeping a rapid pace to his work like a sweating maniac, feverishly wanting to stop thinking for once. His jacket and shirt are thrown over the chairs that are actually provided as furniture in the place and Maureen’s tie lays discarded on the accompanying desk. The rooms are bare but there’s two beds in the bedroom with crisp sheets that have only a bit of pollen dusting them and there’s a desk, as mentioned, three chairs in the main room and Maureen insists they can use crates for a table.

The back room is for the actual medical aid, and Maureen insists nothing gets moved into it until she can sanitize the whole place. So they stack the boxes in the main room and in the bedroom and when the sun gets lower they’re relieved to find there’s some dubious provisions for electricity in the place.

“I can get it to work.” Gale decides as Maureen tries flicking the light switch ten times as if to see if the bare bulb will grow a will of its own and turn on for her. It reminds him so much of Bucky’s brand of idiocy that Gale almost forgets himself and reaches out to swat her hand away from the futile flicking.

“Ok, then you do that while I keep unloading.” she insists, “Won’t be able to do anything if it’s pitch dark in here.”

So Gale drags a chair over and begins to fiddle with the wires tacked to the ceiling, risking electrocution so Maureen Kendeigh can see her way around as she tromps past him again and again in the same path with yet another crate.

He’s good with his hands. Excellent, in fact, judging by how one bulb flickers then stays steady, then another and another until the inside of the bungalow is aglow with cozy light: enough light for Maureen to appreciate his sweat soaked singlet and the way it rides up his belly when his arms are up and how it’s bright enough for her to scrub the exam room effectively when laying in a room with an insomniatic Gale Cleven gets to her at 3:00 am.

As it surely will. God! -the man is as impossible as he is beautiful, and while she doubted she’d manage it with him before, the sheer amount of fury she feels towards him right now leaves no doubt. She’ll shake him up. Like a Fuckin’ Martini. And he doesn’t have to like it, probably won’t, but they’ll both feel better after. “In on it” -he’s got the gall to ask but not the balls to spell it out, she can’t abide a quasi gentleman and so far Gale Cleven’s been nothing but the genuine article. Until now, now when he can’t accept certain human things about himself like fatigue or attraction, and he takes it out on her with a sullenness belonging to a much older man.

Maureen’s fine with that, she thinks as ogles the glowing golden skin of his sheened shoulders on one of her passes with a crate, she can take her mad out on him, too. And she’s got a lot of it. More than John Egan was ever able to lick away.

By 15:00, and some change to the second hand, Gale Cleven was still awake. Little surprise there, not to him, but even though it didn’t matter he found himself thoroughly annoyed and taking it out with a lethal glare at the vague gray ceiling, lit by a massive moon over the ocean. Wire and chairs but no curtains -an oversight about the furnishings. It wouldn’t have mattered, he knew that, and still the racket Maureen was making put his teeth on edge. It wasn’t Benny’s snoring or John’s drunken mumbling but it was a consistent *swoosh, swish* of industry that had Gale feeling a mixture of guilt and determination to keep lying here while she scrubbed.

It had not occurred to him she might’ve needed this break, too. Such as it was, effective as it was not proving. He knew she’d seen some combat in the beginning at Manila, maybe even worse than Iwo but long hours doing what she was doing now, where she was doing it, was no joke.

The urge to get up and help her was strong but then, so was the crippling fear of being around her in the dead of night and inviting any more of the bossy familiarity she’d tucked him into bed with. A magnesium capsule! She’d made him take three of the maternity horse pills and told him to calm the hell down as if he didn't have ample reason to be on edge with her laying a foot away on another bed, stripped down to her cotton slip. Of course Gale would cite war horrors if anyone asked why he couldn’t sleep but to be frank, he wasn’t sure why he wasn’t managing it these days and it had started awhile ago. Before Maureen Kendeigh glowed sweaty and luminous in the moonlight while gripping his cheeks and puckering his protesting mouth and plopping pills on his lolling tongue.

Thinking of it made his face flame with embarrassment for such a childish resistance. But god, her nursley familiarity sent a cross signal to his brain each time she helped herself to his flesh and no amount of berating himself while sweating in these rough sheets could dislodge the reaction. Closer to fifteen hundred than was remotely chivalrous, Gale threw off his sweat soaked bedding and tromped into the glow of light outside their bedroom, shuffling blearily into the little exam room. He faltered for a brief ten seconds at the doorway watching her undulating movements with sponge in hand and knees on the floor, white slip clinging like a second skin from the sweat.

He felt the sudden medical urge to lick her like the cattle back home lick at the salt block, a strange way of quenching thirst. Was ninety two hours without sleep considered genuine grounds for insanity? He felt like maybe he should be keeping a diary of these fevered thoughts to report back to John and see if he needed to get turned in. This wasn’t horniness, this was salt cravings. Yeah, yeah that’s what it was.

“You hypocrite.” he felt emboldened to tease and his voice came out rough and lower than even he expected, the disuse of laying there for ages taking a toll.

Maureen looked up like she’d been spooked herself, a slip and stall of her scrubbing, hair hanging about her face so unprofessionally he realized he’d never seen it in such…disarray. “Oh, the baby’s awake.” she grinned back and he felt an indulgence settle in his gut for her he didn’t know existed, “I see my magnesium capsules were a cure all.”

“Oh yeah, knock a horse out.” he agreed derisively.

“Your eyes are droopier.” she found a silver lining and as if reminded of the grit in them, his large fists came up and rubbed them meanly.

Like a little boy, she thought, watching him in the harsh light of the bare bulb, warm wood all around him the same color as all that sweaty skin and those skivvies hanging onto the lithest set of hips she may have ever seen. Looked as if one deep breath of that lean belly and the fabric would be goners, slipping down to the floor dramatically like a woman’s pantyhose in those unfortunate comics where that’s always occurring just when she wants to cross a busy street. Maybe if she could make him belly laugh-

She wished she knew how. She wondered if he knew how.

“Got another Sponge?” he asked and she was reminded why she liked him so much.

“Top crate, there, left, there that one.” She directed him with jerks of her chin until he was at the right one, “I’m using antiseptic.” she warned.

“I know,” he answered, dropping to his knees beside her and making use of her bucket to dunk his sponge, “smell’s been givin’ me a headache.”

Maureen’s mouth twitched at his tired grumpiness, more endearing now he was still putting effort into being near the caustic shit and the way his golden hair flopped on his forehead with his scrubbing movements. If his hips were that fluid, that rhythmic in cleaning a floor, how much more could she teach him to be—“Yeah, I’m sure it’s the anti-septic giving you a headache.” she snarked.

They ate sandwiches he’d gotten from the navy camp’s mess on the back porch, letting the sea water lap at their feet. A little stale but it was a much needed breakfast and Gale brought fresh water back, too, and a report that they were nice fellas and entirely too undressed for her to ever go see. That suited her fine, they’d be a pest if they knew a woman was up here and personally speaking she only needed one man for company, crate lifting, and doing the job well. And she rather had her heart set on it being Gale Cleven. Especially now she got to stare at him under the bright morning sun with a tropical breeze and more skin on display than at a swimsuit contest. He’d put on a singlet, as if to mark that a day had begun even if they hadn’t slept the night, but that was promptly sweat soaked and tiny nipples were pebbling under it from the breeze.

“Did they ask if a nurse came with you?” she pressed him between bites.

“Yeah.” he swallowed his bite thickly and licked at the mayo collecting at the corner of his mouth with typical precision, “And I lied.”

“Well, well,” she cooed, making him roll his eyes, “how’d that feel?”

“I have lied before.” he balked.

The look he gave her was both thunderous and remincent and she repented that line of questioning, used to distinguishing in her patients whether a wound was from wartime or stemmed from childhood. “Well who’d you say came with?” she asked.

“A technician.” he mumbled, blushing for some reason.

“Mm, someone nice and hairy and stinky-“

“Stop.” he begged.

“-not anyone they’d wanna meet.”

“I did it for you!”

“-if that makes you sleep at night, Cleven.” she humored him and like lightning, the back of his hand had flicked out and thumped her on the sternum, hard.

“Shit!” Maureen clutched the place, more in surprise than pain although he’d walloped her good and well.

“Shit!” He parroted in mortification, holding his hand like it was an offensive weapon.

“What was that for?” she laughed, “Do I remind you that much of Benny? Are you missing him that bad? Is that who you pretended was with you up here? Huh? Huh? Benny Demarco, now that’s a beauty to hide under a bushel-“

She was crowding him in on the steps and he was teetering towards falling off, too alarmed at his own outburst to trust his instincts now to shove her off without causing harm -and she knew it. She pressed her advantage and crawled over him with her teasing comments about Demarco until his long body had bowed so far away from her’s it was levitating and then toppled predictably into the surf.

“Fuck it’s cold!” he wheezed out as the embrace of the old pacific drenched him and rolled him about at her feet for a few delightful moments before he got his footing and rose, shaking his hair out of his eyes and grabbing for the steps.

“Sea bathing was in doctor Egan’s regimen.” she informed remorselessly before extending a merciful hand to help him up. He was slippery and shiny as an eel coming up and the grip of his hand was as strong as she expected. And still she found it intoxicating, the duality of him as he stood there pouting and bitchy over being cooled off. “Stay right there baby, I’ll get you a towel.” she patted his chest, right where he’d smacked hers, and went inside.

“I’m not your baby.” She heard him holler to her through the door-less porch. “I’m not your baby.” he reiterated vehemently but lower again when she came out with the towel.

“Yes you are.” she argued, “For this week you’re my baby, whether that’s a literal infant or not is your choice -and don’t start arguing, you’ve got to stop it, no one’s making you do a damn thing.” she insisted, hand raised and his mouth closed satisfyingly as a result, “You’ll be my baby. I know you already had a baby, no? Our baby? Shared her with ten other men, that’s generous of you-“

“-Ensign!-“

“-so I’m not gonna be your baby. You’ll be mine and you can find me something to be for the week.” she watched closely as recognition of her logic began to dawn and settle on him, “I could be anyone. I could be Benny Demarco, for instance. If that’s who you wanna lay next to.”

Gale didn’t speak for a long while, eyes off to the side watching the surf lap at the steps and she was still standing there, holding his unused towel. “Who do you want me to be?” he asked finally and his grave perception just about winded her in its raw honesty.

