#I am seriously losing my little mind over here

[mydollsaregay]

I just saw an absolutely incredible craigslist deal for a jly #4 and i am being SO brave and strong and not buying her. i don’t have room for or any need for doubles. brain please calm down. anyway if any of you all are near western massachusetts and want the listing let me know!

also if anyone on here is located in eastern mass/near boston, PLEASE check craigslist - there are some awesome items on there right now that are just too far from me and I would like to live vicariously through someone else enjoying them 😭

[joelsdagger]

only then, i am good || one shot

joel miller x f!reader

masterlist || ao3 || follow @joelsdaggerupdates for notifs!!

pairing: daddy jackson!joel x f!reader summary: you have a bad day in which it makes you question your worth. only joel can make you see the truth. warnings: jackson era [well into the tlou2 timeline but nothing bad happens], implied age gap [i warn you, joel is old old], angst [in the form of internal turmoil], feelings of guilt/burdening, established relationship, dd/lg dynamics, soft daddy dom!joel, daddy kink, praise kink, size kink, finger sucking, pet names galore [baby, sweetheart, little girl, angel] size kink, reader is hella needy, reader has pubic hair bc i said so, smidgen of cockwarming, just the tip mention, dubcon*, dacryphilia, unprotected piv, nipple play, belly bulge, creampie, joel is reader’s personal weighted blanket, fluff, aftercare. *reader is not in the right headspace to properly consent to piv but she’s a-okay with it! word count: 3.8k

a/n: i’ve been to emotional (and physical) hell and back (are we back? who knows) these last few weeks and it had me yearning for daddy jackson!joel. so this is what this is. it’s a tad different from my typical style of writing and it’s not betaed and very very loosely proofread (barely looked thru it while in the waiting room lol), so it’s probably shit but i hope you enjoy it nonetheless xx

You should’ve double-checked the lock. Triple-checked it. As always. Hand to God, it slipped your mind. You were tired. Achy and sleepy, and you just wanted to go home. Back to Joel. Curl your spent body into the thick, burly warmth of his and let him cradle you until the whole day wipes itself from memory. 

You’ve been asking them for more responsibilities — a more serious role within Jackson, for months. After today, you’re sure they’ll never take you seriously. Never see you as one of them. They’re so much older and wiser — experienced. And you…well, you are not.

They never fuck up. Never make mistakes that would risk losing an important asset to this safe haven. And today you have. You fucked up. You don’t know how you forgot. It’s been your only job here, the only thing they let you have, and still — you messed it up. 

You forgot to lock the stall door to the stable for one of the horses. And not only did the horse escape but now the town is technically down one patrolman. You have completely thrown off the patrolling schedule, one that was meticulously crafted and has been in place long before you arrived in Jackson. It very rarely changed. 

You offered to lend a hand, practically begged them to send you out with the rest of the search party. But Maria, Tommy, and Joel all told you to go home while they sent a group (of which included Joel and Tommy themselves) outside the gates, well past dusk, to go looking for him. You felt entirely useless.

Begrudgingly, you scurried home, a beaten puppy in need of licking one’s wounds. Feeling the weight of the day and the frustration that has accumulated over months suddenly seeping into your bones, and you just…broke. You crawled into bed, alone in the dark, and you cried for hours, your mind spiraled, turning over the mistake you made, again and again and again. 

When it stops and the wracking sobs slow into shuddery hiccups, it’s only because you hear heavy footsteps in the hallway. Slow. Tired. But steady — sure. And that nauseating sensation in the pit of your stomach returns as the footsteps grow closer and closer. 

The door creaks open slowly, pale yellow light from the hallway spills through the crack, your puffy eyes squint and flutter against the sudden light, shape of him vague in your blurry vision, but you know it’s him: tall frame, broad shoulders, pale skin, and dark features.  

Joel. 

You curl your body tighter, making yourself as small as possible. Close your eyes, and bury your tear-stained face back into the damp royal blue of his linens, the piney scent of him everywhere: his pillows, his sheets, his mattress, clouding your mind. You hear his footsteps as he rounds the bed, feel him reach over and switch on the lamp beside you. He grunts, his joints creak as you feel his weight sinking the edge of the bed, settling himself down in the ‘c’ shape your body had formed.

“We found him. Fella was out by Hidden Pines,” voice soft, almost cautious. 

You nod silently, but you don’t look at him, not wanting to embarrass yourself even more, not wanting him to see how pathetic you look after spending hours upon hours sobbing into the pillows over a mistake you made.  

A heavy hand cups your knee over the sheets, thumb stroking bone through the fabric there. 

“It wasn’t your fault, baby.” He says, surely.

But you don’t really believe him. 

You sniffle and tilt your face away from the tear-soaked pillows just enough so he can hear you. “Yes, it was. I was the last one in there. It’s my job to take the horses back and settle them in for the night. My job to make sure they stay in the stables. It’s been my job, my only job all this time, and I can’t even do that right,” you ramble, voice breaking, bottom lip wobbling, fat tears pricking your red eyes once again. 

“No. You listen here,” he says sternly, feeling his body turn beside you, bed covers bunching up around your knees. “You did lock it, but the latch was loose, honey. Tommy and I tried ‘em. They’re due for a fixin’ n’ we should’ve been checkin’ ‘em, but that’s my job, not yours. This wasn’t on you, darlin’. You hear me?”

You avoid his eye and stay furled on the bed. Silence swells between you, and you fiddle with a stray thread in his sheets.

“He wasn’t supposed to take off like that, but he’s a younger horse,” he shrugs, and a sigh falls from his lips. “It happens. Whoever was mannin’ the wall tonight should’ve seen him. Many things were at play, baby. It wasn’t your fault.” He says in a matter-of-fact tone.

Your head snaps over your shoulder in a fury. “I could’ve helped fix it. I could’ve made it right,” you bite, shaky voice laced with venom. You don’t mean for it to sound so harsh, but it manages to stifle the sob that threatens to claw up your throat. And for a second, the irritation in your voice doesn’t rattle you until you notice Joel’s shoulders tense, and you regret it immediately. 

A whirlpool of emotions swirls in your belly. A weird noise squeaks out from your lips as you try to fruitlessly blink away the sleep and salt in your eyes. You don’t want to cry in front of him. You bury your face into the pillow again, trying to muffle the sob-like groan as you cringe away from Joel, ashamed. 

His hand drifts up your thigh, broad palm splayed across your flesh, his touch unwavering. “Sweetheart, the only reason I told you to stay here s’because it ain’t safe out there. The amount of infected may be less this time o’year but the cold…” He trails off, his grip tightening around the meat of your thigh unconsciously, “makes people meaner,” his voice grows unsteady at the thought. 

You shiver, and you suspect he feels it. He clears his throat, and tender fingers brush the strands of hair out of your face, then they trail down, and you feel the cold roughness of his skin against the warm softness of yours as his calloused hand cups your jaw, tilting it to face him, forcing you to meet his eyes. 

Your eyes pinch shut, and the dam breaks. You can’t bear to look at him. Your heart sits heavy in your chest, feeling the guilt creeping back in at his touch. His hands, usually warm, are now icy cold, and all you can think about is how you are the cause of it. He had been out in the cold longer than he needed to be because of you. You and he both know his worn bones can’t handle it, and yet, he went out there in the dead of winter as nightfall cloaked over Jackson to right your wrong, and it makes you feel terrible. 

“Baby. Look at me,” he whispers softly.

You do, and through bleary eyes you meet his weary gaze. His lips are downturned into a frown, and with a twist in his brows, that worry line in the middle of his forehead materializes. You hate being the cause of it. Your heart plops to your stomach, your throat goes thick, something rising at the base of it. 

“What do you need, sweetheart? Tell me,” he implores, his voice stern but soft, eyes shifting back and forth between yours — dark amber irises so warm, pleading.  

Teach me to be good. “Just you, daddy – just need you,” you blubber, your voice innocent and small. Weak. 

He knows exactly what you mean. You have been together long enough that he reads you like an open book. You watch as he wordlessly toes off his boots with a thud. Watch as he moves to stand to unbuckle his belt, dropping it to the floor with a soft clink, his jeans, jacket, and flannel following shortly after. Watch as he shifts onto the bed, bones crackling as he lowers himself and presses his broad form into you, his knees popping as they coax yours open. Watch as one of his hands drifts south between your bodies to grip the thick root of his cock while the other bunches up your nightgown to your navel, revealing your unobstructed cunt to him.  

You whimper when the leaky head of his cock notches at the already slippery entrance of your cunt. He glides the wide cockhead between your folds, up and down, up and down, while the warmth of his breath fans across your face when his lips part to murmur, just the tip tonight, baby, s’not a good idea for you to take all o’me right now, alright? 

You nod numbly. You don’t care how much he gives you — you just need to feel him. Need him to fix you. Need him to make the hurt you feel inside go away. Need him to search for the good. Maybe it’s there, buried deep in a place only he can find. 

His hands find yours, pins them firmly above your head, and with his dark gaze holding yours, he very gently pushes his tip inside your tight, wet hole. His mouth pops open in a deep groan, and you catch it with a soft gasp of your own. 

“There you go. S’that feel better, pretty baby?” He murmurs, his jaw ticks, brows twitch.  

You nod desperately, your wide, glassy eyes going hooded. Your thighs tense around him, causing a little more of his cock to push inside, making you whimper and squirm beneath him.  

“Good. Now just listen to my voice. Just focus on me, right here,” he grunts haggardly, voice so low and commanding. And that alone makes your brain go fuzzy. 

You try to focus all your energy on his voice and the heavy weight of him on top of you and the fat tip of his cock stretching your too little hole open, but suddenly, he pulls out, and you almost whine at his absence.

But Joel doesn’t give you enough time. 

Your body moves up the bed with a jolt, gasping when his hips push forward with more force, filling your cunt with the head of his cock, and then some more, only to slip out of you again immediately after. He’s toying with you, and he’s doing so because he knows you really need this. 

He slips his cockhead gently back inside you, and you whine at the soft squelch your slicken pussy makes. The two of you revel in the lewd, wet sounds that ricochet through the room, all while never breaking eye contact. 

“My little girl just needed me to fuck all the bad thoughts away, hm?” he breathes, his nose brushes against yours.

“Mmhm,” you sigh, cunt flittering around him. 

“Needed me to stretch out her sweet little hole and make everything better, s’that it?” 

You nod frantically, moaning breathlessly. 

Joel growls. “Say yes, daddy,” he commands you softly, his fingers squeezing yours.

“Y—ye—yes, d–daddy.” Your words come out broken in between the slow rolls of his hips, but by the smirk that tugs on his lips, you know he’s proud of you anyway. 

“Good girl,” he praises, his touch featherlight as his fingers push the stray strands of hair away from your forehead, and the scruff of his chin tickles your nose as he lays an open-mouthed kiss between your furrowed brows.  

“But daddy—” you start to protest, scrunching your nose. 

Joel harrumphs as he pulls back. All of his features pull into a stern look, and to stop you, the pad of his roughened thumb sweeps across your cheek and sinks between your parted lips. 

“Na-uh. No fightin’ with daddy,” he presses gently. 

By instinct, your lips close around his digit, sucking it into your mouth and swirling your tongue around the thick of it, tasting the salty, woodsy flavor of him, and it only feeds the foggy haze in your mind more. 

Spit pools at the corner of your lips. His thumb moves in and out of your mouth, matching the rhythm of his thrusts as he fucks his cockhead in and out of your hole. Your mind begins to blur, but there’s still a storm stirring in your swollen eyes, and Joel, as always, can see it. 

“Alright, this ain’t workin’,” he sighs exasperatedly. 

And you think he’s utterly fed up with you not obeying him. He unsticks his body from yours, and your eyes search his face — the lines beside his eyes, the hairs in his brows, the muscles around his lips — trying to decode the emotion that flits across his features. Though, as expected, it’s near impossible to read him. Joel may have been able to crack you open, and although the years he has spent in Jackson have managed to soften him up — tiny cracks in his stony exterior over time — he remains inscrutable. 

For a moment, you think he’s going to scold you. Tell you you’re no good for him anymore. You wouldn’t blame him. You can’t seem to do anything right. Maybe he thought he wanted to take you apart, bit by careful bit. But what if he peered through the gap and saw something he didn’t like? What if he had a change of heart — now that he stepped back and assessed the damage? What if the severity of it was too much to mend? Burden too heavy to carry. He doesn’t deserve that. He deserves someone good. Someone not in need of fixing. Someone unbroken. 

But Joel surprises you. His hand retracts from your face, and instead wraps his arm around your middle, maneuvering you onto his thighs so you're straddling him. His free hand fists the hem of your nightgown, and in one swift motion, tugs the fabric over your head and tosses it aside to join his pile of clothes on the floor. His heavy hands find your waist once again, and with the head of his cock still buried deep in between your legs, he sits up and back against the headboard, grunting a low, alright, c'mere, as he takes you with him with ease.

You cling to him like a koala, body putty and pliant as he brings your weak arms to wrap around his neck. And then, a firm hand moves to cradle the back of your neck, lets you nuzzle your wet face into the dip in his shoulder, and breathe in the comfort of his scent while his other traverses the line of your spine.

Slow but steady, Joel bucks his hips up, up, up, until the entirety of his thick length works its way into the slick slide of your cunt. Your soft thatch of curls meets his, softly grazes your clit, and you writhe in his arms, sniffle, and whimper brokenly against his shoulder, but sure, gentle hands pull you into his chest tighter. You feel the strong drum of his heart against yours, thrumming against each other: ga-gung, ga-gung, ga-gung, pace quickening, like they're trying to catch up, trying to sync. Your body melts into his. Skin to skin, heart to heart, heat of your cunt to the heat of his cock; and then suddenly, two become one.

“Shh, shhh, I know, baby, I know. You got it,” he whispers, as he begins to rock you back and forth, back and forth, lulling you gently back into the haze, and everything finally fades away. 

He presses a kiss right behind your ear. “Therrrre we go, just take it, good girl,” he murmurs as a heavy hand pets your hair. And whether he’s talking about his cock or his praise, you obey regardless. Your cunt sucks the heat of his cock in deep. Let him fuck himself into you; let his warmth smolder you until your cunt ignites. Let it roar and burn and spread through your system like wildfire. Let him make you good.

The tips of his fingers move through your hair in small ministrations, gently scratching away at your skull. “Daddy—s–so big—” you whimper, your fingers pulling the hair at the nape of his neck, tears welling up in your eyes as something low in your belly begins to churn. 

“Shhh, angel, it’s okay. I know, s’a lot,” he soothes, feeling his deep voice reverberate against your chest. Your cunt contracts at his praise, and the steady pace of his hips falters briefly; he groans deeply when he feels his tip choked tight within your walls, “you’re doin’ so good for me, sweetheart, so good.”  

He continues his shallow thrusts while he rocks you in his arms. There’s a low static buzz in your ears, but you can still hear the perverse chant that manages to fall from your lips — one that grows louder with every roll of his hips, daddy, daddy, daddy, daddy. And in turn, he murmurs incessant blabbers of, you’re okay, angel, daddy’s here, daddy’s gotcha, into your hair, punctuating every one of his words with a soft kiss to your temple and a slow buck of his hips.  

The tip of his cock nudges that soft ridge deep inside you, and he feels your cunt flutter around him. “You gonna come for me, angel, hm? You gonna be a real good girl for daddy and let me feel this drippy little pussy come all over me?” He coos.  

“Uh-huh,” you murmur. 

Deft fingers curl around the back of your neck, and with the slightest of pressure, he squeezes once, gently instructing you to use your words. A silent command. 

“Y-yes, daddy, I prom–I promise, I wanna be good. I wanna be good,” you mewl.

His nose drags along the side of your face, down, down, down, until his heated lips meet your pulse point. “Go on, baby, let go n’ get daddy all messy. Show daddy how good of a girl you are,” he rambles, his voice a low vibration, goosebumps prickling in its wake.

With your tight cunt full and impaled on his cock, your clit throbs, eager for more friction. You rut your hips against his, humping him like a dog in heat as you rub your puffy pearl against the graying curls there, smearing him in your slick just as he insisted.   

And within seconds, your body constricts, navel pulls taut, and then something fiery in your belly erupts. Your body begins to tremble as stars burst behind your eyelids, liquid heat turns your mind and body molten, melting away completely with the force of your release.

“Daaaddy,” you cry, lips quivering. Your muscles go lax, and your body slumps in his hold, feeling the last of your energy leaving you. Your head lulls back, and his hand slides up the base of your neck in time to catch it in his massive palm.

He clutches you tight, marveling at your fucked-out form in his arms while babbling praises of,  ohhh–that’s it, that’s it, good job, baby, such a good fuckin’ girl— daddy’s so proud of you, as warm tears roll down your face. And it only spurs him on. 

His languid strokes speed up, your body jolts above him violently, weeping cunt fluttering repeatedly around him. Your mouth falls open, wanton moans escape past your parted lips as he fucks you harder. “Christ, that’s it, that’s my girl. Look at you, perfect little thing,” he pants, coaxing you through your orgasm. 

His eyes drop quickly to watch the bounce of your tits, nipples peaked and gleaming with beads of sweat. He dips his head to one sticky breast, and with a flick of his hot tongue, he laps up the salt on your skin. 

It elicits a sharp gasp from you, your chewed fingernails desperately trying to claw at him, your body arching against his mouth, and you feel him grin against the curve of your breast. His mouth drifts, wraps his whiskered lips around your other swollen nipple, tongue swirls the pointed bud, teasing you with a graze of his teeth across the wet peak before nipping it, tugging the stiffened point ever so slightly between his teeth.  

“Daddy–oh!” You choke on a moan, and your spent pussy clenches around him so tight, your cunt is almost forcing him out. His hips buck into you harder in response, his thrusts growing more erratic as he seeks his own release. 

Joel hisses, mouth releasing your tit with a wet pop, “sweet Jesus, m’gonna give it to you real good, baby—like you deserve, fuck—”

He's cut off by the strangled groan that rips through his chest, his back arches off the headboard, and you feel him twitch. His grasp on your enervated form tightens, and then a blazing heat spreads inside you. His sweaty forehead falls to your dampened chest, the swell of your breasts cushioning the drop of his head, his body convulsing as he pumps upwards into your core. Cock pulsing and spasming within your walls as he continues to spill inside you, your belly swelling and set to burst full of his seed.  

Joel slumps back against the headboard, his arms loosen, but they don’t release you, just holds you there on top of him as he presses hasty kisses and whispers shaky sweet nothings into your hair while his hot seed dribbles out around his length, turning the hair at the root of his cock into a pool of sticky milky white.  

You don’t know if it’s minutes or hours that pass by as you stay limp in his lap, breathing in the sweat and sex on his skin as you snuggle back into his neck, the heat a low simmer. But when he runs a warm, wet rag between your legs and uses the same one to wipe your mixed wet off of his shaft before he tucks you in with a peck to your lips, the tip of your nose, a long kiss to your forehead, and lays himself on top of you with the full weight of him, pulling the comforter up to trap the heat of your bodies between you, sore cunt plugged with his softened cock once more, you know that he makes you feel whole. Not ruined or broken. Not stupid or useless or helpless. And in truth, it's all you’ve ever known with him.

As you slip gently into the waiting black, small fingers that draw circles into his silver curls come to a slow, you think you hear a quiet sigh — feel his lips lazily form around the words against your tacky skin — something of, you are good, angel tucked away into the valley between your naked breasts like a secret. And you think you believe him, and for now, that’s enough for you.

[elliesanqel]

catharsis but dom ellie pls pls pls Im begging😭

take it

sypnosis; roles are switched—seth spits out a nasty comment at ellie, causing your anger to flare up. she decided it was best to take you home, until she decides to find a way to control your anger.

cw; angst, smut, dom!ellie, sub!fem reader, car sex, strap use (referred to as a cock), oral sex, rough fucking, spitting, multiple orgasms, fluff, r!receiving all, men and minors dni.

a/n; there was a few reqs to write dom!ellie for this fic and i looove the idea so here it is! and ohhh if she ever looked at me like that…endgame!! and also, if i haven’t done your request yet, i promise i am either currently working on getting it posted, or im still writing it. a few will get released this week!

➝ masterlist

your eyes narrowed at seth, your whole body filling with heat as ellie just looked at him, her look almost puzzled. you werent doing anyone any harm, just purely kissing. thats it. yet it still gave seth the ability to spit out some homophobic comment one way or another. ellie was your girl, your princess. if anyone was even slightly rude—it’d make you angry. you just thought she was too precious to even be made fun of at all. she noticed the way your face twisted with disgust, and she knew you’d say something if she didnt act—causing her to take your hand in hers softly. “lets go.” she whispers, not wanting to cause a scene.

your eyes finally left seth, looking at ellies pleading face and softening when you did, but the anger still bubbled. you thought it was probably best to just leave instead of causing a scene infront of everyone. even though seth had already done half the job—you didnt want to finish it. you let ellie take you outside into the fresh air, her hand tightening around yours for reassurance. you didnt dare look at her, feeling to angry to even speak.

she knew—so she just walked hand in hand with you to the car. there was a big problem, though. ellie hated it when you didnt talk to her. she preferred talking it out and letting you rant to her, she hated awkward silence. she let go of your hand, watching you storm off to the passenger seat. she scoffed, taking the keys out of her pocket and opening the car, getting in and starting it.

“dont.” she begins, her voice firm as her hands grip the steering wheel, pulling out of the car park. you scoff, still staying quiet and you could tell she wasnt a fan of your growing attitude. “scoffing at me now? you’re brave.” she furrows her brows, her eyes stuck on the road as one hand stays on the wheel, the other on the gear lever. you roll your eyes, testing the waters as much as you could. you wanted this all to be over and the best way for you to do that was so stay silent and bottle it up. but not for ellie.

“baby, seriously,” she begins, her head rolling a little in annoyance. “drop the attitude. none of this is my fault, unfortunately theres always gonna be people like seth and theres nothing we can do. you know that, right?” she explains, firmness still in her voice as her eyes glance over at you before back onto the road.

you sigh, looking at your hands as you fiddle with your thumbs. “i know, but seriously why do we always have to be the ones to say something? nobody else said anything.” you groan as she listens to your rants.

she takes in a breath, understanding where you were coming from. “i know, sweetheart. trust me, i do. but we have to deal with it. you dont always have to defend me, im fine.” she explains, but clearly it wasnt enough for you. you laugh sarcastically, the anger clearly still swarming you. “dont, ellie. dont make light of this situation, you know damn well its fucked up. so dont you fucking—“ you get louder, but before you can continue, she swerved the car to the side of the empty road, parking it. you gasp at her sudden move, confusion clouding your mind. “what the fuck was that fo—“ you begin, but she cuts you off again.

“lose that attitude and get in the fucking backseat.” she demands, her voice firm. you knew she wanted no argument but the way her voice went from reassuring to demanding in the matter of seconds led you to just listen to her words. you slowly unbuckle your seatbelt and get into the backseat of her car, looking at her as you did. her eyes never left you as you moved, her hand reaching into the glovebox, to her strap.

she took it into the backseat with her, her hands immediately wrapping around your thighs and placing you on your back along the seats and she crawled on top of you, parting your legs so she hovered inbetween them, her lips inching to your ear as her breath was hot on your skin. “angry, arent you? well i’ll make you a deal, baby. you take it like a good girl and i’ll fuck that anger out of you, hm?” she whispers, her voice almost mocking. leaving your eyes wide as you felt your body already growing limp under her touch.

your whole body shivered, leaning against the door of the car, eyes never leaving hers. she smirked at you, her look stern yet soft at the same time. with that, her hands reach up, tugging at your jeans, unzipping them and pulling them down—letting you lift your hips to help her tug them off and discard them somewhere, not really caring where. the heat that was growing between your thighs now displayed infront of her face, looking at the wetness pooled there like it was liquid gold. she smirked, both of her hands hooking around your thighs and pulling them further apart for her, her eyes never leaving yours as her tongue darted out, swiping all the way up your wet cunt.

your head falls back against the door, a whine emmiting from your lips—your hand instantly flying to her hair and pushing her mouth closer onto your needy pussy—to which she almost hiccups from the force of your hand. she props herself up a little further, her hands kneading your thighs slowly as her tongue works on your bundle of nerves, swirling around it, her lips making a pop sound every time they left your pussy for her to take a breath, but after she delved right back in, eating you out like she was a starved woman.

she hungrily darts her tongue into your pulsing hole, dabbing it in and out which caused your thighs to squish her head and a string of moans to fall out your mouth. she let out a hum against your cunt, before slipping her tongue out and her lips leaving too. her eyes left your gleaming pussy, looking up at you through her lashes as she slowly spits, letting her saliva drip down onto, your mouth opening a little with a gasp—before she breaks eye contact and leans back down. her tongue licks all the way up your folds, pushing her tongue back into your aching hole, causing you to grip her hair harder, her thick auburn locks tangled in your fingers. “s—shit! ellie, oh my…fuuuu—“ you choke out, your back arching.

