#I CAN'T BELIEVE I FINALLY WROTE THIS IT'S BEEN IN MY HEAD FOR SO FUCKING LONG

[luvvyouforever]

saw your post about declan x reader x rupert and i can't stop thinking about them in their slutty little venturer tshirts ugh need to be sandwiched between them while they're bickering over who can make you feel better

ughhh the slutty venturer t-shirts! just for you anon <3

challengers - declan o'hara x reader x rupert campbell-black

synopsis: rupert believes he can make you feel better. declan disagrees and thinks he can. there's only one way to find out.

content: threesome (kinda?), afab reader, no m/m, rupert's got a thing for legs, no maud au so there's no infidelity, oral sex, handjob kinda, hickeys, praise, squirting

word count: 3k oops

author's note: this fic has been sitting in the drafts for a whileeeeeee. like before season 2 was even confirmed. enjoy! (ps i haven't watched challengers i just thought the title was fitting)

you think that maybe rupert and declan have forgotten about you sandwiched between them, but perhaps there were worse places to be than leaned against a doorframe, the heady scents of their cologne filling your nose.

"i just find it interesting that every time i come to look for our dear y/n, she's always right by your side, hmm?" rupert's posh accent echoed above you, his chest puffed.

"have you thought that she just prefers my company to yours, rupert?" declan's thick accent was so different to rupert's, but they mingled so well together. you briefly wondered how long you could still there still and quiet until they acknowledge your existence again.

"considering you're tipsy half of the day, i have reason to doubt that."

you would be standing there quietly for a long time.

it was painfully obvious to everyone, not just you, that rupert and declan harboured crushes for you. it had started when freddie managed to poach you from corinium to come work for venturer instead, and small gazes as you left turned into something you weren't even sure how to handle.

"you guys do know i'm standing here still...right?" you managed to slip out between the incessant firing off of insults.

their heads turned downwards, eyes meeting your own.

"of course, doll," declan said at the same time as rupert's, "could never forget you, sweetheart." they glared at each other, then returned to their attention to you.

it was a bit overwhelming, sure, but you held firm in your resolve to attempt to solve this issue. "i thought i could just let you both fight till you came up with a solution, but the plan has not worked evidently. and a girl can only take so much lustful staring and touches on the knee before she need something."

"i'm sorry if declan's made you uncomfortable, love," rupert said slyly, hand softly grazing your upper arm.

declan immediately lost the control he was exerting and faced rupert again with a loud scoff. "i'm making her uncomfortable? if anything, you are! who'd want a man that's slept with half the countryside giving her fuck-me-eyes?"

rupert couldn't help himself. "who'd want a man that hasn't slept with anyone in months giving her fuck-me-eyes?"

"oh, i'm sure i could make her feel much better than you ever could. just cause you're easy doesn't mean you're good."

with every word spat at each other, their shoulders squared and jaws clenched. if you didn't know any better, you'd keep watching the way their t-shirts flexed against their skin, swooning at the knowledge that it was you they were fighting over. but you had to do something.

it seemed crazy the second it popped into your brain. like something from one of those erotica books lizzie wrote. but the way rupert and declan were so naturally competitive, it might be the only way to solve this before they irreparably damaged the friendship they'd been building through venturer.

first you tried to clear your throat loudly which didn't work. they continued to mumble about their respective skills. then you tried saying their names. didn't work either. finally, with a huff of pure frustration, you grabbed each of them by the collars of their t-shirts and drug them further inside declan's home, effectively shutting the door behind you with your foot.

"jesus christ, you're like toddlers," you near-shouted. "you'd think a teacher told you that you have to share the toy the way you're arguing with each other. we have to solve this one way or another." you paused for a beat, letting the two men gather their composure. declan leaned against the kitchen counter, while rupert stood with his arms crossed. "i want you to listen to every word i have to say without speaking, okay? and when i am done, you are allowed to give me a response."

you waited for them to nod and once they did, you continued speaking.

"in full honesty, i can't choose between the two of you. you're both handsome and intelligent and i've enjoyed getting to know you. but i know you can't share. that would never work with the way you both square off like gorillas in a jungle," you said. your next words needed to be chose carefully. "however, i can't make a decision without test driving. so, we can settle this like adults in declan's bedroom, or i will walk out the door and forget that i ever found the two of you attractive in the first place."

true to their word, neither of them spoke until you gestured that you were done. declan was the first to speak up. "how long have you found me attractive, huh?"

"good lord," rupert whispered to himself, though both you and declan heard it clearly. "so when you mean settle this like adults..." he trailed off, posing a question for you to respond to.

"d'ya need her to spell it out for you?" declan asked, shoving himself off the kitchen counter. he sauntered towards you and his scent flooded your senses once again. his hand came to your lower back, dipping down just enough to graze your ass. "she wants us to prove which of us is better."

you let out a soft gasp, followed by a bite of your lip when his hand lifted then came back down on your ass, more harsh than a love tap, but clearly not as rough as he'd like to go.

declan chuckled. "think i'm already ahead of you."

"jesus, get in the bedroom already," rupert said, coming up behind you and replacing declan's hand with his own, pushing you towards the stairs.

the next few moments were a blur. before you knew it, your figure was posed on the middle of declan's bed, with declan and rupert waiting patiently at the foot.

"are there rules?" rupert asked.

you thought for a second. it was an impulsive plan, one you hadn't put much thought into. you shook your head. "nope. want you both to show me just how good you are since you're talking all that game."

declan and rupert looked at each other perhaps the most amiably the whole entire evening. while it was a competition, they seemed to have a silent agreement that your world would be forever changed after this.

declan moved first, his eyes already lowered and darkened with desire. having this view of you in his bed was driving him mad, pushing him to do that much better so he could always see you sprawled on the flannel sheets that smelled like him.

"can i take this off of you, love?" he asked quietly, fingers toying with the hem of your shirt. you met his dark brown eyes and nodded, biting your lip as his hands deftly removed the fabric. you could hear the hitch in both his and rupert's breathing.

suddenly, rupert's frame was on your other side, fingers barely touching the skin on your side. "you're so beautiful," he said. though declan made the initial move, rupert took it one step further and brought his head down to offer you a sweet kiss on the lips. declan could've growled, but he knew you wanted to end the fighting. he had to just find his own way to touch you.

as rupert continued to expertly move his lips against yours, declan's own mouth met your neck and upper chest. he left hot, open-mouthed kisses on your delicate skin and you whimpered into rupert's mouth.

declan continued his ministrations as rupert pulled away and tugged off his venturer t-shirt, revealing his toned, tan body underneath. he then slid his belt from around his waist and threw it down onto declan's carpet. he took a few seconds to figure out his next plan of action and when he saw just how enamoured you were with declan's kisses, he opted for the same strategy.

rupert leaned down and started trailing his lips along your stomach, up to the edge of your bra, around the seam, then back down again. he was careful not to invade declan's space while also losing himself in the way your noises reverberated in his ears.

declan, too, rose from kneeling and took off his own shirt. you managed to open your eyes and the sight before you could've sent you reeling immediately. rupert was toned and muscular while declan was broad and, for the lack of a better word, big. in that moment, you considered yourself the luckiest girl on the planet.

your hands flew to declan as he leant back down, fingers roaming the broad expanse of his chest. desperate to have him kiss you on the lips this time, you moved your hand to his chin and tugged him towards you. he picked up the message easily and moved his lips against yours eagerly.

so far, you distinguished that declan and rupert had two distinct styles. declan was desperate and eager and ready to take you as his own. his kisses were passionate and you could tell from his touches that he was exerting a lot of restraint. rupert, on the other hand, was more calculated. his kisses started delicate, like he was teasing you, drawing you in, making you crave more. it would be a harder decision than you thought.

once he was satisfied with the trail of kisses along your body, rupert ducked down, fingers teasing the band of your pants. you looked up at you, somehow meeting your eyes past declan's head, and asked a silent question. you nodded as best as you could, then turned back to declan. as rupert's hands tugged down your pants, revealing your bare legs, your fingers tangled in declan's curls.

you had become so lost in declan's overpowering kiss that you let out a sudden gasp when rupert's mouth met your thighs. you could feel his breath against your legs, hands squeezing your flesh. you realized his weakness then as he groaned with every inch his mouth met.

eventually, you pulled away from declan, desperate for breath. he looked at you with a powerful look, one that you could hardly tear away from. you did, though, and gestured to his pants. "don't leave me alone here," you whispered. he smirked and stood to undo his belt, then tug his pants off.

as if his arousal was not already evident, the bulge barely concealed by his boxers revealed it tenfold. your eyes roamed his body and with a smirk, your hand reached out to his core. at the sudden contact, he groaned, no, growled.

you let out your own noise of surprise at rupert's hands meeting your own middle. your eyes flew to his and he met them confidently with his own smirk.

"she's so wet for us," rupert said, drawing declan's attention towards your center. both of their eyes didn't leave your face as declan's hand reached out to feel for himself.

"absolutely soaking, doll," he added.

"please," you pleaded, though you weren't sure what you were asking for.

"what do you need, love?" rupert asked sweetly. his fingers replaced declan's and they teased past the hem of your panties.

"what would you like us to show you?" declan asked. it was evil, the way they seemed to suddenly team up with the purpose of torturing you. it was as if every ounce of their fighting left once your body was available to them.

"y-your mouth, please," you squeaked out, cheeks flushed both from embarrassment and pure heat. "you first," you added, gesturing to declan.

"don't mind if i do, pretty girl," he said, moving to situate himself between your legs. rupert went to move, but he couldn't help himself but watch as declan slowly removed your panties. "fucking gorgeous."

rupert moved to your side again, one of his arms propping up his body by yours, the other snaking around and entangling his fingers in your hair. he came in close and you could smell the spearmint on his breath from the gum he chewed. "i don't think i could ever tell you enough how beautiful you are," he whispered.

had it not been for declan's mouth being dangerously close to your pussy, you would've reeled at his romantic words. you hoped that your shining eyes would convey your appreciation enough. he seemed to have gotten the message and smiled as his hands moved to wrap around your back and undo your bra.

once you were fully bare before them, rupert offered the same vulnerability, moving upwards to take his pants and boxers down.

"fuck," you choked out, both at the sight before you and at declan's tongue licking a long stripe up your core.

rupert smiled and returned to your side again. "like what you see?" he asked, fingers curling under your chin. you nodded enthusiastically, as it became difficult to form words from declan's ministrations between your legs. you couldn't do much else but reach towards rupert's body, hands exploring the muscular build of his chest and shoulders and torso and everywhere. he offered the same, soft hands teasing up your sides and breasts.

declan's mouth was beginning to draw you close to the edge. he was close to making out with your pussy, and you were positive both he and you were soaked. despite the slight burn coming from his thick mustache, your back arched from the bed ever so slightly, offering rupert more surface to explore.

everything came crashing on you all at once, though, as declan's finger slowly entered you, curling up to the spot that made you shut your eyes so tight you saw swirls of color. to add to the torture, rupert's mouth had wrapped around your nipple, tongue teasing and slow.

"fuck!" you shouted. "s-so good. so good, declan." your praise egged him on further and he added a second finger. his tongue didn't let up until your thighs squeezed around his head and you came around his fingers with barely intelligible groans of his name.

reluctantly, he pulled away, leaving your hole clenching around nothing. you were correct about him being soaked. he was a vision of pure sin, nothing else. it had to have been one of the sexiest sights you'd ever see in your life.

"think you can do better than that?" declan asked.

rupert released his mouth with a pop and smirked. "of course i can." ever the gentleman, though, he looked at you first. "ready for me now, love?"

despite your better judgement telling you to breathe first, you nodded eagerly. they switched spots then, declan moving to your side. before he got comfortable, though, he stripped off his own boxers. you whimpered. how could you have possibly gotten this lucky?

rupert situated himself between your thighs and instead of diving in immediately like declan, he teased you with his fingers first. it was torturous, but so methodical, like he wanted to play you like an instrument. for a second, you watched him with lust blown eyes, before averting your attention to declan's hard cock just before you.

you felt greedy receiving all the pleasure from the two men. you looked at declan with the best puppy dog eyes you could muster and he chuckled lightly at your pleading. he inched closer, getting comfortable at your side.

"all yours, darling," he said quietly. you bit your lip and outstretched your hand. declan groaned as your skin met his and he was sure that he had never been so needy for someone before.

rupert's mouth finally fully latched on to your clit and you gasped instantly. your hand continued to stroke declan and he leant down to press a soft kiss to your forehead. his breath tickled your ear and his moans were like music. down below you, rupert's mouth worked expertly on your pussy, which was an entirely different sensation than declan's sloppy, but deliciously overwhelming mouth.

your thighs squeezed around his head, but it only made him that much more eager to please you. his tongue moved up and down, then teased your entrance. your stomach squeezed with the feeling of another orgasm coming on quickly.

"fuck, rupert. please keep going," you moaned out, arching your hips into his face further.

declan could feel himself getting closer too, but he didn't want to finish then and spend time gaining back his energy. he gained the strength to pull your hand away from him and offered a sweet kiss to your palm instead. he craned his neck down to place more kisses on your neck, and once he found a spot that seemed to draw an extra whimper from you, he bit down and sucked.

your moans were surely loud enough to hear across the countryside. it didn't matter though with the way declan and rupert were lavishing endless attention on you. it was the best you were sure you had ever felt. that knot in your stomach only grew tighter and you weren't going to last long.

rupert wasn't letting up, though. in fact, he copied declan's move and slipped two fingers in, curling them upwards over and over. with every pull, that knot tightened and tightened. if he didn't pull away, you were sure you'd pass out. he didn't though.

declan's mouth continued to leave hickeys down your neck and suddenly, waves of pleasure overtook every part of your senses. before you knew it, rupert's chest and torso were soaked.

"had to be such an overachiever and make her squirt?" declan asked, releasing from your neck with a harsh bite. you were breathing heavily, attempting to come down from the intense high you had been feeling. declan and rupert bickered quietly, before realizing that your head had lulled against the pillow.

"seems like i won that one, huh?" rupert asked, moving up the bed again to caress the hairs that had stuck along your forehead.

"oh, please," declan said. his large palm met your cheek and you looked at him with eyes that made him fall only deeper for you. "we haven't even fucked the pretty girl yet."

[charlesxavierthirster3000]

Denim — C. Xavier

Pairing: 60s (First Class)!Charles Xavier x GN!Reader

Summary: Charles takes you out, but you're quite the fussy shopper. (Pls spare me idk how to write summaries 😥)

CW/Tags: suggestive content, pre-beach divorce Charles, no use of Y/N (there never will be on my blog), don't like don't read.

A/N: Huzzah guys I'm finally writing !!!! This prolly won't get much traction bc it's not Logan but fuck it we ball 🔥🔥 This has been rotting in Docs for like a week and I just finished it like 15 mins ago so here we go.. 😁 Also I wrote this as Fem!Reader in mind but I realised it could be GN so I'll just put it as that :3

WC: 461 / Navigation

Divider credits (They're so cute istg bro) here and here

Charles Xavier was not your sugar daddy. He could believe he was all he wanted, but your very minimal amount of dignity drew the line at that title.

The man could buy you everything you ever even thought of — which was fairly easy, considering his mutation — yet you wouldn't admit it even if you had 8 fully loaded AK-47s pointed at your face.

“Just get it, for God's sake,” Charles drawled, nodding at the pair of mid-blue bootcut jeans you'd been fawning over for what felt like half his lifetime. 

When you give the gorgeous denim another doubtful up-down, he gets up from his concerningly squeaky stool bordering the men’s section and reaches for your wrist.

“It would take immense effort to make me go bankrupt, sweetheart.” He places his credit card in your palm, gently forcing your fingers over it with a short smile. It's not the first time he's done this, and it most definitely won't be the last.

“I have a pair just like thi—” you try to argue weakly, but the gloved hand over your mouth leaves you no choice but to shut your gob. God, this man was direct.

“Uh-uh, not hearing it. We both know exactly how much you want it. End of discussion. Go pay.” 

He carefully nudges you forward in the direction of the distant cashier, but you blatantly refuse to move an inch. He stares incredulously at the back of your head and you have to bite back a laugh beneath the confines of his palm. 

You should’ve expected it, but the British in your brain still catches you by surprise. Damn colonizers.

“Get the damn pants. Your ass would look lovely in them,” he pats your ass with his free hand as punctuation, attempting to urge you forward yet again.

“All you care about is my ass,” you retort mentally.

“Yes and no. It's definitely up there.”

“I'm gonna bite you.”

“Kinky. But keep it in your shorts ‘til we get back, yeah?”

He takes his hand off your face and gets out of your head. You whip your head around to silently complain at him, but he's staring right back at you with a smile that, to the normal person, would look as if he'd done no wrong. But to you, it was only making your situation worse.

The same smile which was pissing you off in ways you didn't even think possible morphs into a genuine laugh delivered softly, and for God's sake, you can't keep your stomach from doing a brief flip at the sound.

“Fine. Pretend you don't want them. But you're going to pay with my card, and I'll show you exactly how much you won't regret buying them when we get back to my office.”

[no-144444]

losing battle- l.stroll

Day 10 of fic-tober! fic-tober masterlist

summary: it's a marriage of convenience that's becoming pretty inconvenient when you start falling for your best friend.

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Lance Stroll was 2 things, powerful, and a mess. His driving was messy, his bedroom was messy, his house was messy, his relationship was messy, but most of all, his entire life was messy. After a very public split with the woman he’d been dating for literal years, he fell deeper and deeper into racing, somehow cleaning up his act and not acting like a paid seat driver. He was good. The car was good. Podiums were a regular thing for both him and Fernando. Wins were becoming a regular thing for Fernando, and Lance had a few more under his belt. Not only that, but they were finally fighting for the championships, and Fernandio had won his third last season, it was Lance’s turn now, and he was making the most of it. Everything was great. 

The only issue? Lance was now boring in the media’s eyes. He had no scandals, no girlfriend, no family drama (well…?), nothing. He was a perfectly polite, perfectly fine, all-round good person. That wasn’t enough for the press. Every race, the same questions got asked; “are you dating anyone?” “who’s the special lady in your life?” “are you hiding a wife from us?”

He wanted it to stop. That’s where you came in. His sweet, kind, best friend since childhood. You’d been to races over the years, you’d been seen with him, you were gorgeous, the fans loved you, most importantly, Lance loved you, as a friend anyway. 

“So I have to marry you?” You gawked at Lance as he set the contracts out in front of you. “And then we act like a couple until…?” “Until the press gets off my back and I can say we amicably divorced and stayed friends,” he explained. 

“And this is a good idea because…?”

“It’s been 4 years since me and ‘she-who-must-not-be-named’ broke up, people wouldn’t just believe me and you got together like 3 years ago and we’re still just ‘together’-”

“And why not?” you questioned.

“I honestly don’t know these were just the points my dad wrote out for me to say,” he shrugged. “Please help me out?”

You sighed, how bad could it be?. “Fine, but you owe me.”