“You.” she replied honestly, “Whichever version of you made it here with me.”

“An infant -a baby.” he scoffed and she was suspicious those eyes were watery. And too delayed for it to be from the salt.

“My baby.” she replied, “Never had one before.”

“With respect ma’am, that’s Bullshit.” he argued in a fierce hiss, “I know you have, with John and -and-“

“I’ve been somebody’s,” she clarified, “but I think I’ve grown out of that. You’ll be my baby, huh? It’s not marriage, Cleven, it’s a week in paradise and hopefully some shut eye, too. So do you want me to be Benny?”

Those watery eyes let one single tear go trickling down his pink cheek alongside the rivulets of ocean water dripping from his hair and Maureen had never felt a single thing heat her up quite like it. “No,” his chuckle was thick and he sniffed, “not Benny. Maybe uh, God, I dunno, I’ve never had anyone.”

“Then we can make it up entirely.” she was pleased by the idea of not being a stand-in, although god knows she and John could sympathize more about the need for that than anyone. “We’ll be castaways.” she suggested, sitting back down on the porch now the confrontation was dwindling and in full confirmation of her suspicions, he sat again beside her without fuss.

“Marooned.” he disagreed, chin resting on his hands and a boyish tug pulling up the corner of his lips. “Something insane you did landed us here.”

“Mm, took liberties with the captain's daughter, perhaps?” she teased, daring to run a finger along those golden shoulders and collect a few salt drops. He shuddered under her but stayed put.

“I’m not playing fair maiden for you.” he retorted but his eyes were fond.

“Mm, I’ll believe it when I see it.” Maureen was still impossible and Gale felt his gut burn in a bizzare sort of drive to prove her wrong. He’d hardly ever felt this even with all the jokes from the boys, not even with all the temptations from the girls, it just hadn’t seemed something that needed proving. Every flea and salmon could do it, he never doubted when he got married he could manage it credibly enough.

“Mr. and Mrs. Jones.” his voice sounded like he’d come to a decision and Maureen squinted at his profile until it clicked.

“I’ve never been married before.” she observed breezily.

“And I never planned on being married for just a week.” he replied.

“Isn’t there a film about this?” she asked, “Cary Grant gets stuck on an island and he marries his castaway but then they get rescued and there’s a first wife?”

“Yeah, I think so, actually.” he thumbed at his bottom lip in contemplation and Maureen found it endlessly distracting, along with the bird song and the ocean crash and the sunshine.

“Mr. and Mrs. Jones.” she agreed then, settling back on her elbows to stare up at the sun and let it add a few freckles, “And when it’s over and you’re rescued, I’ll be the better woman and let Our Baby have you.”

“You’ll always be the best of women, Maureen.” he sounded like the admittance took every fiber of his resolve to say, but she’d heard it before in his voice weeks ago when she was patching him up.

If a tear slipped out the corner of her shut eyes and down a sun warmed cheek, she wasn’t going to make a deal of it, not until she felt his finger catch it tenderly before it dropped from her jaw and rolled it back up.

She felt her lip wobble traitorously and perhaps there were more tears planning to follow and betray her but the shivering shock of his full lips, pressed to her bare shoulder, stemmed the flood. Maureen held her breath and kept her eyelids sealed, an orange glow of sunshine behind them as all her senses attuned to the drag of his caresses up to the juncture of her shoulder, the press of his body next to her on the porch boards, the suspenseful absence of his hands. They were soft as marshmallows, those lips, and a stray tip of his tongue caught her clavicle as he worked his way up a path that almost seemed premeditated, as if he’d thought of doing this a million times but held back. Now he allowed himself and the assured intimacy of his mouth made her body heat soar almost beyond her endurance as he crept up her throat and onto her cheek.

A kitten lick to that tear track down her cheek and Maureen was whimpering from something else entirely, breaking ranks and turning her head to gaze at him, nearly stunned by how close he was, how alive, how beautiful, how blue. There were his hands now, one propped beneath her shoulder, the other cupping her cheek. Her lips were tingling with anticipation by the time he’d lowered his face far enough and brushed her mouth with his.

Maybe he’d done his fair share of kissing the girls back home goodbye, or maybe it was a talent given along with this impossible lips, or perhaps she’d wanted it so long that the final having of it sent Maureen spiraling with something oddly like obsession.

Kissing was enough for the longest time, the shore sounds and the squawking of ocean birds and the feel of Gale Cleven laying more and more atop her as his tongue met hers and danced. She scratched the back of that tanned neck like she dreamed of doing a dozen times, little scritches to his hairline that had him sagging against her kisses to the point of crushing.

She allowed herself the liberty of running her hands along his lean sides, taking in the graceful taper of his waist, the dip of his back, the sopping wet waistband of his briefs. She wondered if this is how men feel with a young girl, when there’s so much loveliness one wants to maul it and mark it and watch it respond. Anything to make him moan again into her mouth, wrenched and helpless and appreciative of her all at once, anything for him to hump his hips against her thigh in a manner so mindless he didn’t seem himself at all.

When he pulled away, dazed and winded from his own exertions, he seemed to have left behind all his inhibitions, stark need written on his face and only some doubt of what he was allowed yet remaining. “Are we gonna?-“ he trailed off, raspy voiced and trembling with suspense.

“Going to what?” she couldn’t abide it any longer, his demureness, “Say your mind, Cleven.”

“Do it.” he let out with a wince.

“Well I don’t know, Mr. Jones, you tell me. Are we gonna?”

Gale huffed and threw his head back, trying to regain some sense of mind, lip savagely pulled between his teeth. “Yeah. We are.” he decided.

“Then finish your sandwich.” she patted his waist and pushed him off.

“I can’t!” he begged with a groan from where he’d spilled out on the porch like a boneless dummy. “Not now.”

“You’re gonna need it, the water too, trust me on this.”

“Are we gonna -make love? Or go for a forced march?” he protested but lifted the canteen to his lips anyways when she gave him a look and proceeded to drink it dry.

“How would you know the difference?” she teased and he had the good humor to roll his eyes. If all went according to Egan’s plan, they oughta hibernate for twelve hours of sleep afterwards and she wanted him hydrated and ready for that. Maureen had a plan of her own, which certainly might lead to such a sleep, but it also involved not getting off that boy for love of God or money until he was as useless as a wet rag and the impertinent gnawing between her own legs was replaced by a good ache.

Cleven was staring at his sandwich remorsefully, “I can’t get this down, Maureen.” he declared with sudden finality and then, without preamble he threw it into the sea. “C’mon, Mrs Jones.” he held out his hand for her as he stood up, something close to an excited grin taking over his face.

He was so confident now, having come to a decision, and Maureen found herself naturally bending to his direction, placing her hand in his large palm and allowing him to haul her to her feet as gently as a dance partner. “We’ve got a bed.” she reminded blissfully into another kiss, anchored to his face by the persistent hands snarled lovingly into her salt tousled curls: this hair Maureen, this hair drove me mad.

“And we’re gonna use it.” he agreed, walking her backwards up the porch until he feet were skidding over the threshold, his tongue still sucking her own.

She stopped him there with a hand to the willowy plane of his belly, a regulated, principled woman to the last, and snapped the still soaked waistband of his drawers. “Off, you’ll make the sheets wet and sandy.”

Their sweat would accomplish dampening them enough in this muggy heat, they didn’t need sand and ocean water to boot. Maureen ducked beneath his arm and went back out to grab the discarded towel.

“I don’t want a trail of drips on our clean floor.”

Gale smiled softly at the usage of “our” -it felt right somehow, to share things with her. They’d been at it for some time, it came naturally like it had with Bucky and the few other boys who he knew would be something special and unlike anything else after this. It was a little bittersweet to know he was living the best days of his life, right here and now, enviable, irretrievable moments of raw connection slipping away with each drip, drip, drip onto the threshold. It was a heartache in the making and it was a spur for the moment. Back home they’d never understand, and any old observer would see nothing unique, but Gale could allow himself the rightness of sharing just one more thing. Why not cement it fully, irrevocably, as the closest brush he’d ever come to with another soul- he’d asked himself the same with Bucky, knew it was already an established fact.

Maureen’s lips were warm where they pressed to his back, the space between his shoulders, towel held to his waist. “You’re not shy of me, are ya, baby?” she whispered in his ear, thumbing at the still worn briefs.

He could feel himself this past hour hardening and softening, so many times in the space of so many minutes he was dizzy with it, the way his brain would have the upper hand and then, suddenly no, it all rushed south. Which now left shyness as the only real excuse for the way he burned and shrank and burned and shrank in turn at each of her touches.

“You gonna give me the towel?” he asked instead.

“Once it’s safe to do so.” she replied primly, in her familiar nursing voice, and he hated the shudder that tore through him. She stepped under his arm again, around him and into the house, and stood in the shade of the it with the towel spread invitingly, tauntingly. A whole yard and a half between then and she’d decreed no drips past the threshold. Gale’s cheeks burned as did his eyes, smarting with brimming tears from an odd frustration he’d only ever felt over a botched mission, an anger at not being able to bomb his target and make it worthwhile, a petty frustration he always felt before the cold rage of lost men fully registered.

Futile tears: Gale yanked the skivvies down and stepped out of them efficiently.

Maureen wasn’t smiling at him from the shade anymore, not even a smirk, she looked hungry. She looked like Bucky, taking in “a view.” Gale didn’t know ladies ticked that way -or maybe they didn’t, maybe only Maureen did. The blush in his cheeks ran down his chest and spilled onto his belly and his fists clenched without thought.

“When the man of the house,” Maureen was reciting some inane pamphlet she no doubt did not heed or else they’d never be here, “respects the whims of the lady in small matters, he will find the lady more submissive to issues of larger stake such a-“

Gale made a dash at her, to shut her up, and she fled from him to the bedroom, feet smacking on the hardwood and cotton slip fluttering up her thighs -his towel with her.

“I want you bare.” he told her when he had her, struggling in his arms before the bed, a lush friction where he pressed tightly behind her.

“Then sit,” she sounded genuinely breathy, trapped to him and he had never heard her like that before, it made him want to hold fast, “and I’ll make your dreams come true.”