“fuck,” she whimpers against your pussy, her brows furrowing as her own heat was needing attention as she ate you out. your body began shaking as you could feel her warm tongue darting in and out of you, your hand gripping her hair hard, pushing her in closer as you felt your high coming. her eyes flickered closed, knowing you were close. she quickened her pace, dipping in and out of your hole before you jolted, a string of moans falling out your mouth as your cum flowed out onto her tongue.

she looked up at your face covered in pure ecstasy: your head tilted back, mouth agape, brows knitted together, sweat aligning your forehead. you felt her drink up ever last bit of your release before she quickly pulled away, wiping her mouth like she’d just had a good meal, and she undresses her lower half—disgarding her jeans somewhere and slipping her strap on. all before your eyes had even opened yet.

once they finally did open, her hands were already squeezing on your thighs—gripping them hard and flipping your whole body around and forcing you on your hands and knees. you whined slightly, already feeling her press the tip of her cock onto your entrance.

her hands palmed your ass, giving you a light smack which made you jump. “shit, look at you. so beautiful like this.” she whispers, voice low and dripping with seduction. you bit into your bottom lip, not even ready for her when she pushes forward—one of her hands leaving your ass to grip the base of the clear silicone, sliding into you and completely bottoming out. your bows knit together, eyes squeezing shut.

“ohhh! fuuuck, els!” you whine, almost choking out as her cock was already pounding against your spongey spot. her brows also furrowed, her mouth open as she pulls your hips back on her cock, filling you up good. “mmm—good girl. taking me s’well, fuuckk.” she mumbles, but it came out more as a desperate moan. your hands conveyed to the steam-covered window, leaving handprints.

you thought this was as good as it could ever get, until she leaned forward…her chest completely pressed against your back as she continued pounding into you. the new angle sending shivers through your body as it instantly brought you to the approach of your second high. her teeth found the top of your ear, taking it in her mouth before speaking. “gonna lash out at me like that again, princess? or are you gonna—nghh…behave?” she whimpers, her breath hot on your ear. one of her hands grips the handle on the window, her other curled around your waist as she picks her pace up.

“cum for me, sweet girl. allll over my cock, yeah?” she teases, her voice sounding breathless. your eyes roll back along with your head, almost meeting with her shoulder as you shivered violently, all of her teases and her relentless pace bringing your body into a frenzy. you jolt, your cum shooting out all over her cock as well as the car seat beneath you. “oh my fucking god…ohhh fu—“ you choke out, your entire figure growing limp as she pulls out.

“fuck baby, that was hot.” she whispers. your hands slip off of the window, leaving a streaky handprint as you feel her arms envelop your body, bringing you close. she kisses your hair, letting it linger before you speak. you had no idea what to say about what just happened, so you skipped over that—after all, her actions did all the talking. “sorry i got so mad, my love. i just hope you understand why.” you whisper as you lean into her.

she smiles softly, holding you close. it was comforting. “shh, its okay baby. although, its cute that you’ve moved on so fast. im nowhere near done yet.” she grins, sounding mocking.

the car was a mess, steamy windows, obvious handprints, clothes everywhere.

anyone who drove past—you prayed for their sanity, as well as yours as you awaited arriving home.

taglist: @valeisaslut @elliesfavtoy @ttspenny @ellieswrath @willurms @slutt4ellie @stvrluvrrpres @elliescoochieeater @les4elliewilliams @eveyuyy @starwilliams @eriiwaii @vahnilla @ellieputellas @vampirq @elliesngirl @se4ttlellie @edenspoem

[yuujispinkhair]

I WANNA BE YOUR ENDGAME – Chapter 14

🏒❤️ A Hockey Romance feat. modern!Sukuna

Pairing: HockeyPlayer!Sukuna x Reader (female) Genre: College AU, Hockey AU, fluff + smut Playlist: I wanna be your Endgame Word Count: 4.5k Warnings: 18+, smut, cigarettes, alcohol, some rough locker room sex in this chapter ;), Kuna makes Reader squirt. Fuckbuddies to lovers. Reader is a creative writing student. Sukuna is an ice hockey player + history student. This story will have approximately 16 chapters. Minors don't interact. Header by me. Divider @/benkeibear

MASTERLIST

You have been dating Sukuna for two months, and it shows in the clothes you have bought lately. Warm sweaters and thermo leggings, anything to keep you warm in the chilly hockey arena, where you seem to spend more and more time.

You're not just here for Sukuna's games. More often than not, you are also sitting in the stands after your classes, reading the books your literature professor assigned while stealing far too many glances at your man, who is practicing with his teammates, looking too sexy to keep your eyes off him for more than a few minutes at a time.

It was Sukuna who asked you to come to his hockey training more often. Or he didn't outright ask, but told you how much he likes it when you watch him during practice. He whispered it in your ear when he was on top of you in all his naked tattooed glory, pressing you down with his heavy body, spoiling you with strokes so deep and good that you thought you would lose your mind, and of course, it lead to you promising him that you would drop by more often to keep him company during hockey practice.

So basically, you are here because Sukuna and you are equally obsessed with each other. And that thought alone is enough to make you grin from ear to ear.

You are currently sitting on the stands on a Tuesday afternoon, huddled in Sukuna's warm Tigers hoodie and your new fleece leggings, telling yourself you are working on your assignment, but truth be told, you are too busy watching your boyfriend skate across the ice, looking like a full course meal in his black compression shirt.

And Sukuna keeps looking at you, too, grinning that boyish grin and winking at you, not giving a fuck about who can see him flirting with his girl.

He even skates over to you occasionally, putting his gloved hand against the plexiglass and banging on it to capture your attention (as if he didn't already have it),

"Hey, princess! Come here for a sec! I need my lucky charm real quick!"

He smirks at you and jerks his tattooed chin towards a gate a few meters away. You roll your eyes playfully but get up and walk toward Sukuna while teasing him,

"Aww, does the big bad guy have withdrawal symptoms?"

And Sukuna just grins even broader at you, raising an eyebrow,

"Maybe I need a kiss or two. Isn't that part of your job description as my personal lucky charm? I am adding it to the rules right now if it isn't included already."

He looks so charming standing there with that playful grin and the twinkle in his maroon eyes, and you laugh delightedly, opening the gate so you can deliver the motivational kisses Sukuna asked for.

Sukuna leans down to capture your lips with his, giving you a playful, slow kiss. The sexy combination of his cold lips and warm tongue makes your head spin, and you eagerly lick into his mouth before he pulls away again a few seconds later and winks at you.

"Yeah, I am already feeling more energetic. Thank you, princess."

He ruffles your hair, waiting for your squeal of complaint before he laughs and turns around, skating back to his teammates to continue his training while you smooth down your hair and lick your lips, still tasting Sukuna on your tongue.

But even though his girl is here and Sukuna steals all those little moments with you, his coach never complains too much. Because he knows what you know, too: Sukuna isn't slacking. He takes his training seriously.

It's one of the things you love about him. His dedication, his ambition. Sukuna always gives his all. He always wants to be the best. And yet, as important as hockey is to him, he made room for you in his life. He wants you here, wants you in the stands when he has practice, wants you close to him, even if it just means some shared grins across the rink or some stolen kisses in between training sessions.

It's just as Sukuna said to you the night he confessed his feelings to you. He loves to combine his two favorite things in the world: You and hockey.

"Ew, get your dirty sports things off my pretty couch!"

Nobara stands in your shared living area, arms crossed in front of her chest, glaring indignantly at Sukuna, who just dropped by after hockey training and put his sports bag on the couch.

You snicker softly, about to make a joking reply, but your boyfriend is faster. Sukuna laughs and flashes Nobara a big rude grin, almost as if he is enjoying this. Which he probably really is, when you think about it. His eyes glitter with dark enjoyment.

"Chill, Ginger. Your couch should be honored that it gets to touch my bag. Also, you can go through my stuff, you won't find anything dirty. I take very good care of what is mine."

Sukuna's gaze strays to you at those last few words, and he winks at you, making you chuckle. You hold Sukuna's gaze, smiling broadly at him, watching his rude grin soften to a smile. Nobara sighs dramatically, marches over to the couch, and lifts Sukuna's bag with an exaggeratedly disgusted expression on her face before she dumps it on the floor in front of Sukuna's feet,

"Take that thing away! And, God, would the two of you stop it with the eye-fucking!? It's disgusting!"

Which only makes Sukuna's lips lift in a devilish, lopsided grin as he keeps looking at you,

"You heard her, princess. She doesn't like us eye-fucking. Let's go into your room and fuck for real."

Both you and Nobara squeal loudly at his words. Nobara makes a gagging noise, hurrying to the door,

"I am leaving! And if I find your filthy used condom in the bathroom again, I will burn down the hockey arena!"

"Okay, if you don't want it in the bathroom, I'll make sure to put it in the trash can in your room then. Didn't know you are such a fangirl, geez!"

You smack Sukuna's shoulder playfully, and Nobara screams as she bangs the door shut behind her. You laugh, rolling your eyes at Sukuna,

"Maybe you should be a bit nicer to her, Kuna."

"Oh, I fear I can't do that. It's part of my charm. And you're the only one who gets to see my nice side anyway."

And then his lips silence any further complaints, kissing you deep and with all those sexy tongue flicks that make you melt against his tall body, and a few minutes later, you sigh contently as Sukuna's weight settles on top of you on your bed, your hands automatically slipping under his hoodie, caressing his buff muscles, your head tilting back to let Sukuna trail kisses over your neck.

The little dispute with Nobara is forgotten for the next two hours that you spend with Sukuna in your room, making out and fucking, and cuddling afterward. But then he grumbles something about being hungry, and you smile and press a kiss to his neck, murmuring,

"Then go look what we have in the fridge."

Sukuna turns his head to cup your cheek with his hand, pulling you into a sloppy kiss before he gets up from your bed, only putting on his boxer briefs before he goes to the kitchen to raid your and Nobara's fridge.

You smile to yourself, sitting up on the bed as you put on some clothes, too. You are just in the middle of putting on your t-shirt when you hear Sukuna's loud laugh, and he calls out to you,

"Princess! Come here, quick! You won't believe this!"

You raise an eyebrow curiously, hurrying to the kitchen and asking what happened. Then, stop in your tracks when you see Sukuna standing in front of the open fridge, holding up two milk cartons. One of them has a pink sticky note taped to it that says in Nobara's handwriting: For ugly hockey players. Enjoy your milk, Kirby.

For a moment, you blink at the milk carton, and then you burst out laughing while your boyfriend opens it to take a big gulp straight out of the carton.

Nobara returns home a few hours later when Sukuna has already left. You are in the kitchen doing the dishes, and before Nobara can disappear to her room, you quickly call out,

"Hey, why did you put milk for Sukuna in the fridge?"

Nobara makes a huffing sound and turns around to look at you, but one corner of her glossy lips lifts in a half-grin,

"Ah, so he found it."

"Of course, he found it. You know he always takes something from our fridge. But I thought you can't stand him?"

Nobara shrugs, averting her gaze to inspect her long nails,

"He's annoying as fuck. But you like him. So I thought I'd get some milk for your boy."

"Oh... that's really nice, actually. Thank you."

Nobara shrugs again, but you can see the proud glint in her eyes as she flips her hair back.

"Yeah, I am the nicest person ever, of course."

Acting all tough and unimpressed, but after a moment, she sighs and walks over to you and puts an arm around your shoulder, holding you loosely while she adds,

"You're my friend. And you have always been supportive of Maki and me. Now, I am supportive of you and your curse boy, no matter how annoying he is. And at least, when he has his own milk carton now, I can rest assured that his slimy lips don't touch my precious milk!"

Another Saturday, another afternoon in the hockey arena.

The thing about being Sukuna's girlfriend is that you get quite used to seeing your boyfriend winning. Most of the Tigers' games end in a victory, with the whole arena cheering for their star player and Sukuna grinning that big, proud grin.

But tonight is not one of those nights. It doesn't look good for the Tigers.

You can see the fury in Sukuna's eyes with each minute that passes. He gives his all, throws himself brutally into his opponents, fights his ass off to get the puck, doesn't even let himself get stopped by getting slammed into the boards countless times. But still, it's not enough.

The Tigers lose.

You can see the anger sizzling through Sukuna's veins when he leaves the ice. His tattooed jaw is clenched, his posture tense, and the fiery glint in his eyes is downright dangerous. You hope he won't run into any rival player and get provoked because you know it will get him into all kinds of trouble.

Your steps are faster than usual as you make your way toward the locker room, trying to be there for Sukuna before he gets himself into a fistfight, which he will surely regret tomorrow because it will get him suspended from the next game.

When you reach the door of the locker room, the majority of the players already march out. They all look clearly upset, with slumped shoulders and sour expressions on their faces, and you have a feeling they all got changed as fast as possible to get away from a very pissed-off Sukuna.

You catch the door before it can fall shut and tentatively look inside. Yuuji is the first one you see, and he nods at you in greeting, but his face lacks the usual enthusiasm. Even the sunshine boy isn't able to muster up a smile today. You nod back at him, a question in your eyes, and Yuuji jerks his chin toward the other Tigers still in the room,

"Yo, hurry up, guys! Let's grab some drinks to forget about this shitshow!"

Yuuji pulls his hoodie over his head and then ushers his teammates out of the locker room, making sure his brother can have his alone time with you.

You step to the side and wait until the rest of the players have left and then bite your lip, step into the changing room, and let the heavy door fall shut behind you. The typical post-hockey game smell fills your nostrils, a mix of sweat, shower gel, and lingering adrenaline.

Your gaze finds Sukuna. He is still sitting on the bench, his armor off, shirtless, only in his boxer briefs, his abs and chest firm and dripping with sweat. His large hands grip the bench tightly, a furious glint in his eyes as his gaze catches you in the doorway.

It's clear to see that the King is pissed off.

Every fiber of his body screams anger at you, and it makes your breath catch in your throat, and something deep inside you throb excitedly. Because you know what a loss leads to. You know that Sukuna needs you extra badly tonight. You know that he will fuck you hard today, take you mercilessly, fuck all his frustration into you.

And it's exactly what you are here for. To offer your comfort in every way your man needs. And the thing is, you will enjoy every second of it.

"Baby, are you okay?"

You say it in a husky tone, eyes meeting Sukuna's burning-hot gaze across the locker room. Sukuna sends you a sneer, brushing his sweaty pink hair out of his eyes as he looks at you with an intensity that makes you wet instantly.

"I fucking hate this game."

You chuckle softly,

"You played so well. It's not your fault at all."

Sukuna huffs, laughing an unhumorous laugh.

"The whole team fucked up, including me."

You shake your head as you make your way over to your boyfriend. Sukuna never takes his eyes off as you walk towards him while already taking off your sweater and letting it drop carelessly to the floor of the changing room, followed by your leggings, only leaving you in the red lacey bra and panties set you wore specifically for this game.

You thought you would wear it for a victory fuck, but it's also going to serve its purpose for a make-things-okay-again-after-a-loss-fuck.

You can see the rage in Sukuna's tense posture. His broad, naked chest is sweaty, heaving heavily. The veins on his buff, tattooed arms stand out. All his muscles are taut, his jaw clenched. But at the same time, there's a feral hunger in his eyes as he lets his gaze travel slowly over your figure.

The moment you stop in front of him, Sukuna grabs you immediately and pulls you onto his lap. You straddle his thick, tattooed thighs and press yourself against Sukuna's strong, sweaty body, humping against the huge, hot bulge in his boxer briefs.

You know exactly what Sukuna needs tonight.

You lean forward, pressing your tits against Sukuna's chest as you capture his lips in a sweet kiss, even more tender than usual, more loving, despite how pissed off your boyfriend looks right now. It means you only will treat him even more lovingly. Be his sweet girl who comforts him and who he can fuck his angry cock deep into and find sweet relief by taking it all out on your tight wet pussy.

Sukuna rewards you instantly with a low, needy growl, and his large hands tighten roughly around your waist as he pushes his tongue between your lips. There is nothing gentle about the way he kisses you. It's rough and savage, almost brutal. He's fucking your mouth with his tongue, deep and savagely, making a needy mewl fall from your lips as you wrap your arms around Sukuna's thick neck.

You kiss him back eagerly, with tender licks and soft moans, keeping it sweet despite his rough attitude. Your lips trail from Sukuna's lips over his angular jaw to his neck. Kissing and licking before you gently nibble his earlobe and whisper in his ear,

"I'm here for you, baby. Do whatever you want with me. Take it all out on me. Fuck it all into me, Kuna."

Sukuna answers you with a low growl, and his large calloused hands grab your ass and squeeze it hard as he pushes you down on his lap, grinding his hard bulge against you, hot and heavy rubbing against your swollen wet clit, making you soak your panties and his boxers with your sweet arousal.

You moan softly, letting yourself sink heavily onto Sukuna's lap, meeting his movements. Grinding against his hard cock, massaging it with your clothed pussy, feeling him growing even harder against you. You watch Sukuna closely, basking in the way he lets his head fall back against the locker and moan loudly.

His gaze meets yours, and it makes a needy moan fall from your lips, too. Both of you wear the same horny and passionate expression, both knowing exactly what will happen.

You rub yourself slowly against Sukuna, spoiling his cock some more, watching as Sukuna lets you see all the passion on his tattooed face, mouth hanging open, low moans and harsh breaths falling from his lips as he watches you with that feral glint in his maroon eyes.

Sukuna's gaze never leaves yours as he slips the straps of your bra down and then yanks the whole thing down, making your tits spill out of the lacey red cups. The next second, his lips close around one nipple, sucking roughly on it, tongue lapping hungrily at it, making you twitch in his lap and letting out a shaky moan. Sukuna's teeth close around your tit, biting gently, leaving his teeth marks on you, making you gasp his name and tug on his pink hair even as you arch your back against him.

A low growl falls from Sukuna's lips. His tongue is still lapping teasingly at your erect nipple as his fiery gaze burns into yours. His voice is a low, velvety drawl,

"I'm gonna fuck you so hard. Gonna wreck you, princess."

Sukuna's maroon eyes look almost black from how dilated his pupils are, and you bite your lip before caressing his hair and whispering to him,

"Do it, baby. Fuck me as hard as you need. I can take it."

Sukuna lets out a breathless low groan which makes your pussy clench around nothing. One of his hands leaves your ass to grab your chin and caress your jaw firmly, his eyes dark and full of a mix of love and rage and so much passion and need, a lopsided smirk lifting one corner of his lips,

"Be careful what you wish for, sweetheart."

But you just let his thumb slip between your lips and suck it into your warm, wet mouth, looking deeply into Sukuna's eyes as you suckle devotedly on his finger showing him how serious you are about this. How much you are willing to give yourself fully to him and let him do anything he wants with you. Anything he needs tonight.

And Sukuna wouldn't be Sukuna if he didn't take you up on that offer. He smirks at you with a devilish glint in his eyes, and then Sukuna grabs you tightly and gets up with you in his arms, lifting you up as if you weigh nothing, holding you securely in his strong arms.

He slams you against his locker, making you gasp breathlessly as your back hits the cold surface while the rest of your body is covered with Sukuna's buff and overly hot body.

Sukuna's lips claim yours in a hot kiss, tongue so deep in your throat that it sends the craziest butterflies flying in your stomach.

He pushes down his boxer briefs impatiently, freeing his hard cock. It's pulsing with need, the tip swollen with an angry dark pink color, drooling pre-cum all over himself.

He doesn't bother taking off your panties but just yanks them to the side, letting his hot cockhead caress your throbbing clit sending shivers down your spine for a few seconds before Sukuna pulls back.

And then he claims you fully without any prior warning.

You gasp loudly, digging your nails into Sukuna's muscular back, feeling so full when Sukuna's hard cock rams into you deeply, claiming his girl with a hard brutal thrust.

Pleasure explodes behind your closed eyelids, making you feel dizzy from the assault of hard, unrelenting pleasure. You instantly wrap your legs tightly around Sukuna's hips, stuttering his name breathlessly as he fucks you hard and rough against his locker.

Sukuna's skin is hot and sweaty against you, his muscles taut, his low groans in your ear so fucking sexy and feral. He is so loud tonight. Growling and moaning loudly in your ear. Unrestrained, sexy noises full of lust and need and anger while Sukuna snaps his hips furiously against you.

It's a hard fuck. Primal. Like a big predator driven out of his mind by the need to mount his mate. Hard, angry thrusts. So deep and rough that you know you will feel him for days.

But you would lie if you said this isn't exactly what you want. You love to feel Sukuna like this. Love to let him use you like this. Love to feel his fat angry cock push into you and hear Sukuna's desperate, feral grunts. You love knowing that you are the only one who can comfort Sukuna after a loss. By letting him fuck you like this, rough and needy, against his locker, finding relief in your tight wet cunt.

You urge him on with breathless moans whispered in his ear and your legs wrapping tightly around his taut ass and fingernails digging into his buff muscles, needy just like him, clinging to him, your wet pussy clenching around him greedily.

Sukuna's mouth captures yours in another savage kiss, and you moan into it, licking against his tongue tenderly, eyes closed while you cling to him and take his thick angry cock all too happily.

The two of you are in a frenzy. Nothing but the two of you exists. Only Sukuna and you. Only his lips on yours and his cock deep inside you. You doubt the two of you would be able to stop even if someone walked in on you right now.

Sukuna's lips wander to your neck, kissing, sucking, his teeth grazing over your sensitive skin before he bites you lightly. His low voice is husky, filled with a sexy mix of arousal and anger when he grounds out,

"I. Fucking. Hate. Losing."

Every word gets accentuated by a rough thrust directly onto your sweet spot.

You mewl loudly, legs shaking as you feel tears stream down your cheeks from how good it feels to get fucked like this, Sukuna's name falling from your lips like a prayer.

Your fingers dig into Sukuna's broad back, your voice hoarse when you moan in his ear, urging him on,

"Yes! Fuck me, baby! Fuck it all into me. Take it all out on me, Kuna!"

He fucks the first orgasm out of you right then and there. It crashes over you unexpectedly, hot and wild, making you squeal his name as your pussy clenches wildly around Sukuna's cock, your legs shaking as you cum hard on his fat cock.

Sukuna groans, but he isn't finished with you. He slams you even harder against the locker with deep, brutal thrusts that make you squeal and sob, already feeling another orgasm building deep inside you.

It feels like it's too much. Like you will melt away if Sukuna keeps going and makes you cum one more time like this. But it feels so damn good, and you sob loudly, clinging desperately to Sukuna, your legs wrapped tightly around his muscular ass, your nails leaving scratches on his back.

Sukuna's voice is so sexy, low, husky, and laced with those feral grunts and deep moans, giving in to his most primal urges as he ruts into you,

"Don't hold back! Give me another! Fucking squirt on my cock!"

His hand forces itself between your bodies, thick calloused thumb rubbing furiously at your stiff clit, so fast and intense that you cry out, feeling your body lose control, panicking for a second, but Sukuna groans in your ear,

"Yeah, just like that, make a big fucking mess all over me!"

It's not a suggestion but a command, and it drives you insane, that natural dominance, that sexy control Sukuna emits. You clench around Sukuna's cock again, eyes closed, mouth opening in a wild cry as you feel yourself tumble over the edge again, his nasty words making you lose all control.

The waves of your orgasm crash over you unrelentingly, so hard it makes you see black for a moment as you scream and your pussy spasms around Sukuna's huge cock, milking him wildly as your juices spray out of you uncontrollably, squirting all over his cock and his heavy balls, wet, hot and messy, just like he told you to.

Sukuna growls but doesn't stop drilling his cock into you, fucking you roughly, smacking your pussy with his taut heavy balls anytime he pushes into you. Fucking you through your orgasm, with the nastiest wet sounds, as he fucks your creamy wetness back into you, while grunting loudly in your ear, low sexy noises, harsh breaths, as Sukuna chases his own orgasm now.

Sukuna cums with an unrestrained loud groan. His hips stutter against yours, and he presses you against the locker, ramming his twitching cock impossibly deep into you for his orgasm. His strong body is so close to you, hot and sweaty and brimming with passion.

You mewl his name, not able to stop yourself from clenching around him as he shoots his hot ropes of cum deep into you. Sukuna is so sexy like this when he loses control and lets himself get overtaken by his most primal needs. Loud groans fall from his lips, his whole muscular body is taut, his heart racing wildly against your breasts as he empties his balls and all his anger into you.

Gradually, Sukuna's loud groans turn into low sighs and labored breathing. He pulls away only enough so he can grab your chin with one of his large hands and tilt your head back, making you look up into his maroon eyes, which are heavy-lidded with lust and satisfaction.

The eye contact is so intense, so intimate with the way Sukuna's cock is still buried to the hilt inside you after he came in you, his hot seed deep inside you, your wetness clinging to his cock, your bodies touching everywhere, your breaths mingling, both of you still high from your orgasms.

Sukuna flashes you one of his lazy, sexy smirks,

"You're such a fucking good girl for me."

His lips claim yours in another rough kiss that makes you moan softly.

Sukuna kisses you deep and hard, his cock still buried balls deep in you, while Sukuna is still rocking against you slowly, still fucking you with his spent cock, overstimulating himself because he can't pull out yet, needing you too much. It makes you whine into the kiss and caress the taut muscles on Sukuna's broad back and buck your hips against him getting every last drop of his seed, every last caress his half-hard cock can give you.

The kiss becomes slower, lazier, sloppy, and, oh, so tender. And Sukuna's cock finally slips out of you, half-hard, gradually softening now, resting heavy and hot against your skin, slick from his cum and your juices, pulsing hotly against you, and you moan his name, just when Sukuna murmurs, "I love you." against your kiss-swollen lips.