“Excellent!” Lawrence beamed, startling the both of you. “Now, we should talk about certain things- children?”

“No way,” you answered firmly. “No way,” he answered firmly. 

You both burst into fits of laughter and Lawerence ended up leaving, knowing there was no stopping you two. Well, you were a wife now, and a WAG.

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lancestroll

liked by pierregasly, logansargeant, and 3,837,231 others

lancestroll happy anniversary baby :)

comments

fernandoalonso: my favourites!

user45: he kept this REAL quiet

user33: what. the. fuck.

alexandriastleux: can't wait to meet her!

user42: MY CHANCE IS GONE? -> user99: girl what chance he's a billionaire.

georgerussell: I WASN'T INVITED? -> lancestroll: no one was lol. just family -> georgerussell: I CAN BE FAMILY

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It could be very bad. Very, very bad. 

By age 25, you would’ve thought that you’d gotten over your childhood crush on Lance, but no. It was rampant every time he so much as looked in your direction. He was sweet, kind, funny, and so nice. He made an effort to include you in things, invited you to galas and dinners with the team, he’d lean over and kiss you randomly, take your hand, smile at you, kiss you before he got in the car, wink at you from the podium, kiss you when he got out of the car.

He was fucking perfect, for no fucking reason. 

You sat beside Lawrence as he chatted about the race, Canada, Lance’s home race. You listened attentively and didn’t notice Lance coming up behind you, and your brain short-circuited  when he kissed you on the head and wrapped his arms around you, making your eyes widen and your skin heat. It was always like this, any time he touched you, you felt it. Everywhere. 

Lawrence laughed. “You don’t have to pretend here, there’s no cameras.”

Lance’s hands fell away and you immediately missed them. He sat down beside you on the couch and smiled at you, whispering a ‘hello’. 

“Sometimes I think you two aren’t even acting. You’d think you were really in love,” Lawrence chuckled. 

“Alright dad,” Lance scoffed. “What were you two talking about before?”

“Just Canada in general, chatting about the house and stuff,” you shrugged. You and Lance had just bought your first house together and were finally moving in after months of it being renovated. Being ‘married’ to Lance was easy, simple, nice even. It was literally living with your best friend, which worked well for the two of you. 

“Where are we going tonight if you win?” Lawrenece asked, a sly smirk on his face.

“Out,” Lance shrugged with a grin. 

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He’d done it. He’d won his fucking home race. You celebrated with him at the parc fermé and cheered as he stood on the podium, proudly singing along to his national anthem. He’d won.

Once his media duties were done and he was showered and not smelling like champagne, out on the town you went. Clubs, pubs, bars, it didn’t matter, the night flew away from you as the drinks flowed and the energy buzzed. 

It was in some random club where Landio had befriended the DJ when Lance bumped into you again. 

“Hi!” he shouted over the music, clearly drunk. 

“Hi,” you smiled back, a little bit more sober. 

“You look beautiful tonight, y-you look beautiful every night,” he smiled. 

Your heart swelled. “Oh yeah? Even when I have my snoring tape on?” He leaned in and pressed a kiss to your lips. “Even then.” 

Suddenly you were very sober, and you had to get out of there. You couldn’t just be fake anymore, it wouldn’t work. You loved him, as much as you didn’t want to admit it, you loved him. “I-I’m going to go-”

“Don’t run away from me,” he pleaded. “I want to talk about it- about us.”

“In the middle of the dance floor in a club?” you questioned. “Come with me.”

He nodded and grabbed your hand, leading the way to the exit. Your heart was pounding. Maybe he’d found someone else? Maybe he was done with you? Maybe he hated you? Maybe-

“I love you,” he rushed out. “I love our life together, I love waking up to you, I love eating breakfast, and lunch, and dinner with you. I love cooking with you, I love movie nights with you, I love talking to you, I love being with you. I love kissing you and holding your hand, and being able to touch you whenever I want to. I fucking hate the fact that this all started with something fake, and it makes me feel like shit that our ‘wedding’ was the both of us signing a sheet of paper, but I love you. I’ve always loved you.”

You stopped moving, stopped thinking, stopped breathing. This wasn’t real, this was your mind playing tricks on you, this was a joke, this wasn’t- 

“Please respond,” he begged. 

“I love you too,” you instinctively said. “I love all those things too.”

His worried face broke into a soft smile, and before you knew it, his lips were on yours. 

Well, so much for fake.

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navigation for my blog :) (masterlist)

fic-tober masterlist

taglist: @anotherapollokid @theseerbetweenus @simbaaas-stuff @5sospenguinqueen @yootvi

[fliesforeyes]

reader attending one of Spencer's lectures, kinda smiling to herself because just hours ago the confident man on the podium was between her legs, begging for her to call him a good boy

[i wrote this as reader being a teacher assistant cause im sorry i can't do student x teacher it feels wrong to me]

you sat at his desk, legs crossed and out of sight from the students as spencer reid presented his next topic of discussion. he always looked so gorgeous during his lectures, so fuckable.

that image was solidified with the memory of him just moments before, 20 minutes before class started with prayers running through your head that a student wouldn't come in early for help. spencers head had been buried between your thighs, hand gripping your soft flesh so hard you knew there'd be bruises by tomorrow. he'd whine with the soft tugs you gave his hair, nose pressed against you as he sucked and licked at your clit. his words still rang through your head,

"please- oh please cum for me baby,"

"oh my god you taste so good, so fucking good,"

he'd sat on his knees, you propped on his desk, the one right before you now. you could see the obvious tent in his slacks, you watched as his hips pressed into the air. you knew how hard he was, youd felt him moments ago. but right now you wanted to cum, he could wait.

"please, please can i touch myself?"

"oh please, ive been such a good boy,"

"tell me im good- please ive been so good for you-"

the whine spencer let out when you finally granted him permission to fuck his own fist would live with you forever you believed. he sounded so pretty, and you can still hear a rasp in the way he speaks, he'd really done a number on his voice with how vocal he was for you. a small smile graced your lips, you see the way students look at him, and you took pride in knowing you were the only one he got that desperate for.

and as you sat in those memories, your thighs pressed together where you sat, clit throbbing, waiting for the lecture to end. you were so grateful for the desk in front of you, the one blocking the students view of your lower half, the one you hoped spencer would bend you over once class was dismissed.

[vnti-vnxiety-recs]

Anything You Can Do I Can Do Better (M)

★  PAIRING: Academic rival!Haechan x afab/fem!reader

☆ WORD COUNT: 4.8k

★ GENRE(S): Smut, E2lover, Rival2lovers

☆ SUMMARY: Haechan and you have never gotten along, and your friend group is sick of it, so they make a bet that the two of you can't ignore. When put to the test, will your hatred for each other still stand?

★ ☆ WARNINGS: 18+, minors do not interact, Meandom! Haechan, aphrodisiac drug, mentions of drinking, sexual bet, sexual intercourse, swearing, unprotected sex, creampie, Haechan being mean, lowkey forgot what I wrote, so just BEWARE.

☆★ NOTES: Yuh! This idea has been stuck in my head for a while. Another saga of me failing the Don't write another hate2love challenge! FYI, I'm not a writer; I'm just a person who writes occasionally. Lovers in e2l not found more of a fuck buddy type relationship. Anyway I just wanted to say thanks for the support on my other fics. I don't usually write that often but the good feedback encourages me.

At this point, your friends were getting tired of it. You two were constantly at each other's throats. They initially believed you could'nt stand one another, but recently, the atmosphere in the room after your shouting matches was too intense to be fueled solely by animosity. The flames behind your eyes burned too brightly for them to be caused by resentment alone. They used to hold you back from lunging at him, but now they wondered what would really happen if you got your hands on him.

Haechan and you had known each other since middle school. You two shared a lot of the same classes, and unfortunately, you both had parents who expected you to excel in school. You were always trying to one-up each other or stamp out the other's resolve. Your relationship was rocky from the start, and even if you two weren't fighting for the top spot, you doubt you would find him likable.

Haechan was a natural at everything. He didn't have to try very hard to be the best; he just got it. On the other hand, despite spending hours studying, you could just barely match his performance. You were jealous of how easy he made it look. The fact that he would flaunt his success in your face didn't help.

“Can't keep up?” He would say after outperforming you on the final exam by 10 points, he had that same smirk that seemed permanently etched onto his face on full display. You had spent days preparing for the test, even skipping a few hours of sleep. Haechan never studied; the most he ever did to prepare for an exam was to quickly skim the material a few hours before the test. Even then, he would still ace it.

You expected to grow up and put the rivalry behind yourselves during high school, but he would jump at any chance to make you look like an idiot. You could say the sky was blue, and he would argue that it was actually the reflection of the ocean that gave the sky the illusion of being blue. Back in middle school, you limited all interactions with him for your own sanity. However, in high school, he somehow managed to join your friend group, so you were forced to endure him during hangouts. You eventually got used to his presence and the non-stop teasing. It wasn't until you received your acceptance letter to the college you would be attending with your friends that you thought you would finally be free from him. Haechan's parents had wanted him to go to a college that was 4 hours away from your hometown, and you counted down the days until graduation.

Luck was never on your side.

Due to Haecahan's tendency to put things off, he wasn't able to submit his application in time, and as the school was very competitive, the available spots quickly filled up. Luckily for him, your college had an extended application process, which allowed him to send it in late, and he was accepted. Now here you are two years into college, and Haechan is still insufferable.

You two were on two completely different career tracks, so your classes never overlapped, so at least you stopped fighting about grades. Being at the top doesn't matter to you anymore, anyway. You hated the pressure that your parents put on you growing up. Before, you would have had a heart attack if you saw a B, but now you just shrug them off. Even still, all you two do is just have petty arguments because that's all you have ever done.

“You would not be able to see an explosion in space; it's a vacuum; fire can't exist.”

"Well, I've seen Star Wars, so I think that proves my point.”

“That's Fiction! You know, like the idea of you having a brain,” you roll your eyes.

“Almost like your sense of humor? I was joking. Of course I know that I took astronomy before you," he smirks.

He was constantly trying to get under your skin. You take a long breath and try to calm yourself down. "Well, yeah, because I took a different science asshole." Your friends say it's because you always give him a reaction, but you hate being wrong. You had to get the last word, especially against know-it-alls like him.

Despite your complaints, he isn't entirely horrible. On the days that you two aren't arguing, he's making you laugh so hard that you practically fall over. He's not a complete jerk all the time; it's just that once you two get started, it's hard to stop.

“Oh please, can you two cut it out? You have either had too much alcohol or not enough if you can still think about arguing,” your friend Johnny slurs.

It's Saturday night, and you have just finished off an exhausting exam week. Your friends felt a celebration was in order to wind down from the trying week. Now the only thing trying was Haechan testing your patience. You're at Johnny's house, and everyone is spread out around his spacious living room, bottles of alcohol scattered several surfaces. Johnny’s family was well off, and he lived off campus in one of the few estates that his family owned. The house had two stories and a pool in the backyard. On the weekends, you would spend the most of your time here.

“You're right I came here to relax, not burst a blood vessel.” You sigh and take a seat next to Johnny on the couch. You take a couple sips from whichever unopened can of cheap alcohol is nearby. Even though you could already sense a buzz coming on, it needed to hit harder if you were going to have to deal with Haechan all night.

Hyuck chuckled and found a spot on the carpeted floor. "Sorry, the princess just seemed like her day was going too well; I had to ruin it a little," he said.

Your friend Yuna raised an eyebrow in his direction and smirked as she took another sip of her drink. “For you to hate her so much, you sure do spend a lot of time thinking about her.”

“One point Yuna, '' you smile at your friend's rebuttal. Arguing with Haechan could be tiring, but your roommate always had your back.

“I think you two just need to hug it out... in a room... alone,” your other friend Mark joked.

You dryly laugh, "So funny."

“You scared?” Hyuck says with a wicked grin. He leans back on one arm as he sips on his drink, still eyeing you confidently. It's at times like these that you betray yourself the most. He looks so good with his light brown hair framing his face; it's grown so long now that it covers his eyes if he doesn't push it back. The alcohol must be hitting because now all you can imagine is pulling on the soft brown locks and not out of anger. You must have taken too long to reply, because now he's raising an eyebrow at you.

“I wouldn't want to be alone with you even if you were the last person on earth."

Johnny cuts off Haechan's response before he can start. "Want to test that theory?"

Questions run through everyone's mind as you all turn to look at Johnny after his outburst.

“What, are you gonna kill us or something?” Haechan responds wearily.

"No, but I should, with the headache you have given me.”

“So…?” You urge him to continue.

"You two keep saying how much you can't stand each other, so how about we put that to the test?" Johnny closes with a sinister grin.

“I feel like you're gonna say something really stupid next." Mark comments

Johnny ushers your other friends into a huddle and tries his best to whisper in his drunken state.

"Guys, just hear me out? We can all feel the tension between these two. They clearly need to fuck or something, so how about we help them along so we don't have to deal with them trying to tear each other apart?”

“How would we do that?”

“We can hear you, and I am NOT fucking him."

“Oh come on, we see the way you two look at each other; you're both just too stubborn to realize it.”

"Hyuck, don't just sit there; help me out here!" you plead

“They have a point, though; you do want to fuck me,” he confidently adds.

"Please, you would be lucky enough if I poked you with a stick,” you say in distaste.

“Order! Order!” Johnny slurs, "Look, I have a way for you both to prove yourselves,” using his beer can as a makeshift gavel.

“Yeah, where were you even going with all of this? Man get to the point,” Mark mutters as he gets comfortable on the sofa.

“"What if you two take an aphrodisiac together and try not to touch each other? If you can last, then you two will win and show everyone how much you despise one another."

The room is silent when Johnny finishes pitching his idea. You think he definitely had one too many drinks tonight. What kind of plan was this? There was no way in hell you would go along with ANY of Johnny's half-baked ideas, but this one was especially crazy. You were just about to shoot down the idea when another voice interrupted you.

“I'm down. What? You can't stand the idea of keeping your hands off me?” Haechan grumbles upon seeing your reaction.

“what? I was just thinking this is stupid. What do I even get out of this? I don't care what you people think,” you huff.

“How about I give you each $500 if you win?”

“Do you-” you start.

“AND Mark does your homework for 2 weeks.”

“Hey! I didn't-” mark says

“AND Yuna does your share of the chores at your dorm.”

“WHA-!” yuna argues

"Deal," you quickly say before anyone can finish their complaints.

"Dude, this is not what we discussed,” Mark complains. Johnny whispers to him about something, and he perks up a little as Johnny makes him a promise. "Fine"

Johnny lays down the rules for you two. You and Haechan will both take an aphrodisiac pill and be restricted to the upstairs bedroom. You’ll have to stay in the room with each other for 3 hours, and if you two can withstand the 3 hours without touching each other, you win. If you lose, you both have agreed to play nice with each other or at least around other people.

As soon as you both take the pink pill, Johnny starts the timer. You make your way up the stairs to the bedroom, where you often crash on the weekends. This was definitely not how you thought you would be spending the weekend.

“We’ll come knocking when the time’s up! Yuna yells from downstairs.

You pout playfully and mock her from over the railing of the stairs. She was supposed to be the reasonable one.

“Oh real mature,” Haechan chuckles as he shuffles past you up the stairs. The staircase was really narrow, and you could practically feel his body heat against you as he went. The pills' effects haven't even fully settled in yet, and you're already feeling things you shouldn't. If you were planning on winning, you would have to get it together. Maybe this wasn't as easy as you thought.

As you make your way up the remaining stairs, you see Haechan standing by the door frame, waiting for you. He rolls his eyes. "You're stalling."

You murmur under your breath, "I'll literally give you my half of the money if you shut up for the next three hours," but drag yourself into the room nevertheless.

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The first 20 minutes aren't terrible. You guys make yourselves comfortable on opposite sides of the room and pick a random wall to stare at. As Haechan makes himself comfortable on the room's lone bed, you take a seat on a little bench that lines a sizable window. You're grateful he keeps his mouth shut. This was probably the longest you two have been in each other's presence without speaking.

It wasn't until about 30 minutes in that the effect hit you. Your breathing grew labored, and your blood started to flow through your veins more quickly. Your body started to heat up. To cool down, you placed your face on the window, breathing fogging the glass. When you looked up to see how Haechan was fairing, he was already looking at you with heavy-lidded eyes as his chest expanded with each deep inhale.

As much as he got on your last nerve, you had always thought he was attractive. His tan honey skin that glowed in the sunlight, his pretty moles that you would kill to kiss, and his gorgeous eyes that always made your heart beat just a little harder when he would glare at you whenever you hit a nerve. You loved seeing him worked up, but the few moments you got to see him when he was happy were moments you stored deep in the vault of your heart. You hated him; there was no time for admiring him.

You tried to shove those thoughts away, but It was as though all the thoughts you had been working so hard to suppress had suddenly surfaced. All you could think about was his plump lips and how they would feel on your body. How his fingers would feel encircling your throat, pressing the chilly rings that decorated his hands against your skin. His golden locks flowing through your fingers as you hold him close. You couldn't resist licking your lips at the idea.

“Don't fucking do that,” he abruptly spoke. He closes his eyes and takes a shaky breath. He spreads his legs further, trying to get comfortable in his spot across the room.

You try to fight the urge, but your eyes travel down his body to the bulge in his sweats. You immediately cross your legs at the sight. You had to clutch onto the pillows of the seat you were in; otherwise, you don't think you could stop yourself from crossing the room in a heartbeat.

“What? Can't handle it hyuckie?” You coo at him, using the old nickname you haven't called him since middle school. You had to find some ground in this setting. You couldn't let him see how weak he was making you.

"Out of all the times you pick to be a brat, now is not the time," he grumbles mockingly.

“Why? Am I getting on your nerves? Hmm, I could only wonder what that must feel like,” you sneered. You were so horny, it's pissing you off. You decide Haechan can use a taste of his own medicine, and what better way to blow off steam than to get under his skin?

“Maybe they were right. Maybe you do need a good fuck for you to lose the attitude.”

“Shut the fuck up.”

"Careful," he smirks, licking his lips.

You know that look; he's testing you. He's daring you to say something else.

"That's what I thought," he says, closing his eyes and attempting to control his breathing.

⋅───⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰───⋅⋅───⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰───⋅

You're about an hour in, and you can't take it any longer; you're practically rutting against the seam of your jeans, hoping for some kind of friction.

"Please, I can't do this anymore," you cry out for air. You turn to face him, but he doesn't answer. His eyes are closed, and his brows are drawn together as if he's in pain.

“Haechan!” You scream again; this time he slowly opens his eyes, and you suck in a breath as your eyes meet. His pupils were completely blown as sweat pricked his brow.

“Are you giving up?"

You nod in response.

“That's too bad; I still want to win,” he smirks lazily.

"Let's just forfeit; this is stupid!” You stand from where you were seated and head to the door. This prompts Haechan to finally move from his spot as he uses his long legs to cross the room in three wide strides. Before you can open the door, he stops you. For the first time since you two entered the room, he touches you. While keeping his body an arms' length away from you, he is shoving you up against the door by your shoulders. Your body is on fire at the mere touch, and you're grateful for the little bit of space he has given you.