It was just a slip, no garters and no braisere or girdle, yet still Gale sat himself on the bed and Maureen bit her cheek to keep from laughing at the modest way he deposited the towel on his lap, covering what she’d been eyeing and thanking her luck for. A cock as pretty as his face -now if she could just make it stand up fully.

“You ready?” she deferred to him as she stood there before the bed, being looked on with all the reverence and trepidation of a goddess by this seated acolyte.

“Please,” he nodded furiously, “please show me.”

It felt a little wrong to expose oneself in front of such an angelic being, curtainless windows throwing in the sun on him all golden and untouched, white scratchy sheets and white draped towel making it a bower of innocence for a brief moment. It also felt right, to throw off everything but what they’d been born with. Off went rank, obligations and expectations, as easily as dragging the slip over her head.

She tossed the article of clothing behind her for good measure -and dramatic effect- then noted with satisfaction the bleary eyed comprehension of her charms from Gale Cleven where he sat with his mouth hung so slack he was liable to drool.

“Incredible.” he muttered, husky and a little slurred, his hand raising without his own volition to beckon her closer, a plea, command.

Maureen swayed on her feet, nearer and nearer until she was standing above him, between his parted legs and she shuddered as he laid that broad palm on her hip and dragged it up her side in an admiring swath, thumbing at her belly and catching her ribs in his hold.

“Those flight suits of yours, they don’t…they don’t let show the half of it.” Gale declared, mesmerized, face hovering closer and closer until his lips were pressing against her flesh, right under her sternum, his forehead pressed to the underside of one pendulous breast, nuzzling as he became aware of that, bunting like a calf at her breast with his face, gone silly with access.

“Whadda ya think?” she giggled, the silliness of Gale Cleven gone stupid over making yams jiggle being the exact sort of thing that made life worth living, and being a woman exquisitely satisfying.

“They’re so goddamn soft.” he moaned around a bit of the underside, still hadn’t worked his way to a nipple. He seemed too preoccupied with their give and bounce to make a more calculated use of them. Maybe if men hadn’t been told what to do with them, they’d do what Gale Cleven was doing and rub their face against them and let them rest on their foreheads. There was a charm to this ignorance as he licked the salty sweat from their undersides with a surprisingly brave tongue.

The clumsy misuse was oddly effective for Maureen, what Gale lacked in skill he made up for in unstudied appreciation and nothing got her quite so ready as being appreciated to the point of foolishness. Her first conquest had been a boy at school who hadn’t minded tripping in his track shoes, day after day, to try to catch up to her on her bicycle, just to give her a flower or trinket. He was laughed at for his devotion until he broke the school track record next year, and Maureen was sure to remind him of her role in his success. They’d soon found a mutually beneficial reward system and Maureen had adopted that attitude as a maxim for the future, her dates and conquests may have been many but each of them in their own way had been appreciative -or else she was jumping out the window, damn the twelve foot drop out the dormitory.

No one, however, had looked quite so gifted by her mere existence as Gale Cleven did while he clutched at her hips and smushed her flesh between his hands like it were some fine dough and he was an artisan.

Discreetly, and it was easy to be so with his face buried in her bosoms, Maureen glanced between them at the tool she had such hopes for and found it, unsurprisingly, twitching and dribbling against his thigh, half hard but flapping about like a fish on dry land, the discarded towel no match for its movement. He’d need a hand, literally and metaphorically, and as she raked her nails through his blond curls and directed his slick mouth to a nipple, she felt him sag even further into her hold. Maureen weighed her next step carefully, trying to tamp down her own wants. She’d need to be sure but slow, careful not to spook him, or antagonize or embarrass.

She wondered if he even realized the same banged-up-head condition that sent him out here was most likely responsible for the jitters that kept him flopping. She wasn’t so conceited as to assume he’d not bedded a woman yet out of mere dysfunction, Cleven was a man of principle and strict notions regarding how the world should be, and he wasn’t one to build those notions on passing medical conditions.

“You like ‘em?” Maureen teased him, shocked at how hoarse her own voice had gone in the interim.

“Gonna make a home in here.” he mumbled in the affirmative, slack grin molded to the valley between them, blue eyes wide as the skies outside peering up at her.

“Got a job for you, baby.” she murmured, thumbing at the scar on his cheek.

“What’s that Mrs. Jones?” his voice alone made her mad with need, as did the saucy turn of his mouth so wonderfully foreign she didn’t know how she’d control herself until he was ready.

“Need you to lick a little landing strip, right here.” she ran her finger along the somewhat tacky skin between her breasts, sweat and his sloppy kisses having partway done the job already.

“What for?” Gale asked, hushed and curious.

“You’ll see soon enough.” she recalled how effective her nursing voice had been on him, and pulled it out now it seemed beneficial.

She had been right, with only a hesitant spark of aggravated defiance, Gale dipped his head and stuck out that pink tongue, lapping a swath up between her breasts as directed, flaming eyes locked on hers as she shivered from the breeze on spit slicked flesh.

“Again.” she told him, and his hands came up to hold her breasts apart as he did it again, and again and once more under his own direction until it was shiny and messy and his nose was gleaming, too.

“What’s it for?” He demanded once more, pink cheeked and swallowing hard as his mouth had dried out from his efforts.

“I told you, silly,” she replied casually, “it’s a landing strip.” and with as little fuss as possible she got to her knees before he’d registered the absence of her standing above him. “Gale, let go of the damned towel.”

She held in a laugh of delight at the tortured color he had grown to, veins running like so much ivy up and down him and a vibrant pink tip that matched his lips. Maureen wasn’t sure she’d ever be able to look him in the face again without thinking of this drizzling little pink mushroom.

“You oughta count your blessings, Gale Cleven, it was a close call, my coming along at all.” she informed him soberly while his mind visibly vacated his body at the repeated sighting of his sputtering cock emerging from between the pillowy press of her breasts, “It was pretty touch and go there for a bit, I was quite sure in fact, that Bucky was gonna help himself to this assignment.”

“Maureen!” Gale thundered, except his usual imposing ire was much diluted by his quivering belly and hoarse voice.

“What?” she brushed off his scandalized displeasure with a grin, feeling cocky herself as he hadn’t flagged on her in minutes and was beginning to gush in earnest, “Bucky loves the beach.”

“Sure, Maureen.”

“In the end he decided I had what it takes.” she went on conversationally, ignoring the inhuman sounds that came out of him when she casually spit on his tip, the better to work her lips around him, “These.” she clarified, pressing her breasts to his thighs as she wrapped her mouth around him and sucked.

“Fuck, hell, Maureen! Sorry, sorry, oh fuck!” -not even Gale Cleven had expected his hips to fly up that hard and fast, knocking on the back of her throat.

She laid her hands on his squirmy hips and did her best impression of a Listerine gargle round his tip, which sent a shudder through him so strong she thought he might’ve climaxed already.

“Maureen, Maureen come on, get up here, please.” now he yanked at her hair, desperate for once and that was a pleasure to hear.

“What baby?” she pulled off him.

“Gotta kiss you.” he told her firmly, and hauled her bodily up by her armpits, rolling her under him in the bed.

Kisses -sure, Gale, kisses.

He was moaning atop her, wiry and flexing his hips against her, wriggling to get between her thighs and she let him, hungry and expectant when he slotted easily in place. He pressed his lips to hers ardently, then reared back in shock at the taste of his own precum in her mouth and on her lips.

“Salty.” he whispered as if to himself before licking his lips and going back for more. “What do I need’to do?” he whispered urgently against her mouth as she rocked against him and he rocked back until they’d frustrated each other thoroughly with mere caresses.

“Put it in, my baby.” she whispered back.

“First though, don’t I need to-to do- something? Something first?” he could barely think straight but he’d heard enough talk about this, about gentlemen and the necessity of some form of chivalrous preparation. The way discipline and intuition set apart an average pilot from an excellent one. Bucky had talked a lot about getting girls ready, making them squirm, revving them up, for all his apparent disinterest during the topic, Gale had been listening.

“You’ve done it already, Mr. Jones.” she giggled, reaching between them to drag him more firmly through the wanton swamp he’d made of her. “I’m ready, I’m so ready.”

“Oh fuck, s’wet.” he mumbled the obvious before willingly letting her guide him in, his body following her tug like his cock were a leash.

“Jesus,— Gale!” Maureen choked as he bottomed out in a sudden plunge, shocked at the stretch despite the gauging of his size. “You’re so deep, oh baby you’re a big one aren't ya.”

“You ok?” he whimpered, shuddering on top of her again and again at the incomparable feeling of being inside another’s body.

“Oh yeah, yeah I’m fine,” she gasped, “Hurts so good, you can move, baby.”

“You’re so warm.” he sounded close to worshipful he was so drunk off her, and Maureen spared a moment to smirk at the fate of man: come tearing their way out of a woman to begin their lives only to spend the rest of it trying to and needing to get back in.

He did try to move, she’d give him that. And while Maureen was more than half expecting it, still, it was mildly comical to see the confusion flash across his blissful face right as the buildup was snatched from him and he was suddenly shaking into the real event before he knew it, betrayed and euphoric all at once. The muscles in his belly and back and neck seized and his hips lunged in a series of uncoordinated pumps and she could read the panic in his eyes right before they rolled back -a begrudging admittance that this was nothing at all like the steady predictability of his hand.

“That’s it baby, that’s my baby, feel nice, huh?”

Gale didn’t answer her, too occupied whimpering with a taut throat and jaw clenched so tight he could snap a hinge like that. He was shaking worse than before when the spasms subsided and the tiniest pressure to his sweat slicked neck had him buckling to lay pressed against her, half senseless from the force of his release.

Maureen had always loved this part of sex, the pliable, bewildered, smushed man atop her like she’d sucked his soul out, when he’d rendered it up to her so willingly, so desperately, forcefully even, chasing his own eventual weakness. Long limbs aligning on top of hers, the hot pants of winded breath against her breasts, the hands listlessly holding on wherever that had last tried to grip and control her. The view from above with Gale Cleven was something additional, beautiful and glistening with bronzed swaths of sun exposed skin and the pale whites of his thighs and ass making a perfect little outline of absent shorts, his golden hair tousled beyond salvaging and that luscious mouth, drooling like a babe’s.