You smile softly at Sukuna, cupping his tattooed cheek and caressing it gently.

"I love you, too, baby. Are you feeling better now?"

Sukuna laughs softly and carefully lowers you back down until your feet touch the ground. His muscular arms stay wrapped around you, though, not letting you go away just yet. A playful grin lifts his lips.

"Yeah, you always know what I need, princess. Thank you. But I promise that next time, we'll have a victory fuck again. I am not going to fucking lose twice in a row!"

You laugh, patting Sukuna's cheek playfully, and shake your head theatrically,

"Of course you won't, baby."

AAAHHH angry Kuna does something to me 😵😵

I am so glad I finally managed to post this new chapter! I hope that some of you are still interested in this story and that you enjoyed the update! Thank you so much to everyone who left encouraging messages in the last few weeks! I am kissing youuuu 😘💗

Comments and reblogs would be very sweet.

[pretty-little-mind33]

James Potter x fem!reader

Summary: James has been persuing you for years and you've never said yes, until now?

Genre: Fluff 😇🎉 (bc i love happiness, ur welcome)

Warnings: misunderstandings, lovesick!James <3

JAMES POTTER MASTERLIST

It's not James's fault he's been head over heels in love with you for longer than he can remember. And it's really not his fault either that he's spent years acting like a complete and utter fool just to have a sliver of your attention. 

Talking the loudest in any room you're in? Easy.

"Accidentally" flying too close to where you're sitting in the Quidditch stands while he's supposed to be playing just so he can flip around obnoxiously? He's done that over three times now. 

So, when he hears you'll be at the Three Broomsticks this evening, it isn't surprising to anyone that he convinces Sirius and Remus to accompany him.

The moment they walk in, their loud demeanor makes everyone turn their heads. It's no secret James, Sirius, and Remus are the handsomest guys in your year — so no one could blame you when you look up too. 

Your friend digs her elbow into your side when James sees you looking and struts to your table. You sit up, taking a long sip of your pumpkin juice as James leans in and crosses his arms.

Sirius and Remus stand behind him, amused. "Ladies," James winks, his eyes focused only on you. "What brings you here on this lovely Friday evening?"

You turn your head, avoiding his gaze with a small smile that makes James lose his mind, "Nothing that concerns you, Potter,"

"Can I buy you a drink?" he asks, unfazed by your bluntness as he motions to your empty glass. 

When you stand, James smoothly moves out of the way and you send him a look behind your shoulder. "Mm, no thanks. But if you want you can walk with me to order my own drink," you joke, not thinking he'll actually want to.

But, if James was a puppy, he'd be your puppy. You have him wrapped around your little pinky and the only person who doesn't see it is you. 

"Gladly," The boy smirks and his arm brushes yours as he walks next to you. You frown a little but don't say anything. You've never minded James's attention, and you know he's been after you for years now, but still you can't wrap your mind around him being serious about it.

In your mind, the attention was always bound to fade with time, and you wouldn't be caught as the fool who'd fallen for it.

However, as you lean against the bar to order another pumpkin juice and you feel James's eyes glued on you, you start to wonder. 

"So, when's the expiration date for this little game?" you ask, looking at him seriously. 

James leans against the bar too and completely turns his body to you. "Hmm? What?" he asks with a smile. He tucks the loose strand of hair from in front of your eyes behind you ear, seemingly proud of himself when he can see you clearly again. 

"This," you point at him, and then throw your arms up dramatically, "Whatever it is that you're doing."

James just smiles. He's not really catching on as his hand slides closer to yours on the bar counter. "What am I doing?" he whispers, leaning in. He has that look in his eyes, the one that makes your stomach flutter. 

You move your hand away from his. You sound exhausted, "All this flirting! Aren't you done yet?" you say it a little loudly and the woman who hands you your drink sends you a glare. Your cheeks heat up and you mumble a small sorry as you slide her your money. 

James catches your other arm before you can turn around and walk away from him. "Hey wait, what do you mean am I done? Do'you want me to be done?" he sound unsure and you can see his confusion on his face. 

Now you're confused. "Are you not planning on being done?" you whisper.

James can't hear you over the loud music and chatter inside so he moves you outside gently and you don't have to time to wonder why you let him.

It's slightly dark but the air is warm and James can hear you now when you ask the question again. He looks you over, still extremely puzzled by the entire situation.

"Wait, done with what?" he asks.

You blink at him. "What?" you feel like you're losing your mind. 

"Am I done with what?" he asks camly and you roll your eyes. 

"Done with flirting with me!" you exclaim, running a hand in your hair, "I- I don't understand, James. Why haven't you moved on? Sure, it was funny for a while but it's been years, even you must find the joke stale by now?"

James mouth opens and closes like some kind of fish and then he stares at you like you have lost your mind. "Joke? What joke?" he says and walks a little closer to you. He sounds even more confused. "Y/n, do you want me to stop flirting with you?"

You bite your lip, "I mean, yes? Because, it's not really funny anymore. I didn't mind it, Potter, but —" you pause and then hold the drink in your hand tighter. "Okay, here. What if I say I like you too? Can we just have a good laugh about it and then it all be over?"

James's frown deepens and he waves his arms in the air. "Wait, you think I'm joking?"

You blink at him again. "You're not?"

James runs a hand through his hair, chuckling in disbelief, "Of course I'm not joking," he walks even closer and you feel his presence as your skin tingles. You look up as he brushes his thumb on your chin and then smiles warmly, "I'd never pursue anyone as a joke. If you said you like me, then I would say thank Merlin and then I would kiss you until you couldn't feel those gorgeous lips of yours," he says it so calmly but you almost drop your drink. 

"Wait, so you actually, no-jokes, like me?" 

"Oh yeah. Why would you think I was making that up?" James moves his thumb to brush over your lips now, a look of adoration in his eyes, "I'm not that committed to my jokes," he teases. 

He pauses to think, "you think a twelve-year-old boy would write you cheesy love notes every class and actually send them if it was a joke? Or likewise, a sixteen-year-old would spend all of 6th year reading every single book you borrowed from the library just in case he had the chance to impress you? Or lose sleep over the way you wear your hair, or know that you change your nail-polish every week but you rotate the same colors since 4th year," James blushes a little at the admission and pauses, "and now I just sound like a creep, don't I?"

You laugh and the sound makes James grin. You hesitate but touch his cheek, tilting your head, "So, you meant every over-the-top gesture and every hilariously stupid pick-up-line?" you ask, "ever since 2nd year?" 

James nods, leaning into your touch. "Mmm yeah, but we can pretend that I was joking about the pick-up-lines that way it's less embarrassing for me," he says sheepishly.

"But I liked your pick up lines," you pout with a smile, your shoulders relaxing. 

James's eyes sparkle, "Yeah? You did?"

You smile at him. "No, but now it's funnier that you were serious about them."

James looks at you and he laughs. He throws his head back with a grin and your chest tightens even more. Has he always been this handsome or have you just never let yourself fully admire him? James looks at you again and his next words almost cause a heart attack. "Merlin, I've never wanted to kiss you as much as I do now," 

Your eyes flicker to his lips unconsciously and you realiz ehow close he is. You're nervous now and James can tell. Gently, he takes the drink in your hand and sets it on the small ledge of the building. It might fall but that's the least of your worries. For now, you need to focus on remembering how to breathe. 

Something must be different in the way you're looking at him because James asks you if he can kiss you. Years and years of flirting and he's never asked you that. 

You don't answer him and just when the silence starts to become awkward you take his cheeks in your hands and pull him towards you. Your lips hit his clumsily and you gasp into his mouth when his arm swoops behind you and he pulls you closer. James kisses you hungrily and you start to wonder why you hadn't done this years earlier.

When James disconnects his lips from yours and looks at you sweetly. "I didn't think you'd say yes," he whispers, "even less that you'd say it like that," his cheeks are tainted pink and your lip-gloss stains his lips. 

"Neither did I," you admit and look away a moment. Goosebumps run across your arms and, because you don't know where to put your hands anymore, you put them in your jacket pockets. You frown and pull out the galleons you'd used to pay for your drink with your left hand. You look back at James and he looks guilty. "What's this?" you ask. 

"I paid for your drink when you weren't looking. I knew you'd most likely say no again but I couldn't resist. I'm sorry," he holds his nape and sways on his feet.

You stare at him, slightly annoyed but also impressed that he'd put the money in your pocket without you noticing. You outsrech your open palm for him to take the money. "You'know, you make it very hard for me not to fall head over heels in love with you, James Potter."

James grins and closes your hand around his. "That the point, love," he says. 

You roll your eyes, realizing if he'd gone behind your back to pay for you he'll never accept your money now. "So, are you gonna ask me out properly or what?"

James smirks, "Are you going to say yes this time?"

You grin, "You'll just have to find out now, won't you? Tenth times the charm?"

"I don't think that's the expression—"

"Just ask me already, you idiot," you giggle.

[no-144444]

always does- i.hadjar

꩜summary: as isack's best friend, you're a little oblivious until you're not

꩜pairing: isack hadjar x fem! reader

You never understood why Isack kept you so close-by (in a metaphorical sense, of course). You were his best friend, yeah. You didn’t wander away from him, even when he moved. You just… worked through the distance and the time differences, and you were as strong as before. You didn’t pull away too much when he had a girlfriend and you didn’t expect him to pull away too much when you got a boyfriend. When you guys were together, you were there to be together in whatever you were doing. It didn’t matter if it was a simple walk, or a day out at a theme park, time together was few and far between, so you had to make it count. Your other friends stepped back for the day, Isack stood or sat by your side, his hand brushing yours until he eventually took it. And you’d stay like that. Sleep in the same bed. Make morning coffee together. Brush your teeth together. Domestic shit, but it didn’t matter. Isack and you weren’t like that, you never would be. 

Obviously, you knew he was hot. Anyone with eyes and a brain saw the fact that he was conventionally attractive. But you never had that switch in your mind that your other friends had with their guy friends. They spoke about it like some day they just started seeing them differently. Like it was quick. Like it was a snap of fingers, and suddenly you're in love with him. It wasn’t the same for you. Isack was just… Isack. Your Isack. The Isack who bought you ice cream and held your hand walking down the streets of Venice, and that same Isack who would push you into the bushes in his back garden when you raced each other. He hadn’t changed much, just got taller, his voice got deeper, and he was an F1 driver. You hadn’t changed much either, ass and tits, hair longer than when you were five, and you finally didn’t work on the other side of the world, you were in Paris and he was in Monaco. 

“Come to Monaco,” he begged over the phone. “I’m so bored on my own and it’s so weird here.”

“I literally told you so, Isack,” you chuckled. “And anyway, I’ve a date this weekend, so I’m busy.”

He stopped. “A date? Like with a guy?” he asked. “Why do you have a date?”

You scoffed. “Wow, thanks. And it’s just this guy who asked for my number at work. He’s sweet.” 

“Seriously?” he scoffed. You didn’t notice the way his chest tightened and his jaw clenched. You didn’t see the way his breath hitched. “Just reschedule, please. I want you here.”

A younger you would’ve given in with the way he pouted, but you had a date. A date you wanted to attend. “No can-do pretty boy,” you shook your head, and he nearly passed out from the pet name. You didn’t see it, but caught a glimpse of the time. “Oh shit, I better go. Work,” you sighed, getting up. You didn’t wait for an answer. “Love you,” you smiled into your phone camera and hung up, knowing he'd say it back. 

“You’re so fucked for her, aren’t you?” Liam chuckled, sitting beside Isack. It pulled him out of the small world he created on the phone with you. When he saw your apartment, he just thought of the nights he spent there, the smell of the vanilla candles, the warm lights, the wool blankets, you. Isack groaned, putting his phone back into his pocket and looking at his hands. He didn’t like to talk about it. He didn’t really know what to say about it. “Talk,” Liam shrugged. “What’s going on?” “Nothing,” he shrugged. “That’s the problem.” 

“She doesn’t like you back?” he asked, cracking open a can of redbull and handing it to him, then opening one for himself. 

He sighed. “She doesn’t. She doesn’t notice me. I’m just her best friend.” 

“Have you talked to her about it?” Liam asked. 

“How am I supposed to admit something like that?” he questioned. “What if she hates me and doesn’t ever want to talk to me again? What if I lose her completely?”

It was his worst fear. More scary than crashing the car, than losing his seat, than anything. He couldn’t lose you. He refused. 

“I think you need to evaluate what you want and whether or not you can keep going like this,” Liam offered. “And I’m happy to listen more, if you need it.” 

Since when was Liam so philosophical? He listened to Zach Bryan for god’s sake. He got up, tapped Isack on the shoulder, and left him to ruminate. 

He remembered the exact moment he’d fallen for you. You were 15. You had come to visit him at Spa for one of his F4 races, and he’d won. He ran out of the car. You were waiting at the barrier. He couldn’t keep his eyes off you. You stood there, looking so proud, so caring, so you. He couldn’t get enough. He’d race the hell out of any car anyone handed him if it meant he saw that look on your face. And you’d hugged him. You’d kissed his cheek. You stayed up all night celebrating and fell asleep beside him. You didn’t question the way he was looking at you, because maybe he’d always looked at you like that. Maybe it was just him realising then.

But you didn’t feel the same, and that was fine. He didn’t care. Well, he cared a lot, but he wasn’t going to make it your problem. 

Quali was long and which was good and bad. Good, because it meant he was starting 4th in Monaco, which was incredible. Bad, because it meant he didn’t have his phone on him to track your location and watch your date play out in real time. Which is a totally normal thing to do, right?

He jumped out of the car, searching for Liam, or Ollie, or someone to talk to about how shitty the tires would be the next day, but he turned his head to the left and caught a glimpse of a face he knew all too well. 

“What the fuck are you doing here?!” he practically squealed. Ollie would have laughed, but he didn’t care. He wrapped his arm around your waist, lifting you up and against him. “Holy shit,” he breathed into your hair. Like he didn’t believe you were real. Like he couldn’t trust his senses. 

And it was like your eyes opened. 

You liked sleeping in the same bed as Isack. You like brushing your teeth beside him. You like the way he treats you. You liked the way he had kissed you on your 18th birthday when you were both wine drunk in Paris, walking along the river. 

You froze for a moment. You didn’t let him go. He didn’t seem to care, though he untucked his head from your neck and stared at you, confused. “Are you alright?” he asked, his face changing to panic. “Y/n.”

“You’re incredible!” you shook yourself back into the moment, as if you hadn’t just had the most insane realisation of your life. “4th in fucking Monaco!” 

He chuckled, his panic easing. “I know right,” he smirked. “I might just have to be your favourite driver now.”

“Of course you are,” you rolled your eyes. “Always have been,” he didn’t recognise the way you were looking at him, but he welcomed it all the same. “Come on, let’s get you something to eat.”

“You’re quiet,” he whispered, nudging your arm with his own. The paddock was loud and full of his name, but he still noticed you. Well, it would be hard no to, for him. “What’s up?”

You looked down, seeing where your foot collided with his in a constant, soft game of footsies. “Nothing, the sky,” you listed, stifling a giggle. He rolled his eyes and looked up, sighing. It gave you time to look at him. Notice the way his neck had gotten bigger, see the progress he’d made with his training, observe his bulging biceps and arms. Holy shit you had it bad for him, maybe all your mates were right? No, it couldn’t be. Because it wasn’t fast. You’d slowly fallen for him, over a matter of years. Slowly, you’d gotten used to the small things he does for you, you appreciated the hugs and cheek kisses, the protective arm around your shoulder every now and then, that stupid laugh you’d fallen so hard for. It wasn’t this quick, free-fall. It was slow, like a leaf falling down in the autumn wind. It was different. It was Isack. “I don’t know. This weekend just feels… different. Maybe you’ll get on that podium.” 

He chuckled, turning to face you. “I think something’s gone to your head,” he teased. “You sure it’s redbull in that can?”

You scoffed, playfully pushing him. “Never say never. Some things change, even when we don’t expect them too.” 

He stared at you, seeing that look in your eye again. “We’re alright?” he questioned. 

You nodded. “Always.” 

And once again, you walked away, leaving Isack all alone with his feelings. Liam always walked by at the right time, it was disturbing. “She’s in love with you, mate.” 

Isack jumped, not hearing his teammate join him on the bench (he was too busy looking at you longingly). “What the fuck-?!”

“She has it bad for you mate, I know these things,” he nodded. “You should ask her out, she’ll say yes.” 

“Do you remember any of our conversation from the other day?” He stared at him in disbelief as Liam shrugged. “And, I didn’t even think she was coming this weekend so what has changed between then and now, huh?” he questioned, his accent coming out the more he spoke. 

Liam cleared his throat. “Exactly mate, you’re welcome,” he smiled. “Nothing like an unrequited love story in Monaco, anything can happen here.”

“You brought her here?” Isack’s jaw dropped. “For what?!”

“For you, you fucking loser,” Liam chuckled. “Talk to her! Ask her out! Take control of your destiny!” the more he spoke the less Isack knew what he was saying. He stared at him dumbstruck as he walked off, winking at him. 

What a strange weekend. 

Every bone in his body ached to fall into bed, but he just couldn’t sleep. He’d tried everything. Meditation. Breathing exercises. Tea. that navy sleep technique. Visualisations. And now, walking the dark streets of Monaco. The barriers were up. The fanstands were empty, but by tomorrow morning they’d be full. And he’d be in a car on the second row. Part of him couldn’t believe it. Part of him didn’t want to. He had trouble sometimes with taking pride in his work, maybe because in his mind it was an obligation more than an ambition. He didn’t think he’d be truly happy with his career until he lifted that Championship trophy. It didn’t matter how many races he won, how many people called him the goat, or what people said about him. If he didn’t have that trophy it wasn’t worth it. His life’s work wasn’t worth it. And that scared the shit out of him. 

“Fancy meeting you here,” you spoke and he turned his head in disbelief. “Missed me too much already?” 

You had gone to bed earlier than him, and he didn’t have a chance to offer you his bed. Which was fine. But there you were, standing there in the streets he knew like the back of his hand (well, the hairpin he knew like the back of his hand), wearing your pyjamas out in the mild Monaco air. You couldn’t have looked more beautiful. He took a deep breath. “Always,” he smirked, walking up to you. “What are you doing out here so late?”

You rolled your eyes playfully. “Do you always have to be so protective?” you chuckled. “I couldn’t sleep.”

You started walking in step with each other, your hand wrapping around his arm as you spoke. He cleared his throat. “Worried about tomorrow?” he asked, watching your side profile as you kept your eyes ahead. 

You turned to him. “Isn’t that supposed to be my line?” 

There was humor in your voice but it fell flat against the tension between the two of you. He was close. Too close. So close. You could feel his breath on your cheek, and he didn’t step back. He just kept staring. Staring and staring at your face as if he hadn’t seen it a thousand and one times. Like he didn’t know the layout of it like he knew the layout of the track beside you. The streetlamps illuminated his eyes, the perfect shade of brown. God, you could’ve just gotten lost in that moment, staring at him, when saying nothing truly meant everything.

He leaned over and his lips met yours. Not like it was planned but, not like it wasn’t either. Just simple, passionate, soft, and delicate. His hand cupped your cheek like he’d bruise it if he touched you too roughly. You didn’t mind. You kissed him back, gently running your hands through his hair as you felt yourself back up against a barrier. He didn’t stop and neither did you. 

“I love you,” he breathed out against your lips, not thinking clearly. He was drunk off the taste of you, off the moment. “I’ve loved you for a long time.” 

You didn’t answer right away, slightly shocked at the confession. People had mentioned it, pointed it out, or blatantly told you that he was in love with you. You didn’t take it to heart. It was hard not to when his hands were on your face as he kissed you against a barrier in Monaco. Your hands fisted his t-shirt, pulling him closer. “I love you too,” your voice was barely above a whisper, but he heard it. He always did. 

He pulled back with that soft smile on his face, fixing your pyjamas slightly. He looked at you with all the care in the world, but then again, he always did. 

navigation for my blog :)

redbull & vcarb masterlist

[kuronarnze]

a/n: hihi! New writer here :)! I actually started writing hxh fanfics, but i HAVE A FULL BLUE LOCK OBSESSION, sooo here am i writing a itoshi sae x reader fanfic! I reaallly hope y'all can enjoy the story (⁠≧⁠▽⁠≦⁠)!

Itoshi sae x reader !

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Nostalgia in His Bangs

You had one mission in life: to keep Itoshi Sae’s bangs down.

It was a goal you had since childhood, when little Sae would always have his bangs falling over his forehead, framing his face so perfectly that it was impossible not to find him adorable. But then he grew up, became Japan’s genius midfielder, and started styling his hair back like some professional businessman.

Unacceptable.

“Sae, put your bangs down.”

You were sitting next to him in a quiet café, a rare moment where you managed to steal his time. He sipped his coffee with an uninterested look, barely sparing you a glance. “No.”

“Please?”

“No.”

You pouted, leaning forward to inspect his hair more closely. “It doesn’t even look bad when it’s down. In fact, it looks way better.”

He scoffed, setting his cup down. “It gets in my eyes when I play.”

“You’re not playing right now,” you countered immediately.

Sae sighed, already knowing he was losing this argument. You had been on this crusade for years, ever since he started slicking his hair back. At first, he didn’t take you seriously, but after countless attempts—including surprise attacks where you ruffled his hair when he wasn’t expecting it—he realized you were determined.

And honestly? A part of him didn’t mind.

“You’re obsessed with my bangs,” he muttered, staring at you with a bored expression.

“Yes,” you admitted without shame. “It reminds me of when we were kids. You always had your bangs down back then, and you looked so soft and cute.”

Sae stared at you, then sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m not a kid anymore.”

“You still look cute.”

A faint flush dusted his cheeks, but he quickly masked it with an eye roll. You grinned, knowing you got to him.

After a few seconds of silence, Sae clicked his tongue and leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. “If I put them down, will you shut up about it?”

You gasped. “You’re actually considering it?”

“I said if.”

You nodded eagerly, watching in awe as he ran his fingers through his hair, messing up the perfectly styled look. Slowly, the strands fell into place, covering his forehead just like they used to when you were kids.

Your heart squeezed at the sight.

“There. Happy now?” Sae asked, glancing at you with mild amusement.

You reached out and gently brushed his bangs, a soft smile spreading across your face. “Perfect.”

Sae exhaled through his nose, watching you with a rare fondness in his gaze. “…You’re ridiculous.”

“And you love it,” you shot back playfully.

He didn’t deny it.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

I hope there arent any grammar mistakes 😞😞, english isnt my first language heh. Sorryy if sae is ooc, i tried my best to write sae perfectly :)! Thank you for reading! Have a nice day/night (⁠人⁠*⁠´⁠∀⁠｀⁠)⁠｡⁠*ﾟ⁠+

[redhead1180]

Bad Day

Pairing - Dom!Rafe x reader x soft Dom!JJ

Summary - You are having a really bad day. Your boyfriends think that it will be an easy fix, come to find out you weren't in the mood for them.

Words - 3.4k

Warnings - some Noncon, spanking with belt, slapping, fingering, nipple play, cursing, DP, self doubt, name calling, degradation kink, praise kink, pain kink, choking, chokehold. I think that's it, please let me know if I missed anything.

A/N: I had insomnia last night and this idea came to mind. I have not wrote for Rafe before, so hoping I do him justice. I felt like the boys needed someone to come back at them, as see how they react. Hopefully this isn't shit, appreciate any and all constructive criticism.

I walk into Tannyhill, slamming the door behind me, storming past JJ watching TV and Rafe in his office. I made a beeline for our bedroom, just wanting a bubble bath to forget this day. In my haste, I missed the look from each of them, wondering why I was in a mood. And I missed them coming to the foot of the stairs and watching me stomp up them, grumbling the whole time.

“I have to finish this call, so why don’t you go see what’s up her ass” Rafe told JJ. He nodded and headed up the stairs behind me.

I was taking off my jewelry at the dresser, lost in thought about my day at work. Rafe, JJ, and I had turned heads when it came out that we were a throuple 8 months ago. We knew there would be lots of gossip and assumptions, but we really were happy together. Yes, there were times the boys fought, mainly over that instilled Pogue vs Kook hatred, but it was just snide remarks most of the time. I had thought by now the gossip would be over. Boy was I wrong.

I was so deep in thought that I didn’t hear JJ come in. I felt him arms wrap around my waist from behind and instantly knew it was him. He pressed his body up against mine and placed his chin on my shoulder.

“What’s the matter, princess,” he asked into my ear.

“Nothing” I grumbled out, brushing his arms off me and walking to the closet. JJ furrowed his eyebrows, his eyes following me.

“Well something’s got your panties in a wad” JJ said a little impatiently. A little irked at your attitude, but trying to keep from losing his patience. That was normally Rafe.

“It’s nothing, J, just leave me alone,” I huff out grabbing clothes and going to walk past him to the bathroom. I try to brush past him, but he grabs my hips and pulls me up against him.

“C’mon tell Papa J what’s the matter” he cheekily says, rubbing his thumbs on my hips.

“It’s nothing, now stop it I’m not in the fucking mood” I scoff out pushing his arms off me and turning to walk to the bathroom. Before I could take two steps, JJ wrapped one arm around my waist and another around my neck, putting me in chokehold.