“Calm down. Think this through,” he huffs as if out of breath. “just-just think of the money.”

“I don't care about this stupid bet! I feel like I'm going to explode,” you cry, fighting to escape his hold, but he just pins you back against the door.

“How about I take care of it then? Hmm?” He begs, never breaking eye contact. “I'll take the pain away, baby. Just work with me, yeah?"

"That defeats the point Haechan; we aren't supposed to touch each other; I thought you were smarter than that," you protest, growing increasingly frustrated.

“As long as you keep those gorgeous lips shut, nobody would ever know.” He slowly closes in on you as he speaks. “I help you out, and when we get out of this room, we pretend like nothing happened, and that we still can't stand each other, deal?” He's a breath away. The close proximity, the way he's practically breathing down your neck, and the look in his eyes that tells you he is only about 2 seconds away from devouring you were all you needed to go along with Haechan's scheme.

You stopped listening about halfway through anyway so you nodded mindlessly before closing the remaining space between the two of you. You're pushing off the door and pressing your body against his as you guide him towards the bed. Even though you can both feel your lungs starting to burn, neither of you has the strength to break the kiss. When his legs met the edge of the bed, he sat, giving you both time to regain your breath. He's resting back against his hands, looking up at you, and his legs are spread wide as if he were offering himself to you.

"Come on princess, take whatever you want from me," he smirks as you get into his lap and nestle down against the tent in his pants. You push him until his back is flush against the mattress, then mindlessly grind down on him. You use his chest to steady yourself as you throw your head back and drown in the feeling. You feel Haechan's hands gripping your waist and then traveling up your torso. His hands explored your body as you got lost in each other. Haechan sits up to meet your lips in another passionate kiss. As he deepens the kiss, he clutches your waist tightly to restrict your movements. You whine at the lack of stimulation, but all he can do is smile against your lips in return.

“Be patient baby; let me love on you.”

“This…was…not…a part of…the deal,” you try to finish as he lovingly pecks your lips.

"Didn't I tell you to keep your voice down? Shut up,” he says, ignoring your insistent whining, lavishing your face and neck in wet kisses. Any “loving” he was going to give vanished at your bratty behavior.

“Stop teasing, hyuck seriously. I think I'm going insane.”

You were on the verge of tears at this point; you needed him to give you some type of relief. That's exactly how he wanted you—desperate and needy—not like you already weren't, but he liked to push you to your limits.

“Lay down for me,” he says, releasing his grip on your hips and patting your thigh to signal you to get up. You swiftly move to lay on the bed, and you watch him as he pulls his shirt over his head and takes off his sweatpants, leaving him only in his underwear. He climbs the bed and helps you remove your jeans. As he's tugging the material down your thick thighs, you remove your shirt and bra. He settles between your legs, and you reflexively wrap your legs around his waist. He has to press his palm down against your lower stomach to stop you from grinding against him again.

"You promise to behave?" He prys your legs free from his waist, trapping them against your chest and restricting your movement.

You nod mindlessly, reaching out to grab him and trying to draw him into another kiss, but he pins your hands above your head, using his hips instead to further pin you down.

"Uh-uh princess, use your words," he adds coldly.

“Please hyuck, I promise I'll be good.”

“You going to be a good girl and keep that mouth shut?”

You were exhausted from having to use your brain to come up with a coherent response; you were at your limit. All you could think about was him filling you up, and every second he didn't, it felt like a year of your life span was shaved off. You did cry this time. You were so frustrated with him; he did this all the time. He never plays nice; he always makes you work for it.

"Oh you poor baby," he coos lovingly as he kisses your eyelids and wipes away your tears. "I'm sorry, but I have to hear you say it," he continues.

"I promise to be your good girl; I swear I won't make a sound, please," you sniffle, trying to hold back your tears.

“If I hear one sound, I'm stopping, and you can walk out of this room and finish yourself off, got it?”

You've learned to respond quickly when he asks you a question, so you nod your head with a "yes sir."

This makes Haechan smile wickedly. Who would have guessed that the same brat who walked into the room with him no less than an hour ago could be so obedient? He was definitely never letting you live this down when this was over. He finally decides to take pity on you, kisses down your body, and removes your panties. He threw your legs over his shoulders, and a quick kiss to your inner thigh was all the warning you got before he nuzzled his nose up against your clit as he licked into your entrance. He savored the taste with his tongue before licking up to your clit and sucking it into his mouth. The sounds his mouth made as he devoured you were wet and noisy as he slurped away at your essence.

You were fighting for your life above him. Reaching for a pillow that was just almost out of reach, you used it to smother your sounds. A sharp slap on your outer thigh served as a warning to keep your voice down. It was the only warning you were going to get. Soon the pillow is long forgotten as you gasp for air. Your thighs began to shake as you choked on your moans. Your back arches, and you can feel your eyes begin to roll. You were going to come, and you would have welcomed it with open arms any other time, but you knew how loud you could get. He was not letting up, and you knew if you came like this, you wouldn't be able to hold back the scream that's been dying to echo against the walls.

You try your best to fight it off. You frantically push at his head, begging him with your eyes as you trap your bottom lip between your teeth, trying to bite back moans. He shakes his head no, but the movement simply adds to the pleasure, and you're about to lose it. You try to get away from his mouth by shifting up the bed, but his powerful arms wrap around your thighs and pull you back down onto his mouth.

"Hae-" His look silences you, and your mouth hangs wide in a silent cry as you spasm on his tongue. It was the most intense orgasm you'd ever felt. Once he helps you ride out the wave, he kisses your pussy one more time before pulling away. As soon as he does, you snap your legs shut, still reeling from the orgasm. His face was practically dripping as he stared you down, hungry.

"Better?" he asks, brushing the back of his palm across his face.

"Mhm,” you reply, causing him to raise a brow, "better,” you quickly follow, using your voice.

Your eyes travel down his body until they reach what you’ve been craving for the most. Haechan was harder than you thought could even be possible. His tip was a furious shade of crimson, gleaming in precum. 

"One more baby," he strokes his length before hissing and gripping the base. "Just be my good girl one more time," he begs.

You almost feel bad. The whole time he was teasing you, he was also teasing himself. You're amazed he's maintained this level of self-control up to this point.

“I don't know if I can keep quiet if we continue,” you plead.

“Open your mouth” is all he says as he prys your legs open and settles between them.

You comply, and Haechan shoves your panties into your mouth. You try to object, but he covers your mouth with his palm for added security.

"My turn," he grins before bottoming out inside you. The first few strokes are so deep, you can practically feel him in your stomach. He's trying to keep control; he's trying to be gentle with you because he knows how sensitive you are, but he's slowly losing it. He's going to use you like a doll. His thrusts pick up pace, and all you can hear in the room is skin slapping against skin unforgivingly. The hand around your mouth clamps down harder as he buries his head into your neck.

“Im sorry... fuck” was all you got as he hiked your leg up higher on his waist, trying to hit deeper. His hot breath fanning across your neck and the soft staccato groans he lets out are the only indications that he is close. Your head is in the clouds, and you can't think straight. You barely register the fact that you came again until he bites at your neck to muffle his deep groan at the feeling of your walls tightening down on him. Next thing you know, he's snapped.

He quickly sits up, throwing your leg over his shoulder as he drives his hips down into you, practically fucking you into the mattress until his hips are stuttering. He pulls the panties from your mouth to kiss you in the hopes of drowning out his own sounds of pleasure. His kiss is messy. It's nothing but tongue and teeth as his thrusts grow slopy. He's practically whimpering into your mouth when he cums.He rides out his high before pulling away from your lips. All you can do is stare at each other as you catch your breath. There is a brief moment of silence before you both burst out laughing. He collapses next to you and pulls you close.

“You think they heard that?” he asks, panting.

"Oh, we definitely heard everything." A muffled voice can be heard through the door, and you assume it's Yunas.

You're too sleepy to feel embarrassed as your eyelids begin to droop.

"Don't worry, you two; we'll say you won as long as you don't try to kill each other again." Johnny's muffled voice can be heard next.

"I don't think she'll be able to do much for a while," Haechan muffles. Speaking to your sleeping form more than anyone else.

"I'll get the plan B girl. I gotchu," Yuna voice fades as she walks down the hallway.

She was definitely gonna grill you for the details. She always wanted a run-down play by play of everything that happened.

Soon, you found yourself drifting off to sleep in haechans warm embrace.

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Johnny would call his mission a success. You two stopped arguing for the most part, and the group was able to enjoy more peaceful outings without the two of you turning every conversation into a debate. Your friends were fond of your bickering, but at times it could get to be too much. But now that your relationship with Haechan has blossomed into a….situationship? They were running into another problem.

You two fuck like rabbits.

No matter where you were, you two were slipping off to do who knows what or being all touchy-feely with each other, and your friends didn't want to see or hear any of it. But because you two seemed happier, they learned to cope with it. Yuna bought new noise-canceling headphones to use whenever Haechan would spend the night at your dorm. Johnny upgraded the speakers in the house so that when he had a party and you two snuck away, the music could blast louder to drown out your noises. Mark downloaded more mobile games on his phones to ignore you two when you would get all lovey during movie nights.

Haechan still picked on you, but he saved it more for the bedroom, and you still tried to test his patience any chance you got. You didn't know what you two had, but you didn't mind enjoying it while it lasted or even furthering it. You learned a lot more about Haechan and discovered that you two had more in common than you believed. You also learned he could be a real sweetheart sometimes. Maybe your friends were right all along, and maybe Johnny isn't as crazy as you thought. Maybe you didn't have to be better than Haechan all along.

Rushed ending opps

[darlingdaisyfarm]

₊˚ʚ Rain in the woods (Ford Pines x fem!reader) ₊˚✧ ﾟ.

part 3

author note: wow. oh. I can’t believe i finished this :')

this ridiculous, tender unhinged love letter to Ford (and to all of you) has been such a wild ride. tbh i started writing this fic as a half-joke, half-desperate need to get the scenario out of my head and now it’s grown into something so much more intimate than i ever imagined

to everyone who liked, reblogged, who wrote to me such wonderful sweet comments - i read every one and I love you more than Ford loves overthinking. seriously :) your support means everything, and I hope you'll like this final chapter. I’m so grateful for you all <3

ALSO sorry if there are a lot of kisses here….... ummm well I mean, you can't really blame me bc if Ford had let me, I would have just eaten him whole

nsfw, minors DNI

You don’t notice, but his hands are trembling when he reaches for the first aid kit he’d somehow already brought with him. Had he been planning this? Or maybe. . . he just couldn’t stay away, couldn’t bear the thought of you trying to deal with it on your own. 

Ford tries to maintain his usual level of calm composure, but the sight of your exposed thigh makes it so much harder than he anticipated. He feels so conflicted, his thoughts are somewhere between concern, desire and disgusting guilt. He’s a scientist, an explorer, a goddamned professional, not some pathetic old man fantasising about—

“This is going to sting,” Ford warns, trying to not look at your underwear along with your exposed body parts. He can’t be the one to make you uncomfortable now, not when you’re already in pain. “I’ll try to be quick, but it will hurt. I won’t push it, but. . . you need to stay still.”

He avoids meeting your wide, doe-like, scared, no, more like nervous eyes. Those eyes had undone him countless times before, always so trusting, so impossibly soft, curious, full of life. He dies every time when you look at him like that.

“Yes, okay,” you answer, though you’re not sure if it’s for him or for you. He pours the disinfectant into a cotton pad and just as he prepares to press it to your skin, you tense. “Ford, please. . . be gentle, okay?”

“I will, if it’s too much just tell me.” Ford still doesn’t dare meet your eyes, not when he knows his own will betray him. Instead, he focuses on the wound, on the crimson smear of blood that trickles down your skin. But it’s not that damn injury he wants to fix, it’s you, all of you. He wants to be needed by you, to be the one who makes you whole again. 

Ford prepares himself and trying his best, he gently presses the cotton pad to your skin what makes you gasp, oh, sweet mercy, that voice of yours. It’s all he can do to stop himself from leaning in and capturing your lips in tender kiss, getting between your legs and taking you right there. He keeps going, though, his big hands too careful, like you’re made of porcelain. He doesn’t want to hurt you, never, but he just wishes he could be inside you right now, show you how much he’s desperate for you.

“Ahh! Ford, h-hurts!” your fingers are gripping his wrist so tight, nails digging in, and fuck, he shouldn’t be thinking this. You are hurt, in pain, for god’s sake, but all he can see is you beneath him, making those same sounds for an entirely different reason as he makes love to you.

“Shh, I know, I know it does. I know, but you have to let me do this. If I don’t, the wound could get infected. Tetanus, sepsis are not things to take lightly.”

Goddamn, why he’s so close to places he shouldn’t even be thinking about. You’re laying there so beautiful, helpless, voice pleading with him to stop, it’s driving Ford crazy. His cock twitches in his pants and he hates himself for it, hates how his mind creates an image of you crying out his name like that, begging him to keep going instead of to stop. 

He feels the throb in his chest, but in his groin too.

“N-no more, fuck, ugh!” obviously it’s a plea for mercy, but to his traitorous brain, it sounds like—

Ford frowns, looking way too serious than usual as he tries to make his dirty thoughts go away, tries to focus on the wound and not the way your skin feels, but goddamn why are you so soft and warm and why he’s so damn close to you. And then his gaze betrays him, lowering down to the curve of your inner thigh, so close to where the hem of your panties teases him mercilessly.

“That’s enough, please!” you begin, biting down on your lip as the pain grows.

“Don’t move too much, it’ll hurt more,” Ford’s tone sounds rougher than he meant to. “I’m almost done.” 

She’s in pain, you disgusting old idiot. She’s fucking suffering and you’re—

“Please, stop!” 

Ford freezes, stiffening. That’s enough, you’d said, but it’s not, it’s fucking not. It’s never enough. Not your skin, not your voice, not the way you cling to him, not the way you beg, not the way you look at him.

The cotton pad is soaked now in your blood too, pressing too hard against your skin before Ford even realises it. You wince, gasping again and Ford can't help it anymore. His eyes drop to your panties, how they hug your body and his cock twitches in his pants.

He’s a grown man. He should be able to handle this. But all he can see is you, laid out before him like this, looking at him with those needy eyes, begging him to take you, to fuck you.

“Just sit sti—” before he finishes his sentence, he unintentionally presses the cotton harder into your wound, too lost in his own fantasies and the sharp burst of pain makes you hiss so you move involuntarily, your leg jerking straight into his crotch and—

You feel it.

Your foot accidentally brushes against something unmistakably hard. You didn’t mean to move that way, absolutely. But the second your limb drags against him, you feel it. The hardness beneath his pants. His body reacting to you. To this.

And neither of you move.

Ford is first to speak.

“I— I’m sorry,” he blurts. “It’s a natural physiological response. Adrenaline, heightened states of focus, they can trigger. . . well, unintended reactions. Nothing to do with— nothing to do with you.”

The sharp pain in your thigh momentarily forgotten. “Physiological response?” you repeat. “Ford, are you seriously trying to explain away your. . . uh, situation with biology?”

“It’s not what you think. It’s involuntary. Biological. A man’s body doesn’t always obey his mind. It doesn’t mean anything.”

He sounds so awkward, so flustered and you don’t know what to think. He’s not usually like this. . . well, not around you. Around you, he’s always so collected, always the smart, serious, intellectual Stanford Pines who wouldn’t bat an eye at anything that didn’t involve research.

You try to click pieces together, processing. He feels something for you. That’s the only explanation. He wouldn’t be this flustered, this desperate to excuse himself, if he didn’t.

And now you know. Ford’s just as human as the rest of us. And he wants you, too.

You move again, brushing your leg against him again and Ford wants to die because he makes the loudest surprised gasp in the room. “Doesn’t mean anything, huh?” you ask innocently. “so if I just move like this—” you press just a little firmer, feeling him growing harder. “it’s still just biology. Nothing to do with me at all?”

He’s silent.

“Ford, Is that. . . is that really how you feel?”

He sighs and darts his hand out to grip your leg to stop your teasing. “Don’t,” he warns, saying your name. His eyes meet yours for the first time all evening. “You don’t know what you’re doing.”

His eyes stay locked on yours. You’re silent now too.

“Don’t— don’t look at me like that. You don’t understand. I. . . shouldn’t have let it go this far.”

But you do understand, more than he could ever realise.

“But why?” your foot slides all over his hard clothed length and Ford’s body responds with his needy cock twitching at your touch.

“This isn’t funny,” he bites out. “this isn’t a game. I’m not a young man, im not— I’m not what you need.”

“You don’t get to decide what I need, Ford.”

“But you’re too young—”

“Stop treating me like I’m some kid who doesn’t know what she wants. I’m an adult, Ford, an adult!”

“An adult?” he repeats, while your foot is still rubbing over his very obvious bulge. “an adult who can't even get dressed normally for the weather?”

You grin, leaning closer to his face. “uh-huh. And here you are, all worked up over me, right?” you press on his cock harder and Ford nearly finishes in his pants. 

He grabs your ankle, even though he doesn’t push you away.

“This. . . now this is inappropriate.”

You rolls your foot over his bulge what makes hips buck just slightly. You bite your lip, grinning at how badly he’s losing control.

“You’re a fucking hypocrite, you know that?” you lean closer and murmur into his mouth. “you’re so worried about what I can handle, but look at you. You’re the one who’s hard as rock right now, who can’t control himself.”

“Enough, I’m serious, stop.”

“Make me.”

That’s all it takes. It’s your smirk that gets him, your teasing voice, your dirty remarks, even as you’re sprawled out on the bed with that horrible wound on your thigh.

Ford is on you in a second. His mouth crashes against yours and you don’t even realise what’s happening yet. His kiss is messy and needy, like he’s trying to consume you whole. And you give yourself to him completely, your body melting into his. Every surprised gasp of yours is swallowed by him, his big hands gripping your face as he deepens the kiss. It’s so messy, the way Ford literally fucks your mouth with his tongue.

And you can’t help but tug at his clothes, dragging him closer until he’s on top of you. Ford’s weight presses into you and your fingers tangle in his hair, pulling at it as your body presses against his, your heart pounding so hard you swear he can hear it too. Ford is barely restraining himself from ripping off the rest of your clothes, that oversized T-shirt and panties, and fucking you right here, making all his fantasies come true, which he wrote down in his journal.

His mouth devours yours like he’s starved for you, his hands yanking you closer like he’s holding on for dear life. You let him claim you, let his kiss swallow every thought in your head until there’s nothing left but him, just him, him, him, him. You’re drunk on the way he feels. His hands are everywhere, pulling and tugging at you like he’s losing control. And oh god, you feel it.

You can’t get enough of it. You want more.

Ford is too lost so he lets six-fingered hand slip lower, brushing the side of your thigh and then it lands right where it shouldn’t.

Your fresh wound.

You gasp in pain, breaking the kiss.