“So this is what Bucky’s been talkin’ about.” he mumbled into her breast, cheek smashed and enunciation shot to hell.

Maureen laughed in disbelief, “Thinking of him even now? Really, he’s going to be impossible if we tell him.”

“Just sayin’, now I know.” he defended, lazily rubbing his partly softened cock inside her with a shimmy of his hips that was quickly followed by an overly sensitive mewl.

“You don’t know anything, Angel boy.” she insisted and Gale raised his head at that, sour that she’d still contradict him after thirty seconds of vigorous pumping. “Let me see your hands.”

He had some trouble recalling where he put them but eventually he found them under her hips and withdrew them from their warm shelter to present them, warily. “Well, damn.” he muttered to himself, somewhat shocked by just how badly the shakes had worsened. “Looks like that treatment backfired.”

“More of a dose dependent case, I’d say.” Maureen corrected and circled each wrist with her hands and brought them up to her lips to kiss.

Gale’s face smoothed at her softness and a shy smile lit up his bleary eyes while she felt a twitch of his spent cock deep inside her, swishing about the mess he’d made like a dog’s tail after getting pats. “You have the most beautiful hands.” she informed him earnestly and balls deep inside her she watched as one single innocuous compliment sent him scarlet with a blush. “And they’ll be yours again soon.” she promised.

His gentle expression and bright red cheeks crumpled rather suddenly and before either of them seemed to expect it, fat teardrops had escaped the blue of his eyes and rolled down the crimson flesh of his face.

“Goddamnit.” he cursed hoarsely, in an absolute rage at himself, regaining his hands from her grip insistently to bring them up to his own face, hiding from her behind harsh fists that rubbed at his wet eyes like he could grind the grief and weariness out between his knuckles.

Unbalanced as he was without hands to support him, and legs gone jellied from his fast fading pleasure, Maureen chose to capitalize on it as a nurse would a brief state of insensibility to move a patient to a cleaner cot. Remorselessly she pressed at his shoulder and lifted their still joined hips until he tipped over, rolling onto his back beneath her. “We’ll have none of that.” she told him with loving adamance from her new perch, prying his hands away and pressing them to the sheets beside his head. “The hiding, I mean.” she clarified and he looked all of hardly past twenty laying there with wobbly lips and wet eyes unobscured, “I’m a very great proponent of crying,” she went on conversationally which confused him more but kept him too preoccupied to stifle his tears, “De-sanguination is still a highly esteemed practice, you know, it means to drain the body. One type of draining often triggers the other.”

“You gonna start bleeding me?” he asked wryly.

“Oh, maybe, you’d look so pretty all streaked up.” she teased and ran a sharp thumbnail over his pinned wrist.

Well, that got him hard again. Fascinating.

“You know what’s got your hands like this-“ she whispered softly, “-probably the same reason you flop, too.”

“Huh.”

“Pretty common.” she assured.

“Quit tellin’ me I’m common.” He growled, tickling her sides and she grabbed his hands, pinning them again playfully.

“Nothing common about you, sweet baby.” she swore, leaning down to kiss him and enjoying the way he met her strongly, surely, “Gale, can I move?” she asked, half strangled by the taut string of need coiled in her belly, tugged to madness by the bulk of him still resting limply inside.

“Move?” he was perplexed.

“I’m going to die if I don’t get some friction.” she whispered, somehow shy to admit that in the face of his innocent bewilderment, “God -please tell me someone has informed you women finish, too?”

“Bucky says they clamp up so tight you can’t help but blow.” Gale recited dutifully, “Which is what just happened, right?”

Maureen grinned wide and wicked before dragging her hips up till he was barely in, then plopping down into the cradle of his hips, making him let out a “oomph.”

“Maureen?” he questioned, half knowing already he had been mistaken but hell, to go again? “Maureen- I’ll die if we go again.”

“What a way to go.” she muttered, her pace atop him increasing as did the tortured gasps tumbling from his lips. His spunk was making terribly wet, lewdly sloppy sounds of suction each time she slammed down on his cock and the visual of her exerting herself on top of him was something so blatant and jiggly he could hardly endure the visual feast of it.

“Shit, shit I can’t-“ he growled while his trembling hands latched onto her hips in a grip that was anything but dissuading. “Maureen.” he begged her for…he knew not what.

“Come on Mr. Jones,” she clasped her hands around his face and aligned their noses, rubbing like a kiss with each movement of her lower body, “you’re not one to leave your missus needy, I know you’re not. Not when you’ve got such pretty hands-“

-a shudder from him.

“and a clever tongue-“

-a whine from him that sounded close to a wounded dog’s it was so lasting.

“-or a tool this capable.”

“Maureen.” he groaned.

“Baby, my baby.” she begged, “You’ve got what I need, come on, take me apart.”

Like he trusted himself for the first time since they began this endeavor, she felt his body bow up beneath her, his arm flexing strongly across her hips, his legs braced beneath her and a heavy hand clutching her neck, then he was driving up into her with a wild abandon she only ever hoped was simmering beneath that cool exterior. When she finished he hadn’t stopped, and Maureen found herself crying out like a feral thing into the hollow of his clavicle as the brutal pummeling went on, satisfaction drug out of her over and over in harsh ruts.

“That more like it?” he panted the harsher he grew, a hand around her jaw pushing her face away from his so he might see the damage he was doing.

“Yes, yes oh baby, yes!” she swore through clenched teeth, it had been too long and each blissful peak only aggravated her further, made her hungrier, that and the fact he was so proportioned as to be a constant delight just shy of pain, “Hell Gale, do ya hear us?” she gloated, propping herself back on his thighs to watch the shiny pink of him flash in and out of her wet sheath.

Mesmerized, Gale didn’t reply, but he dragged a hand up her belly and felt for the way it tensed at each intrusion, the span of his fingers an incredible thing across her skin. “Can’t believe you can take it, easy as that.” he marveled, his thumb straying and pulling apart her petals the better to watch.

“Thumb it right there.” she directed gently, reaching down to move his calloused finger over her bud, right above where he split her apart, “That’s it, ya feel that too, huh?”

“Fuck you’re tight.” his voice cracked and his eyes shot wide again.

“Are you -?”

“Maybe.” there was a wobble of blissed uncertainty in his voice until she stopped her movements and he let out a sob before he could catch it. “Maureen, please.”

“Please what, baby?” she was chuckling at him, pushing his hair off his sweaty forehead, “I let you-“ he pleaded, still thinking things worked that way, “-now I need, please Maureen...”

“Oh you can.” she assured and his face lightened but his eyes stayed wary, “But just know, I won’t be stopping.”

“What?”

“You remember how that feels, don’t ya baby?” she reminded, gently pushing him to lie back and beginning their movements anew, “So good you can’t stand it, so messy and easy for me, so tender and much for you?”

“Jesus.” he wheezed, his lean belly caving in with his heavy pants, but she felt him throbbing inside her and his pupils were large as saucers, “You’re as mean as Bucky.” he whined, voice gone high in panicked pleasure.

“Thank you, but really I’m not.” she laughed, gently thumbing away an errant tear that rolled down his cheek. “Not quite.”

“Maureen, please, please you’re too pretty!” he begged nonsensically even as his hips began to snap into hers, invigorated and forceful.

“Hold it Gale, try to hold it.” Maureen gasped, staring down at the prettiest face she’d ever seen as his brow began to furrow, “Or don’t, all the same to me.”

“I’m gonna flip you.” he swore and a few seconds of inaction passed, marked by the slam of her hips down onto his, and she thought he didn’t mean it until she gave him a daring look and suddenly she was careening backwards, head jolting against the sheets and body laid out firmly beneath him.

“Goddamn.” she swore at the way he hadn’t dislodged an inch during the whole maneuver, suddenly pressed just as deeply as before, his hips working like a piston and his hands tight and strong on her neck. “Goddamn baby. Oh goddamn that’s good.”

“S’good?” he begged her to repeat, some dizzying natural force propelling him harder and faster and needier.

“You’re so good.” she was adamant as she hung about his neck and locked her ankles in the small of his back. “You’re so good I’m - I’m -gonna-“

“What was that about holdin’ it?” he hissed, smile cocky and smug.

“Bull ain’t out of the gate yet Cleven,” she cautioned but her hips had begun to lift of their own accord, a tremble taking hold of her, “But I’m close, I’m, i'm real cl- oh God!”

“Come on sweet Maureen, wanna make ya -wanna do it for ya. Give ya what you need, Mrs Jones.” Gale’s hoarse and sweet nothings poured hot and breathy in her ear and Maureen found herself locked and gripping him before she knew it, moaning into his neck as he moved in and out, in and out as she’d only ever dreamed of.

When she cracked her dazzled eyes open again he was panting above her, the clink of his dog tags gently bumping her chin with each sway deeper, lashes batting in a golden flutter as he too began to lose himself, slower, more drawn out and yet every bit as desperate as the first time.

“Look at me baby, look at me when ya do.” she pleaded, gently gripping his chin as his mouth fell open in a series of little noises of effort that went straight to her belly grown hot and molten with the feeling of him spurting inside.

“Ugh, ugh, ugh,” Gale was working atop her in pained delight, lips so smeared and face so sweaty he looked like he might melt at any minute, “thank you, oh fuck, thank you, sweet Maureen.” he chanted low and dreamy, again and again until he drove in once more and stayed.

Those clear blue eyes fagged in an exhausted ecstasy, his head dropping impossibly further with each ragged pant until his face was barely hovering over her breasts, neck bent and forhead slowly pressing into the swell of them. His forearms gave out and those hands of his stayed trapped beneath her shoulder blades.

“Sleep Angel baby,” Maureen coaxed, hand cradling the back of his dear head to her breasts, feeling a low lazy peace settle over her at the feel of his dead weight plugging her up and the lovely wringing out she’d just endured, “let’s just sleep, dear boy.”

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holylulusworld · 2 months

Text

Indecent Proposal (12.2)

Summary: Your boyfriend wants to be part of their empire. You are the pawn he’s willing to sacrifice.

Pairing: Mobster!Stucky x fem!Reader

Warnings: sexy mobsters, fluff, established Stucky, angst, implied smut, caring mobsters

Indecent Proposal (12)

Indecent Proposal masterlist

Since Rumlow brought you to the police station, you refuse to leave your home. Steve and Bucky tried anything to get you to go for a walk, but you are scared the cops will grab you again.