“Listen, princess, I am trying to be fucking patient here, but this attitude is going to have to stop. Remember who you’re fucking talking to here. Now. What. Is. The. Problem.” He punctuates those words.

“Nothing” I insist as I begin to struggle in his arms. “I just want to take a bubble bath and lay down. Now please just leave me THE FUCK ALONE!” I shouted as I pushed on JJ’s arms and wiggle in his hold trying to break free. Which was how Rafe found us a minute later.

“HEY!” He shouted at us, “What the fuck is going on?” His eyes wide and a scowl on his face. “What the fuck is wrong with you two?

“Go ahead, princess, tell him what you told me.” JJ demanded knowing, usually, I would not yell or act that way with Rafe. But today was different and I was seriously in a mood. He let me go so I could look at Rafe.

“I’ll tell you the same thing I told him, I just want a bath and to be left the fuck ALONE!” I shouted the last part. I turned around not waiting for an acknowledgement from Rafe and headed to the bathroom. I heard JJ chuckle a “Oh hell nah” and before I could get in the bathroom and close the door, Rafe had me by the back of my neck, pulling me back and pushing me to bed. He literally tossed me on it, without any gentleness.

I immediately tried to get back up and get off the bed, but Rafe tossed me back on there. Before I could react, Rafe had me on my stomach, his hands locked around my ankles. JJ grabbed my wrists and pulled them above my head and between his legs. I struggled against them both, bucking my hips and kicking as best I could. Rafe slapped my ass hard, making me growl in frustration. I kicked at Rafe and tried to jerk my arms from JJ, it was really no use but I was so frustrated I couldn’t help it. JJ grabbed my throat and jerked me up to look at him. His face was red from the struggle, but also cause he was pissed at the moment. Rafe slapped my other ass cheek to get me to stop, but I struggled harder.

“Y/N, STOP, or so help me I will take this belt off and use it on your ass” Rafe hisses at me from behind still holding my ankles.

“Princess, just tell us what’s wrong, stop this” JJ pleaded. He was pissed, just as much as Rafe, but he still was more gentle because he saw there was something genuinely wrong and he hated seeing me upset.

I thought about it, as tears formed on my lash line. But I didn’t know how to explain the way being called a slut, whore, trailer trash, money hungry, and bitch had built up this frustration and self-consciousness. I really did love my boys, and sure we enjoyed Rafe’s money to some extent, but JJ and I both had jobs. I didn’t sit up Tannyhill in fucking lingerie waiting like some kept woman for my sugar daddies. We had sex, obviously lots of sex, and explored each other together. I wasn’t just some fuck toy to them. I was more than that to our relationship, wasn’t I?

I pushed back the thoughts and the tears and struggled harder. Why in my head I felt the need to be a brat and not just communicate, well I’m a woman. We have bad days. What can I say. And I was having a very bad fucking day.

“Nothing is fucking wrong, now let me go” I said very low and cold to JJ, looking him straight in the eye. He looked at me, tongue in cheek, then looked up at Rafe and nodded.

“Fucking hell, Y/N.” Rafe huffed out as I heard his belt unbuckle and then a snap. Rafe reached up, grabbed my shorts and panties pulling them off me in one motion. JJ had wrapped his legs around my body to keep me down, since Rafe had to let go to undo his belt.

“Why can’t you just tell us and stop being a fucking brat.” Rafe scowled at me. “This gonna hurt you more than me.”

I heard a whoosh of air and then felt the belt against my bare ass. The sting and burn from the leather made me gasp out, but I continued to struggle. Rafe slapped me again, this time I let out a muffled scream, the stinging and burning sensation intensified. I felt myself start to get a little wet from the spanking. He hit me a third time and I just screamed this time and grabbed JJ’s shirt, pulling on it to help ground me. I was feeling the heat buildup in stomach and My ass already feeling raw.

“Baby, please just stop struggling and tell us so he will quit.” JJ whispered to me. I let out a choked “No” and I saw his jaw tick from frustration. Rafe hit me two more times and stopped. I was silently crying, my face pushed into the mattress. My ass was raw and stinging, but my pussy was throbbing and I could feel dribbles of my arousal run down my thighs.

Rafe ran his hands gently over my red, burning, and stinging ass soothingly. Pulling my hips up to push my butt more in the air.

“If she won’t tell us after a punishment, maybe she’ll tell us for an orgasm” Rafe taunted. “We just want to know why your so upset, but you can’t act this way baby. That’s not how this works.” He began to run his fingers through my folds. “Fuck JJ she is soaked” Rafe teases. “JJ we are going to come up with another punishment, she enjoys these spankings too much.”

Rafe’s fingers explore through my folds, making me moan into the bed. JJ lets go with his legs and I feel him reach for the hem of my shirt pulling it slowly and over my head. He gently rubs his hands down my back, before unhooking my bra and removing it. He places his hands under my arms and pulls me up to him. Rafe is still just exploring with his fingers and gently rubbing my cheeks with his other hand. My mind was turning hazy and my pussy was throbbing, from the mixture of pain and gentleness the boys were giving.

I was waiting for them to ask again what was wrong, but they didn’t. JJ cupped my face and kisses me. Rafe at the same time slid in one finger, I gasped and JJ slid his tongue in, exploring my mouth with it. JJ slid his fingers in my hair and pulled me closer to deepen the kiss and I moaned into his mouth, melting completely. Rafe slid in another finger and began peppering my red striped ass with open mouth kisses. I whimpered from the sting and grabbed JJ’s shirt, pulling him closer. I couldn’t stop myself, I began rolling my hips and meeting Rafe’s fingers as he pumped them inside me at a slow and steady pace. JJ let his other hand ghost down my neck to my breast and began to pinch and rub my nipple. My insides were on fire, I was a moaning mess, I needed them to do more so I could reach my peak.

“More” I rasped out in JJ’s mouth.

“Not till you tell us what’s wrong” JJ muttered in that low husky voice that made me swoon.

Rafe was beginning a trail of kisses up my back, his pace with his fingers slowing just a bit.

“We just want to fix what’s wrong, baby” Rafe murmured against my skin.

“You can’t fix it” I said sullenly.

They both stopped and looked at me.

“I mean not unless you can get the whole damn county to stop talking about us and calling me names and slurs” I sniffled hiding my face in JJ’s neck.

“I’ll fucking kill all of them” Rafe growled behind me. He jerked his fingers out of me, causing me to yelp, as he got up and started pacing. “I’m going to kill them all, and throw their fucking dead carcasses in the ocean, then I will buy this whole goddamn fucking island, where it’s just us and no one will hurt you again baby.” He ranted.

JJ and I shared a look like WTF.

“Yeah, ok, not helping, yo limp dick, you mind coming back down to reality here?” JJ hollered to Rafe as he threw my bra at his head, causing me to giggle. Rafe snapped his head around with a murderous look, that he immediately dropped when he saw us there.

“You got any better ideas, simpleton” Rafe sneered at JJ.

“Yeah as I matter of fact I do. I say for tonight we make our girl feel like the princess she is, cause she deserves it. Then you and I, starting tomorrow, are going to have a talk with some of the asshole patrons of this godforsaken place, to see if we can ‘encourage’ them to shut the hell up.” JJ said.

They continued to stare at each other, as if having a secret conversation, you were not to be a part of. Rafe finally gave a quick nod and simply said “Ok” and moved back to the bed.

“Now where we” JJ muttered into my lips.

“Wait” I leaned back, JJ huffs, “How are you going to encourage them” I ask.

“Don’t worry about it baby” Rafe hummed from behind me as fingers slid back in my still soaked pussy. “Not any of your concern” he murmured against my back.

“Now shut up and relax, princess” JJ instructs as he claims my mouth.

I moan into the kiss and say fuck it in my mind. JJ cups my breast kneading, squeezing, pinching and rubbing it. Rafe pushes my thighs under me, leaving my pussy and puckered hole bare. He continues to pump his fingers in and out as he gently kitten licks my tight ringed hole. I gasp into JJ’s mouth from surprise, my body immediately feeling the fire from moments ago. I tug on JJ’s shirt wanting to feel his skin on mine. He breaks the kiss long enough to tug his shirt off and goes back to what he was doing. Rafe speeds up his fingers and begins working his tongue through my tight muscles. Jolts of electricity pulse through my body as sensations hit me from every direction. I can feel the heat in my core begin to rage as my orgasm begin to build. I whine and whimper into JJ’s mouth, unable to form words.

“That feel good baby girl?” JJ coos before slamming his mouth back down on mine.

I let out a muffled “Mhmm”. My brain unable to do anything else.

Rafe is now completely fucking my ass with his tongue while his fingers have curled to hit that sweet spot inside me. I wrap my arms around JJ, clinging to him, while rolling my hips to meet Rafe’s fingers and tongue. I whine and moan as I feel my core tingle, signaling my release is close.

“M’close” I whimper out into JJ’s mouth. He reaches down with his other hand and begins to rub my clit as fast as Rafe’s fingers fuck me. Within seconds I feel myself tumble over the edge, and I scream out. My vision turning white and I see stars, my juices spilling all over Rafe and JJ’s hands. When they feel me relax and still in a haze, they both completely strip. Rafe lays down on the bed and pulls me on him, while JJ gets behind me. For once not arguing who got to fuck which hole.

“You did so good baby, you got one more for daddy and Papa J?” Rafe praised as he positions me on top of him, so that both boys have access.

“Yeah” I gasp, feeling myself preen from the praise and wanting to be their good girl. “I am your good girl” I mumble into his chest. I hear his chest rumble from laughing.

“Yes, you are baby, you’re our sweet baby girl” JJ whispers in my ear. “You ready, princess?”

“Mhmm”

I feel JJ raise me up by hips and see Rafe line himself up and slide himself into my swollen, sensitive cunt. He let out a moan as he felt my walls squeeze around him. I moaned out loud as I felt him stretching my walls, thankful I was so wet so he slid in easy. From behind I heard JJ open and close a tube, and then felt the cool lube hit my hole. He gave me a minute to adjust to Rafe. I let out a gaspy “Ok” signaling to JJ I was ready. I felt his tip at my ringed muscles and closed my eyes to relax, he begins to push in and I sucked in air and dug my fingers into Rafe’s chest.

“Oh God” I moaned out as JJ slowly pushed himself inside me. “Fuckkk” I pushed my forehead onto Rafe’s chest, as he slid his hand down to rub my clit, easing the pain of JJ sliding in. Rafe holding still, gritting his teeth occasionally by me involuntarily clenching around him from JJ’s movements.

“Will you hurry up, dude, she is clenching so damn much, I’mma blow my load” Rafe fussed at JJ.

“Dude I’m not gonna fucking hurt her just cause you can’t handle your dick” JJ hisses back. Rafe throws his head back in the pillow with a huff. I whined and whimpered until JJ was completely sheathed inside me.

“Breath baby” JJ almost moaned as he and Rafe waited for me to give them the okay to move.

“Ok” I said breathlessly, signaling they could move.

Rafe begins to thrust up in me as JJ thrust from the back. I gasped and threw my head back, still sensitive from my previous orgasm. Eventually settling on a rhythm, my moans became louder as I began to get lost in the pleasure engulfing my body. Rafe ran his hand up my stomach and over my breast, before squeezing around my neck. JJ slid both hands down my arms, reaching my wrists and pulling my arms behind my back, both speeding up their thrusts.

“Look at you being such a greedy slut,” Rafe grunted. “It takes two dicks to satisfy you, huh?”

I couldn’t answer, my brain was mush, but Rafe wanted an answer. He slapped my check “Answer me.” He demanded causing me to clench around them both, making them groan out.

“Ye- Yes, daddy. I’m just a gree- greedy slut for my – my daddies,” I stammer out breathlessly.

“Yeah, princess, you are, but you’re taking us so well. You’re our good girl,” JJ praises in my ear, causing a rush of arousal to leak out my pussy.

They were both slamming into me, I was being pushed back and forth like a rag doll from the force of their thrusts. I felt the band in stomach stretch to its limit as the sides of my vision began to turn black. Rafe had a hold of both hips, while JJ still has my hands behind my back and his hand around my neck, making my head lean back to touch his chest. My back was arched, pushing my breasts out.

“I’m gonna cu- cum,” I mumble out. Rafe slaps my thigh.

“You don’t cum till we tell you to, babygirl,” he grunts out. I whimper out, knowing I wasn’t going to last much longer, no matter what he demanded. He began to run circles on my clit, causing me to cry out. I couldn’t hold his wrist to try and slow him down, JJ having my arms locked behind me, causing me to squirm. I felt my walls flutter around Rafe, and he slaps my thigh again, making me shudder.

“Daddy didn’t say you could cum yet, princess” JJ pants in my ear as he speeds up again, tears running down my cheeks as I tried to keep my release at bay. JJ licks the tears off my cheeks. “Mmmm she’s crying, Rafe, think we should finish her off,” JJ rasps out.

Rafe pushes his hand against my stomach, pressing against himself inside me. I let out a choked gasp, squeezing my eyes, more tears falling.

“C’mon baby cum for us,” before he can finish the sentence, I feel the band break and I scream out as waves of pleasure rip through me. My vision goes black, I see stars, my ears are ringing, whole body convulsing, as I squirt all over the boys. I barely register multiple “fuck” being said around me as I was lost in my own euphoria. I felt Rafe squeeze my hips as he shoots his seed into my walls, a few seconds later, JJ slams into me holding it while he groans in my ear. They continue to slowly pump in and out of me, helping me ride out my high.

JJ gently pulls out first, causing me to whine, as he lays down beside us. Rafe holds and kisses my face, for a minute. “You did so good baby” he whispers, continuing to kiss my face. He pulls me off him, like I am a rag doll, and places me between him and JJ. I lay there limply as both boys whisper praises and leave kisses on me.

“I think princess has earned a bubble bath as she originally wanted” JJ says, smiling down at me. I grin into his shoulder, making him chuckle.

“Mmmm, ok” Rafe sighs as he kisses my neck, “JJ why don’t you get out girl in the bath, while I change the sheets.” He commands, “Oh and JJ?”

“Hmmm” JJ says as he looks up at Rafe.

“You ever throw a bra at my head again, I will punch you.” Rafe threatens.

“Yes, sir” JJ salute to Rafe.

I burst out laughing.

Tagging a few moots

@princessmaybank @echo-at-the-pond @drudyslut @drewstarkeyslut @rubiehart @rafescokewhore @rafesc0kewh0re @haven247 @kraekat29 @thatsthewaythechrissycrumbles @blueicequeen19 @rafescurtainbangz @lovesickbrat @babygorewhore @moremaybank

[extraspicynoodles-blog]

JEALOUSY LOOKS GOOD ON YOU (Gojo x You one shot)

**** SELF WRITTEN. NONE OF MY WORK IS WRITTEN BY AI.

He barely said a word on the way home. Just sat there in the passenger seat, arms crossed like a petulant teenager who didn't get picked first for dodgeball, lower lip fully out. The silence was loud. Comically so.

"Are you seriously mad?" you asked, glancing over.

"No," he said flatly.

Which, of course, was Gojo-speak for absolutely, yes, I'm in my feelings and I want attention.

You bit back a smile. It was stupid, really. Some guy at the arcade had made a dumb comment while Satoru was off buying snacks, something harmless and forgettable like "You should ditch your boyfriend and come let me win you a prize instead." And okay, maybe you laughed. But only because the guy tripped immediately after and karma did her thing.

Still. Satoru hadn't let it go since.

He sulked the entire walk to the car. Threw your drink in the cupholder like it personally offended him. Didn't even open his Pocky.

"You're mad because a guy with cargo shorts and a neck tattoo hit on me," you said, unbuckling your seatbelt when you parked.

"I'm mad because you laughed," he said, finally turning to look at you - and oof, there it was. That stupidly pretty face pulled into something taut and dangerous, jaw tight, eyes glinting.

"You laughed, baby."

You blinked. "You're being dramatic."

"And you're being cruel," he said, voice too calm. "You think it's funny? Watching me walk back and see someone else flirting with what's mine?"

He leaned closer, eyes dragging down your lips like he was already imagining them wrapped around something else.

"...Satoru," you warned, heartbeat skipping.

His hand came up to cup your cheek, thumb stroking slow and possessive, like a threat wrapped in velvet. His voice dropped to a rasp.

"Say it again."

You swallowed. "Say what?"

"My name. Like that."

He smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. It was too hungry for that.

"You know how fucked I am for you? How long I've been waiting to get home just to remind you?"

When you arrived home, you barely made it to the front door before he had you pinned against it. His hands gripped your hips like he wanted to leave fingerprints. His mouth found your neck, teeth scraping like he needed to mark you - stake his claim in something primal and desperate.

"You're mine," he breathed, hot and ragged against your skin. "And I'm gonna remind you exactly how much."

You didn't answer, not with words. Just stared up at him, eyes wide, heart pounding in your throat.

Satoru's gaze flicked down to your lips again, like he was restraining himself. Like he wasn't sure if he wanted to kiss you or drag you back to the car and wreck you in the backseat.

"Do you even know what you do to me?" he muttered, voice rough now. "You walk around smiling at people like it doesn't kill me. Like I'm not over here losing my fucking mind."

"You're being ridiculous," you whispered, but your voice shook, and he caught it. “Can I open the door before you berate me?”

His hands slid under your shirt, digging into your back while completely disregarding your request. "I saw the way he looked at you. Like you were something he could win with enough stupid arcade tickets. Like he even stood a chance."

"You're jealous of a man with a Monster energy tattoo," you teased.

"And I'd burn that entire arcade down if it meant you'd only ever look at me like that," he said, dead serious.

You blinked.

He kissed you. Hard.

No patience. No pretense. Just hours of pent up need crashing into you as he pressed you harder against the door, his body fitting perfectly against yours.

“Babe, let me open the door first,” you argued, while fumbling for your keys as Satoru stared at you in awe. Maybe a little bit like a lunatic.

You barely got the key in the lock. His chest was flush against your back, his breath hot and ragged in your ear.

"You think I'm kidding," he murmured, voice tight, fingers digging into your hips like they were the only things tethering him to sanity. "You really think I'm gonna walk through this door like a normal person after watching some idiot breathe in your direction?"

The key turned. The door opened a crack.

He slammed it shut with one hand.

You gasped. "Satoru-"

"No." His tone dropped, dark and low, almost a plea. "Not yet."

He spun you around and pinned you flat against the door, wrist above your head, one knee slotting between your thighs, the other hand gripping your belt loop like it had personally wronged him.

"You don't get it," he growled. "You looked so fucking pretty standing there - smiling, laughing, like he even had a shot. Like I wasn't right there. Like you weren't mine."

"Satoru-"

"No. No, don't say my name like that unless you want me to lose it." His forehead dropped to yours, jaw clenched, breath stuttering. "You don't understand what it does to me. Seeing someone else even look at you- fuck, I should've bent you over that air hockey table right then and there."

You whimpered. Your legs buckled. He caught you instantly, arms tightening like he was scared you'd disappear.

"I wanted to wait," he admitted, lips brushing yours. "I was gonna be good. Take my time. But then you... fuck, you had to go and smile like that. Laugh like that. And now I'm done. I'm fucking done."

He kissed you again - hard, messy, all teeth and tongue and need.

You tugged at his shirt, breath catching. "Then remind me."

"Oh, I'm gonna remind you," he panted, lifting one of your thighs around his waist and pressing you harder to the door, grinding against you through denim like he could break the tension that way. "Right here. I don't care. Door's locked. Neighbors can hear? Good. Let them."

You tried to speak, but he swallowed the words with another kiss, then moved lower, lips brushing your collarbone, teeth grazing skin.

His hands trembled. Not from nerves, but from restraint.

"Gonna fuck you right here," he breathed, voice wrecked as he unbuttoned your jeans like they were holding him back from air. "Gonna ruin you for every guy stupid enough to breathe the same air as you. Including future me."

You blinked. "What?"

"I'm gonna ruin future me, baby. That's how bad it is." He shoved your jeans down and groaned, like the sight of your thighs alone broke his last brain cell. "I'm never gonna recover from this. You understand that? You ruined me."

You laughed, breathless, dizzy. "You're ridiculous."

"I'm yours," he corrected, dragging his mouth up your neck. "And I'm gonna make sure everyone knows it."

He dropped to his knees so fast it knocked the breath from your lungs. His hands were already dragging your panties down with a frustrated snarl, like they were in the way of something vital - like oxygen, like salvation.

"I don't care," he muttered, almost frenzied. "I don't care if it makes me jealous, crazy, fucking insane. So be it."

His voice cracked as his mouth hovered over your inner thigh, breath hot, reverent. His hands clenched your legs like he was grounding himself, like if he let go he'd unravel completely.

"You're perfect," he said, lips brushing over your skin like worship. "You're unreal. You're a fucking angel, and you let some guy with a cheap pickup line get within ten feet of you?" He laughed, but it was bitter, broken. "You're mine. You have to be. Because if you're not, if I have to watch someone else even try, I'll lose it. I am losing it."

And then his mouth was on you.

You didn't even have time to gasp before your knees buckled. He caught you, groaned, buried his face between your thighs like he could crawl inside and live there. His tongue licked a stripe through your folds and you sobbed his name.

And that? That's when Satoru shattered.

He moaned against your pussy - loud, obscene, like the taste of you broke something in him. He gripped your thighs and yanked them wider, like he needed more access, needed to drown in you or die trying.

"Oh my God," he gasped, already breathless, lips slick and glistening. "You taste like fucking heaven. Like divinity. Like everything I'll never deserve but need anyway."

And then he devoured you.

No finesse. No rhythm. Just need. Desperate, feral, greedy need.

His tongue worked you over like he was starved, nose bumping your clit, lips dragging through your slick, sucking and groaning and whining like it physically hurt to be this obsessed. It was messy. So fucking messy. Slick dripping down his chin, coating his mouth, his cheeks, his jaw. His hair stuck to his forehead with sweat, and his hands shook where they gripped your ass.

"Mine," he growled, lips dragging across your soaked cunt. "Mine. Mine. Mine. Fuck."

Your legs trembled, the door at your back the only thing keeping you upright.

He babbled - oh, god, he babbledddd.

"Fuck baby, you don't get it-" his voice was soaked in worship, wrecked with truth, "-I get hard just hearing your voice in my head. I jerk off remembering how you taste. I can't think, I can't breathe. You live in my fucking brain and I don't want you to leave. I don't want you to go anywhere. I need this. I need you. I need-"

You moaned, high and needy, and tugged on his hair. He whined in return. Full on, high pitched and shameless, grinding his hips against the air like your moan alone made him feral.

Your thighs clamped around his head. Your hips stuttered. Your voice broke on his name.

When you came, he groaned loudly, like your orgasm dragged one out of him too - untouched, still clothed, just from the sound of you falling apart.

When he looked up at you, his lips were red and trembling, face soaked, eyes glazed over with worship and madness.

"Please," he rasped, barely holding himself together. "Please. Again. I can make you cum again. I know I can. I need to. Let me, please, please-"

He looked wrecked. Ravenous. Worshipful.

"Baby, baby, it's okay," you breathed, cupping his flushed face with trembling hands, still dazed, still high from what he'd just done to you. "You don't have to-"

"Yes, I do," he interrupted, voice breaking. His pupils were blown wide, his hair a tangled halo, mouth glistening from where he'd ruined you seconds ago. "I have to- I have to- fuck, please don't stop me-"

"Satoru-"

"Shhh, shh, just let me. You don't fucking get it," he rasped, fumbling with his belt like it physically pained him to wait another second. "You don't get it. I'm going insane. Every time you laugh at someone else, I see red. I feel like I'm dying."

His pants hit the floor with a thud. You reached for him instinctively, trying to soothe, trying to steady, but he surged forward and kissed you again - sloppy, teeth and tongue and desperation.

"I'm trying to be normal, I swear I am," he babbled against your lips. "Trying to play it cool. But I can't. I fucking can't. You're so beautiful it hurts. You smiled at him and I saw hell."

"Satoru-"

"Shut up," he whispered, not mean, just desperate. "Just shh. Just let me. I need to feel you. I need to be in you. I need to lose my fucking mind inside you or I'll explode."

You knew he would really stop if you wanted him to. If you told him no, he’d control himself. But you didn’t want him to. You liked seeing him like this.

You gasped when he picked you up, hands trembling but strong, pressing you against the wall like he was trying to fuse you into it. You wrapped your legs around his waist and barely had time to speak before he pushed in.

And when he did, he whimpered.

Not a yell. Not a grunt. A full, wrecked sob of relief like he'd just come home from war and stepped into heaven.

"Oh my god, fuck- you're so warm, you're perfect. Mine- mine mine mine-"

His pace was frantic. Erratic. He wasn't trying to show off, he was trying to survive. Each thrust like a plea, like a prayer, like he needed you to anchor him to reality.

"You're everything," he whimpered. "I think about you when I sleep. When I eat. When I fight. I get hard just hearing your voice. I fucking ache for you. I want to crawl inside you and stay there forever."

"Satoru-"

"Don't say my name like that," he groaned, hips stuttering. "I'll cum. I swear to god I'll cum the second you say it like that again. Fuck- please, say it again- no, don't, wait- shit-"

You were clinging to him, thighs shaking, chest heaving, nails digging crescents into his back like you were anchoring yourself to the moment. But Satoru wasn't there. Not really. He was gone.