“Damn,” Ford instantly pulls away, and his hand is next to your wound, concern and fear are visible on his face. “i’m sorry, i didn’t—”

“Fuck it,” you interrupt, pulling him closer. “worry about that later. I need you now. Please, Ford, just kiss me again.”

But looks like Ford is interested in your wound more than in kiss now.

He’s already inspecting the bandage, ignoring your begging, his brows furrowed with guilt. “i wasn’t thinking, im sorry, does it hurt? did i—”

Why men are so stupid, you think and grab his chin, forcing him to look at you, but he talks first.

“Let me—” he clears his throat, blinking before continuing. “no, let me bandage your leg. We need to, uh, stop the bleeding.”

“Ford,” you groan. “It’s fine. It’s not even that bad now.”

“Not that bad?” he looks you with a glare that’s somehow equal parts concern and anger. “that’s not how infections work, young lady. You could lose a limb if this festers.”

You groan in frustration, rolling your eyes, but he’s already kneeling in front of you. “This is really what you’re worried about right now?” you drawl, raising your brow.

“Yes, this is what I’m worried about.”

And here he is again, between your legs, his hands are still careful as they work, bandaging your inner thigh. Ford is trying so hard not to look at the very place he’s so devastatingly close to. He pulls the knot of the bandage just too tight what makes you let out the softest, unintentional moan.

“You— you cannot make noises like that right now. Stop making this harder than it already is.”

The corners of your lips curl and you lean back on your palms, unbothered. “Says the man who’s between my legs right now.”

“You got a point,” Ford lifts his brows as he clicks his tongue, shaking his head with a rueful grin. “clever girl.”

When he finally finishes tying off the bandage, he proudly looks at the work he done and pulls away, wait, pulls away? However, you don’t let him get far. Your hands drag him back down with a force that surprises him and maybe yourself.

The kiss you pull him into is anything but delicate. It’s urgent and hungry. Ford groans against you as if you’ve stolen the last bit of air he had left. Your fingers fist the fabric at his shoulders and when he tilts his head to deepen the kiss, his tongue sweeps over your bottom lip. 

“Been waiting for this,” you confess between gasps. “Ford, I need you.” 

His forehead presses against yours. “You think I don’t? I’ve needed you. God, you have no idea. You drive me insane.”  

“Need you,” you breathe, arching up into him. “Ford, please. . . need you so bad.” he swallows your words with another passionate kiss, this one deeper, slower. His teeth catch your bottom lip, pulling a whimper from you that goes straight to his cock.

His lips trail lower, pressing kisses along the curve of your jaw, the slope of your neck. His teeth graze against your skin making you shiver because you feel like on damn fire, so sensitive for him.

“Ford, ah,” you breathe, tilting your head to give him more room as his kisses grow bolder, hungrier. He’s so desperate he can’t seem to stop himself, mouthing at your collarbone, your throat, anywhere he can reach while he mutters how beautiful you are.

Your hand trembles as it finds his, wrapping around his wrist and guiding him down. “Ford, please, touch me there,” you whimper against his lips now, spreading your thighs apart to make space. “need you. . . need your fingers, your hand, please.”

Ford hesitates at first, as if he doesn't fully believe what he sees in front of him, the object of his fantasies, his clever girl, which he wrote about in his journal, right beneath him, begging for his touch, for his love. It seems like his genius brain cannot comprehend what is happening yet.

Finally his hand moves, two fingers, one extra, rubbing you through the fabric of your panties and the sound that leaves your mouth sounds like a desperate needy sob. His forehead drops against yours as his fingers press against the dampness pooling there.

“You’re so wet,” Ford drags his thumb slowly over your clit. “is this all for me?”

“Yes, yes, all for you,” you gasp, writhing under his touch, bucking your hips up into his hand. “only you, Ford— fuck, just keep touching me, please, need more— need you. . .”

“I know,” he mutters, kissing you hard enough to steal the words from your tongue. “i know, sweetheart, i know.”

Ford’s fingers tugs your panties to the side and you both groan when he finally touches you bare. You squirm, swaying your hips to grind against his hand and he curses again, moving his lips to your neck, kissing and nipping as if he can’t stand being apart from you for even a second.

“Y-you’re driving me insane,” he breathes. “been dreaming about this, you have no idea, been wanting you for so long.”  

“Good,” you manage a weak smile, whimpering when he circles your clit with his thumb. You curl your nails into his shoulders. “then fucking do something about it.”

Stanford groans at your words, his cock twitches, begging to be taken care of, but his pleasure doesn’t matter now. You’re so hungry for his touch and Ford needs to touch you badly, so he slips his fingers through your folds, caressing you while still rubbing your clit in torturous circles. “like this? does this, does this feel good?”  

“Yes, yes, oh my god! more, more, give me more,” you cry when he sinks one finger into you, curling it just right.

“God, I wanna—” but he cuts himself off when his eyes notices that damn bandage on your leg.

“What?” you question and press a light kiss to his cheek, your eyes searching his face. “what do you want?” 

“You,” he admits. “I want to be inside you, want to feel you around me, want to, b-but you’re hurt, and I— fuck, I can’t, I can’t risk it.” 

You whine, your head falling back as his fingers keep moving, sliding in and out of your pussy, brushing against that spot that makes you see stars. “don’t care,” your thighs clenching around his hand. “i don’t care, just need you, need your cock— fuck, please!”

“Please, don’t say that, don’t say that when I can’t give it to you.”  

“Ford, please, I need it! I’ll be fine, I swear—”  

“No, you’re hurt, this is all i can give you right now. . . but i swear, I swear i’ll make it up to you, honey, when you’re better, when you’re not hurt, i’ll—” his fingers thrust deeper into your wetness with his thumb circling your clit in time and you interrupt him with loud cry.

“Ford! please, just don’t stop, please don’t stop—”

Ford nods and watches you. Letting his fingers curl inside you, penetrating deeper into your pussy. His movements growing more confident as your body reacts to him, your beautiful moans spurring him on. His lips find yours again and you both get lost in the kiss, in the way your breaths mix, in the way your bodies press together like you’re trying to fuse into one.

Your moan breaks into a cry as you arch your back, eyes closed tight when Ford’s fingers pumping into you faster, your spongy walls tightening around his digits. Oh fucking heaven, that extra finger feels too good. “Ford, please! oh, god— fuck, you’re gonna make me—”  

“That’s it,” Ford’s lips trail up to your ear, kissing and biting it as he presses his thumb on your sensitive bundle. “let me take care of you, sweetheart, cum for me.”  

His tone and praise is what sends you on edge as you clench around his fingers, moaning his name and cumming while his fingers, slower, but still thrusting into you. You feel so weak and tired, but your Ford is right there to catch you, whispering soft praises into your hair as you shake in his arms.

Ford’s fingers still buried deep inside you as he watches you come down from your high. And it’s so obvious that he putted your needs before his own because his cock, hard as a rock now, strains against the fabric of his pants, creating the most painful bulge you ever seen. He shifts awkwardly, hoping maybe you won’t notice but you do. Oh, you do.

“Ford,” your voice sounds honeyed as you regain your strength. Your gaze drops pointedly to the tent in his pants. “you’re. . . so hard.”

His face flushes and he tries to pull away, to create some distance between you, but you grab his wrist, stopping him.

“Don’t,” you whisper softly. “don’t hide from me. you’ve been so good to me, let me. . . let me do something for you.”

“No,” he says quickly. “you’re hurt. I can’t, you need to rest.”

“Just look at you, you’re aching. You don’t have to do anything to me, just let me help.”

“Oh my god,” he says your name as if ready to scold you. “you’re impossible, you know,” but his shaky hands move to his belt anyway, unsure, like he’s warring with himself even as he undoes it.

“Yeah?” you lean back. “you’re about to jerk off in front of me, Ford, what does that make you?”

Ford cant find any smart or logical response to that because you’re absolutely right, he’s the mess here, the impossible one, the desperate old man. He takes a breath, finally pulling his cock free and fuck, he’s so hard as if he’s going to explode, the head flushed and leaking.

Ford’s cock is already in his hand, the first strokes making him whimper under his breath. His other hand rests on your thigh, fingers nervously flex like he’s desperate to touch more of you, to hold you, to worship you properly like his clever girl deserves, but he’s so lost in this intimate moment, in you, that he can barely think straight.

You’re watching him, trying to control yourself because if you won’t, you might just jump on him and you can't vouch for yourself. 

You’re sprawled out in front of him like a dream come to life: t-shirt rucked up, legs spread, panties pushed to the side, leaving your pretty glistening pussy on full display for his starved gaze. Fuck, you look so hot like that, from everything he’s already done to you. He’s trying not to stare and you think he’s so silly when it’s specially show made only for him, so you shift your hips just enough to catch his attention, drawing his eyes like a magnet.

“Touch yourself for me. Show me how much you want me.” your eyes locked on him, drinking in the sight of his hand moving over his length.

Ford’s chest heaves, his hand grips his cock, which is twitching and flushed an angry red at the tip. But looks like poor old man can’t even jerk himself off properly, so you reach your hand out to brush against his wrist.

“Here,” you purr, guiding his hand with your smaller one, wrapping your fingers around his, forcing him to stroke himself teasingly. At that, Ford’s hips jerk up into your shared grip, and you hum approvingly, watching as his lips part in a groan. “yes, like this, honey. Let me help you.” 

“S-sweetheart. . . you don’t— ah— you don’t have to—”

“But I want to,” you lean back against the bed, shifting your hips, making sure he has the perfect view of your soaked, glistening slit. “Don’t hold back, i want you to feel good.”

Ford lets himself get a bit more vocal as he groans, his hips buck into your joined hands and his cock twitches against your palm. He’s so fucking hard, leaking against your skin, and the sounds he makes as he strokes himself are too good to be true, yet here he is, in front of you, jerking himself off, moaning your name. 

“You. . . o-oh god, sweetheart, you’re incredible,” he whines as you guide his hand again, showing him exactly how to squeeze, how to work himself the way you know he needs it. Meanwhile his other hand braces against the mattress near your head, his knuckles white as he struggles to keep himself together.  

“You’re so big, Ford,” your eyes glued to his dick, watching every move with hungry fascination. “you’re so handsome, so beautiful. I could look at you all night.”

He groans at your praise, more pathetic this time, his forehead dropping forward as he stares at where your bodies almost meet. “Christ, you’re gonna ruin me, love.” that’s when his strokes falter for and you take over completely, your warm hand wrapping around his length and pumping him up and down.

“Keep going,” you urge, feeling yourself getting wetter too. “i can’t stop thinking about how good you’d feel inside me. id take all of you, id make you feel so good, Ford. I need you, all of you.” soft whisper into his lips while all Ford can do is fuck your hand pathetically, your thumb sweeping over his tip, smearing the slick there.

Ford digs his fingers into your thigh, trembling. “Don’t— oh god, don’t say that,” he gasps. His eyes are locked on your opening, on the way your arousal glistens, your folds so wet and swollen and inviting.

“Don’t you want to touch me? Don’t you want to feel how wet i am for you?”

“God, I do,” he breathes as his hand joins again, moving together with yours, faster, jerking himself off faster. “I want you so much it hurts. I’d do anything. . . anything for you.”

“Then come for me,” you whisper, reaching out to thread your fingers into his hair when you kiss the corners of his parted trembling lips.

“I can’t— oh god, sweetheart, I can’t hold on much longer.” thick ropes of his cum spills across your thighs and even stomach, marking your skin as he makes a mess of himself. His hot seed drips down over your hand where you keep stroking and caressing him, milking every last drop forcing whines and mewls from him.

He collapses forward after and buries his face against your shoulder. 

“I need you so badly,” he murmurs into your skin. “you don’t know how much I want you. You don’t know what you do to me.”

You hum softly, threading your fingers through his damp hair as you press a tender kiss on his forehead.

***

It’s morning and sweet scent of batter and syrup fills the air. The noise and conversations are coming from the kitchen and there’s only one explanation for the chaos: Stanley is cooking “stancakes.”  

You’re by his side, propped against the counter, balancing on your good leg, watching Stan cook. Spatula in one hand, the other parked on his hip and he radiates confidence, as if he is ready to host his own cooking show.

“Now listen up, kid,” he says in a voice full of pride. “these are world-famous stancakes. they’ve been called ‘edible’ by at least two people, well, three, if you don’t count the pig.”  

“Oh.”  

“Oh” he repeats, incredulous, spinning to face you with mock offense. “don’t tell me you’ve never had stancakes before?!”  

You grin, shaking your head. “not once. I think Ford’s been keeping them all to himself.”  

Stan looks like you’ve just offended him.  

“That’s practically a felony in this house! what, Ford never mentioned ‘em? selfish bastard.”  

You laugh softly.

“but i gotta ask,” Stan continues. “any allergies to elbow grease? or, uh, whatever was at the bottom of the flour jar. pretty sure it was flour. maybe. . .” he winks and you roll your eyes, however the conversation continues good and friendly between you. 

Your hand rests on the counter for balance and you look down, at the faint tug of the bandage around your leg, which works as reminder of the night before. Memories of Ford’s hands, his mouth, the way he moaned your name, how he touched you, heat your cheeks until you force yourself to focus on Stan.  

His spatula waves in your direction again. “so, what’s the story with yer leg? take a tumble down the stairs, or was it somethin’ spooky out there in the woods?”  

You give him a wide smile. “let’s just say it’s a story. remind me to tell you later.”

Stan raises a brow curiously, but he doesn’t push. Instead, he turns back to his stancakes with a grunt. “hmph, fair enough. just glad you didn’t end up worse. Y’know, if ya ever need lessons on landing on yer feet—”  

Before he can finish, his brother steps into the room and you immediately turn your gaze to him. Honestly, he looks like he’s spent the entire night replaying everything. 

“Ah, there you are,” Ford murmurs when his gaze finds you, then he clears his throat and nods to his twin. “good morning, Stanley.”  

Stan doesn’t miss a beat, gesturing with his spatula. “yeah, mornin’, sixer. Yer just in time for the best damn pancakes this side of the multiverse.”  

At that, Ford’s lips curve into a polite smile as he glances at his brother. “that’s good to hear.” then his focus changes, locking entirely on you. His intonation changes into something warmer as he speaks your name. “would you mind if i borrowed you for a moment? just for a quick talk.”  

You nod a little too eagerly. “sure, of course.”  

Stanley lets out a dramatic sigh, waving his spatula at Ford. “don’t keep her too long, poindexter. She’s gotta try these pancakes before they go cold!” 

Ford leads you to his study and you follow, heart thundering in your chest. You’re grinning like an idiot, barely containing your excitement. He’s finally going to say something, but you’re so fucking ready to hear, to discuss, to scream the loudest “YES” when he’ll ask you to be his girlfriend.

When the door clicks shut behind you, he turns and you finally see his face. He’s always so serious, just like right now. But what did you wait? It’s Ford Pines, it’s his normal state. However, you’re so excited you sure he can see the way you’re literally glowing.

You really try to act casual, but inside, you’re absolutely going insane, nervous, happy, excited at the same time. Last night still feels like a fever dream, you can feel the ghost of his touch on your skin, the heat of his body against yours, the way his fingers slid so perfectly into you. . . 

And now he’s here, just the two of you, and you’re hoping he’ll finally acknowledge the thing that happened between you.

But then he opens his mouth.

“So, about the anomaly. . .” he begins and the words hit you like a slap.  

No, no. No no no. Are you hearing this right?That’s what he’s leading with?! After everything that happened last night, he’s just. . . no, he’s talking about the damn anomaly like he didn’t just leave you trembling with the memory of his fingers inside you. 

Your smile falters fucking immediately, your shoulders stiffening as he goes on, completely oblivious to the storm of disappointment brewing inside you.  

“I’ve been reviewing the notes I took last week. If my calculations are correct, the creature’s molecular structure—”

What the actual fuck.

Your jaw clenches. You stare at him, thinking it’s some kind of joke. He’s talking about science. Fucking science. After everything that happened, this is what he wants to talk about? He’s here, rambling about molecules and rain like none of it ever happened.  

You can’t stand it. The frustration takes over you.

“Ford,” you hiss as you shove him back against the wall.

His eyes widen in surprise, but you don’t let him speak. You press your palms flat against his chest, pinning him there, your voice shaking with anger. All you can think about is how he’s standing there like some fucking genius, talking about molecules and data when last night, you’d literally devoured each other.  

“Are you kidding me? This is what you wanted to talk about? You’re seriously standing here, talking about anomalies and notes like last night didn’t fucking happen?”

For a second, he just looks at you, his face calm and that makes you practically vibrate with rage, the intensity of your emotions making your head spin.  

And then. . . he smirks.  

The bastard smirks.

“I wasn’t aware we had plans to debrief, sweetheart,” your fingers tighten against his chest and he raises a brow, clearly amused by your reaction. “Though I must admit, you’re surprisingly strong for someone with an injured leg. Should I be worried?”

Your face burns as you glare up at him. “Ford, don’t you dare—”

“Well?” his gaze piercing through you. “What is it you want me to say, sweetheart?”

His fucking teasing is driving you crazy.  

“Are you seriously just gonna pretend like it didn’t happen? That you didn’t— god, Ford—"

“Pretend? Oh, but don’t get ahead of yourself.

I think you’ve got a lot more to say about what happened than you’re letting on, huh?”

Your cheeks burn hotter than they ever have before. You didn’t expect that. You really didn’t.

“Are you seriously gonna tease me about last night? You’re unbelievable,” you mutter, but you’re so worked up now that you don’t even care. You push yourself closer, getting right up in his space, your chest touching his, and now you’re just fuming.

“I’m the one who teases you? Interesting. . .” he leans to your face, brushing his lips against your ear. “What else did I do to you that made you so worked up last night? I didn’t think I was that good with my hands.”

“You bastard.” you hiss as you pin him against the wall harder.

He tilts his head at your words. “Careful, love, I wouldn’t want you to strain that leg of yours again. Especially not after I spent so much time taking care of you last night.”

Your breath catches in your throat. The nerve of this man! You want to slap him, to push him away, but instead, you pull him closer

“You better watch yourself, Ford.” You give him a dangerous smile. “You think you can just pay with me like this? You’re not as clever as you think.”

Ford’s smirk widens. “Oh? You think you’ve got the upper hand? I’ve got you pinned right where I want you, sweetheart.”

And then his hand trails down your arm to your waist. 

“And if you’re still mad, I can think of a few ways to work out that frustration.”

Your body goes cold and hot all at once, and it takes everything in you not to melt into him. 

Ford is still against the wall where you pushed him, calm as ever, obviously enjoying every second of this, he thinks he’s the one in control.  

Your pulse hammers in your ears, your hands trembling against the chest of his sweater. He’s so warm, and god, you hate that even now, even while you’re mad at him, you can’t stop remembering the way he looked last night. The way he sounded when he let himself fall apart under your touch. 

“You’re insufferable. Worse than Stan.”