“Doll, this is unhealthy,” Bucky tuts. He kneels in front of your bed and tries to get you to follow him outside. “Let’s go outside and eat ice cream or go for a walk in the park.”

“What if he’s out there, waiting for me to show my face?” You murmur. “I don’t want that cop to grab me again. He’s obsessed with you and Steve. I’m going to end up as collateral damage.”

“Collateral what?” Bucky grunts. “Y/N, we won’t let anything happen to you.” He kisses your cheek. “You’re our missing piece, and the one giving us a baby one day.”

“Okay, that is enough,” Steve walks back inside your bedroom. “If she’s scared of Rumlow, we need to make sure she’s safe. You don’t need the apartment any longer. We brought all of your belongings to our place weeks ago.”

“Steve is right, baby doll. You spend most of your time at our place. Let’s bring you home. You’re our girl now, and we are your men.”

Bucky tries to sweet-talk you into leaving not only the bed but your apartment too.

You sniff and look away. “How do you wanna get me out of bed? It’s all I got left of my old home, and I won’t leave it!”

“Baby doll, don’t be a brat,” Steve clicks his tongue. “I’ll throw you over my shoulder and carry you out of the apartment if you do not get out of bed right fucking now!”

“No!” You squeak and crawl away when Steve tries to grab you. “Get your hands off me! No…” You giggle and try to wiggle out of Steve’s grip.

“Y/N, don’t make Stevie mad. He’ll edge you all night long if you mess with him. Stevie is a strict punisher,” Bucky smirks when you stiffen at his words.

“No,” you crawl toward Steve to cup his crotch. “You can’t edge me.” You pout and look up at Steve. “I came here to hide from Rumlow. He…”

“He scared you,” Steve gently pats your head. “It’s nothing to be ashamed of to be scared, doll. Rumlow has been after us for years. He won’t harm you. I swear we’ll protect you.”

“You promise,” grabbing Steve’s hand you place it on your heart. “Cross your heart and swear it, Stevie.”

“How about he gropes your chest and swears it,” Bucky purrs in your ear. For a man his size, he’s like a stealthy cat. He kneels behind you to nip at your neck. “We can ruin this bed too.”

“Buck, we should bring her home,” Steve groans as you already tug at his shirt again. “You are both insatiable. How can a man resist you two?”

“We are needy because you made us your loyal sex slaves,” Bucky snickers and crawls toward his husband. “Come on, take your pants off…”

Bucky walks back inside the living room, Alpine tugged under his arm. “How are you?”

“Better,” you snuggle back into the warm blanket and stare at the fireplace. “I’m a little calmer now.”

“Alpine, go and help Y/N relax,” Bucky places the white furball on your lap. “Let him work his magic. Alpine is a master in calming pretty girls and hot hunks.”

You giggle as Steve rolls his eyes behind Bucky’s back. “He believes his cat is a saint or something. That furball is nothing but a hairy beast stealing my socks.”

“He steals your socks because you always nag,” Bucky grunts. “Alpine is the best cat ever, and I love him. Live with it.”

“Guys, look,” you sniffle. Alpine is excessively rubbing his cheek into your belly. He purrs and meows as you stare at him. “What is he doing?”

“I think he has a thing for you,” Bucky grins. “Like father, like son.”

“Uh-“ Steve watches the cat. He hums and rubs his chin. “Cats have a very good instinct. I think he knows our pretty doll has a secret…”

Part 13

Tags in reblog.

#steve rogers #bucky barnes #stucky #stucky x reader #stucky x you #female reader #polyamory #Indecent Proposal (12.2)#stucky x y/n #pregnancy

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sour-ggrapess · 11 months

Text

WHAT ARE YOU DOING BIG BRO? ⋆ ˚｡🐇💗 ⋆୨୧˚ Big step bro shows you how much you're his favorite little princess.

Step!brother!tae x fem!virgin!reader

✧˖° Warnings; Virgin reader, force fuck, unprotected sex, 7 year age gap, daddy kink, semi public sex, boob play, fingering, crying, impregnation, forbidden sex, slight ddlg, oral (f), service top tae, impregnation kink , just nasty asf😩

GO READ MY WATTPAD STORY @kook-net

⊹˚. ♡taglist - @chimmy-licious @shescharlie

THANKS FOR 207 FOLLOWERS!!

Taehyung met you on your seventh birthday when he was 12. He took liking into you very fast, the way you were so bubbly and cheerful made him love you. Tae never treated you like you were his little sister, he never called you anything mean, play fought with you or ignored you. He always wanted to be around you no matter what.

He did everything for you and with you making him like the dad you didn't know. He moved into your moms house with his father that didn't really care about you 'because you were too old to think of him as a father'. When you started hitting puberty he felt as if you were his and he needed to protect you, he bought all of your pads and told you about what was happening to you. He showed you how to shave and how to use a pad, he was one educated man and it was just for you.

Once you hit 18 the sexual tension started to build as you would catch him eyeballing your tits and ass as you walked around and how mad he had gotten when you told him about your first boyfriend.

Summer is near, its 90 degrees outside and you had things to do. Your pink sundress that was skin tight and your boobs spilled out of, your peach perfume lingered off your skin and your black shades fell on the bridge of your nose.

You still weren't sure why Tae had still lived with you and mom but he did at his grown age, you wanted to go to a fancy university but tae just gaslit you into going online and giving up on the collage experience but as long as he was happy right?

Small foot steps you didn't hear came up behind you as you dropped your sun glasses, bending down to pick them back up but before you could even grasp them a pair of cold hands run down your semi exposed ass. Chills run up your spine and wetness grows in your pink lacy panties.

"You look so pretty today princess" It was tae, his voice was raspy and you could hear the horniness in his voice as he spoke.

"W-what are you doing?"

"Let me make you feel good doll face, I know how bad you want it" arousal decorated his words. Taes plan wasn't to fuck you without consent but in the most respectful way he knew you were easy and knew you would say yes no matter how much you denied him.

"Cmon princess, I hear you at night and what you do with your little pink bunny."

His fingers moved down as they teased over the wet spot, shivers rolled over you. "Please d-don't" you whimpered as his fingers rubbed over your clit, "Let me be your better bunny. I can give you affection and I can make you feel even better than your other bunny. Please trust me" He pleaded with you and the offer sounded like a million bucks to you.

Soft whimpers left your mouth as he started to rub on your soft bud making the lace underneath you drenched. "I can feel how much you want me, your dripping through these cute little panties"

"Ive n-never done this before" you exhaled with a shaky breath. That's when he knew he won, he knew you gave in to him and now he could have you all to himself. His large hands grasped you and took you over to the couch.

"Im gonna make my little princess feel so good" He promised as he moved his face in between your thighs. He slid the ruined panties down your legs to see the strings of wetness that stuck to your clit and the underwear, "This pretty chubby cunt, so pure and wet for me." Tae groaned before he dug on your swollen clit, his hands held your chubby lips apart as his lips made contact with your clit. Your hands took grasp in the couch fabric as your back arched off the couch making your clit rub on his mouth even more.

"Dose my little princess like the way my tongue licks her cute virgin pussy? Tae groaned in between licks on your clit. "Mhmm, I love it" A high pitched moan escaped from your lips, Sudden shock washes over you as his middle finger slid into your tight pink hole. It sucked his finger in as if you were clenching your walls.

He never felt any pussy like it even the virgin ones hes been in. A burning feeling deep in your pussy every time he entered his finger in, "Take it out please i-it hurtsss!" You exclaimed as you tried to push him away.

"Its gonna feel better soon baby, I just gotta stretch you out if you want my cock, baby doll" His pace fastening as your moans got louder. "Shh, you don't want mommy to hear us do you?" His tongue dived into your hole and lapped up your juices like a man stranded on a desert for months, nails digging at light blond strands as your body contorted all ways anyone could think of. His tongue back to kitty licking on your clit as 2 fingers entered your hole, feeling of your high getting closer made strings of his name and moans escape your mouth. "I-Im gonna p-pee, stoughhh" you almost yelled as your cum flowed out on his fingers and slightly in his mouth. Mr. Bunny got you close and made you feel good but never good enough to make you cum.

Your cum on his fingers made him go wild, he tried his best to not lick it off. He brought his fingers to your mouth. "Lick it princess" he demanded, your tongue swirled around his digits tasting every little drop he gathered. He pulled his fingers out with a groan.

he inched forward with him now hovering over your boobs right before ripping your dress and popping one in his mouth with whimper. Shaky deep breaths leaving as you tried to control your moans, his tongue licked around the bud as his fingers played with the other.

"You taste so funking sweet, my little princess" He praised while taking his jeans off along with his boxers, his big cock sprung up with his pink tip leaking pre-cum all down his base down to his balls. You felt as of you were gonna throw up, you felt like a dirty whore and his cock was massive when you couldn't even take 2 fingers.

His hand takes grip of his cock and strokes it as more beads of pre-cum fall out his now sticky tip, "You gonna be a good girl and take this dick, hmm?" He cooed in a tone that was mocking the way you whined. "Y-yes, please go s-slow", he sat on the couch and placed you on his lap. "Ride this cock like you did mr. Bunny"

He was making you feel dirty and embarrassed and not to mention how nasty you felt about him but your pussy said otherwise as it dripped all over his thighs and the couch. Tae lifted his hips up as he took his cock in his hand, he slapped his length all over your clit making you jerk your body and try to move but his grip on your shoulders forced you down. "J-just put it i-in daddy" Was all you could say as tears rolled down your eyes at how frustrated he was getting you.

The nickname put him in a trance as forced you down onto his dick and started at a brutal pace not caring about the waterfalls of tears and the scream and squeals that bursted from your mouth. "T-take this cock like a g-good girl and stay still. " He groaned out, anyone with that had sex before would know your pussy was good the way he was moaning.

His balls slapping against your ass as he slammed you down on his cock with each thrust. The burn faded away as you started to feel the best feeling ever coming back, "G-gonna fill this little chubby cunt with my f'kin cum". You felt him hitting all the spots you needed to be hit and even the spots you didn't know you had.