Pupils blown wide, lips parted, body trembling with every desperate roll of his hips like it was the only thing keeping him tethered to earth.

"I can't breathe without you," he choked out. "I don't want to. I don't want to exist if you're not mine. I'm yours. I've always been yours. please, please let me stay- let me fucking stay-"

Each thrust was erratic now. Not controlled. Just frantic, stuttering little snaps of his hips that had him whining into your mouth like a man unraveling in real time.

And when you came, sharp, sudden, gasping his name like salvation, that broke him.

His whole body jerked like it physically shocked him, like the sound of his name spilling from your lips was too much. Too good. Too yours.

"Don't- don't say my name," he gasped, covering your mouth with his palm like he couldn't take it. "Shh- just- fuck, shh-" His hand trembled, thumb brushing your cheekbone, and then he faltered. "Wait. Baby- shit, I'm sorry-" He moved his hand to cup your face instead, cradling it like he'd just hurt the one thing in the world he couldn't live without.

"I'm so sorry, oh my god, I didn't mean to-" he kissed you like he was trying to put you back together, like he was kissing away his own panic, "I'm just- I'm fucking ruined, baby- look at me, look what you've done to me-"

You did. His flushed cheeks. His tear glossed lashes. His mouth still trembling from how badly he was falling apart.

"Don't say my name- fuck, no, say it again," he begged, voice hoarse. "Say it again, please- I need it- I don't know what I need- wait, don't, fuck- yes, say it- say it, say it, say it-"

He buried himself deep again, deeper than before, rocking into you with dizzy, desperate force, like he wanted to break you in the shape of him. He was panting now, full body shaking, forehead pressed to yours as he sobbed through it.

"Mine," he whimpered. "Mine mine mine mine mine- fuck, you're everything, you're all I want, you're all I've ever wanted-"

And then he came with a loud, cracked cry, hips jerking, mouth on yours, slick sliding down both your thighs from the force of it.

He didn't stop moving. Didn't pull out just yet. Just rutted into you through the aftershocks like he didn't want it to end, like letting go meant waking up from the only dream he ever wanted to live in.

"I love you," he rasped again and again, moaning it between kisses, half crying. "I love you, I love you, I love you- please let me keep you, please-"

When it finally slowed, he collapsed against you. Still inside, still shaking, still clinging.

He didn't move. Didn't speak. Just held you like you were the only thing keeping him alive. He held you there, pressed gently to the wall, his arms locked around your back like he was trying to fuse your bodies together. His face was buried in the curve of your neck, breath shaky and uneven, lips ghosting over your skin like a silent apology.

Like if he stayed still long enough, the world would stop spinning and everything would make sense again.

You felt the tremble still running through him - soft and involuntary, like aftershocks. His heartbeat thundered against yours.

Then, a whisper. Barely even a breath:

"Sorry... I- I didn't mean to go that far. I just- fuck." His voice cracked. "You're okay, right? Please tell me you're okay."

"I'm fine baby," you whispered breathlessly. "Absolutely fine. You're perfect, it's-"

"-I need to clean you."

You stirred a little in his arms. "Wait, no. I can do it, baby, it's-"

He pulled back just enough to look at you - hair tousled, eyes red rimmed, voice hoarse. "Let me take care of you. Please."

You blinked, still hazy. "Satoru, you're doing the most..."

"I always do the most," he muttered, kissing your temple as he scooped you into his arms like a bride. "You know that. Nothing halfway when it comes to my girl. Especially not after I just jealous-fucked the shit out of you. Christ, I'm so sorry."

You snorted into his shoulder. "You're ridiculous."

"I'm ruined," he corrected solemnly. "And now you're getting the deluxe recovery package."

He carried you to the bathroom, setting you down gently on the edge of the tub while he ran the water, checking the temperature like a man on a mission. When the bath was ready - steamy, warm, filled with bubbles and a few drops of whatever calming oil he found first, he helped you in like you were porcelain.

He knelt beside the tub, rolled up his sleeves, and went to work.

His fingers massaged softly into your shoulders and neck, tender and reverent like he was trying to apologize through touch. He washed your hair slowly, lathering and rinsing with such exaggerated care it made you laugh. Between every step he whispered, "Sorry, sorry," like a mantra, punctuated with featherlight kisses to your temple, your cheek, your wet hair.

"You don't have to keep apologizing," you murmured, eyes half lidded, fully relaxed under his attention.

"I do," he murmured, rinsing your hair again with slow, tender strokes. "Because you let me be a little insane, and I love you for that. But I still have to earn it. Every time."

You tilted your head back against his chest, fingers combing through his damp hair. "Baby, you already have."

But, in true Satoru fashion, he didn't listen.

When the bath was done, he wrapped you in a towel like you were something breakable and kissed your shoulder. Then he dried your hair with the kind of reverence usually reserved for religious artifacts, whispering apologies into your skin between passes of the towel. Apologies you didn't need, but ones he needed to say.

And then came the second phase of Operation: Spoil My Girl.

Without a word, he padded into the bedroom and returned with every pillow and blanket he could find. You watched from the doorway, amused, as he rearranged the couch like a man on a mission - fluffing, stacking, folding, tucking, until it resembled something between a cloud and a fortress.

He grabbed your favorite hoodie, the oversized one that smells like him, and held it out like an offering. "Arms up," he said, already tugging it over your head before you could roll your eyes. Then came your soft pajama shorts, and the gentle way he eased them up over your hips like you were made of glass.

When you were properly bundled, he sat down beside you, lifted your legs into his lap, and tucked the blanket up to your chin. Like you were fragile. Precious. Sacred.

"I'm still sorry," he said softly, brushing your damp hair back from your face.

"I know," you replied. "And I still like when you're like that."

He smiled, just a little. But it didn't reach his eyes. "I know. But I also need you to know I never want to scare you. I never want you to think it's about power. It's not. It's just..." He looked away. "I can't fucking imagine someone else thinking they have a shot. It short circuits my brain."

You reached over and curled your hand around his. "You're mine," you whispered, soft and certain.

And that? That finally quieted something in him. You felt it in the way his shoulders dropped, in the way his thumb brushed over your knuckles like he couldn't believe you were real. Like your words had pressed the "reset" button on whatever had short circuited inside him.

Then, in true Satoru fashion, the calm lasted all of ten seconds.

He jolted upright. "Tea," he announced, as if remembering oxygen. "You need tea."

You blinked. "Baby-"

"Or coffee. No- too late for coffee. Tea it is. Wait, soup. You need soup too. Oh my god, I'm making soup."

And just like that, he was gone.

From the couch nest you heard it all: the sink turning on. A drawer slamming. A muffled "Fuck- ow," followed by, "stupid cabinet." Then running water. Clattering. Footsteps. "Where's the ginger? Why do we never have ginger when I need it?!"

You smiled into the blanket, still warm from the bath and the way he'd touched you like you were his entire world.

When he finally returned, his hair was damp - clearly splashed water on his face in an attempt to regroup. His hands were still trembling slightly as he carried a mug in one and a bowl in the other, lips pursed in that way that said don't you dare laugh at me for being like this.

First was the tea. Herbal. Your favorite. He oversteeped it, obviously. Burned his fingers on the mug, cursed under his breath, then blew on it for a full minute before handing it to you like it was a sacred relic.

And then came the miso soup. Seaweed, tofu, too many scallions because "they're good for your soul," and he'd googled it to make sure.

"Sorry, angel," he whispered as he stood like a guilty child in front of the couch. "God, I'm so sorry. I don't know what came over me. You looked so perfect, and then that guy- fuck, he looked at you like he could even dream-" His voice cracked again. "And I just lost it. I didn't mean to. I swear."

He held the tea and soup like it was a peace offering.

"Satoru, I already told you it's okay-"

"No, it's not," he said instantly, eyes red and so full of guilt you thought your heart might break. "I should've controlled myself. I went too hard. You didn't sign up for that. You didn't-" His thumb traced your cheek like he was memorizing it. "I just... fuck, I can't even imagine someone else thinking they can have you. That they could touch you. Be with you. It makes me insane."

You smiled gently. "I told you baby, I like when you're like that."

He blinked. "Yeah, well, I don't. I wanna be soft. I wanna take care of you. You deserve that."

You cupped his cheek. "Then take care of me."

And oh, he did.

He kissed your temple. Called you baby in that quiet, reverent tone he only used when he was completely overwhelmed by love.

When he set everything in your lap like an offering, steaming tea in your favorite mug and that bowl of miso soup so packed with tofu and scallions it could barely be called broth, he looked at you like you were a miracle.

"Eat," he whispered. "And after... I'm scratching your back. No arguments."

You raised a brow. "You're being dramatic."

"Correct," he said solemnly, already tucking the blanket tighter around your legs like you might suddenly flee. "I'm also riddled with guilt. So. I am watching you eat every bite and drink every drop."

You stared at him. "Seriously?"

"Dead serious," he replied, sinking onto the couch beside you with all the intensity of a man standing guard. "You think I can go feral on you like that and not take full accountability? No ma'am. Spoon to mouth. Let's go."

You snorted. "You're ridiculous."

"And yet here you are, wrapped in a nest I built, eating soup I made, while I emotionally spiral next to you. Admit it. You're thriving."

You shook your head fondly, sipping the tea. "You're out of your mind."

"I was," he said dramatically, eyes still glued to you. "And now I'm only marginally better. But this helps. Watching you. Taking care of you. Letting myself be, you know... insufferably obsessed with you."

You nudged his knee with your foot under the blanket. "You're so ridiculous."

He smiled, softer now, eyes heavy with love. "Yeah. But I'm ridiculous about you."

And as you took another bite, he visibly relaxed. Because the food was warm. The tea was sweet. And you were here. Safe. Full. Loved.

You made it about three seconds after finishing your last bite before shifting, trying to slide the empty bowl off your lap. “Okay, let me take these to the kitchen-”

“Absolutely fucking not.”

You blinked. “Satoru, I can do it. You hate doing dishes.”

He didn’t answer. Just leaned in and kissed you - slow, deep, reverent, before pulling back with a look so serious it was almost funny.

“Shhh,” he whispered, brushing your hair behind your ear. “My girl deserves queen treatment. You think I’d let you lift a finger after what I just put you through? Sit. Cuddle. That’s your job now.”

You rolled your eyes, smiling despite yourself. “You’re so dumb.”

He grinned. “Yeah. Dumb in love. Like actually stupid. It’s okay though, because I’m dumb in love with you.”

You tried to argue when he reached for your empty bowl and mug, but he silenced you with another kiss and a pointed look.

“Let me do this. Seriously. I can do dishes when it’s for you.”

You opened your mouth again, and he just raised a brow. “Shhh. Queen treatment, remember? Sit back, relax, think about how amazing I am.”

You snorted as he walked off, muttering something about “royalty shouldn’t lift a finger” and “I’m gonna make these dishes sparkle.”

You heard the sink turn on. Then the clatter of porcelain. Then an “ow- stupid tap, I didn’t even touch you that hard,” followed by what sounded suspiciously like him humming your name to the tune of a pop song as he cleaned up.

It was obnoxious. It was adorable. It was him.

And when he came back, his hands were slightly damp again from the splash zone, sleeves pushed up, and a dumb, proud smile on his face. “Mission complete. Sparkling. Spotless. Martha Stewart would sob.”

You laughed as he flopped back onto the couch beside you, tugging you gently down with him. He maneuvered you both until he was lying behind you, chest pressed to your back, your legs tangled up like vines. One arm curled around your waist, the other slipped beneath yours, lacing your fingers together like second nature.

He sighed, content. Melted into you like you were made of memory foam.

“Okay,” he mumbled into your hair. “Now we stay like this forever.”

You hummed, half asleep already.

“Forever,” he whispered again. “Or at least until you want snacks. I’ll allow snack breaks.”

You sighed, melting into him in return, your breathing already slowing.

But he didn't stop whispering. Not even then.

"You smell like me," he murmured into your hair. "Drives me crazy."

His thumb brushed gentle circles over your knuckles.

"You're so soft."

A kiss to your shoulder.

"Love you so much it makes me fucking stupid."

You snorted, half asleep. "You are fucking stupid."

He grinned against your neck, completely unbothered. "I know. Now sleep. Or don't. But if anyone hits on you again, I'm hexing them. No jujutsu. Just pure, unfiltered spite."

You smiled, eyes fluttering shut.

He was yours.

And you were his.

Always.

No backsies.

[phant0mth1ef]

are we still friends? can we be friends? are we still friends? i’ve got to… know. (pt. 2 to the feeling that i’m losing her, forever). part 3

to say you didn’t expect to see a pair of bright red eyes staring you down as you walked into the facility was an understatement, you hadn’t made eye contact with those eyes in over a year, and you flinched the moment you realized just who you were looking at.

you’d stumbled into inasa once you snapped out of your daze, catching yourself quickly as your cap hit the floor, the boy using his wind in order to float it back onto your head.

“thank you.” you mumbled before going to take your spot in line, coincidentally right next to your former best friend.

“why haven’t you called me?!” so now he wants to begin a conversation.

“been busy.” you shrugged, refusing to even look at him because you knew you’d start crying the moment you met his eyes again.

“okay? you could’ve texted me or some shit!”

“my phone stopped working.” you were competing for the title of nonchalant final boss at this point with how casual you were being.

“bullshit. i saw you with it at the exam! just tell me why you’re avoiding me like the plague.” it may not have looked like it, but bakugou was scared out of his mind. you’d changed since the licensing exam, he could sense it in the way you carried yourself. you were being cold.

“what the hell happened to you?? you used to always call me, always text me. what happened?” did he seriously not know what happened?

“you happened.” and that was all you were able to say before the proctors for the training session entered the room, quickly commanding you all to stand in line as your face changed to a softer expression.

it was a casual sparring session, so why were you sending rocks the size of boulders his way? his mind was too clouded to even dodge them effectively, the words you said still playing out in his mind as he mindlessly sent out explosive attacks.

you’d tried to pack up as quickly as possible afterwards to avoid a confrontation with your former best friend, but you heard the clanking of his boots hitting the ground and just let out a sigh.

“what?” you snapped.

“what me? what you!” he was starting to get angry, the way he would get angry back in middle school.

“what about me?! you’re also at fault here. i was the one always trying to get in contact with you! i just grew up and realized that if you wanted to, you would.” you begun to shove all your things into your duffel bag, accidentally smashing your fist into the ground.

“what the hell does that even mean?! you’re the one who stopped calling me outta nowhere. i didn’t tell you to do that.”

“don’t you get it?! i was the one always calling!” you shoved your bag to the floor as you stood up straight, your voice getting strained as you finally made eye contact with bakugou.

“i was the one who always had to start talking to you first! it made me feel like a nuisance. and then one day i hear you telling your new friends that you think i’m annoying? like what the fuck, katsuki. none of this is my fault. if you’d just been a man and picked up the phone, this could’ve been avoided.” you had a habit of crying once you got frustrated, so naturally the tears were threatening to fall from your eyes.

he didn’t have any words, letting out a scoff as you picked up your bag and shoulder checked him on your way out, sending him stumbling back as he just stared at the ghost of your presence.

later that night he sat in his dorm room, his finger hovering over your contact but never once pressing on it, unsure of what he’d even say if you decided to pick up.

“i mean how the hell am i supposed to apologize? she’s so confusing. like damn sorry i called you annoying but it isn’t even that big of a deal anymore that was months ago!” bakugou was ranting to his little group of friends that were huddled on his floor, suprised that the boy would even invite them, let alone drone on about his issues with the friend that none of them even knew about.

“so you called her annoying but you didn’t know she was listening?” mina spoke up.

“yes but that was months ago! i don’t even know how to talk to her anymore because she won’t listen to me.” he sprawled flat on his bed.

“sounds like you’ve dug yourself a deep hole bakugou.” kirishima said, a hint of disappointment in his tone.

meanwhile, back at shiketsu, your group was currently huddled in camie’s dorm, and you sat on the bed while they formed a circle around you.

“i don’t know who he thinks he is but i am not going to beg for him to be my friend, i am not going to be as pathetic as i used to be!” slow teardrops fell from your eyes as you recalled back in middle school when bakugou found more friends and slowly begun to leave you behind.

“i know, and i get that, but you should at least try to give him a chance. he’s making an effort.” she tossed you your phone that was sitting on the desk, a notification on the lock screen.

[kats 💥🫂]

Meet me at the spot tomorrow. Please. 4 PM.

tags; @riverozada @lupitalove @msjaeger @aintseennothinyet @wendeeeee ask and you shall receive sorry if its kinda bad 😢😢

[cloudrunnerscinnamon]

An "early-ish" House MD one shot. House and reader :)

The reader experiences a particular bad night and finds herself stuck in the ER with the one and only Greg House. This could really go either way...

gif is not mine (found it on google)

"Getting mugged wasn’t the worst part about my night"

„I’ll do it“ House took the IV-bag from the nurse before she could argue with him. You on the other hand really didn’t want him near you. However, you knew House well so you decided against putting up a fight and let him take care of you. He made clear that he wanted to watch over you, discussion over. Doctor’s orders. 

Wilson, Cuddy and all of  House’s attendees (old and new) were standing a few meters away from the two of you. The initial shock of you getting mugged and being delivered into the ER with a grade 3 concussion and a laceration to the forehead had worn off but they all felt like staying close. Now, in fact, they were shamelessly watching the scene in front of them unfold. They all knew this would probably be the pivoting point of House’s and your relationship. For a month the two of you had been buzzing around each other. Chase had bets running as per usual. Wilson was sure you would crack first and confess to House how you felt about him. Cuddy on the other hand had put in for „House, taking one more risk for the sake of finally finding happiness“, what can you do, she was sappy like that. There were a few more variants going around in the bookie but those were the two most popular. 

It wasn’t like House or you were denying that you liked each other. It was obvious, the amount of time you spent together and the pile of insiders you shared annoyed everyone around you. But whenever somebody tried to inquire, all they ever got was a 

„Oh, House and me?“

„(Y/N) and me?“ 

„We just hang out, we watch the same crappy shows and like to piss of the pizza place with weirdly specific orders.“ 

„Seriously, we are just friends!“ Even Wilson couldn’t coax a confession out of his stubborn friend. 

Funny thing, neither of you wanted to screw things up by showing your cards. 

„This will sting a bit,“ House was sitting on a chair in front of you taking your hand in his and carefully inserting an intravenous catheter. His hands were steady and his movements well practiced. You still hissed a little when the needle pierced through your skin and you could feel House’s blue eyes immediately on your face. He wanted to say something but reconsidered busying himself again with attaching the tube of the IV- bag to the IV-line. 

„Sure didn’t sting as much as the rest of the night,“ you snatched your hand away as soon as House seemed satisfied with his work. 

„And no, I am not talking about getting mugged.“ The harsh tone of your voice surprised you. Yes you were hurting because of him and yes you were out of your mind from the pain in your chest, your heart, but still. Wounding House didn’t give you any pleasure or redemption. It still sucked. All of it. Stacy sucked, their kiss sucked and what you heard him say, well, that just was the cherry on top. 

House didn’t get up from his chair but remained right in front of you. The chaotic atmosphere of the ER didn’t seem to phase him at all. Slowly he went to take your hand again but you brushed him off. 

„Fuck off House. I don’t want you near me.“ For a second you could see the pain in his eyes flash, then it was gone again. Replaced by his usual wall of safety guards. Safety guards he had let slowly and steadily dissolve with you. He wasn’t going to give up that easily now.

„Yeah, sorry I’m not going anywhere.“ House sounded firm even though you were sure he was confused and so out of his comfort zone. Him prolonging eye contact and taking a „stance“ was all just an act to hide his feelings and ever growing insecurity. For once the doctor was actually scared to lose someone. Displaying confidence and nonchalance was all he knew how to do right now. 

„What? I am not being funny here.“ You leaned further back, unconsciously creating more distance between you and House. Why didn’t he just leave already. Did he take some weird pleasure in knowing that you had overheard his and Stacy’s conversation? That earlier this week you had seen them kiss in his office? You were so angry and hurt that getting mugged almost felt like a nice distraction. 

„Just go!“ You made a flinging motion with your hand and your voice broke from all the emotions. House scrunched up his face and squinted his eyes at you like he simply didn’t understand what was going on. He was confused by your actions. He was here, he was taking care of you and still you wanted him to leave. 

„Why do you want me to go away?“ His voice was small, he seemed sincere which made you want to jump out of your skin. Sad, hurt, humiliated all of which you were feeling right now but deep down there was also frustration and anger. All those month of casually hanging out and spending time together. Was that all a lie? It had felt so genuine. Could you have been so wrong about another person? You sure weren’t stupid. You had never thought of yourself as the one that would change House. You knew many had and tried to be friends as well as love interests and they had all failed more or less miserably. You simply enjoyed being around him as he was. You liked being his friend. Oh how very stupid you felt now. Friends? Your thoughts were interrupted by House’s voice. It sounded modulated like he was really trying to stay in control of his demeanor.

„(Y/N)?“  

Irritatingly for you the shock of getting mugged, the thudding pain in your skull and Stacy’s performance had taken a big chunk out of your self-control. There just wasn’t anything left to hold back the emotions from spilling over. Tears blurred your vision and your mouth twisted into a thin line. At least you were able to hold back that sob building in your throat. You knew you couldn’t take it much longer, something had got to give. 

„Because it hurts to look at you.“ And there it was. Painfully aware of all the people around you and House blankly staring at you. Was he in shock? Your voice had been so much more penetrating than you had anticipated. Shit, where did all that pain come from all of the sudden? Why weren’t you able to look away from those blue eyes? Was he even breathing? Were you breathing? Why was it so quiet? Was anyone breathing? 

„I love you and you crushed my heart!“ Those eight words had slipped out of your mouth before you even noticed they had formed on your tongue. Your own thoughts betraying you and that at the worst time. Why was your face so wet? Then the blue eyes were gone. House remained unnervingly silent. He had however gotten up from the chair. The doctor’s back was turned towards you. His right hand held onto an unused IV-stand. Was he steadying himself? Might be his leg but the pain had gotten a little less excruciating of late. You knew that because he had confided in you. Hot tears were still running down your reddened face while you stared at House’s unmoving figure.

Behind the two of you, at the reception counter of the ER, Wilson shifted his weight from one foot to the other. He huffed out a breath and ran his hand through his hair. Cuddy throw a cautious look at him. They both felt bad. Usually Chase’s bets didn’t turn into such a flurry of dramatic events. Wilson could sense the rising uneasiness of his colleagues around him. He cleared his throat and leaned back a little, turning his head towards Chase. 

„Now that it happened I don’t know why you let me place that bet.“ Chase’s arms were crossed in front of his chest. He silently stared at (Y/N) and House. 

„This is totally upsetting and those are our friends.“ Wilson knew the Aussie doctor wouldn’t let him off the hook that easy and he especially wouldn’t lend any emotional comfort. 

„So you forfeit?“ Chase raised an eyebrow at Wilson. 

„I,“ Wilson hesitated, his moral compass was spinning like a merry-go-round. 

„No, I don’t. I just think we are terrible friends.“ 

Chase snorted and rolled his eyes. 

„Just because we took on bets doesn’t mean we aren’t their friends. Or well (Y/N)’s friends, I don’t know about House. Does House actually have friends?“ 

Wilson looked dumbfounded and left Chase hanging for a good comeback. The other doctor took that as enough of an answer. Just then Chase‘s pager went off. He glanced at it quickly and with another nod towards Wilson, he pushed himself off the reception counter, he had been leaning against and left.

The machines, next to the bed you were sitting on, started to beep loudly. Immediately House turned around and checked for the reason of the onslaught of alarms. A nurse standing nearby also rushed over. You followed House’s line of vision and quickly realized that your condition hadn’t suddenly taken a turn for the worse. The pulse oximeter that had been clamped onto your left index finger had slipped off. You hadn’t even noticed. 

„It’s okay I got it.“ House waved at the nurse stoping her in her track. She just nodded and went back to scribbling on the chart of another patient. House’s hands took a hold of our left one, he slipped the pulse oximeter back on. The noise stopped and the numbers on the screen went back to somewhat normal at least as far as your non existing medical understanding told you. He kept holding your hand and you let him. Your outburst and confession had drained you even more and you were left longing for contact. 

„There, looks good, normal heart rate. So it can’t be crushed.“ House smiled openly at you although it seemed a little too assertive. You couldn’t believe your ears. 

„You are kidding me right?“ Once again you wanted to pull your hand away from his but he held on. It took you a few seconds to untangle your fingers from his, he watched you struggle a bit bevor slowly letting go. You sniffled and tears started to come anew. The way he kept looking at you made you nervous and confused. House’s weird behavior was something you clearly couldn’t deal with. The moodiness, rude arrogance and sheer lack of interest in other people’s necessities you could handle – but this? This was worrisome. 

„House, please just – just leave.“ It sounded like a plea, your tremulous voice not helping. However House didn’t respond. He looked back up to the monitors again, busying himself, biding his time. You knew he wasn’t gonna leave. A frustrated huff through your nose. Shaking your head in disbelieve you let its weight sink down into your hand, rubbing over your forehead. 

„Why do you call me House?“ Your head snapped back up. The blue eyes were on yours again. 

"You never call me House.“ He said his own name like something foreign, something he had to get his tongue acquainted with.