“Am I? Because from where I’m standing, you’re the one pinning me to a wall. Quite forcefully, might I add. It’s a little ironic, don’t you think? Considering how you were. . . what’s the term? Begging for me last night?”

Your jaw drops.  

“Begging? You think I was begging for you?”

Ford looks entirely too pleased with himself. “Well, I seem to recall a certain. . . eagerness on your part. Particularly when—”

“You don’t get to talk about my eagerness.” you cut him off, your cheeks flaming. “Not when you were the one moaning my name like your life depended on it.”

That shuts him up.

His smirk falters slightly, and you see the faintest hint of red creeping up his neck. Oh. Oh. Fucking finally. You’ve got him now.  

“That’s right. Stanford Pines, world-renowned genius, reduced to a trembling mess because I—” and to kill him for sure, you lean in to whisper into his lips. “jerked you off.”

Ford goes completely still.  

There’s nothing but silence. His genius mind working, his lips parting slightly like he wants to say something, but no words come out. His face is a mess of conflicting emotions, embarrassment, frustration and something you can’t quite place but looks suspiciously like agreement.

“Got nothing to say now, huh?” you tease, grinning like an absolute maniac. “What happened to all that confidence, Professor?”

“Well played.”

***

Life at the mystery shack doesn’t feel much different, not outwardly. Stan still grumbles about the bills, the tourists still gawk at the exhibits, and Ford. . . Ford is still Ford, except now he’s yours.  

Yours.  

The nights are quieter between you both, more intimate, full of moans and groans, petting and foreplay. Like last night, when his clever hands had slipped beneath the waistband of your pajama pants, his soft and needy voice told you he wanted to make you feel good.  

God, he did. You’d come on his fingers so good, trembling as he whispered your name and called you his good girl, while kissing your cheeks, wiping your tears of pleasure away. And he’d let you touch him too while your hand worked up and down on his pulsing cock and then he spilled against your skin, while you silenced him with a kiss.

No, it actually feels good, really. It’s better than nothing, than not touching him at all, but. . . you crave, you need something else. Something that is not just his fingers, mouth, or hands.

Ford is so careful, so cautious about your stupid leg, his gentle excuses about your injury making you want to scream into a pillow. Like, yeah, it still hurts sometimes, but you can walk, run, pin him against a wall, fuck him six ways to sunday if he’d just let you.  

Ford has his own fears, even if he won’t admit them outright.

But you’re not afraid. 

The woods, your anomaly huntings, are different now too. More dangerous, you’d say. 

You’re pressed against a tree as Ford’s mouth claims yours. His hands are everywhere, gripping your waist, sliding up under your clothes, pulling you closer, closer, like he can’t get enough.  

“Ford, aah, please,” you whimper, pulling him down to kiss you deeper. His knee nudges between your thighs, pressing against you and you swear you’re about to melt into a puddle right there in the dirt.  

“Quiet, sweetheart, don’t want the whole forest knowing how desperate you are for me.”  

But it’s him. . . it’s fucking him who’s desperate, dropping to his knees to pull your pants down just enough, fingers slipping into your panties to find you already soaking.  

“So wet already, holy multiverse,” and then his fingers are inside your pussy as he presses kisses to your thighs and stomach.

But you need to touch him too. Your hands are on him again, tugging at his belt, fumbling with the button of his pants. His cock is hard when you pull him free and you stroke him until he’s shaking, gasping against your neck.  

“My love, i’m gonna—” his hips jerks into your hand as he cums, splashing his hot and thick seed all over your fingers. But he doesn’t stop,  his own six fingered hand working you until you finish with a strangled cry, pussy clenching around him as you nearly fall, when he catches you, whispering how beautiful you are.

You both collapse against each other, sticky and hot, despite coldness of autumn, grinning like idiots. And then Ford leans in to kiss you again, like he’s already planning the next round.  

At dinner, it’s you who starts it.  

Your leg brushes his teasingly under the table that has him choking on his water. Stanley doesn’t notice, too busy ranting about some tourist who tried to haggle over a snow globe, but Ford shoots you a warning look.

You just smile sweetly while also agreeing with Stan about his tourist speech as you press your foot higher until you’re brushing against the hard line of his length beneath the table.  

The lab is worse.

He’s sitting at his desk, scribbling in his journal with you perched on his lap, your arms around his shoulders, your hips rocking against his as you kiss the side of his neck.  

“You’re distracting me,” says fucking Ford with his hands on your hips, guiding your movements as his already hard cock strains against his pants.  

“Good,” you kiss his cheek, grinding down harder, feeling him twitching beneath you.

But every time you try to push it further, every time you reach for him, ask for more, he stops you.  

“Your leg,” but it sounds like he’s trying to convince himself as much as you.  

“But i’m fine—”  

“No,” he interrupts, shaking his head. “i’m not risking it, not yet.”  

***

The November crisp air bites at your skin. The faint smoky warmth of the fire crackling in the yard. Well. . . It was Stanley's idea to do this, he said something about rekindling childhood memories, family bonding and roasting marshmallows like it was summer camp, but he's not here. Something about a "quick run to the diner for pie" turned into him being away for whole evening, leaving you and Ford alone under a shining starry sky.

“You know, for a guy with six fingers, you’re surprisingly bad at this,” you tease, leaning back on your hands as you watch Stanford squint at the marshmallow impaled on his skewer. It's already starting to charred, the edges curling into blackened flakes as the fire devours it. “do they not teach you how to roast marshmallows in the multiverse, professor?”

Ford chuckles softly at your words. “Oh, excuse me, but i’ll have you know i’ve mastered much more complex techniques than this primitive. . .” the marshmallow slides clean off the stick and lands with a soft plop into the embers. Ford stares at it, annoyed. “cooking method.”

You can’t help how cute he looks so you laugh. “You’re hopeless,” you brush your shoulder against his, smiling. “here, let me show you.” Ford nods, handing you the stick. “first rule,” you skewer a new marshmallow. “don’t hold it so close to the flame. you want it golden, not a cremation. You’ve gotta keep it turning. Patiently, like this.” you rotate the stick slowly and Ford actually watches, his gaze is not on the fire, but on you. 

“i see,” he says thoughtfully. “golden, not charred.”

“Exactly,” you let marshmallow toast evenly. “you just have to—” you glance up to check on him and Ford’s still watching you. It steals the breath from your lungs and you gulp awkwardly. “. . . focus,” you finish a little quieter. “why you’re looking at me like that?” you smile.

Ford laughs. “maybe in some universe, you do dress appropriately for the weather?” 

You blink at him, thrown off for a second, before realising. Oh. . . oh, right. Your teeth chatter slightly, fingers cold and you’re shaking slightly, it’s so obvious. “i guess no?”

Ford doesn’t even dignify that with a response. Instead, he’s already shrugging out of his coat and draping it over your shoulders before you can protest, but it’s not like you wanted to anyways. His trench coat is heavy and smells just like him and your smile couldn't get any wider.

“Thanks, again. . . heh,” you try to sound nonchalant, but the coat is still warm from him and you clutch it around you tighter.

“So, you were saying?” Stanford prompts, tilting his head toward the marshmallow in your hand.

You clear your throat. “Right, uh, where was i? oh, yeah. so, you’ll know it’s ready when it’s this perfect golden brown all over, not a single—”  

“Give me a kiss,” Ford says suddenly, interrupting you like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

You’re not sure who leans in first. You, probably, but he meets you halfway. Ford’s lips are warm, so soft against yours. Your heart stutters in your chest as blood rushes in your ears, one of his hands comes up to cradle your face, his thumb brushing feather-light against your cheek. Your hands find his chest, fingertips pressing into his sweater as you you sigh into him.

The kiss deepens, not hurried, but like you’ve both waited far too long for this moment. Ford leans into your touch like he’s been craving it just as much as you. 

When you finally pull back, he rests his forehead against yours and none of you speak, both quiet and only fire is crackling softly beside you.  

“I think i might be terrible at marshmallows.” Ford smiles shyly.

You blink at him, you lips still tingling from the kiss, your head feeling too light to even process his words at first. Oh god the whole moment so tender, so beautiful, so intimate it almost makes you want to cry. 

“Ford,” and he hums softly in response.

“Hmm?”

“Give me another.”

Ford doesn’t need to be told twice.  

This time, it’s you who closes the distance, but his lips crash into yours like he’s been waiting, holding himself back and now he simply can’t. His hand slides to the back of your neck as the kiss deepens, hotter, hungrier. You sigh into his mouth, your knees going weak beneath you, but Ford steadies you, holds you.

His coat slips off one of your shoulders as your arms wind around his neck, pulling him closer, closer, closer until there’s no space left, and even then, it doesn’t feel close enough.  

“Ford—” you manage to groan against his lips and he pulls back just slightly.

“What is it?” the way he’s looking at you, fuck, like he’s already undressing you in his mind, makes you feel dizzy.  

You pause, staring at him, at the mess of his hair, the faint flush dusting his cheeks, the way his lips are already red from kissing you. This man. This ridiculous, brilliant, beautiful man.  

“My leg,” you feel nervous out of sudden, afraid he might reject you again. “it’s— it’s healed now, you know. . . i can— i can handle more.”  

Ford freezes, thinking. And then. . . Oh.

He kisses you again, but this time it’s different, this time, there’s no holding back, no careful hesitation.

"Inside," your voice is trembling with anticipation. "please, Ford, let’s go inside."  

And god help you both, he doesn’t think he’ll be able to say no. 

***

Ford’s whole body is pressing you into the mattress as though he’s trying to meld you both into one. His hands grip the sheets beside your head and he’s so warm against you. He kisses you messily and desperately, too eager.

“Ford, please,” you whimper, lifting your hips and grinding up against his hard, pulsing length.

“Yes, Ive got you, I’ve got you,” his own voice trembling as one hand dives down, gripping your hip, trying to keep you still but failing miserably because he can’t stop himself from rutting into you. “im right here, my love, i’m gonna take care of you.” the bed creaks beneath the weight of both of you, but neither of you can hear it over the needy moans you two share.

You can’t stop the high pitched whine that escapes you as his knee slots between your thighs, pressing against you just right and you swear you’re losing your fucking mind. “Nngh, Ford, Ford, please,” your voice so fucking needy it feels embarrassing. 

Ford stops, just for a second, pulling back to take a good look at you. His eyes are blown wide, pupils black as they devour every little expression you make. “tell me, tell me what you need.”  

You nearly cry. “touch me,” you plead.

“Oh sweetheart, my good girl,” his trembling fingers brush the hem of your clothes, slipping underneath to glide against your skin, being so careful like you’re too delicate, too fragile for him, he’s afraid you’ll shatter if he’s not gentle. “i’m not going anywhere,” he promises, dragging his lips down your jaw, going lower to the sensitive skin of your neck. “i love you so much.” and before you can even think to respond, his mouth is on yours again, swallowing your moans because he’s desperate to consume every single piece of you. 

Oh, sweet fucking hell, you think when Ford lowers himself between your thighs looking like a man on his knees at an altar and you’re the goddess he’s about to worship. He spreads your legs wide, his six-fingered hands curling into the plush of your thighs and he just stares for a moment like he’s seeing heaven itself. His lips part, and his tongue darts out to wet them, the hunger in his gaze as if he can’t believe this is real.  

"My love," he groans. "so pretty, you’re so pretty. . . this is all mine, isn’t it? tell me, sweetheart, say it, say it’s all for me."  

“It’s yours, Ford,” you melt under his gaze, feeling so exposed and he hums in approval. 

“Good girl,” and then he dips his head down, brushing his lips against your inner thigh, kissing your healed wound. 

You grow impatient with every second, and fucking finally, he’s right here, his face hovering over your throbbing pussy which needs his attention so bad, and he takes a deep breath. 

Ford presses a kiss just above where you’re all wet and your hips jolt, seeking more.

“F-Ford! fuuck. . . fuck fuck fuck!” 

“Shh, just like that, i’ll take care of you,” he presses one hand firmly on your pelvis to keep you still. “just relax, darling, let me have you.”

You’re too far gone to even respond coherently, only letting out pathetic whimper as he drags his lips lower and lower until his warm mouth hovers right over your soaked folds.

His tongue presses flat against your pussy, slowly and oh fuck, you taste so damn sweet, Ford growls and that vibrates straight through you. “oh, god," he pants, pulling back before diving in again, "you taste. . . you taste so good, so sweet, like you were made for me." Ford’s voice muffled against you as his tongue flattens, dragging through your slick, tasting you. 

His hands grip your thighs tighter to hold your squirming body in place as he tilts his head to get a better angle. His lips seal around your puffy clit, sucking gently at first, then harder when your hips jerk up into his face. He holds you open because he’s not letting you go anywhere, his tongue flicks over that sensitive bundle of nerves until you’re sobbing his name.  

“Ford. . . oh god! Ford, too much—!” 

You’re trembling and panting as his tongue circles your little clit in soft lazy strokes that have your back arching off the mattress. You fist your fingers into the sheets as his lips seal around your sensitive clit, sucking gently before releasing you with a soft, wet pop.

“Taste so good,” Ford says more than all to himself. He licks into you now, dragging his wet tongue through your soft folds, lapping up everything you’re giving him like a man possessed. “g-give me more, darling, please. . . i need more of you.”

“Ford, Ford! Ford, i—” you buck your hips against his face as the wet sounds of his mouth on you fill the room.

“Mmhm, that’s it, sweetheart,” his voice muffled against your cunt as his lips brushes your clit, letting his fingers slide lower to tease your dripping entrance. “just let me make you feel good.”

Ford pulls back just enough to gasp for air, his lips and chin shiny with your slick and you swear he looks drunk, eyes glassy and pupils blown wide. “you taste so good,” he groans, diving back in immediately, never having enough, moving his mouth against you like he’s kissing you there, sloppily, noisily and so damn messy.

You’re not damn ready for what comes next. When his fingers finally slip inside, you nearly scream, two of them, then three with his extra middle one sliding into your soaked pussy, while another circles your clit, working in perfect tandem with his tongue. "so tight, so wet for me," his voice muffled as he sucks your clit into his mouth again. "give it to me, sweetheart. . . let me have it, be a good girl for me, yeah?"  

His pace quickens as your walls flutter around his fingers. But he doesn’t stop, not even when you’re writhing and tears streaming down your cheeks from the pleasure. He licks, sucks and slurps at you, addicted to the way you taste, the way you feel. “Ford, I’m gonna cum—”  

You cry out and jerk your hips against his face as you do. He growls, gripping you tighter, holding you still as his mouth moves faster, hungrier. Your walls spasming around his long fingers, your clit pulsing between his lips.

But Ford’s mouth doesn’t lift and doesn’t slow, even when your thighs tremble and your fingers push weakly at his hair to tug him away.

“No, Ford, please,” you gasp as he sucks your clit into his mouth, rolling his tongue against it in slow circles. “i-i can’t— too much. . . im sensitive, Ford—”  

But he doesn’t give a fuck, his grip tightens on your thighs to keep them spread wide. “Just one more, sweetheart,” his words slurred, drunk off the taste of you. “please-please, i need. . . one more, just one more for me.”  

You can’t hold back the loud cry that escapes you as his tongue dives back in, licking and lapping. Your legs jerk, trying to close, but his strong hands keep them locked open. “don’t fight me, let me, let me have you.”

“Ford, oh god—” your voice is broken as his tongue works all over your pussy, it’s overwhelming and unbearable, your entire body feels like a live wire as he devours you, never giving you a moment to recover.  

“that’s it, love, cum for me, please. . . be a good girl and cum on my face.”  

And you do again, god, you do, because there’s no stopping it. Your orgasm crashes over you again, ripping a scream from your throat as your back arches off the bed. Your vision whites out, your mind blank as your release floods through you.  

Ford moans into you as you come, his mouth latched onto your clit, his tongue lapping up every drop. When you start caressing his hair as if thanking him, he presses wet sloppy kisses to your trembling thighs. 

You’re still shaking and gasping for air, when he finally lifts his head, his chin glistening as he stares down at you and smiles. But you still can’t have enough, not satisfied, not when he haven’t been inside you and fucked you properly, you’ve been craving this for months and you totally go for it now. “Please, need you, Ford, please, i need you inside me.”  

He doesn’t even make any excuses this time when he kneels between your legs, his cock flushed and throbbing, the head slick with pearls of precum. “you sure?” is all he asks as his hands come up to cradle your hips.

“Yes, god, yes,” you plead, spreading your legs wider, your eyes glazed with need. “please, i can’t wait anymore! i need you.”  

He knows you do because he’s in absolutely same state as you, needy and desperate to fuck you, that’s why he’s pressing into you, the thick head of his cock stretching you open and you both moan loudly when he slides deeper, his girth filling you.

Ford is trembling above you, sweat slicking his brow as he inches himself inside carefully, terrified he might hurt you or worse, lose control. But you’re ready, so ready, your nails digging into his shoulders, “more, please, i can take it.”

Ford’s hips stutter as he bottoms out, his cock buried to the hilt. “Y-you’re so tight, sweetheart, so damn tight. i don’t— don’t know if i can move. . . feels too good. . . god, you’re perfect.”  

You’re no better because your walls clench around him and your voice so high and breathless as you cry, “so full, Ford— oh my god, you’re so big.”

“I know, love, i know,” he soothes, finding your parted lips with his as he starts to move slowly, making shallow thrusts that have you both gasping. “you’re doing so good, taking me so well, feels like heaven, baby.”  

You feel every inch of him, every twitching vein as he sinks deeper, the stretch delicious, making your head spin. Your legs wrap around his waist, pulling him closer, urging him on. Your wet pussy squeezes his dick so good he nearly loses it right there.

And it’s too much, too good to be true, both of you letting out incoherent sounds and slurred praises as he thrusts into you, moving faster, his thick cock dragging against every sensitive spot inside you. You try to move together with him, creating a perfect sync.

“You feel so good, sweetheart, too good. i don’t— I don’t think i’m gonna last.”

“It’s okay,” you reply, cupping his cheek when you look right into his dazed eyes. “fuck me harder, Ford, please. . . need you so bad.”

He hears you, snapping his hips against yours, his pace quickening as he loses himself in you. Your moans about how good it feels fill the air while your hands are clawing at his back, nails biting into his skin as you try to pull him closer where it seems impossible. His scars feel rough under your touch as your fingers trace them blindly, making Ford moan at the sensation. His hips jerk forward, driving deeper and you cry out.

“So tight,” he groans into your ear. “you’re squeezing me, love, c-can’t think. . . you feel— oh, sweetheart, pussy so good.”

Your nails dig deeper, leaving crescents in his skin as he fucks into you with deep thrusts that have you gasping. “more, please, more,” you beg and he obeys without question, burying himself deeper, harder into your cunt.

“That’s it, love,” his hand slips between your hot bodies to find your aching clit, circling his fingers over the swollen nub with featherlight touches. “look at you. . . so beautiful, so good for me, you’re perfect, love. . . my perfect girl.”

Your vision blurs when he thrusts into you, at the same time his thumb presses down on your clit and a sharp cry spilling from your lips as the pleasure builds.