"F-feels so g-good daddy...." was flying out your mouth left and right as you felt his cock punching your womb. You feel hot liquid spraying out making you snap out of your high when you realized you squirted all over him, Legs shaking and your walls clenching."Fucking shit" His last words before he slammed you down and shot his load right in your womb.

It had to be the hardest hes came in all his life. You felt full and bloated like a water balloon.

"My nasty little princess has the best pussy ever"

#bts smut #bts x reader #🦢 kook net ｡･:*˚:✧｡#smut #taehyung smut #bts taehyung #tae smut #v smut #v x reader #taehyung #taehyung x you #fypppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppp #200

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thesirencult · 5 months

Text

THE TRUTH ABOUT ESCAPING TWIN FLAMES AND OTHER MLM NEW AGE BULLSHIT

"You don't get rich writing science fiction. If you want to get rich, you start a religion."

L. Ron Hubbard (Founder of Scientology)

I won't lie to you. What got me into tarot was a very raw and real dream about a man I've never met in my life. I had this dream when I was 15 and it felt like I was floating in a parallel universe.

Dreams with this "stranger" kept coming and going and during a search I stumbled upon the concept of "twin flames".

As with anything NeW AgE it is nothing new. All New Age bullshit are concepts familiar to human civilizations for thousands of years. In all ancient cultures these concepts show up again and again.

Astrology, cartomancy and other forms of divination and guidance have been used by Mesopotamians, Egyptians, Greeks and Hindu people for centuries. They were villainized after the come up of Christianity.

I always have believed there is a higher power. Some name it Allah, others Moses, other Dias etc. Doesn't matter, it's one God above us. Actually contrary to what many want you to believe the Ancient Greeks didn't have "12 Gods" but 12 (and much much more) expressions of DIVINITY. Metaphors and symbolisms.

Hermes Trismegistus has written everything about "manifestation". Others just repackaged it. Some help us understand the concept and others just want to make a quick buck.

All people have some primal needs. Connection and love. Money and wealth. Wanting to be beautiful and powerful. Some people prey on that and, in my opinion, the self-improvement industry will only keep on growing.

The concept of twin flames can be found being expressed by Socrates in the dialogue "Symposium" by Plato :

“Now, since their natural form had been cut in two, each one longed for its own other half, and so they would throw their arms about each other, weaving themselves together, wanting to grow together...

This, then, is the source of our desire to love each other. Love is born into every human being: it calls back the halves of our original nature together; it tries to make one out of two and heal the wound of human nature.

Each of us, then, is a ‘matching half’ of a human whole, because each was sliced like a flatfish, two out of one, and each of us is always seeking the half that matches him."

Sidenote: Obviously I used only two snippets of the dialogue. Socrates' stance on homosexuality and other matters of love can be found in there and it is a good read. It will definitely show you that some concepts have been around since humans walked on this earth.

Moving on, I want to give you some tips on how to best use astrology and tarot/oracle cards as TOOLS to better yourself.

1. First try them yourself.

Don't let others dictate how you see astrology and tarot. Go online and search up your birth chart on astroseek or visit the Light Seer's Tarot/Muse Tarot website which has an incredible pick a card feature.

Don't contact an astrologer or tarot reader before familiarising yourself with the tools and "taking the magic out" of them.

2. No one and mean NO ONE can predict the future 100%.

In our lives there are moments who seem synchronized. They make you believe in fate. I do believe that God intended for us to live through some things but I also absolutely believe in FREE WILL. I always say that to clients especially those who have tarot readings.

Tarot and astrology can help you see the paths laid in front of you. They help you dive in your unconscious mind. Don't let anyone fool you that they are magical and whatever the cards say can not change.

3. If you purchase a reading don't purchase a love/romance one at first.

Don't get me wrong. I love love and romance. I love doing love readings. They are sweet and sexy.

BUT. Even in my love readings I incorporate a "general energy of you" for the person. I do that cause I want to show to my client, who trusted me and chose me that a tarot reader can be vetted.

Sadly even with PAC readings I can see that the romance ones are read and reposted way more than ones that assist with personal development. I try to keep a balance and do both.

The thing is a good tarot reader, astrologer even a therapist or a fitness trainer want to help you become INDEPENDENT. I don't want you to keep coming back and purchase love readings about your ex.

It's toxic. I won't accept that.

4. You are perfect the way you are.

Telling you that "yeah, you have an issue right here and it can be fixed by doing so and so" is okay.

Telling you that "YOU SHOULD LOVE YOURSELF. YOU DON'T LOVE YOURSELF THAT'S WHY YOU WON'T FIND LOVE UNTIL YOU DO THAT" is toxic. People control you this way.

It's like saying give me more money. Ask me how I can make you LOVABLE.

Your other half won't cheat, manipulate or make you feel awful. Your ex who was an asshole is not your Twin Flame.

Light up the flame within and love out your dreams. You will attract people who will adore and love you by being AUTHENTIC.

Anyone that abuses you and puts your flame out should GO.

5. All big corporations prey on your weaknesses & Do not trust anyone who tells you they are the only ones that can set you free or solve your issues.

Be disciplined. Control yourself and your mind. Read "The 48 Laws Of Power" and other books on influence and manipulation. Learn how narcissists and cult leaders operate.

All big companies do not sell you products (I will probably post this part by itself too).

They sell you emotions, feelings, status. BMW doesn't sell cars, it is selling power and prestige and confidence.

Nike doesn't sell shoes and shirts, it is selling dreams of being powerful and different, of making it in the jungle, of WINNING.

But there are some companies which I'M NOT GOING TO MENTION by name who influence you by breaking you down. Astrology apps that send you negative predictions about your day to make you anxious so you will check back every single hour. Cult like influencers who sell "How to get rich quickly" courses that cost thousands of $ and offer no value.

Be careful. Be prepared. Be strong and firm.

I hope everyone who was taken in this cult (wait ! myy username is the siren cult, lol) can find peace and the power within them.

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wolfytoothy · 6 months

Text

Money

................................

one thing about miles, is that one of his love languages, is giving gifts. And he gets a lot of money cuz of what he does.

So he cashed apped you 1000 $.even though you asked for 50, just for some food.

You: Miles. I only asked for 50, not 1000. Take it back

Miles: it's fine mami,

You: but miles, what am I supposed to do with 1000,I don't deserve this

Miles: yea you do, get you something nice. have fun. Love you

You:Miles

Miles

Boy don't leave me on read

MILES!

You groaned loudly and looked at the 1000 in your bank account. You didn't like when miles wasted money on you like that. You felt like a gold digger. You understand it's his love language but like.... you still felt guilty.

But hey, you did love money.

You only really spended 160 bucks it was mainly food honestly. But theres one thing that caught your eye as you were walking down the streets of Brooklyn. You passed by a Nike store. Since you loved shoes so much you desided to go in side.

After walking around for a bit, you spotted the most nices shoes. Well to you. The most nicest purple shoes. And you snatched them right off the shelf. And just to be nice you bought miles a pair to, knowing how much he loves them shoes as well, especially in his favorite color.

That was the only big purchase you made.

Now, your home. You exit the car with only a big bag in your hand. And to Miles greeting you. "Rest of the things in the car or?" He looked at you, with a confused look sketched on his face. You shacked your head. "No. Hey, but I got you some shoes." You say smiling as you pulled out a shoe box and handed it to him

The hazel eyed man took the box and opened it. "Aww ma. Thank you. But I ment spend the money on you, not me" he chuckled. "Well I did" you say holding up the bag. "But you know I don't like it when give money to me like that. I fill like a gold digger-" you defended.

"I know your not a gold digger amor,relax"he reassured, kissing your cheek. "Your not used to having nice things huh?".

"Nope" you shook your head.

You reached in his back pocket and pulled out a credit card. "I'm pretty sure I have 10mil on this card. Have fun" he said lifting your chin twoards him and giving you a kiss.

"10 MIL.Wait- what the hell-uh. Miles-"

"I gotta go see my unc. He needs me to run aarons for him, so I may by gone for a while is that ight?" He asked, totally ignoring the subject about the card.

"Yea it's fine, b-but the card-" you stammered before he inturutpted you again.

"Cool, I'll proly be back by 12"

"Ight stay safe, but miles I can't-"

"My money is your money, now shut up and take the card, have fun ma. Love you, see you soon"

And with that, Miles left. Leaving you utterly completely in love, and stunned that he just told you to shut up. But you were greatful to have a boyfriend like him. We love husband material. "Well shit" was all you could say.

#miles morales #earth 42 miles morales x reader #earth 42 miles #e.42 miles #Money

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ravennaortiz · 3 months

Note

Sooo..... Ofcourse my man Hap!! 9,12,13,15,25,27,33.. U pick the order

You all are taking this man for rides this week! *pun intended*. Okay so I debated on what journey to take with this request, fluff, angst, smut..... See below the cut for what direction we went. As Always 18+.

Prompts are

9. Will you let me take you out

12. Do you wanna come in

13. I promise

15. Are you gonna kiss me or not

25. Dont act shy now

27. What if someone sees

33. Are you blushing

Bad Boy

Happy threw the shot of tequila back as he bucked his hips forcing his cock deeper into your throat. Looking up at him with mascara stained cheeks had him smirking and then groaning as your hands massaged his balls. "Good girl" he whimpered as he grabbed your hair tightly before yanking you off him. Gasping for oxygen and rubbing at your aching jaw you looked up at Happy with a soft smile.

To think just the other day it had been a couple simple sentences: "Will you let me take you out to eat" and a nice dinner "Are you gonna kiss me or not which quickly led to Do you want to come in" that had led you to servicing one of your dads men in his clubhouse like a little slut. The chokehold Happy had on you was impressive. You both knew this relationship was forbidden but neither of you were stopping now that clothes had finally come off.

"Want to go to your dorm?" you asked as you looked at the time on the clock above the bar. The rest of the club would be back soon and you were still dripping with need. Happy didn't speak just simply drug you over to the nearest pool table. Forcing you into the position he wanted he dragged his engorged cock head though your slick folds making you moan. "Dont act shy now little girl" grunted Happy as he smacked your ass harshly making you jump. "You were more than willingly to suck my soul out of my body last night and just a bit ago. But hey if you're worried about "What if someone sees" I can find another cunt to bury my dick in tonight" stated Happy harshly as he stepped back from you and made a show of looking for his jeans.