„It’s always been Greg,“ his eyes fell and you had to bend forward a little to still hear him. „Right from the beginning. You only ever use House when you talk to other people.“ To say you were shocked was an understatement. 

„Seriously? This is what you are going with?“ The harshness of your tone was matched my House’s soft response. You had never seen him so abashed.

„Just tell me,“ a quiver at the right corner of his lips, „Please?“ This, you weren’t able to deny. House was either being sincere in all his coyness or he was playing you to get what he wanted but whichever it was, you couldn’t stop yourself from indulging him.

„I call you House because everybody does and I am not special.“ Fast and prompt, no time to think about your choice of words. This day wasn’t gonna get any worse, was it? Might as well lean into it then. House was right though. You had always preferred calling him Greg. You understood that at work people referred to him as House. It was both formal and still not too friendly for coworkers. In the beginning you hadn’t actually really noticed that hardly anybody besides you called him Greg but when you realized it you couldn’t help but ask yourself why. The nature of your relationship (or friendship to be correct) was purely pleasure. You didn’t share anything work related and so the version of House you hung out with struck you more as a Greg kind of House other than a House House. 

„To call you House is safe,“ you said and in your head you added: and it is less intimate. With a heavy sigh House took a few steps and let himself sink down next to you on the hospital bed. Both your feet were dangling down and you followed the swinging motion with your eyes. For some reason a comfortable silence fell over you. The ER was, now as before, busy but the different sounds and monotonous buzzing worked like a coat slipping around the two of you. There was enough room to stay still in all the hectic. For the next couple of minutes House and you quietly agreed on taking a breather. 

The dull thud of Houses cane on the floor made you jerk up a little. He was going to say something. Repeatedly hitting the and of his cane on the floor was a tell-tale-sign of the Doctor building up to saying something. You had noticed that relatively early, but you weren’t sure if he realized you knew. House would mold the words in his mind until they satisfied him enough to actually say them. You also knew that he only ever did that if he was nervous or stressed out about what he wanted to say. 

„(Y/N), I am not with Stacy. Even though you might think that after what you heard tonight.“ Ah of course, yes, this would definitely make House uncomfortable. You just stayed silent, letting him continue.

„And trust me I know it sounds cliché but it is not what you think it is.“ He half laughed at that, it sounded studded with frustration and a hint of desperation. 

„What is it then? Because it really did sound like the two of you were making up.“ As soon as the words left your mouth you wanted to take them back. You really didn’t want to know. It was enough for you to know that it hurt. 

„You know what? Don’t answer me,“ you lifted your hand, pressing the palm of it against your eyes in an attempt to dampen the headache. It didn’t work and you let your hand sink down again, resting it on your upper thigh. 

„Do you love her?“ Since you had arrived in the ER you had tried to avoid looking at House but the question you had just put to him demanded you to make eye contact. House didn’t immediately answer. His long fingers scratched absentmindedly at his stubbled chin.

„No I don’t and I haven’t for quite some time.“ There was so much conviction in House’s voice that you didn’t doubt he was telling the truth. 

„What I said, what you heard,“ the doctor kept looking around while continuing to explain himself. Scanning over the room but hardly registering what was going on. 

„I wasn’t talking about Stacy and me. But without the proper context I can see how you might think that.“  He snuck a peek at you trying to gauge how this conversation was going. Only the white knuckles of his hand holding his cane in an iron grip gave aways how tense he was. Throwing your hands in the air you could only shake your head. This whole situation was ridiculous. 

„You kissed, I saw you, in your office.“ you said bluntly. You were ready to start a fight. Leaving everything pent up wasn’t gonna work. If House thought he could fool you with this talkative demeanor you were sure as hell gonna make him work for it.  

„I know and I felt awful“ Small voice, barely more than a murmur and two absurdly blue irises. Aaaaand there you crumbled again. You involuntarily mimicked House’s wispy smile.

„Didn’t look like that,“ you muttered. He grabbed your hand carefully avoiding the IV catheter. His fingers drew small patterns on the back of your hand. 

„Well do you believe me if I say you got that the wrong way around as well?“ 

Yes, your thoughts screamed and you wanted to threw yourself into House’s arms. Instead you pressed out a, „No.“ 

But he let you have that one, making sure you could keep your dignity. 

„Fair enough“. House intertwined his fingers with yours, squeezing them a little. He sucked in a breath of air.

„But,“ drawing out the vowel, House made his point anyways,“I’m sorry, you do have it the wrong way around.“ Was that his teasing tone? Was he actually mocking you? To be fair you could feel the tension draining from your body. If anyone would ever try to convince you that House wasn’t able to understand emotions and steer them empathetically you would just laugh in their face. Which is also what you did now. You laughed because frankly you were overwhelmed.

„Whatever. This is humiliating.“ You weren’t sure if you wanted to cry or to laugh.

„She kissed me.“ House added, looking all dopy and school boyish. You gaped at him. House was carefully maneuvering this sinking wreck off a ship into saver waters and you knew it but it was still annoying you. Why was it working? 

„Oh well that changes everythi–„ You jumped right on board and countered sarcastically but House cut in.

„Yeah no, I know it doesn’t.“ He agreed with you however he wanted you to fully understand the circumstances. 

„The only reason I let her was because I am shit at feelings.“ House shrugged his shoulders.

„What? Sorry you lost me. You are shit at feelings so you kiss your married Ex-wife?“ Was he kidding you? Your hand slipped away from his and you tugged your arms tightly around your middle. You didn’t want to fell like that but anger and frustration where front runners again. House got the message. When he talked next the lightness in his voice was gone.

„If you are shit at feelings you might not be able to trust them. Sometimes I need actions to fully understand them. Actions I get and I am good at them.“

Your mouth opened but potential words were stopped by an index finger pressed against your lips.

„Ah ah ah wait!“ The Doctor removed his finger and continued.

„So when she kissed me I was able to say goodbye,“ he paused for a second, “ because there was nothing. No love, no anger or other sentiment. It was only a kiss which I did not particular care for. It cleared my head.“ 

„Hmm.“ Not as articulate as you would have liked to be but you couldn’t manage more, so you just kept listening. 

„I wanted to come after you. I…“, House hesitated then he turned a little more towards you. He wanted to see your eyes but you kept your gaze low. 

„Your face. The way you just turned around and left.“ His voice was husky.

„I told Stacy then, what I just told you… and to be fair she was pissed. I should have know that she wouldn’t leave it at that.“ A bitter chuckle slipped from House’s mouth and he shook his head. The doctor was lost in his thoughts for a second. Your voice pulled him back into the ER.

„So when you asked me to come by to talk, you in fact wanted to talk?“ Maybe all was not lost. Maybe just, maybe this day had still something good to offer.

„Oh yes, yes I did and other stuff“ A cheeky grin appeared on House’s face and he softly bumped his shoulder agains yours. When you looked at him he wiggled his eyebrows at you.

„Shut up,“ you snorted. This man is unbelievable. 

„Not funny yet?“ He lightly poked your thigh, testing the waters. 

„Nooooo,“ you said, returning the shoulder bump. 

You looked at each other, wary smiles meeting. House drew in a heavy breath then. He still had a few things he wanted to say, get out of his system. 

„Stacy rang the doorbell 10 minutes before you. She must have left the door ajar. And the rest, you witnessed first hand.“ He scratched the back of his neck and proceeded.

„Annoyingly not all of it. Seeing that we wouldn’t be having this conversation now.“

You nodded slowly, processing. Neither of you knew what to say now so you just kept sitting next to each other. It wasn’t uncomfortable or awkward it just seemed necessary to pause for a bit. 

After a few minutes you suddenly had this weird feeling of being watched. You became more aware of your surroundings and let your eyes drift. Behind you, at the reception counter you saw House’s attendees as well as Cuddy and Wilson jump apart like they had been caught red handed. All of them were making it a point to be terribly busy looking. 

„I can’t believe they are all still watching us.“ You nodded towards the group of doctors. House followed your line of sight and you could feel him growing a little bit uneasy. There was no smile on his face and his features seemed more in control. You didn’t want to see him so gloomy after there had just been some kind of light at the end of the tunnel. You wrapped your hand around House’s elbow and tucked a bit. His head turned back to you. You were surprised to find sadness and, what was that? Remorse? Etched into his face.

 „They are making sure I don’t crush your heart twice in one night.“ With the bitterness in House’s words came also a promise. He wanted to do this right. He wanted to make this work and find out what this between the two of you could be. He acknowledged how his actions from earlier had hurt you. Everything about this conversation was so out of character for House that you had a hard time believing you weren’t imagining things. Maybe your concussion was worse than you thought and you were having crazy hallucinations. Could you have hallucinations from concussions?

„Yes, but that is highly unlikely in your case, since the CCT-scan did not pick up any intracerebral bleeding.“ 

„What?“ Surprised you looked at House. 

„Did I just say that out loud?“ The doctor smiled at you amused and your stomach fluttered. You always had liked it when he bestowed you with one of those uncensored grins. 

„Yup.“ House confirmed. Chalking it up to the most ludicrous day you have had in a while you decided to ignore reason and precaution and just trust your gut. You let your head sink against House’s shoulder and immediately the side of your body melted agains him as well. Before a sigh of relieve could escape from you House had already wrapped his arm around your waist. This was nice. It felt good and easy. 

After a while you could feel the weight from House’s head on yours. You watched your feet dangling again. The calm breathing and the warmth between the two of you had you feeling drowsy in no time. A stifled yawn from you and House nuzzled his face into your neck.

„Yeah, me too,“ he whispered.

„How much longer ’til this thing is through,“ you asked quietly while pulling at the tube of the IV-bag. House lifted his head and frowned at the IV-bag. He considered his answer for a couple more seconds and before hopping off the bed.  

„Maybe 10 more minutes. We can speed it up a little.“ The doctor reached for the drip and adjusted the roller clamp. Immediately the solution in the IV-bag started dripping faster and he turned back towards you, sitting back down. 

„I don’t want to stay in the hospital,“ You sighed. Next to you House was blowing raspberries, obviously thinking something over. 

„You should with a third degree concussion. But I can take you home and make sure you’re okay.“ House offered looking at you expectantly. You considered your options and figured that the perspective of having House fussing over you wasn’t too bad. Your stomach rumbled loudly. An idea came to you then.

„Do you still have that pizza I brought, at your place?“ House had to chuckle at that and his laugh lines appeared. He nodded.

„Yes I do, at least I didn’t eat it. I went straight after you this time.“ House looked at you carefully, in all the joking there was also truth. Apparently he was satisfied with what he found in your eyes because he continued lightheartedly.

„If nobody broke in and ate it, it should still be sitting on the kitchen counter. “ 

„Great!“ You exclaimed happily.

„I could eat, really had a long night. How about you?“ You really wanted to get out of the hospital and leave the last few hours behind you.

„Nooo, completely normal night. So relaxing.“ House earned a slap from you on his shoulder. 

„Ouch! Don’t hit the cripple.“ His fake whiny voice made you actually laugh out loud and you were so relieved to feel somewhat normal again. 

„How about instead of taking me to my place, we go to yours and warm up that pizza then? I can be on concussion-watch anywhere right?“ With that you slowly slid off the bed, carefully steadying yourself. House watched you, assessing if you really were able to leave the hospital.

„I was kinda planning on that anyways.“ He stood up as well and undid the tube from your IV-catheter. The IV-bag was empty. With his hand he indicated for you to sit down once more. While he removed the IV-catheter from your hand you were happy to run along with the banter. 

„Sure you were. What if I’d refused.“ You cocked an eyebrow at House, challenging him. Even before he spoke you knew there would be some kind of quick-witted comeback.

„Oh I would have just kidnapped you.“ He shrugged his shoulders casually, a big fat grin on his face while he peeled off the adhesive tape that had kept the IV in place. 

„Of course.“ You laughed. The needle in your arm was gone and House pushed down some gauze on the exit wound. After a few seconds he put a plaster over it to keep it in place.You used his focus to study his features. There was still that smile on House’s face, though it had faded a little. You wondered what was on his mind. The heaviness that started to appear on his forehead couldn’t be from doing some routine doctor stuff. Just when you wanted to go for it an ask House what was going on, he mumbled your name.

„(Y/N)?“ Was his voice shacking? Your heart sank. Please don’t mess this up. Your imagination started to run wild and you feared for the worst.

„Hm?“ you took a deep breath, bracing yourself for the inevitable let down.

„Can you not… can you maybe?“ House leaned closer to you. He seemed oblivious to your emotional turmoil. The whispering made his voice sound rough. With another sharp intake of air he took the plunge. 

„You are special, you know. To me you really are special.“The words tumbled out of his mouth practically rolling over each other. You scooped them up, holding them, they felt soft and warm to the touch. 

„So could you maybe not do the House-thing like everyone else?“

You smiled at him. This was big. House just committed to talking about his feelings leaving himself unguarded in the process. 

„Okay, Greg.“ 

[slut4megantheestallion]

⋆ ☆ Chloe price x 2000sbaddie!fem!reader gf

Warnings: Chloe price x fem reader, black!reader, 2000s, Chloe is a simple for the reader, fluff, reader is a baddie, wlw.

☆Chloe is down bad for you, and she doesn't even try to hide it at all. She didn't think she'd be the type to simp over someone so hard, but there she is, completely obsessed with you.

☆You are the baddest thing to ever walk into her life, and she knows it. Baby tees, low-rise jeans, fresh acrylic nails tapping on your phone screen, lip gloss always poppin' and a face card that never declines-yeah, Chloe never had a chance.

☆Your style is immaculate, and Chloe is constantly in awe. She'll sit back, arms crossed, biting her lips as she watches you put together an outfit like it's a runway show. She doesn't know how you always pull off the perfect look, but she respects the hell out of it

☆She's your biggest fan, Chloe hypes you up like it's her full-time job. The second she lays eyes on you, she's grinning, whistling, borderline drooling - it's ridiculous.

☆Damn, babe... you trying to kill me? Like, what am I even supposed to do when you look this good?

☆"No, seriously, how? How do you always eat like this? I'm conversation you sold your soul for this level of perfection."

☆If you take too long getting ready, she won't even complain. Instead, she'll be lounging on your bed, watching you like a lovesick idiot, head propped up on her hand. She eats this up.

☆"I could sit here and watch you all day... You're like a work of art, babe."

☆She's taking pictures of you ALL THE TIME.

☆She's got a whole album in her phone labeled "My Goddess" (yes, she's dramatic like that.)

☆She posts you on her story with captions like, "Life isn't fair. How am I supposed to function with this woman walking around looking like THAT?"

☆If you let her take Polaroid pictures of you, she'll stick them in her wallet, on her walls, and even inside her truck just to see your face everywhere.

☆She constantly brags about you constantly. You are her greatest flex, and she makes sure everyone knows.

☆She brings you up in conversations for no reason.

☆If Max or Rachel says literally anything, Chloe would be like,

☆"That reminds me - my girlfriend is so hot. Wanna see pictures?"

☆If you post a fire selfie, she's the first in the comments, typing out paragraphs about how insanely fine you are.

☆"Y'all see what I'm working with???? Y'all wish. Y'ALL WISH."

☆If someone randomly stares at you too long, Chloe is grinning like a smug bastard because, duh, of course they're staring. But they can look all they want - you're hers.

☆"They're just mad they could never pull someone like you. Can't blame 'em. I'd be sick, too."

☆She's obsessed with your style. Chloe loves how put together you always are. She can't relate, but she's obsessed with it.

☆Some days, you're Y2k baddie realness- velour tracksuits, tinted sunglasses, lips lined to perfection. Other days, you're in baggy jeans and a baby tee. Looking like you walked out of a 2003 music video. And no matter what you wear, Chloe is in the background, losing her mind over it.

☆At first, she acted like she didn't care about shopping, but now? She'll hold your bag, give outfit opinions, and even suggest pieces she thinks would look good on you.

☆"Okay, okay, what if we go for, like, the ultimate hot girl look? Low- rise jeans, one of those teeny little crop tops that show off your stomach? Ugh, I'm so fucking lucky."

☆If you do her makeup or hair, she's melting. Completely whipped!!

☆If you do a lil makeover, she's looking in the mirror like,

☆"Holy shit... You made me look so hot. How did you-?"

☆Chloe's possessive over you, but in the chillest way possible.

☆Chloe isn't subtle about claiming you.

☆Arm around your waist all times.

☆Hand on your thighs whenever you sit next to her.

☆If someone gets too comfortable around you, Chloe pulls you closer just to send a message.

☆"Yeah, babe, come sit on my lap- wait, you're already sitting? Okay, whatever, just be closer."

☆If someone tries to flirt with you, she's watching with the biggest smirk on her face. She's not jealous because she knows you're hers, but she loves watching people make a fool of themselves.

☆when you shut them down, she leans in, all smug, whispering,

☆"Damn, they really thought they had a shot? That's hilarious."

☆If you're ever upset, Chloe is ready to throw hands.

☆"Nah, who got you fucked up? Let's go, babe - I'll fight 'em right now."

☆She adores you, period. Chloe never thought she'd fall for you this hard, but here she is, completely wrapped around your finger.

☆She lives for your confidence. The way you walk, the way you talk, and the way you own every room you step into - it drives her crazy in the best way possible.

☆She secretly writes about you in her journal. Filling pages with little doodles of your name, random thoughts about how much she loves your smile, and notes like,

☆"I have no idea how I got someone this perfect. Like, I genuinely think I won the lottery. What the fuck."

☆If she's ever feeling low, she'll scroll through her pictures of you, read your old texts, or just stare at you like a lovesick fool.

☆If you catch her, she'll smirk and shrug.

☆"What? I just like looking at my girl, sue me."

☆Overall, Chloe is your biggest fan, protector, hype woman, and personal simp, and she wouldn't have it any other way.

[gnohomotho]

May I play with you? 「✦Pt.4✦」

Pairing: The Salesman // The Recruiter x fem!reader Summary: I told you I wouldn't leave you hanging - the salesman, however...Oh, you thought one lost game was bad? You thought he'd let you off like that, his precious flower, his tender lady he won't admit, even to himself, he is deeply enthralled by to the point of obsession? So much so that he likely doesn't see the same rope around his own ankle as he pushes her over the edge? She isn't one to fall for a simple game, but can she keep up? ⭒˚.⋆˖➴༯ Warnings: We have a shower scene, folks, for I bring old men and tiddies and lots of rejoicing. No, seriously, harsh language, nakedness, intimacy, 18+ even if not smut yet, MDNI, undressing, grabbing, ordering, violence, descriptions of heavy physical touch. Inner monologues, trauma reactions, unacted but described scenes of dubious consent and/or heavy very bad implications. Word count: 6.6k A/N: You wouldn't believe how much time I spent on this and how much I am putting in the next chapter. ˙ᵕ˙ And how much I was trying not to imagine David Byrne in a big suit the whole time. Please excuse the delay, was swimming in not so nice things as a shower with this round-faced menace. (❀´ ˘ `❀) Gorgeous gif by: @phantom-evil Tag list: @storytellers-randomshortstorys @ingstadstarlight જ⁀➴ Link to previous Link to next Masterlist ฅ^._.^ฅ If you like my work, I cherish every like // reblog // follow // message - thank you for helping me boost visibility and writing! ♥

The hotel he took you to, though it took you a while and you stumbled more times than you could count, was dark. Once more, it looked half deserted. The sign was an upgrade – half the letters still managed to cough up light, shining red on the dark road around the entrance.  

Each time your vision went dark, and you steadied against a wall, a lamp post, anything to guide you – he didn’t help. He didn’t touch you. He merely observed as you gathered yourself, steadied yourself, and found resolve to push into your limbs and will them to walk.

Though it felt like punishment, you don’t think he’s that shallow nor that easily offended.

Nor that invested. This is so typical. So par on course. He’s just like all the others.

You noticed that the few people you passed stared but said nothing. A girl with blood on her face, blood and dirt on her barely hanging dress, stumbling around a tall man in a fine suit speckled with blood who walks as if ready to greet a political rival. Yet the one time you failed to adjust in time, the one time darkness enveloped your closing vision without a pocket of air, you opened your eyes to him gone.

A burning brush against each side of your hip, ready to steady you.

When you did gather stability, he walked to his usual distance, as if nothing happened. You hated him in that moment. Truly hated him. The spots were burning, and he made you feel…small. Ashamed. Needy. Weak.

“This way, little lady.”

He guided you through the door and you noticed the reception hall was empty.

Just as he did with the night sky, it seems his presence clouded and swallowed the atmosphere without a hint of effort. He wasn’t intruding, taking, blunt-forcing his way through – yet his presence, in its polite unassuming serenity, seemed to startle and stiffen the very air around him.

When you finally got up the stairs to a room, he let you walk in first, closing and locking the door behind you.

Yep. Here we go.

You get ready for your limbs to lose the rest of their feeling, your head to cloud, and your mind to simply float off until he’s done. You’re used to that. You can work with that.

Do your worst.   

The salesman walks to the window and the small balcony connecting all other rooms in the row. With one elegant motion he opens the curtains and the moon gazes back at you, surrounded by stars.

Did he…do that for me?

You shake the thought away. Of course not. He couldn’t care less what you were gazing at on the ground of the alley.

You sit in a soft chair and note the pain, dulled but very present, shooting through each bruise. You do not wish to count nor examine the damage. You simply sit, hands in your lap, gazing in his direction and trying to focus on the soft sickle shape in the sky.

“What exactly do you want from me?”

Your whisper broke the silence and felt like a transgression.

He turns around, eyes calm, expression ever jovial.

“I want to tend to my flower. And see how far she can go without using that pesky poison. As useful as it seems, as it was, as it is...it seems to get in the way.”

You’re not sure what he’s trying to get at and both options sting.

“My little flower, try to keep up.”

The fact that he noticed your momentary loss in thought rivals your own hypervigilance. You almost instantaneously centre back on him, unaware that you directly obeyed with not a hint of doubt.

And of course.

He noticed, you notice he noticed – though the expression remains the same mask, his dominant hand flutters, as if his fingers were about to catch a moth before it finds a flame. Your eyes try so very hard to focus on the sky, yet his round, unassuming face underlined with a large hand’s pulsation outshines the little shape you’re hanging onto. And his voice does nothing to sooth nor help you on the matter.

“Flower, flower, so faint against the pale moonlight…I did say I wanted to play a game. And we didn’t finish our last one…” his face contorts into a small frown as he moves closer to you, soundlessly, the carpet swallowing his deliberate steps; he seems to move like the air makes way for him in soft streams of silence. You flinch as he enters your proximity, his expression almost comically unfitting the situation. It’s as if he wordlessly forces the atmosphere to freeze.

“…And I have so much in mind for my tender flower.”

His face stops too close to yours. Those eyes are grabbing at your vision, appropriating each of your senses without effort. Your breath doesn’t quite catch up as you hear his last words:

“Choose a game for her.”

It wasn’t an order. Yet you had no choice.

Mine for the night, to do with as I please.

❥❥❥

A secret for a secret.

As the salesman sat on a chair opposing you at a slight degree angle, he laid his briefcase on the table and leaned to you, arms resting on his knees, trousers pulled up just enough to unveil his ankles. It reminded you of each time he sat next to you at the station. The nonchalance of back then in contrast to the stakes now made you grow colder.

I began to trust him, each time at the station, as he sat there, smiling. Never overstepping. My shameful certitude. Now look at me. Now fucking look at me.

The bruises burnt, your head was a sharp paralyzed freezing bundle of shivers, and your hands, nestled and intertwined through every finger on your lap, gave it away quite easily. Only now do you realise your tights have been torn and your mind wanders too far before you can catch it.

Please snap out of it, Y/N, Y/N, snap snap snap. Don’t make him angry. Don’t fall over. Focus on the moon. Your sister needs you. Snap out of it.

You didn’t meet his gaze, knowing whatever ground you still had sliding from under your feet would be on its merry way immediately. And from the corner of your eye, you saw him go through slight amusement, to indifference, to…still disquiet.

Just as a lake goes placid when the predator dives in waiting. Not a fish nor a ripple. Composure in transience.

The way the corners of his mouth imperceptibly twitched, as if glitching in their plastic poise. No matter, they smoothed right over with a soft smile as he zoned in on you.

“The one who tells the better secret wins.”

“What do they win?”

“A favour.”

“That’s hardly a game, is it?”

“A game is what you make it, little lady. It’s not about the pieces…it’s about the players.”

“Why would I want to know anything about you?”

He momentarily turns to the moon you’ve been gazing at and speaks in the same direction as you.

He seems so skilled at swallowing your every thought, movement, wish; mirroring, noticing each thing about you and either using it or keeping it as collateral.

Once more his pleasant hum circles your ears, and you gaze at the soft sickle too. Though now you look at the back of his head, and his body – knowing he cannot see you do so – and try not to shudder. The suit is roughed up, yet his poise repairs each tear. His posture is confident, yet playfully relaxed. But that neck and head…are tense. Tense with anticipation and things you glimpsed in those charcoal eyes you do not wish to see come out.

“Sometimes…knowledge can protect you from things that go bump in the night, tender flower. Things that…” he slowly turns his head to you, a single hand leaving his knee to hover above your little palm temple, “…one cannot touch until one knows their shape.”

As he concludes the sentence, a single finger lands on your knuckle and your eyes inadvertently meet his. They snatch you and hold, the connection and touch burning through you, becoming one with whatever darkness swims in those eyes, threatening to pull you into the depths of their lurking depravity.