“Ford!” you whimper while your hands clutch at him. “oh god, i—”

“I know, love, i know, i feel it, let go for me, sweetheart, cum for me.

His beautiful voice and words are enough to pull you through another powerful orgasm, your body tense as you finish, breathless, boneless, drunk on his cock.

Ford’s dick throbs as your release slicks his length, dripping down to pool at the base of him. “you’re so wet, sweetheart, good girl.”

You cant think, not really, too fucked out and tired, your body trembles and you can barely take a breath, but Ford doesn’t stop, determined to fuck your brains out. His thumb circles your clit again and your hips jerk away, the overstimulation making you whimper. “n-no, wait— I’m sensitive—”

“Just one more, love,” he pleads. “please, baby, just one more for me. you can do it, I know you can.”

You try to close your legs and your body twitches with every touch, too much to handle, but Ford holds you open firmly, pressing soft, open-mouthed kisses to your neck, your shoulder, anywhere he can reach. “you’re so good to me, so good, can’t get enough of you.”

He continues thrusting into you, filling your pussy to the brim and pulling out, slamming back again, you feel good, you do, especially with right amount of pressure being applied to your clit, but pleasure borders with sensitivity and little pain from overstimulation as he drags against that tender spot inside you. “Fuck, please! i can’t—”

“You can. You’re my good girl, you can give me one more, please, baby, cum on my cock again.” his words light a fire in your veins because the coil of pleasure tightening and building again despite the ache, despite all these overwhelming sensations. He fucks you so deliciously, grinding his hips into you in deep, slow rolls that make your toes curl and eyes roll, your nails scraping across his shoulders and back, all over his old scars. Ford groans at the sting.

“That’s it, love, just like that, let me have all of you.” he wets his fingers with saliva before bringing them on your sensitive nub again. “you like that? y-you like it when i touch you here, sweetheart? tell me, tell me how good it feels.”

“So gooood. . . feels so good, ford, don’t stop, please don’t stop, fuck me, fuck me!” and then you break again, another orgasm crashing over you, but this time you literally scream from how good it feels, your body convulses, your nails dig into his back with such force that blood comes out. Ford watches you come undone as he fucks you through it, his cock coated in your juices once again.

Ford cant hold himself anymore because you notice how his thrusts grow more deeper, harder, more erratic. His sweaty forehead is pressed against yours, his groans changing into desperate pants and you feel how close he is because his cock twitches inside you, his body trembles as he fights to hold on. “don’t w-worry, don’t worry, I’ll pull out— I’ll—”  

“No!” the word bursts out of you in a panic and immediately, you lock your legs around his waist to prevent that. “no, no, Ford, please, don’t, you can’t, don’t leave me, please—” your words tumble out in a frantic, incoherent mess, more sob than speech honestly as you cling to him like your life depends on it. “please,” you babble, your nails scraping against his skin, pulling him impossibly closer. “need it, need you, don’t pull out, please, please, please—”  

His surprised eyes fly open as he processes your words. “but—”

All you do is nod frantically in response, hot tears pricking at the corners of your eyes, your legs squeezing around his waist to keep him in place. “yes, inside, cum inside me, I need it, I need you to cum inside me”  

Ford groans as he gives in, his hips snapping forward with a force that makes you cry out. He holds your thighs, spreading you wider for himself as he buries himself to the hilt, as deep as he can go. He growls as his head falls back, he squeezes his eyes shut and just loses himself. “gonna— g-gonna cum inside you. . .”  

It happens, finally, his hips slam into you one last time and he finishes, his cock pulses as his cum paints your walls white. He hides his face into your neck while loud sound tears from his throat, halfway between a groan and whine. He rolls his hips, continuing to sloppily and lazily thrust into your pussy, grinding against you, unable to stop because he needs to give you every last drop of himself. “you’re— my love, so good, I feel so good. . .”

You lay under him and take it all, milking him for everything he has. Your fingers tracing his beautiful scars, ones you gave him now and his own ones, smearing a little blood over his skin, your legs tightening around him as you whimper, feeling every pulse of him, every twitch of his cock inside as he fills you. Oh god, such intimacy leaves you dizzy, your heart pounding so hard it feels like it might burst.  

“Thank you, Ford,” your body arches into him, asking, no, seeking more, always more. “feels so good. . .”

Ford finally comes back to his senses upon hearing your voice, he wraps his arms around you, holding you close as he shudders through the last waves of his orgasm. He presses kisses to your face, your neck, your shoulders. “I love you, i never want to let you go.”  

He pulls out with a shaky groan as he tries to catch his breath, his cock still glistening and twitching. But the loss of him leaves you feeling achingly empty, your walls clenching around nothing as a soft whimper escapes your lips.  

Ford is frozen above you, though, his chest heaving, his wide eyes fixed between your legs. The sight of his warm thick seed slowly trickling out of you renders him completely silent.

You let out a deep sigh, dazed, a dumb little smile curling at your lips as you look up at him, completely blissed out and so beautifully ruined. You trail your fingers down slowly, maybe to tease him once more, until finally dipping between your thighs to catch the mess he’s made.  

You circle your clit gently, then lowering your fingers to your hole, collecting his cum, covering your fingers with this sticky mess and Ford tracks every movement. And then, oh, you push it back inside, curling your fingers deep, your head falling back with a quiet moan as you savour every drop.  

Ford fucking whimpers at the sight as he watches you pump his sperm back into yourself.

“Don’t. . . don’t want to lose it,” you smile, looking at your scientist through half-lidded eyes, gaze unfocused. “don’t want it to go to waste, want to feel you.”  

Before you can say another word, he’s on you again. His hands spread your thighs wides when he positions himself at your entrance. Without word, he pushes back in, groaning as he stretches you open again. “you’re beautiful,” he gives you a kiss, while slowly fucking his cum back into you again, making sure to not miss a drop, letting it stay where it belongs.  

You hold him close, caressing his face and looking into his beautiful eyes. “I love you so much,” but you get interrupted by a little sudden thrust he makes. “oh, ah, Ford!” 

“Shh, i’ve got you, love,” Ford gives you a warm loving smile, rocking his hips gently. “you were so good for me, sweetheart.” he looks at you like you’re the only thing that’s ever mattered, like he’d give you the whole world if you asked and he presses a soft kiss to your forehead. Your crazy heart thunders in your ears as you hug and cuddle him, lost in the way he fills you so completely, so perfectly, like you were made for this.

The two of you don’t even bother moving because there’s simply no energy left to clean up. Ford stays buried inside you with his heavy body on top of yours like a blanket. For the first time in life, you feel that safe, good and loved, warm and. . . full in every sense of the word.

Sometime later. . . hours? you’re not sure, but the soft gray light of dawn creeping through the curtains. You feel Ford’s broad chest pressed against your back and suddenly his hand skims up your thigh.

“Ford,” you murmur, half-asleep as his lips brush the curve of your shoulder. His hand finds your leg, gently lifting it as he settles himself against you. “yes, please. . .” you smile, closing your eyes as you feel his cock rubbing against your folds.

He kisses the side of your neck. “just need you again, can’t help it. . . need to feel your pussy around me.”

You moan softly as he slides into you from behind. The angle is perfect as he fills you, sending shivers through your sleepy body. His hand lays on your thigh, holding you steady as he starts rocking into you, slowly, still sleepy, but fucking deep, each thrust making you sigh and whimper.

“I’ll never get enough of you,” his free hand skims over your waist, cupping your breast and playing with your nipple.

Meanwhile your hand reaches back to clutch at his hip and your head falls back onto his shoulder, Ford drives deeper into your pussy. “Ford. . . oh, Ford, yesss. . . just like that.” you mewl sleepily when you feel his fingers on your clit. 

You dont know what time is it, probably very very early morning, but you let him take you. There’s no rush, no urgency, just sleepy, languid thrusts and quiet soft moans you two share in the early morning while being half awake.

The sun is higher now, casting autumn golden streaks across the room, when you wake again. You’re alone in the bed and your body deliciously sore, marked with the evidence of last night. . . and this morning. Faint marks of kisses and hickeys bloom along your skin, the ache in your thighs reminds you of how thoroughly he’d claimed you.

The blanket is all over you, keeping you warm despite your nudity. You stretch out, yawning and blink away the last traces of sleep, but you notice him at the edge of the bed. Ford sits with his scarred back to you, hair messy, but his posture is perfectly straight as he leans over his. . . ah, yeah, now you see it, journal.

He’s scribbling something down there, intense focused, face serious and you just lay there, enjoying comfortable silence and watching him, taking in the way he looks so handsome even in his rumpled state.

“Morning, genius,” you murmur finally.

Ford glances over his shoulder. “Oh, good morning, love,” he says warmly, setting the journal aside and moving to your side of the bed. He leans down to kiss you, brushing his hand over your hair. “how are you feeling?���

“Sore,” you admit with a smile as you stretch beneath the blanket.

Ford studies you. “i’d say that’s to be expected. Rest a bit longer, okay? I’ll make us something to eat soon.”

“You better hurry because i’m so starved,” you yawn, covering your mouth with your hand.

“Starved, are you? well, you’re taking a shower first,” he says seriously, though his tone remains gentle. “you’re not wandering around covered in. . .” he stops himself as his cheeks flush a little, trying to find right words to use.

“Hm? Covered in what, ford?” you tease, propping yourself up on one elbow.  

“You know what, honey, don’t make me say that.”

Your eyes flick to his journal. “what are you even writing in there, anyway? can’t believe you’re making notes after the night we had. Is it, like, some x-rated research?”  

Because of your question, Ford straightens up, his face expression changes, the earlier embarrassment melting away as excitement takes its place. He looks like he’s just cracked the secret of the universe. “actually,” he begins, adjusting his glasses, “i think i’ve finally solved the equation for that anomaly we’ve been tracking! The one that disappeared because of the rainstorm, remember? I had a theory about the dimensional distortion rate and this morning, it all just clicked!” Ford launches into an explanation now. 

You, however, just blink at him and knowing grin spreads across your face. “so, what you’re saying is. . . my pussy literally makes you smarter?”  

Ford stops mid-sentence as he stares at you, flustered. “i— I wouldn’t put it like that,” he says, scratching the back of his neck, looking everywhere except at you. “but. . . perhaps there’s a correlation. . .”

You just laugh, dropping back onto the pillows as you watch his awkward attempts to compose himself. “yeah, yeah, Ford, I got you.”

He grumbles something about inappropriate comments, but the corners of his mouth betray him, curving into a shy smile.  

“So, my pussy is the key to unlocking the mysteries of the universe? Who knew i was a genius all along.”  

Ford groans, hiding his face in his hands, “Oh my god,” he says your name. “you’re impossible.”  

[imastrangeone98]

Even after all this time, I am still so fucking unhinged about ✨boothill✨

I wrote a similar idea with Cyno from Genshin, but I just love the idea of a man going feral when their lover (aka YOU 😉) gets injured in any way... or even kidnapped

Boothill would be no different- the moment he sees even the slightest scratch on your cheek, his vision goes black. He's sniffing out the bastard who dared to lay a finger on you, brutal and unwavering in his hunt that lasts from sunup to sundown. He refuses to bend until it ends with a bullet in the asshole's head- what they dared to do to you, he'll do back to them, tenfold.

And heaven forbid you end up kidnapped- a bullet in the brain wouldn't even be enough to atone for the sin of taking you away from him. The blood and gore he would spill will fill oceans; no price is unthinkable for Boothill if it means that you will return to his arms, safe and sound.

And if it's Homecoming y/n, where the two of you only just reunited after believing the other died in the tragedy of your home planet.... They might as well count their days, because they are numbered.

As in, count each second they get to keep breathing- the next one will likely be their last.

He just got you back, after spending all these years believing you to be with his family in the eternal moon lily fields, and just the thought of having you ripped away from his arms once more is enough to break him permanently.

So when he returns to the now-shared ship and you do not rush to welcome him back like you normally do, that immediately sets him on edge. And when he tears the ship apart and finds a ransom note on your bunk instead of your warm body, his cybernetic brain instantly shuts down with the sheer overload of rage and insanity that swarms his neurochip.

A petal on his beloved moon lily has been torn.

A detestable, unforgivable sin.

His body works on overdrive- it helps that he's made of metal, because he works night and day without rest until he tracks down the hideout of those bastards who thought it'd be a smart idea to take you away.

Well, he can't say they're dumb- after all, they just figured out the fastest way to an early grave.

And that's a fact you too know all too well, judging by the bloodcurdling screams echoing through the hallways leading to your cell. In fact, you're almost grateful for the blindfold over your eyes, as there's no doubt blood soaking the metal floors.

The screams slowly begin to die out, one by one, leaving only the dull thud, thud, thud of heeled metal soles headed straight for you. There's a screech of metal, then a metallic warmth surrounding you. The familiar scent of gunpowder and cedar cologne clings to your nose, and you nearly buckle into Boothill's arms, shivering and weeping, clinging onto his shoulders.

"It's alright, now," he coos, making sure to wipe the blood on his hands before scooping you into his arms. "I'm here, moon lily. I ain't goin' nowhere."

(And it wouldn't be me without just the slightest touch of suggestiveness so...)

Clean from the blood and gore, Boothill gently tucks himself under your chin, nuzzling his nose into your neck, trying to remind himself that you're still here, you're still alive, you didn't slip from his fingers yet again.

If you did, only the aeons know what would happen to him.

"You saved me yet again," you coo, rubbing at the crease in his brows. "My hero."

"Sure as fudge don't feel like one," he mumbles, arms wrapping even more tightly around you. "I almost lost you. Again. I swore it wouldn't happen again, but-"

"But nothing. You found me. I'm safe and sound 'cause of you." You kiss the top of his head, moving down to his face to pepper his cheeks and forehead with more light kisses. "My brave cowboy. I'm alive all because of you. I must be the luckiest girl in the world."

Boothill finally melts under your affectionate administrations, tilting his head to meet your lips in a sweet kiss.

But you're wrong. Boothill knows that if anything, he's the one who's the luckiest in the world. You don't hate him for letting you be taken away, nor do you cower from his bloodstained hands. Instead, you embrace him with your soft arms wide open, with your even softer lips pressing hard against his own, and warm hands that tangle though his hair to keep him closer when he tries to pull away and give you some air. He feels the luckiest when you allow him to press against you even tighter, giving him access to the deepest parts of you, letting him see your bashful face, hear your sweet gasps and moans as he comforts you in the best way he knows how.

Boothill will never ask for anything more. All he needs is for you to be right here in his arms, forever his beautiful, strong, resilient moon lily. Forever his.

[susiekern]

wife me up - Gojo Satoru x y/n

a/n: wrote that at work, obv not proofread, my first time writing an actual y/n x character, so any feedback is appreciated

summary: when you first met Satoru, you didn't expected things to go that way, but an heir must do what is expected from them, right?

word count: 4,354

If someone would ask you about your relationship with Gojo Satoru, you'd probably cringe and say it was... complicated. But no one ever asked. They just assumed you'd already clicked, and things were great between you two. You were to get married after all. Well, if only it was that simple.

But let's start from the beginning.

You first met Satoru during an exchange event. He was a third-year student, already a living legend. You were a second-year and an heir to the y/s clan, its future. But back then, it didn't matter. When your paths crossed during a team battle and he saw you fight against Nanami Kento, he was impressed. Nanami was strong, probably a semi-first grade already only in his second year of high school. So at first, Gojo felt bad for a much smaller girl that stood in front of him. Surely that confident smirk on your lips would disappear in a minute or two. Imagine his surprise when you had won that fight, Nanami soon faced flat on the forest floor, bonded by shadows.

For a moment, Satoru was tempted to fight with you to see how long you could stand before losing. Whether you'd lose was not up to question. He was the strongest after all. But he also wasn't as ignorant as he painted himself to be. You would be a refreshing challenge if only he had time for a battle, even a short one. He had to follow the plan and complete the objective. So he left, giving you a last glance over his shoulder, catching your shiny eyes for a second or two.

You wouldn't meet again for many years, until a week after the Night Parade of a Hundred Demons. As a first-grade sorceress, you were in the middle of the battlefield when hell broke loose. Dealing with a special curse, with none other than Nanami Kento only a few meters behind your back, having his own fight and taking on a few curses at once. You've met throughout the years, first when he wanted to ask about your technique after the event, later keeping in touch and becoming friends.

Forming shadows into the blades, you send the final blow towards your enemy. You've been fighting for god knows how long already, exorcised dozens of curses, and it felt like you're still far from the end.

“I'll kill Geto myself, I swear. It was supposed to be my time off!” Nanami chuckles hearing you complain. He finished the last curse around and stood next to you for a moment.

“I'm sure Gojo’s taking care of it already.” You nodded and wiped your daggers of a mix created by fluids you didn't even want to list in your head. “I can also bet we're in a slightly better situation than Team Tokyo. Geto’s probably keeping the worst curses near himself.”

“You're doing a great job at encouraging me not to move to Tokyo. Kyoto seems so peaceful compared to your stories, and now this shit happens, and of course, Tokyo is right in the center.” Kento can't help but smile, even as he blocks a curse user attack a moment later, standing back to back with you.

“Isn't that why you're moving to Tokyo after New Year's? More action?” You decided not to answer, focusing back on the fight. Nanami didn't need to know the real reason behind your move. Besides, if everything goes according to your plan, soon you'll be able to forget all about it and enjoy the capital city as you wanted to since childhood.

---

Nothing went according to your plan.

When the elders invited you to a meeting, you expected to see your grandfather and a few others from your clan. Not grandpa, fucking elders of the big three families, and a couple more from clans you couldn't even name.

“Can't believe you're all here to discuss how I'm still single.” Your joke was ignored, rude. Grandpa started the same speech you've already heard hundreds of times. You're an heir, there's a responsibility you need to take and stand up to the expectations, blah blah. What you didn't expect was for the head of the Kamo family, a man probably in his 60s with a long black braid, to speak up.

“I don't think you understand the value of your grandfather's words, y/n y/s. In current times, families like yours, with a long history and such unique techniques, matter more than your humors. That's why, as elders, we all decided what will happen. Either you marry a man from one of the Three Families in the next two years or Yume does it. The choice is yours.”

You could feel your heart stop. In two years? Yume would be barely 16 if they even allowed her to wait for so long. Your sister hasn’t even started high school yet, and they threatened to marry her off? You shot a look of betrayal at your grandfather, but the man sitting there wasn't the same one who taught you basic defense or how to control your cursed energy. You were looking at the head of y/s family, the one who'd do anything to secure the future and position of the name. Even if it cost him his granddaughters. Your heart started beating again, but this time it was powered by anger as you went over options in your head.

But there was nothing you could do to protect both you and your sister. Even if you rebelled, she was under your grandpa's protection and control, you weren't her legal guardian, and she was still in Kyoto. The memory of a lively teenager who blabbered non-stop about how excited she was to start high school soon filled you with almost physical pain. You took a deep breath in, trying to suppress the urge to hurt as many elders in this room as you could before they'd kill you and start choosing a wedding dress for Yume.