Happys words had your cheeks burning and your body longing for his touch. Gulping you shook your head. "No what?" inquired Happy as he watched you. You were to embarrassed to speak so you simply got back into position on the pool table. Happy walked back to you and yanked you upright and facing him. "Are you blushing?" he inquired with a gruff laugh. "Tell me little girl what you want the big bad biker to do to you. I promise I'll do it" he whispered as his lips ghosted your neck making you weak in the knees. "I want...." you started but your words caught as his fingers dipped into your core.

As your threw your head back and rolled your hips he grinned at the control he had on you. Pulling his fingers from you he shoved them into your mouth. "Clean them" he ordered relishing in the feel of your tongue swirling around his fingers. "Table.... I... want you ... to " you stammered after he pulled his fingers out of your mouth. Happy simply grunted before yanking you to the place where the club met for business.

How fitting he thought to fuck you in the room where your dad had told him two days ago he couldn't pursue you. A crazy side of him kind of wanted your dad and the rest of the club to catch the two of you. For your dad to watch his baby girl impaled and creaming around his cock. "On the table, all fours" stated Happy as he helped you climb up before doing so himself. The wood hurt your knees but the pain was soon forgotten as Happy slammed into you gripping your hips tightly. Curses and his name fell from your lips as he drove you both over the edge within minutes. The two of you had just caught your breath when the sound of motorcycles could be heard.

Want more Happy? Click here

Want to see how to make your own request? Click here

#sons of anarchy #ravennasmasterlist #ravennasrequest #soa fanfiction #soa fanfic #happy lowman #happy lowman x reader #happy lowman fanfiction #happy lowman fanfic #happy lowman smut #sons of anarchy smut

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withacapitalp · 1 year

Text

Little Bird, Little Bird, Fly Through My Window

Read it on ao3 instead!

Robin’s mom calls her every Thursday at exactly 7:30 pm.

When she and Steve moved to New York so she could go to school, her parents initially pitched a fit about it. Moving 12 hours away, to the biggest city in the world, with a man she didn’t have any plans to marry?

Yeah, that certainly led to a few raised voices in the Buckley household.

But, once they got over the initial shock, her parents had come around to the idea. She was an adult, so they couldn’t stop her if she really wanted to, and Steve could charm birds off the trees with the right smile and sweet words. When she had finally convinced them that Steve was honestly just her best friend- no they weren’t sleeping together, no they weren’t secretly dating- they had agreed to support her. With a few conditions of course.

One: Don’t get pregnant.

Robin was pretty sure she would be able to avoid that one

Two: No going out at night without Steve.

Yes, they were still a little suspicious of whatever was going on there, but no one would bother her if he was walking next to her. That was fine, she didn’t really like to go anywhere without Steve anyway, that was the whole point of him leaving Hawkins with her.

Three: Her mother was going to call their apartment every Thursday at 7:30 pm, and Robin better answer the phone every single time.

That was the most annoying one.

Her mom just liked to talk so much. Olivia Buckely was a born and bred Midwesterner, and Robin had never had a phone call with her that didn’t last for at least two and a half hours. She always felt the need to update her daughter on every single member of their family, each neighbor, and all of her coworkers. What they had done, what they hadn’t done, who they were seeing, who they weren’t seeing anymore...all of it.

Robin couldn’t have cared less about any of that, but her mom still held her hostage anyway.

In all honesty, it was a small thing to have to fit in. She and Steve had settled quickly into their new life, and they had made a ritual for Thursday nights to deal with the annoyance of the phone.

They would come home from their jobs or their schools, and Steve would make Robin whatever she wanted for dinner. It didn’t matter how elaborate or how silly, he would make it. Once she had requested only a chocolate cake, just to see what he would do. An hour and a half later he presented her with a two layered masterpiece complete with birthday candles, just for shits and giggles.

They would eat dinner together on their lumpy little sofa, plates balanced precariously in their laps as they watched a movie on their tiny little box TV. Then, when the phone inevitably rang at 7:30 on the dot, Steve would take both of their plates and go do the dishes, coming back to the living room afterward to do whatever while Robin stood by the phone and slowly lost her mind.

Then, afterward, they would get rip roaring drunk.

It worked for them. It was annoying, but it worked for them.

It was on one of those Thursdays that Robin got the biggest shock of her life.

“Joanie called by the way. That woman who just married your Uncle Mitchell? I swear, I don’t know how he continues to get women to fall for him, he’s been married three times already. She’s a nice girl though, so I hope they make it, but she did bring along two kids of her own, so who knows?” Her mother prattled on, uncaring of the fact that her daughter was going to jump out their fifth story window if she had to hear much more of this.

Robin hummed to show her mom she was still listening, turning around to face Steve and miming putting a gun to her head.

He smirked at her and pushed up his glasses, lowering his gaze back down to the textbook in his lap. He had a test in one of his education classes tomorrow, and he was still studying. It was on Blooms….Bloom’s….

Bloom’s Whatever. It had to do with how kids learned, Robin knew that much. She had been helping him study for the last five days, but none of it really stuck in her head. It was weird, this was the first time that he really understood something that she couldn’t comprehend.

Oh well. It was stuck in Steve’s head, that was all that mattered.

“-plays baseball or something. And the older one is just a little bit younger than you, actually. Apparently, it was a teen pregnancy, a very big deal. Her parents disowned her, can you believe that?”

“No, I can’t,” Robin lied, not really sure who she was in disbelief for. Was this still about Mitch’s new wife, Jane?

Regardless of who, Robin could easily believe in someone’s parents disowning them when they found out something they didn’t like.

She could very easily believe that.

“Well, he is a very nice boy, Robin, a good addition to the family. You’ll like him, they’ll all be here when you come home for the holidays. He might even bring his boyfriend too. Oh, and please get me the times for your flights, honey. Your father wants to take off work so he can pick you two up,” Olivia said, her tone etching into impatience.

Robin opened her mouth to complain about her mom nagging her again about flights that weren’t happening for almost a whole month, but then her words finally registered in Robin’s brain.

Boyfriend. His boyfriend.

Her mom had just casually used the words ‘his boyfriend’.

“I’m sorry?” Robin said, her voice slightly strangled.

She must have misheard her, or the phone was malfunctioning. Somewhere along the 750 miles of line, it had to have cut out or warped the words, because there was no way in hell her extremely religious mother had just used the words ‘his’ and ‘boyfriend’ together in a sentence without bursting into flame.

“Your flights! Darling, I’ve asked you about this a thousand times. Put Steve on the phone, he’ll help me. I know I wasn’t sure about you moving out to that big city all alone with that boy, but honestly, now I thank my lucky stars that you have him. At least someone there would be able to find their head if it wasn’t attached!” Her mother teased.

Normally this was where Robin would get snarky, call her mom out for being just as forgetful as her. She couldn’t this time, she was too focused on the fact that all of the air seemed to have left the room in an instant, and her body had become mysteriously hollow.

“I wasn’t- his boyfriend?” Robin repeated, needing some kind of clarification. Steve, who had been happily eavesdropping on Robin’s side of the call the entire time, slowly put his book on the table, watching Robin with a worried look.

Olivia, who didn’t seem to have noticed the shift in her daughter’s mood, continued to gossip.

“Yes. Mitchell’s new wife Joanie? She brought her sons with her to Thanksgiving. Eric is the younger boy and Kyle is the older one. He brought his boyfriend Derek, who is a lovely young man by the way! He’s in school in Chicago studying finance, that’s where they met. He reminds me a lot of Steve actually. He has this thing he does with children, some sort of outreach? He was telling me-

“Mom,” Robin cut in, hard and fast. That was sometimes the only way to get a word in when it came to her mother, and Robin needed that word.

She wanted to ask a thousand questions, she had a hundred different things running through her brain.

She couldn’t find a single word.

“Robin? What’s wrong, little bird?” Her mother asked in a careful loving tone, using her childhood nickname.

Robin leaned back, her knees knocking together as she shook, slowly sliding down to sit on the floor. Steve got up from the couch, crossing the room in just a few steps and coming to sit by her side. Without a word he held out his hand, and she grabbed it with her free one, squeezing too tight. A rush of love for her best friend swept through her, and Robin squeezed his hand again.

Steve always just knew what she needed, and Robin had no idea how she had lived seventeen years of her life without him.

“You don’t- I mean you-” Robin cut herself off, lowering her voice to a whisper of complete bafflement, “You don’t mind?”

“Don’t mind what, my love?” Her mother asked, perplexed.

Robin smothered down a laugh, completely baffled. In the past four years she had lived through actual monster attacks and the literal apocalypse, but this was the most unbelievable thing that had ever happened to her.

“That he has a boyfriend?” Robin clarified, pulling her hand away from Steve for a second to run her fingers anxiously through her hair, before latching onto him again, “You don’t mind that Kasey, Kyle, whoever, has a boyfriend?”

“Oooooooh!” Her mother said, finally putting the dots together, “Well, it’s a little unconventional, but the boy is very nice. Both of them are!”

Very nice. Her mother, who literally carried a pocket bible in her purse at all times, just called a gay boy and his partner ‘very nice’.

Briefly Robin considered that she might’ve died in the Upside Down a year ago. There was no way this was reality.

“I didn’t think you had a problem with gay people,” Her mother commented after the silence had gone on for a touch too long.

“I don’t,” Robin quickly said, searching for an explanation that wasn’t ‘I’m a gay people’, “I just, I didn’t know you didn’t.”

“Of course I don’t! Have I ever said I did?” Her mother asked, sounding worried.

She didn’t need to say it. The endless crosses all around their house said it. The constant bible verses said it. The Reagan yard sign said it. The pastor at their church who said AIDS was God’s Will said it. All of those things spoke louder than words ever could.

But Robin had no idea how to explain that.

“You go to church every week!” She finally sputtered out, as if that was enough.

“And?”

“You quote the bible at me constantly!” Robin protested, her voice raising.

Steve’s hand slid out of hers, and he wrapped around her shoulders, rubbing up and down on the top of her arm soothingly. It didn’t do much, but it was enough to make her let go of the emotions starting to ramp up.

“I mean, c’mon mom,” She said softly, letting her heart open up that same painful wound she had carried all her life, “What was I supposed to think?”