The detective was right. And I can feel his body coiling around me. I can’t move.

A shaky breath, but you do not break contact nor pull away. Gazing straight into those eyes, you cock your head to the side slowly and mouth:

“Once more…good sir…what happens to the one who loses?”

Just as a one-way mirror, he mimics your tilt, and his close-lipped smile grows. Leaning into you, so close his face shields the moon and stars, he whispers as his finger slowly circles your knuckle and moves up your hand:

“They owe a bigger favour.”

Now you pull away. Heart beating so fast your lip shivers in tune.

“That doesn’t make sense. What happens to the one who loses the game?”

He retracts his touch, expression unfading.

“They become indebted to the winner until their debt is paid in full.”

It’s better than strip poker, you think, trying to lighten a terribly dark situation. Mostly because we have roughly two and a half layers and have never played poker before.

“Alright. Go ahead. Tell me a secret.”

The salesman almost scoffs, ever polite.

“The little flower is giving orders now? Even as I hold the shears? Amusing…” You didn’t get time to move, to think, just as a viper strikes from its nest, the salesman’s hand shoots to your face, grabbing you easily into his palm, just as before. But this time, he forcibly turns your head to him, leaving no means of escaping his eyes. He looks down at your hands, still almost calmly resting in each other, your posture, which didn’t change. A glint of genuine endeared surprise flashes across his face, but he says nothing.

In his palm, he slowly turns your head, as if testing, testing how much he can move, how much he can force. You feel your head lull in his grip, and you close your eyes.

Sinking into him even as the pain envelops your jaw.

Funny how his harsh touch somehow pulls things away from your own pounding head, like a strong current pulling at a thousand rivers and letting them pool into him. Away from you.

Peace.

“Little lady, little lady…truly a wonder you are.”

You smile as you rest your head, he doesn’t know you’re a player with cards hidden all over your body, he doesn’t know he’s playing with a fire that has learnt to burn on ice.

❥❥❥

He poured you both a drink. You do not partake. Slowly his lips move as he rests a finger against his temple, studiously. The contrast of the still ragged hand and ever-present veins against the smooth round face plays into the sense of wrong. He curls the words on his tongue:

"I've taken the liberty of speaking to your colleague."

Speaking. To my. Colleague.

He's dead.

You know better than to ask a question. That's not a big secret. All you have to do is play a better one.

"A detective has taken the liberty of speaking to me."

A small inflected 'hmmm' fills the silence. Interesting, but not quite.

"That's no secret to me, little lady. Try again."

What? How does he know? Of course he does.

As your hair falls gently, in a feeble attempt to shield your face and caress your skin, you try once more.

"I haven't told anyone about you."

That was supposed to be the secret. But the real one slipped through just after, in a voice that was truly genuine and small:

"I should have. I should have listened."

Your voice trails off as the regret fades into a shade of shade.

"Adequate. Such a fast learner." The salesman gets up and lays a hand on his briefcase. Your mind, back to its own resources, begins to worry and once more...only blanks.

"Though it is wise to keep your cards to your chest, I must say – mine was the better secret, lovely lady. As you can gather yourself if I know anything about that pretty head of yours." Bending to you, he almost coos with that overdrawn little frown in feigned pity:

"That poor little head of yours that's taken such a nasty beating in the last few days alone. No wonder it falls into my hand like a little bird crying for its mother’s warmth."

The way he seems to momentarily freeze, the manner in which no movement, no matter how theatrical, isn't overdrawn...Calculated. He's too calculated, even in play.

"Now," he stops once more and slowly eyes you from foot to eyes, "be a good girl for me and slide down the other strap. I find it harrowing to watch one torn apart while the other holds onto your skin for dear life. So unfair. So very...uneven."

Not when it should be his hand tearing at your skin in its place, you think the rest of his sentence for him.

You do as he says, and the dress falls down slightly, catching itself around your breasts in a soft little heap and you thank every single deity for the luck alone. But looking up at the salesman, his eyes. You know that expression. You feel it in your thighs.

Excitement.

As he watches your neck, your collarbones, your skin glint against the darkened room, you suddenly don't think you thanked the right Gods. He's not like the others. He's not at all like the others. Please, let him be like the others. This is torture.

"Will you let me tend to you, just a little bit? I cannot bear to see you like this." That frown is working overtime. He gets up, but before the tip of his shoe reaches the space between your huddling feet...

You almost laugh. Truly laugh. He overplayed his hand quite terribly here.

"No."

"No?" The salesman lengthens the word back to you, inflection playful as it kisses his lips like honey, his demeanour delineating anything but.

His slow expression morphs into that of cold discontent hidden behind a small frozen smile. Face unmoving, except for the eyes – zoning and pointed straight at you. You expect to be hit, to be grabbed, to be shouted at, to be hurt – anything of the kind; you know that expression, you know that intonation. But you try, you put every molecule of effort left into keeping yourself together and breathe a small breath before continuing.

"No. You haven't earned another favour yet. Pardon me. But. That's not how the game works."

One more inhale as you ready to continue, though your hands are positively vibrating, we can do this. He's bound with the same rope as me, the same rules.

"No fun in a game with broken rules. No fun in taking what feels so much better given. I recall you saying...you prefer your games fair, good sir. And I would truly not wish to aid you in your own disappointment."

You blink at him slowly, tired but sharp eyes mirroring his glassy pools and his half-robotic, half-laissez faire movements.

I know what you're thinking.

You're thinking of ways to hurt me, in detail. You're thinking you could be done with it, and pluck the flower. Leaf by leaf, petal by petal.

You're thinking of making this face cry and beg and contort as you hush it to placidity and break it again. You're thinking of those hands on this body, taking, breaking, feasting, strangling sound away and invading every inch I have left to myself.

You're thinking there's nothing stopping you, and that I deserve it for being so insolent.

But you respect the game, and you relish people giving themselves to you, tying their own rope around their leg and sauntering over the edge. That's what you love. That's what drives you mad.

Whether it was true or not, it did stop the salesman in his tracks. The tall figure momentarily merely circled the table, turning his back to you, a small chuckle as dry as a bone escaping his lips as he gazed at the moon.

"How very kind of you to think of me and my enjoyment, little lady."

He circles the table back to you and leans against each side of the armchair you're sitting in, large hands gripping the fabric hard enough to leave indentations. His face is so close to yours you can feel his breath on your cheeks, his cologne invading your senses, his elevated heartbeat going through his neck as the vein pulsates; his neck craned straight into you. Almost erratic in his overall calmness, the salesman smiles the sweetest of smiles and leans there, simply watching you for far too long, before replying in a tone that could convey a death sentence:

"I'll make sure to return the favour. Nothing less for such kindness."

As if he said nothing at all, he pulls away, and you note the handprints in the chair. You try very hard not to think of the state your flesh would be in if he got the chance.

So you do what seems logical as you try to gather what remains of your cracked brain. Continue the game.

"I lied to you. You asked me if I won. I said I obviously didn't. But I did. I did win. I felt something. I felt something and I could have died, if you didn't come. I felt peace. I wished the man would kill me, and I felt something other than cold. Fire. Comeuppance. Life in my fingers. My limbs were mine. The fight was mine. And my own death was mine. So. I won. That's my secret."

"You drive a hard bargain, Y/N."

Oh. Lost the little lady, have we?

"I've done something you wish you would have done, all those years ago."

A single finger glides under your chin, not quite touching yet. No, instead, he inches so close to you that his forehead gently nudges your own and simply pushes into you, your faces so close they could kiss. He lulls with your head, playfully, as if enjoying himself in the caress, the reciprocal motion, and one of his hands finds your knee, gliding up slowly against your thigh, lifting your dress as it goes up. The hand grips your flesh, and you hear his breath grow rapid. The words ring in your ears and your own breath stops.

"I killed my father."

❥❥❥

And just like that.

Gone.

You.

The hand.

The room.

Gone.

One two three.

Between a garbled mess of thoughts and senses gliding through your body never touching consciousness, you realise he pulled away without a sound and you slowly, ever-so-slowly feel your shoulders sink into the chair. Your back gets enveloped in the fabric and collapses, as if it pulled out each and every organ and left you hollow. Your eyes don’t look for nor see the moon.

Every word of each thought flung against your brain’s wall is a scream and an echo. Signifying nothing.

Limbs. Gone. Mind. Barely there. Hands. Still. Numb. Ice.

You’ve grown so cold.

Somewhere between, you notice he doesn’t move either. So still. Calculating. The urge. Subdued? The act. A play? You're tired. You're so very tired but your eyes refuse to blink.

How does he know? What does he know? I’ve lost, I’m lost, I can’t…think.

All your energy goes to keeping a door in your mind shut, even as every ghost and spectre claws under, through, over, around. You don’t even shiver. Just stare. Just stare ahead. At nothing.

An echo bathed in quiet yet staunch authority slithers in.

“Little flower, did I not say the poison gets in the way? It’s going to hurt you before it traces me...Y/N.”

Echo of an echo, but two words get through the increasing static buzz.

“Get up.”

Not quite an order. Voice soft. False pity. False care. He’s playing, so satisfied with his win. Your mind is reverberating. Thigh burning but frozen. Everything is a tad too much.

Where is the rain? Why can’t you take your skin off? Why won’t they all just leave you alone?! Why do they break, break, break and twist, and leave you a husk, all for their disgusting little games…Please hold me together, please don’t touch me, please hold me together, please never touch me again.

Softer, far softer:

“…So I may tend to you.”

You don’t register the last part, but you get up. Or, your body gets up with your explicit instruction, you might as well be piloting a robot. You follow his figure where it leads and the scenery fades onto itself, folding shadows from the only dim light in the middle of the room resting on their length and falsity.

❥❥❥

The shower hissed slowly as he turned the knob.

Sounds seem so...cut up.

You didn't say a word as he stepped inside with you.

The fact that he was fully clothed and you, in your barely hanging dress and torn tights, didn’t seem to phase him.

The sudden warmth enveloping your skin makes you jump, and as the gradually heavier fabric kisses your skin and clings, the fog starts lifting just a tad. Warmth.

Warmth.

Your back is to him, and you hear the water drip against heavy material, swallowed like the atmosphere around him, like the steps in the carpet.

You feel your arms, your chest, your collarbones – they all gain an inkling of themselves back and sting at once as the hot blanket slides across them washing the dirt and memories away.

You expect the worst, even in the back of your mind. Taking his prize.

Yet from behind you, you see a hand, upturned – sleeve slowly getting soaked – glide along your side almost brushing your elbow. It guides itself slowly towards your wrist.

His fingers find and gently, lightly, envelop it in a soft but steady hold. You see your hand turn in his on its own accord, a delicate cold object in a large warm palm. Inspecting it with touch, as if it were a delicate artifact. You feel no force, yet you twitch and almost pull away. His thumb brushes against the inside of your wrist in reply, slowly, deliberately.

Reassuringly.

For a moment, he only holds his thumb against your pulse and nothing but the drips and hiss of water, along with his warm inspecting touch enter your brain. Your wrist slowly rests in his grip, and he circles the inside of your forearm, returning slowly to your wrist once more. A small but visible shudder runs through you as his touch traverses your naked skin and you nearly step back. Step into him.

You would almost forget your skin is burning. Almost. Still too far away, still locked away, still barely feeling anything between pain, burning, and nothing.

Nothing but that little bastion of warmth from a serpent's belly.

As he moves, he finds one of the bruises, painted on the inside of your forearm. Dark ink staining now reddening wet velvet. You hear what you must have imagined – an exhale so close to your head he must be one teeter away from you. Just one movement away from his entire body enveloping yours. Swallowing you.

“Does it hurt?” He murmurs, his voice a low hush sliding on the falling water and brushing your ear.

“Should it?” You barely whisper, unable to comprehend how he got through.

The salesman doesn’t reply. Though his fingers start tracing your palm, your lifelines, softly gliding up and along them, never grabbing.

Not…teasing…he's...

Feeling.

Suddenly, you sense his hand leave you, and you…want to flinch, flinch into him, the place he touched loses life and find its isolating cold once more.

You huddle against yourself under the shower and let it try to wash everything away. Its warmth is doing its best, but it's not the same. Your own skin against your body doesn't work. It just makes you aware of the plastic and the dead limbs holding you together.

But he's not done with you. Of course he's not done with you.

Touch.

You feel touch as his fingers slowly but deliberately slide into your hair. A sweet smell envelops your senses and you pull away just slightly from subdued surprise – but he doesn’t retract his touch. Instead, he very subtly but with not a hint of relenting leans you into his palms, softly circling strands of hair from your scalp and gliding through from top to bottom, side to side in lazy deliberate motion.

The salesman tips your head into him, and you know you’re so close to his chest you could feel his heart if you just leaned back a little further. A small gentle thought of not wishing to stain his suit brushes your mind, but you let your head lean into him.

His fingers slowly, deliberately massage your scalp and your breath catches in your throat – the act sincerely disarming you – and he only continues. Each circle another layer of armour crumpling and washing away. Each caress and stream of water another huddled ember of warmth at your feet.

Why is he doing this? Why is he not doing what he should be doing? Why is he being…caring?

As the salesman guided his fingers towards the top of your head, circling, caressing through strands of hair from the top of your nape to the very tip of your head and around your temples, sending little bouts of electricity through your numb body, his sleeve brushed against your now bare shoulders. And you felt it.

You feel the warm, damp fabric against your skin and your breath catches itself again, heart unable to keep up.

In one movement, your dominant hand shoots up to steady itself against his forearm. Before you realise what happened, you are gripping the fabric, the skin, wrapping around the stability of the man tending to you. Not from weakness. Not because you’re about to faint. But because he’s not taking.

He’s making you feel.

And you cannot hold the weight of that knowledge and yourself at the same time.

You stay like that, frozen, grabbing his forearm, his hands still softly laid in your hair. Wordlessly, you try to let go, but he does not move nor let you – instead helping you turn around so very slowly, still making sure you’re holding on, until the very moment you are face to face.

Your eyes manage to travel from his soaked chest to his left shoulder, to his right, to his strong neck outlined by wet shimmer, until they meet the lower half of his face. Slowly you look up.

The salesman's arm is letting the steady streams gather on his face as he gazes at you, unblinking. The droplets run from where his unflinching hand rests upon your head nestled in the side of your hair. They run from you, all the way down his soaked suit to his shoulder. The raised gripped arm lets the warm water gather and run to his cheek, to his chin and down his soaked through clinging shirt.

Your barely open lips quiver, even in the warmth.

You realise you are too close, far too close, now connected by the same warmth and the same water – you breathe in the reverberations of the salesman's own body, the slight quiver of his jaw as the drops fall.

His hot breath kisses your skin even as the steam from the shower envelops you both – and as you feel drops of water glide from the tip of your nose down to your chin, all the way down your neck, along your collarbones until the moment they catch in the hollow of your throat as you try to swallow....

Your heart beats straight through your neck upon seeing the salesman’s eyes slowly, meticulously follow each of their trajectories, from beginning to their very end, expression unfading.

Eyes so sharp their depths swallow you whole.

And as if a timer reset, he continues his motions as if nothing were out of the ordinary, merely using his other hand to wash the rest of your hair. It must look like the two of you are frozen in a dance. You tilt your head back just a tad and let the water carry everything away as it pools around your feet.

Before your eyes close entirely to nought but warmth, touch, and falling water gliding through your hair, you notice, just as you fully unveiled your neck and your shoulders in the tilt. As you lay your entire nape bare before him, the fingers massaging your hair make the same movement as they did when you obeyed.

They twitch and freeze.

A harsh flutter, as if trying to catch a moth before it flies into a flame and an almost unnoticeable pull as he loosens your strands into the soft current below.

“You’re shivering,” he whispers.

The hum of the shower swallows your words, but you know they reached him.

“So are you,” you hush.

❥❥❥

The suit, soaked, the fabric, close against you somehow made him…more tangible. Gave him shape, weight, an outline. The way his clothes clung to his body, the feeling of darkened heavy fabric brushing against your skin as he moved…it was as if he placed a solid barrier between you.

Solid, stable, warm.

Cruel.

You let go of his arm and as you do, you let go of the grounding presence keeping you straight.

In a moment, your body reacts first, as does his – you stumble, and his hand shoots to the small of your back, your chest and waist firmly pressed against his, and in one split second, your hips are cradling against each other in soaked entirely. You feel everything. You feel.

Everything.

You want to cup his head and let the droplets run along your arms all the way to your slowly exposing chest. You want him to cup yours. You want him to hold you, ground you, grip you and let you melt into him as you are, body pushed against body and water running through you only washing away any barriers there might be. Like a veil, all as one under it.

Safe.

You want him to hurt you, grab you, prove he's just like the others and let him be discarded in the same pile, the same nondescript hollow nothingness you've felt until he touched you.

Safer.

You want him gone, you want the entire evening gone and wiped from memory, you want to run.

Saved.

And yet, your feet stay in place and your body leans into him, the hot, heavy fabric and his body only a few layers from yours teaming with heat through every one of them.

The salesman's reverberating breaths vibrate through you, your shivers reply, your shallow breath against his warm exhales on your naked skin becoming one and the same under the stream.

Wordlessly, he closes his eyes and smiles, almost wistfully. As if lost in fond memory of a losing battle.

You know that smile. It's one of yours.

But you can see his breathing is fast, his demeanour anything but collected. His heart is…beating into you.

As you steady your breath, you feel the salesman’s forehead softly press into yours, closing the last avenue of distance between the two of you. For a moment, he remains like that, tenderly pushing into you.

Pushing into your forehead so that even the water has to run around your shared touch.

Before you stop yourself, your chin tilts up – are you trying to get hurt or is there another reason for something so dangerous?

You don’t know. You don’t wish to know. All you know is, your chin tilted up and your lips carry the unspoken gamble.

And he pulls away.

❥❥❥

He pulls away and you see through half-lidded eyes how very wrong you were.

So very, very wrong.

You offered something.

For free.

He didn’t need to take. He didn’t need to win. And your small movement was the equivalent of letting your wrist grow limp with a full hand of cards.

The face with sharp charcoal eyes, gazing through both you and the water, lifts a small, almost sad smile before curling into an expression you know so well. It twists more and you’re harshly reminded of the snake coiling around you.

Up your legs, up your waist, firmly resting around your chest. All it needs is a push and your breath is his.

As if the realisation isn't torture enough, his clear voice cuts through the wet hum.

“A new rule, little lady.”

The shower fails to wash away the slickness and the clarity of his voice reverberating through your brain, that almost teasing nature – and against every wish in you, it hurts.

You try to steady yourself and not give away that it hurts like a cut, like a cut with a knife made of ice and lead wherever the serpent laid its body. You do not wish to lean against the wall, that would drive you to lose everything as the door of your mind would burst open and each spectre would walk straight through.

But you cannot remain steady like this.

He’s still playing. And you’re losing. Both yourself and the game.

Or are you one and the same to him?  

“No flinching.”

“Oh?” You try to hum with the shower, attempting to sound as nonchalant as the dripping water.

“If you react, you lose.” The salesman simply states the matter as if laying down a card, studying you, putting you together and pulling you apart like a puzzle he cannot help but play to solve – and he doesn’t have to move a muscle to do so.

Undoing and putting together, gladly lifting each piece to study it under his meticulous gaze.

You don’t have to have nearly half your faculties to know this is a trap.

What you don’t know is what exactly he is testing here.

You don’t get time to ponder that as you feel his palm slowly lift, cuffs dripping, and ghost against the side of your throat – the side you know hurts, the side that was gripped and flung around. His lips purse into feigned pity and a tone too close to adoration.

“So very harsh for such a gentle flower...My dear little flower. To stain her like that. To crush such a tender stem. So incredibly...unbecoming.”

The palm traces the outline of the pain, and the water seems to burn even more. You see his eyes dart to yours, then back to your throat. His hand closes the distance and applies the barest of pressure.

Resting there. Letting the water wash over you and then over him like a little river down your neck.

And you don’t react. You don’t move a muscle.

Challenging a stone-cold body to react?

Challenging a lethal flower to stay still when that is her primary defence? Oh, but he likes a challenge. You do not shiver as you remember.

He truly loves a challenge.

His hand glides down, knuckles grazing the skin of your neck, until he goes further.

The salesman’s thumb follows the line of your collarbone, traversing the delicate slope of your shoulder before slipping down the inside of your wrist once more. The water isn’t enough of a barrier, it seems to carry the electricity to that one spot where his touch had been before. The familiarity, the pain of the bruise, your heart leaping – an unmistakable little stop and resume of your breath barely escapes your open lips.

The salesman visibly smirks, not retracting his touch. A slow tilt of the head and a voice like cyanide honey:

“That was a flinch.”

“It was not.”

“That was a lie.”

He leans into you, just close enough for you to feel his hot breath tickle your ear.

“Should I go slower?”

❥❥❥

No, screw this, I’m not getting outplayed by a wet mannequin.

You don’t answer. You only very deliberately, as unshakingly as is possible, lift your arm and lay a single, deliberate palm against his soaked suit, his heavy shirt, right over his heart.

The reverberations in your palm beat steady, and you do not smile – not giving him an inch – but that pulse is not calm.

Your lips curl into the smallest of sounds, swallowed by the soft water droplets carrying your voice to him in small pieces.

“You’re playing too, aren’t you?”

You feel him grow still, so still the water bears more life than him.

“No.”

You tilt your head to the other side, not letting him be a one-way mirror anymore.

“That was a lie.”

The hand moves from your wrist and a guiding touch rests around the air of your nape. As if ready to grab, to strangle, to force – but he merely brushes a fingertip against the side of your neck and lets the droplets trickle down. His palm is outstretched, but unmoving.

You could pull away. You could stay still. You could command your fluttering heart and subdued fear of that palm easily circling your breath and squeezing life away – but you don’t.

No.

You tilt your head forward ever so slightly, just enough.

And you feel his fingers tighten just a fraction. An unmistakable second of a ghost of a grip around each side of your neck, warm palm against your beating throat.

I could ruin you if I wanted to, but I won’t – is that what he’s thinking? Or was it unwitting, reflex? Need? Either way…

“You’re letting me win, little lady,” he murmurs against the shell of your ear, something slightly darker sliding in with his usual nonchalance.

You exhale a laugh, but there is no humour nor amusement in it.

“You haven’t won anything.”

I sacrificed my queen to pull you down with me.

You retract your touch as if to underline your words:

“You haven’t won anything.”

That darkness, that lingering depravity you know lurks in him gazes back at you, before a small hint of genuine amusement curls the salesman’s expression into a gallant smile.

“You’re learning so fast, little flower. You’re making me so proud.”

You blink and feel the shower cannot be to blame for your cheeks flushing. For a small second you cannot see through the drips on your eyelashes, but you can feel.

And he doesn’t let you go, oh no, he doesn’t let an object of such heavy interest out of his grasp.

“Now, let me revere you.”

As the last words sooth the water running down your skin, so do both his hands move to each of your upper arms. First, gripping each side of your barely hanging dress between his thumb and index finger, the white fabric now soaked through and copying your every centimetre to glisten before him like a benediction.

And he does something you would never imagine, never bet on, and never even think to think.

He slowly slides the dress down your body, inch by inch, gliding on the water’s current. You feel the fabric grate against your skin, unveiling cold, then sudden sharp warmth and burning sensations where you stand exposed. Droplets softly kissing each new area of exposed skin.

As he reaches your forearms, he gently lifts the straps so they avoid each bruise, and carefully untangles the white fabric from your wrists without you having to move. Not losing an inch of his touch, not for a moment letting you go without it, the salesman then lays a large hand on each side of your waist and in one, slow motion, pulls the entire dress down into the water at your feet following its trajectory as he does. You don’t react. You cannot react. You are almost entirely naked before him, water your only barrier, and he…

He is kneeling before you.

❥❥❥

[loviingpedri]

tripling the fun - jude and jobe bellingham

part 2 -> part 1 here

prompt: jude fulfills everyone’s dreams.

jude x fem!reader.

jobe & reader platonic soulmates

warnings: grammar issues, cursing, arguments (happy ending), jealous jude, all characters are fictional (except jude, jobe, and their parents)

click to help palestine

credits to owners for all images

salt air, and the rust on your door.

flower in your hair, feet in the sand, salty air entering through your nose.

joining the annual vacation with the bellingham family and your sweet parents, life felt as ease.

at least, for you.

jude was rapidly tapping his feet on the wood bedroom floor. hands in his hair, anxiety filling up his thoughts. jobe was seriously getting concerned.

“mate, you have two days. everything is gonna be okay.” sitting next to him on the bed, jobe put his hand on jude’s shoulder to get his nerves to calm down.

“i’m overthinking it now. what if she says no? what if she only sees me as a brother? am i being delusional?” he could feel his heart racing, and it wasn’t even the day.

jude was planning to ask you out. he felt like no other person who wasn't blood related to him could understand him, deeper and personally better than you. noticing over the past few years, he noticed his rising feelings for you. getting overexcited by the mention of you two hanging out. his cheeks heat up as the thought of you popping into his head. his resistance of trying not to pull you into a deep hug.

jobe, trying to comfort him to the best of his ability, was getting concerned. “jude, you seriously need to calm down. y/n is one of my favorite people in the entire world. have you ever seen her talk to anyone else? i mean seriously, her whole life involves us.”