“Who am I marrying?”

“I knew you were more reasonable than you pretend to be.” The head of your family, once your grandpa, smiled at you, ignoring the way your face turned in disgust. “We have come to an agreement about securing both y/s and Gojo family lineage by this marriage.”

“Gojo? But... isn't there only one living member?” Your question seemed to amuse some of the elders.

“Yes. You're to marry Gojo Satoru.”

Fucking hell.

---

A few days later you were set to meet with Satoru in a cafe close to Jujutsu High, a place he chose, and when your grandfather asked if you agreed, you simply nodded.

So that's how you ended up sitting with a mug in your hands, eyes fixed on the view behind a wall-tall window. You barely made it on time, but you remembered how many times Nanami complained about Gojo being always late. And apparently meeting his future wife was no exception, you thought when the white-haired man finally stepped into the cafe, looked your way, and first ordered something at the counter before sitting in the chair in front of you. Seeing him open his mouth, you decided to beat him and have the first, and hopefully the last, word.

“I'm not going to become a stay-at-home and cook-the-dinner wife. I'm not giving up my career as a sorceress. And I'm not giving birth to any heirs until I decide to.”

Gojo closed his mouth and was silent for a few seconds. Then he giggled. Giggled.

“Gojo Satoru, nice to meet you too.” He managed to say between laughs and hold his hand out to you. “I know that situation is... inconvenient, but what happened to at least polite introductions?”

You sighed and shook his hand for a second.

“Y/n y/s. You know we've met before, right?”

“Of course. I could never forget a woman who beat Nanamin in less than five minutes. I'm just trying to do this right.” He grinned at you. The situation is shitty, but at least the views are pleasant, you thought to yourself, noticing the dimples in his cheeks.

“With that being said..." Suddenly he got serious, pulled his sunglasses on top of the white hair, and looked into your eyes, hands resting at the table. “I'd never expect anyone to give up their job because of a marital status change. Especially not a sorceress as talented as you, y/n. And I don't expect an heir, at least not now or anytime soon. I want you to understand that I'm not going to force you into anything. The only reason I agreed to this is that I've had enough threats and debates on how I'll keep my clan existing if I can't find a wife. And guessing by your words and evident repulse at the thought of carrying an heir now, you're not exactly doing it to make your dreams come true too.”

You listened carefully to Satoru’s words, and you felt like at least a bit of weight had been lifted from your shoulders. This whole thing could be a lot easier if you're both on the same page.

“It was either me or my younger sister. And I'm not letting these old assholes marry a 14-year-old off to god knows who.” Satoru nodded and leaned back in the chair.

“So, you're moving to Tokyo? Now that you'll have a fiancé here?” He asked, a little smile back on his face.

“Already on the move. Although the apartment I applied for rejected me, apparently single women in their twenties are not the perfect tenants.” You sighed, thinking about your stuff in storage and an uncomfortable hotel bed you've slept in for the past few days. Gojo seemed to be lost in his thoughts for a moment before a waitress pulled him out of it by putting his coffee and a piece of chocolate cake on the table.

“Thanks.” He smiled her way, and poor girl, bless her sweet soul, almost ran away, blushing and giggling.

“How exactly were you unable to find a wife if you just gave this girl a heart attack by just smiling?” The man in front of you almost choked on his salted caramel double sweet cream latte when he heard your question.

“I'm not… It's not like... unimportant." Wiping a drop of liquid from his chin, he grabbed your phone with his free hand, put it in front of your face, and smiled triumphantly when face ID did its job. You were too stunned with his audacity to even ask what he was doing, instead looking as he tapped the screen.

“Here.” Finally, he gave you your phone back, the maps app opened, and an address was saved in it.

“Here…?” You repeated, probably the most confused you've been in your whole life.

“Move in here.”

“Gojo, I swear to god, if you don't explain what you're talking about, I'll lose my mind.” Giggle escaped his mouth, and blue eyes seemed to shine with... you weren't sure with what. Excitement? Mischief? Amusement?

“That's my home. That will be ours anyway when we get married. And knowing the shitheads’ elders are, they'll try to monitor if we're not fucking with them and if we're producing heirs.” You cringed at his word choice, even though he was probably right. “So let's fuck with them for real and act like we're delighted about this situation. They'll leave us alone, and we can always say we're having... issues with making an heir. That's not really something they can verify or control.”

You couldn't believe you were actually thinking about it. As crazy as it sounds, it made sense. Elders had way too much free time, and if they noticed you two not even trying, they'd intervene immediately. But living with Satoru? You just met, and it sounded surreal to even think about. “I have like two spare bedrooms, and with my work, I'm barely home anyway.” He decided to add like he was reading your mind.

“Yeah. Yeah, okay.”

---

And that takes us to the present moment. It’s been a bit over a year since you moved in. Satoru wasn’t lying when he said he was barely home, but during the rare days off, you actually got closer. You probably could say you’re close friends now. You were also two adults working a stressful job, spending most of your free time together, which caused awkward situations from time to time. A glance here and there, a touch that lasts just a second too long to come off as casual, jokes that stopped being jokes at one point, turning to propositions filled with sexual tension instead. But neither you nor Satoru went further with it, brushing it off and changing the topic to something painfully casual.

Satoru thought you were actually making fun of him and his evident crush, while you saw it as a challenge of sorts, wondering how far you could go before he’d make a move or stop you. And ever since Satoru got you a gift and a cake with “Happy Anniversary” on it, exactly a year after you met in the cafe, you got impatient. And bolder in your moves.

You’d accidentally leave your clothes in your room, so, oh no, you need to walk through the entire house wrapped in a towel. Laying your legs over his lap, just a bit too close to his zipper. Insisting on checking on ALL of his wounds if he ever got hurt on the missions (that one happened only maybe two times so far, damn infinity).

“Maybe he just doesn’t like me. You know, like that.” You said one day, sitting with Shoko during her lunch break. You’ve known Ieiri for almost a decade now, you’ve met when she patched you up after an encounter with a special grade curse. She was the only one who knew exactly what your situation looked like.

“I’d have to be blind to believe that. Last week when we went for drinks and you got ready at my place? He almost choked on his own tongue. And he might wear this stupid blindfold or glasses, but it’s easy to guess where he’s looking.” Your friend shook her head and checked the time. “I still think you should make the first move. Better now than in a few years when you actually decide to make an heir. That’d be awkward.”

“God, don’t even say shit like that.”

“Speaking of heirs. How’s Yume?” Ieiri smoothly changed the topic. She loved you, truly, but watching that weird dance between you and Satoru made her regret some life choices.

“Good. I think she likes Tokyo more than Kyoto, and Gojo said she’s getting along with others.”

Yume started school last summer, and after a few months, she asked you if there was any chance of transferring to Tokyo High. She didn’t fit in at Kyoto, and you weren’t exactly surprised. After being around Tokyo school so much in the last year, Kyoto felt like a military camp in comparison. Yume was way too fragile for it, and her moving also meant you’d be around if she needed you. That’s how she ended up here, joining Satoru’s first years.

“Okay. I’ve got to go. I have a mission with Nanami, and he’ll kill me if I’m late.” You got up when your phone vibrated on Ieiri’s desk, a reminder about the meeting with Kento soon bright on the screen. You still wanted to say bye to Yume, something you did before every mission, just in case. You kissed Shoko’s cheek as she wished you good luck and left her office, heading towards the stadium. Chilly March air didn’t exempt the kids from training.

The first thing you’ve noticed when you get there is Satoru lying on the bench, probably taking a much-needed nap. When he came back from a week-long mission two days ago, he barely made it to his bedroom before falling asleep, or maybe passing out, you weren’t sure. Yesterday he spent most of the day sleeping off, only leaving the bed in the evening to eat the dinner you’ve prepared and watch a movie together. From what he told you, he only took a few two- or three-hour naps when he was away, and after a week even his body protested.

“Oh, y/s-san!” Itadori was the first to notice you, your sister, who sat next to him, focused on watching Megumi and Maki spar, abruptly turned, and made her way to you.

“I was wondering if you’d make it before leaving.” Yume said while being pulled into your arms for a hug.

“Sorry, kid. Had lunch with Shoko, and I overlooked the time.”

“How long you’ll be gone?” She asked after you pulled away, letting her breathe properly.

“I don’t know. Probably a few days.” That answer didn’t make your sister any less anxious. She wanted to become a sorceress herself, and she knew it was a dangerous job, but every time you were assigned a mission, Yume wanted to stop you from going.

“Be careful. And text me. And watch out.”

“Oi, mini-y/n, your sister is one of the best first-grade sorceresses, and she’s going with a special grade partner. She’ll be fine.” The teenager frowned when Gojo appeared out of nowhere next to her, and he ruffled her hair. “You’re up next with Nobara. Say bye-bye and go to her before she kills someone.”

Yume got on her toes to kiss your forehead, and without another word, she ran off towards the rest of the students. You sighed and looked at Satoru. He ditched his blindfold for a pair of sunglasses today, something he often did after longer missions, you’ve noticed. His hands were deep in the kangaroo pocket of his hoodie, the same one you’d sometimes steal from his closet.

“She’s paranoid, but she’s right. Be careful.”

“You’ve said it yourself, first grade and special grade. I’ll be fine.” You couldn’t help but roll your eyes.

“Mr. Protection, going with you makes me feel a bit better, honestly.” Gojo smiled as you laughed at Nanami’s nickname, but before you could make a joke about it, he leaned forward and left a gentle kiss at the same spot Yume kissed a moment ago.

“Everything’s going to be fine, chill out guys.” You whispered just as Nanami entered the stadium and yelled at you to hurry up. When you turned back to Gojo, he was already back on his bench.

---

Everything went wrong.

That sentence was stuck in your head for the past few hours, when after five long days you were almost back home. Your torso was aching under the warm hoodie, and tight bandages were constantly pushing on sensitive skin, a similar situation on your thigh. Nanami, sitting in the driver’s seat, looked only a bit better, but you knew about a tightly bandaged wound on his chest.

“You’re sure you don’t want Shoko to look at it?” He asked for the hundredth time, and you’d argue about his protectiveness, but exhaustion was taking over.

“I just want to be home already.” Kento only nodded, hearing your tired answer, and the rest of the journey was silent, only soft music playing in the background.

You agreed earlier that he’d drop you off at home and drive to Jujutsu High on his own to report to Yaga and let Shoko patch him up. Maybe in a different order. Half an hour later, you climbed a few steps to the front door and opened it with trembling hands, almost dropping the keys twice. Nanami drove off only after the door closed behind you. It was fairly early in the evening, and guessing by the darkness in every room, Satoru wasn’t home yet. You dropped the duffel bag on the floor, almost falling next to it. Instead, you’ve made your body move to the bathroom and draw a warm bath, something your muscles would thank you for tomorrow.

---

While you tried to relax at least a little bit, Nanami made it to the base and went straight to Shoko’s office. The report could wait a bit longer, his wound that just wouldn’t stop bleeding probably couldn’t.

“Fucking hell, what happened to you?” Ieiri almost dropped a glass when he showed her ripped skin. She quickly got rid of the blood-soaked bandages and asked him to lie down.

“First grade my ass. There were two and one that I’d classify as a special grade.” The blonde man groaned, lowering himself on the bed as slowly as he could.

“How’s y/n?” Before he could answer, the doors opened, and Megumi stepped inside, his teacher right behind him. Fushiguro was holding his arm with the opposite hand, blood dripping down his shirt.

“Shoko, can you fix Megu- Nanamin?” Gojo almost stumbled, noticing the man. He took one look at his wounded chest, and the playful smile he walked in with was gone. “Where’s y/n?”

“Relax, she’s at home. She wasn’t as injured, and the guy in Akita healed the most of it.” Kento said, and before he could explain any further, the white-haired man was already gone. “Knight in a blindfold to the rescue.”

Shoko laughed and signaled Megumi to sit in a chair before focusing on Nanami’s wounds, murmuring something about kids and blindness.

---

You were out of the bath, making a cup of tea in the kitchen. Your body felt a lot better after soaking in warm water, finally out of the tight clothes, opting for an oversized t-shirt instead, fresh bandages on both thigh and torso. Slowly relaxing in the comfort of home, the shirt that smelled like Satoru’s perfume, favorite mug on the counter.

Finally putting your guards down. That’s also why you haven’t noticed an outburst of cursed energy in front of the house, where Satoru warped, since walking or driving would take too long. And after seeing Nanami’s injuries, he needed to see you’re okay.

“Y/n?!” His voice pulled you out of the exhaustion, and before you could even answer, he was already in the doorway, having traced your energy. He took his blindfold off, making slow steps towards you, looking at every millimeter of your body he could see.

“Hi, Toru.” You said, almost shyly, fully aware of his intense stare on your bandaged leg, shirt not doing much to hide it. Finally, his eyes met yours, he took a deep breath in, and you could swear he was about to scold you. He didn’t.

Satoru took one more step your way, and in the blink of an eye, you were sitting on the counter, his warm body between your legs and arms around your back in a gentle embrace. You slowly wrapped your own arms around his neck, feeling him lean his head onto your shoulder.

“What the fuck happened?” He asked quietly. His voice was low and raspy, filled with emotions you couldn’t name properly.

“There were three curses instead of one. But I’m okay, really. Kento took the worst blows on himself.” Your fingers instinctively tangled into snow-white hair, nails gently scratching the skin. You felt how Gojo got tense at first, slowly relaxing. You were safe at home, you weren’t bleeding out, and he was holding your body in his arms. The nerves that filled his mind as soon as he saw Nanami were disappearing with each breath you took close to his ear, each pass of your fingers through soft hair, and every second he spent surrounded by your warmth and scent.

“I almost had a heart attack when I saw Nanami’s wound. All I could think about was if you got a similar one.” Satoru whispered after a few moments. One of his hands was now caressing your back, but he wasn’t sure if it was supposed to calm you or him. Another minute or so later, he gently pulled away, but he was still so close that if you leaned forward, your lips would meet. And Toru seemed to think about it too, his eyes now focused on your lips. “I’ll explain to Yaga why next time if you’re not paired with me, you’re not going.”

“Don’t blame Kento. He saved my life probably more times than I could count on this mission alone.” He smiled softly, like he was amused by what you said.

“I’m not blaming him. He looks like a damn Jigsaw played on his chest, obviously, he did his best.” His forehead leaned onto yours, and you can now feel his lips on yours, gentle touches, almost ghostly, with every word. “But I’m responsible for protecting my future wife. I can do that without getting a cut. So next time you’re taking your fiance with yo-” He didn’t finish. You didn’t let him. Grabbing the collar of his uniform, you barely needed to move to kiss him. And Satoru reacted in less than a second, cupping your cheek with one hand, the other one gently on top of the bandaged thigh.

After a year of thinking, wondering what kissing Satoru would feel like, dreaming about it even, you finally know. And you don’t know what’s with this man, but this feeling—his soft lips on your, tongue slowly exploring your mouth, a gentle bite on your lower lip—was addictive. Just one taste left you hungry for more, mind almost clouded as he pulled away slightly, pulling a quiet moan from you with him. He grinned proudly, looking deep into your glazed eyes, thumb caressing your cheekbone down to the jaw.

“I may rethink this whole producing an heir thing.”

And just like that, the thick mood is gone as you start to laugh, leaning your forehead on Gojo’s collarbone.

“I’m serious. Yaga can’t send you on missions like that one if you’re carrying an heir of not one, but two families.” You shook your head and looked up to him.

“Slow down, Romeo. We kissed after a year of engagement, at least wife me up before talking about any heir.” You joked and pecked his lips one more time.

“Next weekend?”

“Sure, love.”

Only a week later, you realize Satoru wasn’t joking.

[dilfscvm]

Fitzgerald Grant x Female! Reader

Hi! This is my own work, I wrote it and I much don't like to have it posted in other social media flatforms without my permission.

WARNINGS : This contains smut, if you don't like such content please skip it and don't read it. Vulgar words has been used also. Do excuse my grammatical errors and typos, correct me nicely or else I'll block block you. English is not my first language:)) Enjoy reading!<33

Special thanks to the owner of this gif<3

“I told you to stay away from him!” Fitz yells at you, he's in the pit of rage and you know you just crossed the line.

Making him jealous because you wanted to make him pay at what he did to you a week ago. He thought you got over it, but looks like his naughty wife has a better plan. And that is to make him angry. What's on his mind right now?

I'll get you bend over this dining table, fuck you and breed you.

That's what his brain tells him to do. You're his property, you're his and he doesn't like to share. And you absolutely knew it. That's why you make everything on planned.

"I'm sorry, but you really need to stop working." Fitz firmly stated, you're shocked at his sudden statement.

"W-what?" you scoffed.

"I said... I want you to stop working." he repeats as he slowly strode over you, like a lion ready to attack its prey. His eyes tells he craves. You stumped in front of him, face to face, nose almost touched. Eyes raged.

"I. Won't. Stop. Working." you said what is to be said, "I love my work, Fitz, I love working as a professor and you know how much I love my work and you can't just barge here in my office to tell me to resign and stay with you at the white house and fulfill my duty as a first lady. How did you get in here anyways?"

"You don't need to know how I get here, what you need to do is to get all your things and sign these resignation papers and let's go at the white House." his frown deepen, but you can see his eyes averting from your eyes to your lips, his breathing getting heavy as you argue with him.

"I won't resign just because you're jealous of my colleague who haven't done anything but to do his job." you continued. He scoff, he backs away a little shaking his head.

"Believe me, you will." and that's the last thing he said before he walks out your office. You stared at the door where he just walked out of, jaw drop, can't believe that your husband can do such things.

Well he's the president of the United States after all.

You're at his birthday party, talking with some guests. Not paying attention at your husband who's been such a attention seeker for you.

Since he made you sign those resignation letter you give him silent treatment that he deserves. He can't just manipulate you just because he's jealous.

“Dance with me?” you heard a voice from your back making you turn around. It's your colleague, the man Fitz don't ever want to see.

“Well why not.” you giggle and took his hand that been waiting for you to take.

You wanted him here. His name is Race, and he's a colleague, a married man but it's a private marriage. Fitz were a fool, he doesn't even let you explain it, and now, you will take advantage of it.

Race lead you to the dance floor where there's already some people who's dancing, including your husband who's with a old lady which you can recognise as the 40th president's wife.

Well watch me turn the tables around, darling.

“So, I bet he still doesn't know.” he smiled at you which you returned with a naughty smirk.

“This is a lesson, he has been fooling himself. You know that I would never cheat on him, I love him too much to break his heart.” you factly stated. He sighs as he slowly sway you, syncing with the music.

“I know that you cheeky minx.” he whisper that makes you both laugh together.

Both of you continued to dance and talk about random things up until Fitz finally notice, well actually you've seen him, he got his eyes on you. Watching you dance with the man he despise right now, and all he wanted to do were to yank you off him and take you right in front of everybody, specially him. You're playing with fire.

“Ma'am if you'll excuse me.” he politely smiles at the woman who nods with a smile. As soon as he turns around, his face contorts into a deep frown, raging eyes glued at you.