“Well let me quote you some more bible then, dear, because you’re clearly missing the most important thing,” Her mother said, and Robin could hear the fluttering pages in her mind as Olivia looked for exactly what she wanted to say. When she found it she gave a quiet exclamation before clearing her throat, the way she always did when she wanted to ‘speak the good word’

“John 4:7 Beloved, let us love one another, for love is from God, and whoever loves has been born of God and knows God.”

Robin’s mother had been quoting scripture at her her entire life. On her good days, Robin was able to just roll her eyes and politely smile and nod along. On her bad days…well there had been a lot of bad days. Never once had she felt comforted by anything in the bible.

Well, never before this moment.

Robin bit at her trembling lip, squeezing her eyes shut tight. Steve’s forehead gently knocked against the side of her head, and she leaned into him, keeping a death grip on the receiver as her mother stayed quiet on the other side of the line.

“I- I’m-” Robin stopped herself. The quiet stretched out into a thin tense thing, until her mother’s voice rang out again.

“Robin, darling, I would never hate someone for what they were born as. Kyle didn’t choose to be born a homosexual, the lord made him that way,” Robin scoffed as her mother quoted gay anthems back at her. Her mom paused again, then spoke even quieter, “My most important commandment from Jesus is to love him, exactly as he is.”

“And you...don’t think it’s a sin?”

Because that’s the thing that really scared her.

Sure, Robin had always worried about the big reaction- the yelling, the hatred, her parents telling her they never wanted to see her again, but that wasn’t what kept her up at night. But there fear that kept her from taking the leap. There was a reason Steve was the first person to know instead of her own mother.

Robin was afraid her mother would love her anyway.

Olivia would smile, and brush her hair back, and promise to love Robin anyway. In spite of the fact that she was a lesbian, in spite of the undeniable fact that her daughter was going to go to hell. She was scared her father would pretend that he accepted it, and behind the closed doors, they would be disappointed. Her parents loved her, and she was terrified that they would continue to love her anyway.

Robin wouldn’t be able to handle that. She could stand being hated, but being loved with a new asterisk attached would kill her.

“It’s not on me to decide what sin is, or to judge someone even if I believe I see one. Don’t forget the story of the adultress,” Her mother said instead of answering the question.

“But do you think it is a sin?” Robin pressed, needing the answer now that she had finally asked the question, "Do you think it is sinful for him to like boys?"

“No, I don’t. All he did was fall in love,” Olivia stated. As if it was that simple.

As if Robin had never had a thing to worry about. All that pain, all that self-loathing, all those nights she cried herself to sleep, all of it was completely unnecessary.

Robin’s mind raced, trying to find any way to make this make sense with what she had known all her life. Maybe it was different if it was your own kid. Sure, it might be easy to accept some random new wife’s gay son, but her very own daughter? Her mother surely would have a different reaction then, right?

Right?

She had stayed quiet too long again. Her mother spoke up once more.

“Sweetheart…I love you very much. You know I love you more than anything,” She started slowly, and Robin’s breath caught in her throat. This was it. It was time. Her secret was up.

“But if I have raised you to think that it is alright to condemn someone because of something out of their control, then I have to tell you that I disagree. Wholeheartedly.”

Robin laughed.

She couldn’t help it. She laughed, and leaned into Steve’s side, and let her tears flow. She laughed for a long time, far longer than she should have, and her mom stayed silent the entire time, listening to her reaction.

“No, mom. That’s, that’s not it,” Robin finally managed to choke out. Her breath was still hitching, and her shoulders were still shaking, even though the laughter had died away.

Another long pause.

Another frighteningly long pause. Robin didn’t dare to speak first.

“You know, your father and I talked for a long time about your plans to go to New York,” Her mother finally said, clearly starting down the long winding path of a story. Robin curled up in her soulmate’s arms and let the phone receiver sit nestled between them both.

“You were awful insistent about going with Steve. You kept swearing up and down that you weren’t dating. I’ll be honest, we didn’t believe you at first,”

Yeah, they both already knew that. Her parents had been eagle eyed, intensely analyzing every interaction the two of them had in the weeks leading up to their move.

“But then we saw you two together. Yes, you were very familiar, and we know that Steve came and slept in your room after you two thought we were asleep, but it was clear there was no romance between you two at all. Not exactly like brother and sister, but not boyfriend and girlfriend. that much was obvious. Which got me wondering...why exactly the two of you would move together. If it wasn’t love, what was it?”

It was love. It was the purest love Robin had ever felt for a person. It was the kind of love she could never explain. The only people who understood were the ones who had also felt it.

“I talked with his mother, and she said, well, let’s just say she had a few choice words about her son,” Robins’ mother said, making Steve take a sharp breath in. The subject of his parents was still an extremely sore wound.

No, not really his parents. His mother. Steve didn’t care so much about losing his father, that was an inevitability whether he came out or not. He was just too different, too far away from what his dad expected him to become. Steve was honestly kind of happy when his father had kicked him out after they found out he was gay.

But that was his father. Steve had admitted to Robin late one night that having his mother turn her back on him was something he didn’t think he was ever going to fully recover from. Robin didn’t really understand it. Steve’s mother had never been anything but a cold hearted bitch in the few stilted conversations Robin had unfortunately had to have with her, and she knew for a fact that the woman had never treated Steve much better.

But he still missed her. He still wished that she could have loved him enough to try instead of just throwing him away. Robin supposed it was probably different when it was your own mom who hated you for something you had never asked for.

And apparently, she never needed to worry about that.

“The things that Lydia Harrington said told me everything I needed to know about why that boy needed you. That vile woman, the fact that she is the head of our ladies auxiliary is a travesty, and I've already appealed to the board twice and- well, that doesn't matter. What matters is that it also got me to thinkin' about why you seemed to need Steve just as much as he needs you.”

Her mom trailed off with a sigh They were approaching the edge again, staring out over the canyon, both wondering if their wings were strong enough yet to take that leap.

“....Do you have something you want to tell me?” Olivia asked her daughter, offering to give her the push she needed to fly.

Robin had a hundred thousand things to tell her mother. She wanted to tell her about the clubs she went to dance in at night, and the girl who sat in front of her in the orchestra at Juilliard. Robin wanted to tell her about how much it meant to Steve that her parents had insisted he had to come home with her for Christmas, and the way he had stayed up late all month trying to finish the gifts he was making for them. She wanted to tell her mom about Tammy Thompson, hear her laugh as Steve and Robin impersonated the girl's truly terrible singing.

She wanted to tell her mom she was gay.

But…

“Not now,” Robin decided. She wanted to do all of that, but she wanted to do it when she could see her mother’s face, when she could feel her father’s big warm hugs, “When I come home for the holidays,”

“Alright,” Olivia agreed, her voice soft and dripping with honey, “When you come home- when you both come home- you’ll tell me what you need to tell me.”

There was a beat, and then her mom spoke again. This time her voice was thick with emotion, and the words came out heavy.

“And I will tell you that I love you. I have loved you from the moment I knew you were in my belly, and I have loved you every single second after. Through every argument, every tantrum, every time you slammed the door in my face and told me I was trying to ruin your life,” They both huffed out a soft laugh at this.

Robin had really had a flair for drama when she was younger. Still did.

“I have loved you the entire time, and I will continue to love you until my last breath.”

“Mom,” Robin started, about to start the cycle all over again, but her mother interrupted her.

“You,” Olivia said with as much conviction as she could possibly have, “are the greatest gift of my life, Robin. My greatest joy. And I hope that you know that you can tell me whatever you need to, whenever you need to. I’d bury a body for you, little girl, but don’t you dare make me!”

She and Steve both broke out into giggles at this. The air was starting to come back into the room, warm and sweet.

“Your father feels the same way, just so you know,” Her mom added, just in case Robin hadn’t already caught that from everything else said, “Nothing could change how we feel for you,”

“Okay,” Robin whispered.

“You’re not alone right now, right?” Her mom asked, the normal touch of worry coloring her tone.

“No, um- Steve is sitting right next to me,” Robin admitted, hoping her mom would be okay with knowing that he had heard all of that.

“Hi, Mrs. Buckley,” Steve called, his voice betraying the fact that he had also been taken down by her heartfelt confession.

“Hi Angelboy!” Her mother sang, using the silly nickname she had assigned him when he had done the dishes one night after a family dinner. Olivia had been complaining that no one in the house ever helped her, and while she was ranting, Steve had snuck into the kitchen and finished all the dishes. She had bustled into the kitchen, found that there was no more work to be done, and declared that he was ‘her angel boy’, and she was stealing him from Robin.

“Make sure he knows the same thing goes for him- nothing changes that he’s a part of this family now,” She stated firmly.

“He knows,” Robin reassured her, knowing her mother would get in a car and drive all the way to New York just to come and beat it into their heads if she detected even a hint of doubt.

Robin rubbed at her face and took a deep calming breath, exhaustion starting to come over her in a haze. After that much emotion, the only thing she could want was her bed.

Well that, a stiff drink, and her best friend letting her leech his body heat all night long. As if sensing what was going on, Robin’s mother gave a loud exaggerated yawn.

“Alright, love. It’s getting pretty late, and I know you two were studying, so I’m going to let you go now, okay?” Her mother said.

“Okay,” Robin said, suppressing her own real yawn.

“Remember our rule though. I call on Thursdays at 7:30, and you?”

“Answer the phone,” Robin replied. This was routine, easy, normal. This was how they ended every phone call, with Olivia reminding Robin, as though her daughter had somehow forgotten in the last seven days.

Usually it annoyed her. Tonight she loved it.

“That’s right,” She said. Robin could just see her nodding her head as if she had just won a great battle.

“I love you, little bird,” Her mother cooed, and Robin smiled.

“I love you too mom,”

The words came easy. For years and years it had been so hard. Hard to say it back, hard to mean it when she had been so sure that it wouldn't be true for much longer. But now, Robin could tell her mother that she loved her as much as possible, and she was going to.

#Steve harrington #robin Buckley #robin Buckleys parents #robin Buckleys mother #Steve harringtons mother #platonic stobin #platonic soulmates stobin #platonic soulmates Steve and robin #qpr stobin #I thought that after all the angst #and the mayhem of the last few days #we could use a little light and a little love :')))))#Liam speaks up #Writing(withacapitalW)

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