“you’re not helping,” jude stands up from the bed, heading his way outside for a bit of fresh air. “i need a breather.”

walking across the sand to gather his thoughts, he saw a familiar figure in the distance.

admiring how your hair flowed in the air, perfectly shaped and painted nails coming into contact with the golden sand. your lashes slowly moving up and down as you blinked. he couldn’t grasp the idea of losing you.

“hey jude, what’s going on?” almost standing up, he quickly sat down beside you. “is anyone asking for me?”

shaking his head, “nah, everything is fine. i just needed to take a walk.”

noticing his body language, and how his eyebrows moved when he talked, something was wrong. “you seem tense. is there anything you wanna talk about? what’s on your mind?” you scooted closer to him, touching shoulders.

jude cleared his throat, a lump forming. “there’s nothing wrong. i just wanted to see the sunset. beautiful waves isn’t it?”

“definitely. i wish i could spend all day here.” resting your head on his shoulder, he began to control his breathing and heart rate. struggling to make a next move, he moved his arm to push you closer by your shoulder.

little did you know, your mother and denise were standing from the balcony, watching you two embrace each other’s comfort.

jobe holding his youngest nephew, who was pointing at the future couple, seeing what the future could bring.

----------the next morning--------------

"hey little one." jude picked up his niece and spun around.

"i found your stash of flowers. they look really pretty. are they for me?" catching a small glimpse of the gap of her teeth, jude couldn't help but laugh at the question.

"i would like to say yes, but they're for a really special girl. are you ready to go swim at the beach?"

a frown formed on her lips, "yeah, i guess so. i can't wait to build a giant sand castle that i can live there forever." she threw her arms up high in excitement.

"i don't know about forever, but i'm sure it's gonna be great."

a knock was heard on the door. the air felt colder as tension fell.

"hey jude, we're about to go." you gave him a warm smile, as he stood there in silence. he put the princess down as he went to go sat down on his bed.

he picked up his phone, texting jobe,

i'll be at the beach later, got to get my things together.

he took a deep breath. and for the next 30 minutes, he was trying to form the perfect plan. going out to the balcony to look for a special spot to set up a dinner. noticing splashes that seem far more intense.

getting a better view, he noticed you and jobe. jobe was hugging you from behind and throwing you into the waves. shared laughter echoing throughout the beach. he couldn't lie, the inside of the palm of his hands were sweating and getting white from the grip of the wood. he didn't wanna admit he was getting jealous of his own brother, but the timing was nowhere near perfect for things like this to happen. he has seen moments like this between you two, but it felt different. his head began pounding. he grabbed his towel and ran out to hopefully score a remarkable moment with you

smiles appeared on everyone's faces as he walked through the burning hot sand.

"jude, you're here!" you yelled as sounds of waves crashing and seagulls talking. he waved at you while he gave his mom his belongings for safe keeping.

joining you and jobe in the water, he felt off. in his imagination, jude felt like a mood-killer. the laughter died down, the sun no longer reflected off your skin. he felt like he caused something wrong.

clearing the air, jobe did little small splashes throughout the trio. jude stared at the smile that was on your face after jobe's actions. he felt anger race through his blood. impulsive thinking, he pushed the water right into jobe's face. jobe dodging the salt water in his eyes, he was confused on jude's sudden gesture. you ignored what just happened, because siblings can be siblings.

actions speaking more than words, jude became more aggressive. walking more towards to shore for safety, jude wasn't just playing around. he gave a jude a small but rough push to jobe, making him slip and fall into the water.

"jude, what the fuck." his eyebrows narrowed watching you trying to help jobe to his balance. you weren't sure what was going on, but awkwardness was following all three of you.

jobe cleared his throat, "do you know what we're having for dinner?"

"i think our dads are grilling tonight." jobe nodded as you played with the salt water. without any explanation, jude walked back to get the towel from his mom, and walked back to the house. jobe and you made eye contact in confusion, but just brushed it off.

walking to the shore, the three little children were playing with the sand. classic sand castle with wet sand circling it. picking up the baby boy, giving him a small kiss on his forehead, you could really see jude’s face written all over him.

“y/n, you should sit. the sand is cool under the umbrella.” jobe patted a spot next to him under the shade. sitting the baby down on your lap and hugging his tiny body, he pointed at the sand in jobe’s bucket.

“are you going to help build our castle?” the little princess with her pink hat was desperately trying to scoop a decent amount of sand in her flimsy shovel. jobe nodded his head, but we all know he loses the sand castle contest every year.

“y/n, guess what.” the girl said with a bright smile.

“what?” you smiled back, but more in confusion.

“jude has flowers in his room. i asked if they were for me, he said no. he said it was for someone special though.”

your lips made a small gap. you were shocked at the fact. jobe held in his breath. he was looking back and forth in panic.

“did you know jude was talking to someone, jobe?” he looked at you with slightly wider eyes.

frantically shaking his head, “no, of course not.” he looked at his mom for some help.

“did you know?” you asked denise.

she shrugged it off with a “no darling.” as she was playing it off. you were playing with the baby’s soft curls as your mind wandered off.

—————————

“hey jude, how are you?” walking into his room and sitting down on the desk chair as he sat on the bed, scrolling through social media.

with an unexpected surprise, jude sat up. “i’m doing fine, how are you? you look like you got a nice tan.”

a slight giggle coming out, “yeah, it’s pretty nice. i just wanted to ask you about something.”

“about?”

“our lovely niece told me you bought flowers for someone,” jude instantly looked at you in your eyes. has his secret been busted? “i was just wondering who they were for. usually when you start talking to someone, jobe and i know.”

“oh, it’s nothing really. i bought them just because.”

“just because? you can’t be serious. have you met someone at the beach?” you got up from the chair and sat next to his legs on the edge of the bed.

“seriously y/n. they’re not for anyone. it wouldn’t be any of your business anyway.”

“excuse me?”

“why are you always in my business? i feel like you and jobe are spying on everything i do. and you try to get me to speak about everything. just leave me alone.”

“what the hell are you on about? we’ve never invaded your privacy. if you felt this way, you could’ve said something a long time ago.”

standing up in anger, you couldn’t believe what you were hearing. everyone told everyone updates on their life, this wasn’t a secret tradition. surprisingly, jude would be the one sharing most of his life updates.

“you know what, you always take jobe’s side too. i feel left out every time. when i come around, you and him stop laughing and it gets all silent. i feel like i’m the bad guy.”

“jude, you’ve been acting fucking mental lately. i don’t know why you’re being like this, but you need to fix it. i asked a simple question, not a whole lecture from you.”

tears formed in your eyes as you went to leave the room.

“yeah, go run to jobe like you always do.” was the last thing you heard before slamming the door with a loud bam following it.

jobe was waiting outside the door, hearing everything. breaking down in his arms, you thought this vacation would be different.

----------the next morning--------------

the smell of syrup, eggs, and other breakfast goodies was lurking around the beach house.

not a word from jude after the argument. it wasn’t any surprise that everyone in the place heard what was happening. mark, jude and jobe’s dad, made sure to cook butterfly pancakes to try and cheer you up. something he loved doing for you since you were a child.

sitting down with a plate of eggs and toast, he placed the pancake in front of you with a little whipped cream in the middle. giving you a gentle pat on the back, you thanked him quietly. jobe sat down next to you, not wasting a chance to dig in.

all of a sudden, the hairs on your arms rose due to the coldness. awkwardness cooling down the food as jude walked into the room. jobe cleared his throat as he glanced at you before looking down. you continued to try and eat, even though he made you lose your appetite.

“morning.” jude said to his mom as he gave her a little peck on her forehead.

quick change of events as jude sat on the other side of you. it was normal of course, jude, you, and jobe. it was just unexpected that he pretended nothing happened.

everyone ate in awkward silence. except jude, humming and dancing as he ate. his mom looked at him in concern.

“what?” he questioned her, as she quickly shook her head no. “being awfully quiet this morning, what did i miss?” everyone looked at him in confusion.

“nothing, just eat.”

he threw his arms up, “hey, i’m not making this awkward. you guys are.” he got up and started washing his plate and fork.

he was right, we were the ones being awkward. it didn’t change the fact that you didn’t get an apology though. finishing up your breakfast, you forced yourself to approach him with your dirty dishes. putting it into the sink, you stood behind him, waiting for him to be done.

he slightly whispered to you, “it’s fine, i got it.” you nodded at him while you went to the balcony for a summer breeze. soon, your mother and denise joined you.

after a few hours of talking, you got a text from jude. reading,

hey, can we talk later? meet me at the beach in 2 hours.

you tried not to question it. yet, the thought lingered. jude always apologizes straight away after an argument. what made it different now? giving the message a thumbs up, you continued talking with the ladies.

“hey y/n, did jude text you?” denise asked you.

“yeah, he did. he told me to meet him in 2 hours at the beach, but that was about an hour ago.”

“oh honey, you should probably change then.” your mom chimed in.

“what’s wrong with what i’m wearing?”

“wearing pajama pants in hot sand is not very fabulous.” the two moms laughed as they rushed to put something together in your room.

after playing dress up through your suitcase, it was finally time to go. the sun was starting to set, the orange hitting the water perfectly. walking down the creaking wooden stairs, you weren’t sure to expect.

looking to your right, you hands flew on your mouth. a table surrounded with roses, forming a heart shape, was lit with a candle. standing there at the table was jude, with a bouquet of flowers. he looked very nervous.

walking up to him, you really admired the detail. you both started laughing at the sudden seriousness in the friendship.

“are you kidding me? this is surreal.” you hugged him and kissed him on his cheek.

“do you forgive me? is this too much? i didn’t know if the flowers were too much. i also didn’t know if you wanted sand in between your toes as you ate. i mean, i could literally get on my knees and beg for forgiveness. please, forgive me.” cutting him off, you placed a finger on his lips.

“of course i do. i could never stay mad at my best friend.”

“uh. ouch. i was actually going to ask you something. y/n, would you be my girlfriend.”

your mouth formed an ‘o’ shaped. he started tapping his feet in stress.

“i don’t see why i shouldn’t be.” dropping the flowers quickly on the seat, he hugged you.

in history of hugs throughout your friendship, this one was the best one. it marked a new beginning.

a new beginning of love.

-

to one of my lovely supporters - @judesthighveins

[heartybubs]

party 4 u

percy jackson [ percy jackson x reader ]

type: angst, bits of fluff

tropes: mutual pining, yearning even; they’re both so oblivious ugh

warnings: mentions of alcohol

in which reader wants to confess her feelings to percy after having been in love for years and throws a party, only for him to arrive three hours late, holding annabeth’s hand.. (inspired by party 4 u by charli xcx) — part 2

a/n.: female cabin 10 reader, pretty sure i used she/her pronouns at some point. very interested in doing a part 2, if you’d like me to😽

w.c.: 2.760

my masterlist

✧༺♡༻∞

you're running around your families new york city appartment, stressed out of your mind.

today was the night of the party you'd been planning for weeks now. your friends from the dionysus cabin were in charge of the drinks, you had convinced some of the apollo kids to take care of the music (though it didn't take much convincing) and two of your aphrodite sisters had helped you with the invites weeks prior, ensuring that no one would decline the offer. you had even gone as far as subtly 'inspiring' your father and stepmother to go on a vacation weeks in advance. everything was taken care of.

you had texted a bunch of friends from school in new york and told them to bring friends of their own, as well as inviting every camper above the age of 15. the only person you really cared about though, was percy jackson. he was the only reason you wanted to throw this party in the first place.

ever since he had come to camp five years ago, you’ve had a huge crush on him. at first, you were sure the feelings would just go away at some point, especially cause you were only 12 and also a daughter of aphrodite. you got small crushes all the time and people had crushes on you all the time, it was basically a normal part of your life. and even though you did develop other crushes throughout the years, dating a few people here and there; it was always the same thing when you came back to camp. everytime you saw percy, your heart would skip a few beats.

you weren't supposed to feel like this, you were supposed to make people feel like this.

well, it's not exactly like your mother would agree with that statement. she actually asked you about percy every single time you talked to her (which really didn't happen a lot honestly) and every single time you tried to shut her up, she'd just smirk and sigh before eventually changing the topic. 

it's not like there weren't people out there who weren't as crazy about you as you were about percy, but none of them, not even your favourite ex-girlfriend, made you lose your mind as much as he did.

"y/n, you seriously gotta chill", you whip around, a hand already finding its way to your chest to shield your beating heart and find yourself looking at lilah, your best friend. she looks almost irritated as she scans your appearance for a moment before sighing and putting an arm around your shoulder protectively. 

"what, i am chill. so chill, actually."

she doesn't even make an effort to respond and pulls you away from the living room until you two end up in the hallway by the frontdoor. she considers stopping for a moment, but decides to go a little further and sits down on the stairs leading upstairs, pulling you down with her.

you sit there in silence for a minute, fiddling with your fingers. your breathing uneven and your heart is beating so hard, you're scared lilah could hear it over the loud music coming from the other room. 

"y/n, seriously..", lilah's tone softens as she moves her hand to stop yours from fiddling nervously. youd'd be embarassed right now, if it weren't for the fact that lilah had seen you in way more desperate states.

yeah, your desperation was extremely embarassing, but it was nothing compared to the way you'd act everytime percy came back from a quest. he'd look all sweaty and dirty to her, but to you, every quest he went on made him seem taller, more muscular, more handsome... and so on. you weren't sure if this was due to your ability to romanticize anything and everything or if there was some of your mother's magic involved... you wouldn't put it past her.

"this is the worst you've ever been, i can't even lie to you." oh. yeah, so nevermind then. "i know you're only throwing this party for him, but don't let him ruin your night. you invited him, he said he would come. he's either late or not coming, but either way you gotta stop being such a nervous wreck!"

you’d usually appreciate her honesty, but right now you wished silena was here instead. no one got through to you as well as your favourite half-sister, especially when you were inspiralling into your feelings for percy. "he said he'd come, lilah. i thought maybe... maybe i'd tell him tonight, y'know?"

she sighs. "i get it. seriously, don't underestimate my emotional involvement, i've been with you for 3 years of this 5 year hell, alright? and i think it's great you're gonna tell him tonight, but--", she stops talking at the way your eyes twitch at her words. "exactly! y/n you always say you're gonna tell him and then you chicken out!"

you drop your face into your hands and let out a desperate huff of air. wincing, you say: "i know, i know! but i really was going to today. i swear it! he seemed so excited when i invited him."

contrary to all your other guests, you had only invited percy about three weeks ago; once you were sure everything else would work out as planned. you had been almost as nervous as right now when you paced up and down your cabin, getting on your siblings nerves. it was cabin 3's turn to clean out the stables, you had made sure of that by checking the schedule give or take 200 times, and you were going to invite percy today. for sure. probably. 

it's not even that you had never talked to him before, you actually kind of had been friends for about two years now, but because of your intense crush on him, you usually avoided being alone with him. it's not like you were going to attack and kiss him either (at least you were fairly sure you wouldn't do that), so you weren't really sure why you were making it so hard on yourself. and anytime you do have  a conversation with him, it ends up being really nice.

percy was really funny, had some really good stories to tell and always listened when you actually build up the courage to tell some of your own stories. it was especially nice when you could share your new york experiences with one another.

"that cafe sounds really good, we should totally go there some time." percy had smiled at you after you told him about your go-to spot downtown and it was not like he had asked you out on a date or anything, but his suggestion completely wrecked any confidence you had built up until that point. you just gave him a shy nod, before turning your attention back to the campfire you were seated around. 

this way you couldn't see the way percy's eyes lingered on your face.

gods, the bonfire made you look even more beautiful.

after one of your brothers had had enough of your mumbling and nervous pacing and basically threw you out of your own cabin, you were on your way to the stables. you walked fast, wanting to get there before the doubts would stop you. when you arrived, you basically stormed in, startling percy, who was talking to one of the horses.

his eyes lit up immediately when he saw you standing there, but he'd have reacted that way for everyone who gave him a break from cleaning, at leats that's what you told yourself. 

"hey n/n, what are you doing here?" butterflies errupted in your stomach at the nickname that no one else really used. 

"hi perce. uhm i- well i wanted to ask you something", percy ignored the funny feeling in his stomach and closed some of the distance between you.

you tried to ignore how nervous that made you and sent  a shy smile his way. it helped a little when he smiled at you even harder, reassuring you a tiny bit before making everything even worse. why did he have to be so fine?

"i'm throwing this party in three weeks", he didn't say anyting yet, instead keeping his sea-green eyes on yours, waiting for you to continue. your nerves couldn't stand staring into his pretty eyes, so as you were looking down, keeping yours on the hay on the floor, you missed the way something in his face twitched at the mention of the party.

finally, he thought.

percy had heard of the party, well how couldn't he have? you had invited basically everyone, except for him. he had spent almost everyday pestering annabeth with questions about why you wouldn't want him at your party, as if she'd know and everyday she got more irritated with him. 

annabeth couldn't believe how oblivious her bestfriend was. obviously you had a crush on him, everyone knew that. well, except for percy and it also wasn't like anyone ever talked about it. but still, everyone was confident that everyone had noticed the longing stares you let linger on each other.

"and— uhm i wanted to ask you.. if you maybe want to come? it's in new york so—"

"of course i'm coming, i'd love to come!" percy had answered so quickly and with such enthusiasm that it made all your anxiety disappear for a moment. your nervous smile turned into a big grin and percy couldn't help but grin back in return, relieved that you seemingly hadn't noticed the way his face heated up in embarassment at the way he was making a fool of himself.

get it together, he thought.

you agreed to stop by his table at dinner later to give him a little note with all the information he'd need and when you were done talking about the party, you stayed. percy had continued cleaning out the stables. you would’ve helped, but he had insisted that you sit down and just talk to him instead. normally, this would’ve killed your nerves, but you didn’t even think twice about agreeing to spend more one on one time with him.

and if that entire interaction hadn't been as positive as it was, you wouldn't be as hurt as you were now when percy was over 2 hours later than your little pink note had said. 

"maybe he was just being friendly." you mumble and look at lilah, who is already rolling her eyes and throwing her head back. "deadass right now, i am 100% he likes you, y/n. he's always looking at you like a fool in love, basically same way you look at him honestly."

you don't believe a single word coming out of her mouth, although it is kind of insane to hear her say something that's not full on rude about percy. she always denies having anything against percy and claims her slightly negative attitude is just a natural consequence of witnessing him letting you (beautiful, perfect woman) pine after him (demigod of liquids and not the fun kind).

totally her words, not yours.

although you're pretty sure she is as fond of percy jackson as her father is of peter johnson...

lilah's words do finally start to sink in though. well, not the part about percy having a crush on you too, but basically everything else. there's no reason you, a child of aphrodite, should have to be pouting all by yourself, waiting for a guy to like you back when you could be having fun at your own party instead. in theory. you should forget about percy, at least for one night. 

"let's party!" you stand up, doubt visible on your face before you mask it with a big fake grin. lilah looks at you uncertain whether to entertain this new attitude of yours. "lilah, c'mon! there's no reason i should be sober at my own party, i put you in charge of drinks for a reason." 

you wink at her before slowly walking off towards the living room, giving her no other choice than to follow you into the  crowd. although still a little unsure at first, lilah doesn't stop you from taking your mind off percy in whatever way you deem effective. 

she mixes you both some mean cocktails and then some more when you finish them almost immediately. it takes you no more than 30 minutes until you're finally dancing and having fun with your best friend, just like you were supposed to. 

it's hard to pay attention to the room due to the amount of alcohol you've already drunk in such a short amount of time and even though it definitely helped you take your mind off things, you still can't help but look for percy everytime one song fades into the next. 

another hour passes, still no sign of percy, but at this point you're too drunk to care. you're having fun with your friends, dancing with whoever's closest to you at the moment. lilah left a few songs ago to go dance with one of your friends from school, you could sometimes make out their shape on the other end of the room and you were pretty sure you saw one of her hands burried in the other girls dark curls earlier. go lilah!

from the corner of your eye, you can barely see the front door open at the end of the hallway. when you turn your head, focussing hard to make the room stop moving, you see a blonde girl pull a dark haired boy into the room by his hand. they're laughing and then you recognize the two people entering your home. 

percy is finally here. and he's holding annabeth's hand. 

your heart drops. way worse than it ever has before. your body comes to a full stop as you can't help but watch the pair. she turns around to whisper something in his ear, he laughs and responds a moment later so that he's kind of leaning into her from behind, their hands still intertwined. he looks so handsome, but the sight of him taking annabeths jacket off her ruins everything for you. 

of course they're dating, you should have known. 

you're so in trance that you don't notice annabeth pointing you out to percy, who immediately lets go of her hand to come over to you. he even thanks annabeth innocently for forcing him into the apartment, after he had spent 15 minutes debating whether he really had the courage to enter, especially when he had told himself tonight would be the night he'd confess his feelings to you.

she just waves him off, glad to actually have made it here after having spent an entire two hours at his place helping him with his outfit and hair. she had felt like a camper in cabin 10, only for him to go with blue jeans and a black shirt. 

when you finally snap out of it, realizing that percy is pushing through your other guests in order to get to you, you immediately start looking for a way out. you can feel your eyes sting, there goes any hope. there's no way you can stand stupid host-guest smalltalk with percy right now. you're pretty confident that you'd burst into tears the second he'd thank you for the invite. 

so you run. 

you try your hardest to escape the dancing crowd, or rather percy, and don't look back. but he catches up quickly, his size making it easier for him to get through to you, than for you to get away from him. knowing you can't hear him over the music, he quickly grabs your wrist before you can get any further away. 

you jump at the contact, turning around and pulling your arm from his grip. he smiles, until he notices your teary eyes despite the lack of good lighting. 

"wha—" you can barely make out what he's saying, but you shake your head anyways. the sight of him makes it so much harder to suppress your tears, knowing you're looking at the one thing you want but will never have, apparently. percy lets you push past him and watches you leave through the remnants of the path he just created to get to you. 

he doesn't move and stands there confused until you're out of sight. people all around him are dancing to the music, but he feels isolated as he's still looking the way you just left. neither the music, the strobe lights, nor the people bumbing into him pull him out of his trance, until whatever just happened finally kind of clicks and he follows you, pushing people out of his way, determined to get to you.

[dipperscavern]

let's talk about warming cregan's cock 😇👫

like you have so keenly established, mf can not sit still. this is the warden of the north we are referring to. the wolf of the north. he is well experienced in battle, a brilliant swordsman and lord of his house. he's used to abstaining during battle and experiencing dire circumstances over patience. surely he'd be able to let his pretty girl warm his cock?

WRONG 🙅‍♀️ someone, please fetch me a comedically large red buzzer to slam. thank you.

he's so restless. your stoic, burly, reserved, and patient man - reduced to ragged breaths and gritting his teeth because he can't sit still. here sits his pretty girl, batting her lashes at him, "cregan, can i please?" and it starts out well enough.

but you're so warm. so sweet. maybe he should be working on something - battle plans or lordy duties that define his bloodline. cregan's got an active mind, ever analyzing and preparing. he's hyperaware of everything in that moment - the way you slightly move your hips, wriggling in his lap. when he makes a comment about it, you just pout, telling him you were "adjusting." 🙄 yeah girl okay you just wanted to feel the godly girth 3000

the way you softly sigh admist the quiet chamber. maybe you do something as simple as sneeze - but when you do, you clench around cregan. and he's losing his shitttt.

can someone please find the meme of the guy sitting at a desk with his blood vessels about to burst as he's sweating? because that is our lord stark.

he tries breathing through it, for your sake. i imagine you would be the one to propose it, for whatever desire and circumstance brought you to the moment. cregan is trying :(( it's just so hard. like him, TEHE. all he wants to do is flip you over and ravage you. just leave little bites and nicks along his pretty girl's flesh :((

this is torture for him.

- 🔄❄️

reverse. elsa. anon. WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN? BED EMPTY, NO NOTE, WINTER GONE.

okay but seriously i am so so so sorry you got lost in my inbox. please i beg of you, come back!! the ponderer has returned, and we miss u!! REVERSE ELSA ANON IF U CSN HEAR US PLEASE SAVE US i call out to the winds. if you return, you shall never be lost again. this i swear to you 💔✊

ANYWAYS. CREGAN STARK COCKWARMING. here’s your buzzer m’dear 🚨 when you suggest the idea, cregan is a bit perplexed. you don’t want him to make you cum as many times as you want? but you bat your lashes and ask so sweetly, and you don’t ask for much. plus, cregan is a warrior. a hardened, battle surviving lord — he can stay still for his pretty wife.

or so he thinks.

because once you sink down on him, his grip on your hips is like iron. you’re warm and wet and so inviting, and you don’t want cregan to move? gods have mercy. cregan is usually pretty held together, but his breathing turns all ragged and his gaze is glued to where his [REDACTED] meets your [CONTENT DELETED]. and even worse, you’re relishing in his loss of self control.

even so, he tries to be so good for you.

it gets easier over time, and when cregan feels you relax and sigh against him, he thinks it’s not so bad after all. cregan is in control, and things are okay. until a few minutes later, you sneeze. you clench around him, and he grits his teeth, lax grip on your hips tightening once more as he fights the urge to move.

“This is torture,” he breathes, trying with all his might to stay still for you :( <3