He walks with power, greeting every person he walk pass with a smile then immediately turns back into a frown as soon as he looks at you.

“I think that would be great, I like it and I know-”

“Mind if I steal my wife for a while?” firm, and low husky voice. Fitz says as he folds his arms across his chest. His face shows it all. Anger, rage, jealousy... Lust.

Well you were about to say that you like race's idea to surprise his wife for her birthday.

“Why sure, Mr. President.” race politely agrees as he smiled at the man, not paying attention to fitz's face, looking like he's ready to punch him.

Fitz did not waste anymore time as he possessively pull you away from him by your waist. He then pressed his lips on yours, taking you by surprise. Race sealed his lips containing his evil grin. Success.

You on the other hand, didn't give what Fitz wants. You did not kiss him back making him pull inches away from your lips.

“You like him don't you?” Fitz slowly said. You stared at him, slowly, a smile formed in your lips, mocking him. You know it makes him more hungry for you, and you like every bit of it.

Knowing your husband, he loves you so much, he's a very territorial, possessive, and obsessive at you. Well because you're his wife, and he needs you to know it.

“I love you.” you smiled at him. He'll say it back. No matter how he's mad at you. You know he will.

“I...love you too.” he whisper, as he look down on your lips, almost looks ashamed. I know you too well.

“Dining room.” you whisper at him before pulling away to walk out of the room.

“What?” he asks confusedly. His brows knitted, his signature look. You smiled evily, seductively bit your lower lip as you said;

“I know you like it anywhere, baby.”

Fitz is a kinky man, you must declare.

A knowing smirk were now plastered on his face making you giggle.

“Meet you there, baby!” you turned around and walk off.

Did he waste more time? Of course he didn't. He quickly walk off the room full of guest and walk towards dining room, where you waited there. Wearing nothing but a pair of black lingerie and a black stocking.

“Y/N-” his breath caught above his lungs as the view in front of him completely astonished him. “What's all of these?” he asks, as his eyes continue to hungrily Starr at your body up and down.

You hop ontop of the table and crossed your legs. He slowly walk towards you.

“A lesson.” you simply said when he's already standing right in front of you and tries to open your legs.

“A lesson for what?” he looks confused. You smirk and parted your legs, you hooked him with your legs on his hips and forcely pull him using it.

You put a finger on his lips and it just parted for you, “You know what you've done, Fitz, and now I'll teach you.. A.. Lesson.” you lean closer to him, he thought you will kiss him, so he lean forward to reach your lips but you pull back. “Ah, ah, darling... You need to be taught and punished—”

“Screw you.” that's all he got to say before he slam his lips on you, you tried to pull away but you're too intoxicated at his taste and scent. He kissed you hungrily, both hands on either side of your cheeks. Both with heavy breathings, both were panting, and moaning in each others mouths, as their tounge collide, exploring the insides of it adding more heat down your womanhood.

Fitz grab ahold of your stockings and rip it apart making you gasp into his mouth. But keep on kissing him still anyways. He pushed your legs more apart and start to kiss your neck. His hands were now roaming you body, specially down your area.

“F-fuck, Fitz.” you moaned as his kiss went down your cleavage, to your stomach up until he reached where you wanted him to be. He place a kiss on your lingerie, as his eyes stilled on yours.

“You can't punish me. I will punish you... For being such a brat, for ignoring me, for teasing me, you think you'll get away with it? Think again...” he snarled. You scoff at him. He just smirked. That devil smirk he always does when you both on bed. It turns you on.

“Fuck you.” you smile and press your lips on his kissing him ever so roughly as your hand went to his belt and undo it. He slapped your hand away and grab a hold of your ass and yank you off the table and put you on your feet as he turn you around, panting as he retrieve his breath, as well as you. He continue to kiss on your neck as he unbuckle his belt and push his pants down.

“Fuck you, you mean.” he chuckles, he ripped your panties and thrown it on the floor leaving you gasping. There's nothing can make you more turned on than you are now.

He latched his lips again on your neck as you grab ahold of his head pushing him more to it, moaning as you did. Fitz let his mouth open while he teased your hole with the tip of his enormous cock. Confusedly you is when he put his hand tightly on your mouth, but it didn't take long when he rams his cock inside of you with a guttural groan, trying to contain his own sounds.

You swear if he hadn't covered your mouth, you would scream. You never got used to his cock, up until now.

“I will never get tired fucking this sweet, tight pussy of yours, Y/N.” he whisper erotically in your ear, while you left there moaning in his palm, grinding your hips with his as he thrust slow but you can feel the roughness.

“Now tell me, my sweet, does teasing me satisfy you?” he asks as he slowly fastening his thrust, breathing were getting more heavier. You shook your head. “Liar.” he grunts, he let's go of your lips and push you down the table, making you lay your front to it as he grab onto your hips and continue his bruising pace. He pause a little when you began to moan, as much as he wanted to hear it, you must minimise your moans so no guest will get traumatised, “Please do be quiet for me, sweetheart, there's people outside. I don't want them knowing I'm screwing my bratty wife while I have party to be at. Wouldn't want to look disrespectful yeah?” he whispers at your ears. You only nodded, panting. “Good.” he smirk before he bit your ear gently. He then suddenly pushed in roughly making you squeal and him shushing you.

Fitz won't let you dominate him, we'll at least not now. He doesn't have much time for you to tease and edge him. But he will let you do that later, when no one's in the house.

He spread your ass to watch his harden cock penetrate your wet cunt, he couldn't help but whimper looking at the beautiful view. He sure is won't ever get enough of you.

No one can ever make his cock this alive, only you, his wife. You always turn him on even in small things you do. Like the way you walk, you talk, your smell, he gets turned on easily, if it's you who'll make him.

“Fuck, Fitz, I'm close.” you quietly moan, Fitz was too lost in pleasure. He wrapped his arms around your waist and pull you against his chest as he thrust up to help you cum for him. He's nearing, as much as he doesn't want this to end, he has visitors to entertain.

“Darling, I'm gonna cum.” he whisper against your skin. His eyes closed, mouth open, eyebrows were knitted, pleasure takes over him. “I know you want to cum too. Cum hof me.” he place a kiss on your neck.

“Fitz..” you moan, almost out of breath. His hand went to your breast and squeeze it tightly as he left his other arm wrapped around your waist. “Ah! Fuck!” your walls clamped around his cock that enough to edge him, and leave him moaning as you cum.

“Oh God, you feel so good.” he groans through gritted teeth. He continues to thrust in you as he breed you, filling you with his cum—wait he breeds you?!

“Fitz!” you yell at him. He frowned at you.

“W-what?” he says panting.

“You finished in me!”

Not to be rude but you both talked about having another baby and he said it's not the right time yet to have another one, and you agreed with it.

“So?” he asks confusedly. He's still inside of you, still thrusting very slowly as he just reached his climax. “You're my wife, I have the rights to do so.” he said, he slowly pulls away making you bite your lip. You turn around to face him.

“Yeah, but I thought you don't want another baby yet?” you ask, he sighs and pull you closer to him as he wrap his arms around your hips.

“Jerry's not a baby anymore, he's four—well he'll still remain our baby but I miss having a small human in my arms,” he chuckles. He place a hand on your cheek, a finger in your lips and continues; “I want to have another baby, I know that you also want another but I choosed to deny you. I'm sorry.” he whisper, your eyes were glistening as he rub your cheeks.

“Thank you, and I love you.” you smiled at him, which he returns.

“I love you too.” he says back with a chuckle. You giggle and tiptoed his lips. Kissing him deeply and passionately.

It didn't last long when he lift you up again and sat you on the table before he push you on your back. He pulls away with a smirk dancing on his lips.

“Fitz!” you giggle when he pulls a chair and sat on it before he pulls you by your tighs to the edge of the table. He smirk at you making you part your lips.

“What? I'm hungry.” he teasingly said before burying his head between your tighs leaving you breathless as you throw your head at the back, moaning as you did.

[weird-is-life]

hello! how’s your day?i hope it’s great

can i request something like childhood friend!reader x spencer reid to lover? i love that trope and i always imagine spencer reid in it

perhaps they’ve met again on the case and reader was the victim?

it’s totally fine if you can’t wrote that, have a great day!<3

Hiii lovely🥰, ty so much for this request! I loooved writing this trope. Warnings: like one swear word, little angsty, fluff, pet names, use of y/n, mentions of food, mentions of crime (1.5k)

Spencer and you met by accident after so many years. Spencer couldn't believe his eyes as he saw you walk out of the interrogation room at the Bau.

He didn't understand what his childhood best friend was doing at his workplace office.

Seeing your sorrow expression he didn't need anything else to know that you were one of the many witnesses of the latest series of violent bank robberies.

And it made his heart stop for a second. Wanting to meet you...-wanting to see you again after so many years was always somewhere deep at the back of his mind, but he didn't exactly want to see you walk out out of the interrogation room.

He freezed for a moment. He wasn't expecting to see you there, and it definitely caught him off guard.

You, on the other hand, hoped you'd run into Spencer that day. You knew he worked for the FBI. You maybe even secretly hoped that he'd be the one you'd have to explain what exactly had happened at the bank.

He didn't. So finally seeing him managed to bring a smile to your upset face.

You ignored his lovely colleague Emily as she instructed you on something, and headed straight towards Spencer.

"Spencer, hi, I can't believe it's you," you said breathlessly as you neared him, his eyes scanning you intensively.

Spencer swallowed hard. You two were just some kids the last time you saw each other, but right now....Right now, Spencer couldn't believe his eyes. You might have just been the most beautiful girl he's ever seen.

His shock was even bigger when you threw your arms around his neck, and hugged him sincerely. Spencer, for once, managed to handle the shock, and hugged you back.

It was an effort for you not to end up on the floor from the way your legs almost turned into a jello. When the fuck did Spencer get so hot? That was the only thing on your mind, even the horrors of the roberry gone.

"Hi, it's been so long, too long," Spencer beamed at you, giving you one-over one more time.

"I know," you gave him a small smile," I wanted to reach out to you since I'd moved here a few months ago, but I didn't want to intrude into your life."

"Intrude? You could never," Spencer immediately reassured you, and you didn't look too convinced," seriously, I mean it."

You just nodded, and Spencer asked you, "How have you been? Were-were you a part of some roberry?"

"Y-yeah, it...it wasn't very pretty, I-" you tried to find the right words, but you realised that there were multiple sets of eyes on you and Spencer. He realised it, too.

With his quick thinking, he said, "I'm sorry, my friends can be really nosy," he glared at somebody (Derek) as he said it," would you..- are you hungry?"

"There's a cafeteria a few floors down.....We could talk there? Catch up on everything?" Spencer proposed with a little hope.

"Yeah, I think, I'd like that," you told him, and you let him guide you towards the elevator with his hand on your lower back.

It definitely did not send butterflies down to your belly with every step you took. The old, forgotten feelings flickering inside you both.

-

That happened a few months ago now, and you couldn't help but to smile as you remembered the meeting while waiting in a small caffè for Spencer to come.

He is running late. You don't mind the wait because you know it's not his fault. His job isn't easy. So waiting the few minutes is worth it.

You and Spencer have been going on these coffee......runs since you've reunited the few months ago. But you keep hoping, wishing that they will turn into coffee dates rather just some friendly coffee runs.

It's save to say that seeing Spencer after so many years made some new feelings surface. Feelings that weren't there before, and you don't know what to do with them.

Well, you do, but you're terrified of the idea of Spencer's rejection. You don't think you'd be able to live in the same city as him if he indeed did reject you.

But you can't keep going out with him, and have him smiling at you like like you're the only person on this earth for him. You just can't keep up with it anymore.

You've decided that today is the day you tell him how you feel. No matter what. Even if it's most likely going to leave you heartbroken.

Spencer pulls you out of your thoughts when he rounds the table you sit at, and leans down to give you a quick hug and a kiss......a kiss on a cheek.

It leaves you breathless, and it's exactly why you need to tell him about your feelings because this is just cruel, sweet torture you can't endure any longer.

"Hi, I'm so sorry I'm late. Hotch had us hand in all of the reports, so I needed to finish a few things," he tells you as he settles in the seat opposite of you.

His coffee is already waiting on the table in front of him, and he gives you a thankful nod.

"It's okay, Spence. I don't mind," you give him a tight smile, the nerves rushing through your body.

Spencer, damn his profiling skills, immediately senses that something is off. "What's wrong?" He reaches across the table for your hand, but you pull it away quickly. You could swear that there was a hurt in his eyes just as you did.

"I-....I need to tell you something," you quickly blurt out.

"You can tell me anything, yeah?" He assures you. This time without trying to touch your hand. You don't look into his eyes while he tries to catch your gaze.

"I can't keep going for a coffee with you anymore."

Spencer now definitely looks hurt after your first sentence, and you cringe. You didn't mean to start like that.

"Shit," you curse quietly," what I mean to tell you is that.......is that-." You can't find the right words.

"I like you, Spencer," you blurt out," mo-more than just a friend." Spencer just looks at you. Completely baffled, and he doesn't utter a single word.

You think he's just a little shocked, but as the minutes go by, and he still doesn't say anything, you understand. He doesn't feel the same, and then there's horror in your eyes.

"Fuck, I'm sorry, Spencer," you scramble quickly to take all your stuff," I'm really sorry." And with that, you are out of there faster than a lightning.

You swiftly run out of the caffè as the tears threatened to spill from your eyes. You don't even know where you are going, but you don't care you just want to get as far away from Spencer as possible.

Of course, you don't even take 30 steps before a hand gently catches you by your elbow. You, even just by the touch of his hand, know that it's Spencer.

"Wait," he pleads," please, y/n." You stop, and slowly you turn around. Spencer scans your upset face, the tears on your cheeks, and his own heart breaks.

He didn't mean to stay quiet like that. It just...-It caught him off guard. He wasn't, even in his wildest dreams, thinking of you actually liking him back. Like there wasn't a single reality where he saw that happening. And yet.... And yet, you like him, and he can't believe it.

"It's okay, Spence," you start.

"But it's not, I'm sorry-"

You interrupt him, "I understand that you don't feel the same."

"No, no, sweetheart. I do. I feel exactly the same way you do," he confesses softly, hoping you believe his words after the initial mess up of his.

"Spencer, you don't have to lie....-"

Spencer almost looses it when you say that, because he could never be that cruel to you. Never. And he doesn't get why you don't believe him, so he does something that hopefully will finally let you see the truth.

Spencer kisses you.

Spencer kisses you?

What?

You don't really realise it, until he's pulling away, sorry eyed, his soft, warm lips immediately something you miss. You don't let him get far away from your lips as you crash them again against his. Your one hand goes into his hair, and his hair is just as soft to the touch as it looks like.

Spencer's kiss is intense and gentle at the same time, and it makes your knees buckle, maybe just from the sheer joy of your feelings being reciprocated. You tighten your grip on his shoulder.

Spencer notices it, smiling into the kiss, before he pulls away. There's a happy glint in his eyes, and you are sure yours look the same.

Spencer beams at you. "I'd never lie to you. Ever."

"I know."

You smile sheepishly at him, "I just got too into my head to listen to you. I'm sorry."

"I'm not," Spencer looks at you amused. Right. Of course, he's not sorry about the kiss. And neither are you, you could never be.

Spencer offers you his hand," how about I'll tell you all about how crazy I feel about you while we go for a walk?"

"I'd like that. I'd like that a lot, Spencer." The bright smile doesn't leave your or even Spencer's face as you begin to walk.

[jiminiecrickets]

jeon jungkook ♡ series masterlist

wc. 2.2k

tags. smut | dom top!m!reader, handjobs, praise, shower sex

"you agreed. you pinky-promised. was what you wrote really that bad?"

he shifts on the couch, tucking his feet up to his chin and hiding his face behind it. his face is a very, very dark shade of red. "it's awful. horrible. you'll break up with me if you read it."

"then why'd you write it down in the first place?"

"i don't know!" he whines. "i was feeling brave!"

you set down the controller. on the large flat-screen tv, your characters circle the mario kart track behind the scoreboard. waluigi, jungkook's character, throws a tantrum in his race-car. "give me the paper."

"you'll hate me."

fourth place. fourth place. he can't believe himself. your name is highlighted at the top, neatly settled in first place. he'd been so comfortable, in the lead for the entirety of the match, and his big ego decided that an 'all or nothing' pity round would come out in his favour.

as quick as lighting, you snatch the crumpled ball of paper and unfold it, slapping jungkook's panicked hands away. your brows furrow deeper the longer you look at it.

"you're right. you were feeling brave."

jungkook slumps against your shoulder, his face pinched in embarrassment. "please don't think badly of me because of it, hyung..."

lowering the torn corner of paper, you ask softly, "would you like to do this with me, kookie? i'm interested."

his head shoots up. "what? are you serious?"

"no, i'm batman." he rolls his eyes with a huff and you grin, eyes crinkling as you pull him into your side. "yes, i'm being serious. thank you for telling me – i would never have expected something like this out of my cute little boyfriend."

if possible, his pout intensifies. he crosses his arms over his knees, staring determinedly ahead at the game. "'m not little."

you hush him, tilting his face towards you and pressing a long kiss to those pretty pink lips. he hums breathily, leaning into you with a hand on your chest. he whines quietly when you finally pull away for air, his chest heaving as he blinks at you with wide, dark eyes.

"seven days," he whispers, leaning in and throwing his leg over your lap, caging your thighs with his own. he rocks his hips slowly, savouring your low groan of pleasure. "seven days to fuck me whenever and wherever you want. that's your prize, baby – don't waste it."

eyeing his body hungrily, you grin like a beast unchained. you cradle his tiny waist, and playfully, you lift your hand against it, comparing sizes. "oh, darling, i'm not letting a single inch of you go unloved."

he nibbles on his lower lip as you tug his shirt out of the waistband of his ripped jeans. he's due for his gym session tomorrow – goes every two or three days, whatever he can fit into his schedule – and he'd made lunch for the two of you just a few hours ago. his skin is warm, his tummy soft, and it tenses with a gasp under your palms as they glide across his skin.

"mh... sorry, baby," he whispers, lashes fluttering as he blushes a dusty pink. "i should've done this on gym day..."

"hm? why?" you rock his ass against your lap with a soft exhale. you arch a brow at him. "do you think you're only attractive to me when you're hungry and dehydrated? idiot."

"hey," he whines, a protesting pout adorning his lips. he touches your hand on his stomach, fingers wrapping around yours. "'m not an idiot! just... i dunno... i wanna be handsome for you, hyung, y'know?"

you give him a look. "did i ask you out, or your abs?"

"well, me..."

"i asked you out after we finished three large pizzas at two in the morning. i think we ate about a kilo of cheese each."

he snorts. "yeah, yeah... i guess."

"uh-huh." you squeeze his hips and bring him down to kiss him, lips moving gently together. you part and bury your nose in his neck, lazily moving your hips against one another. he moans softly as you roll your palm against his bulge. "baby, you're always beautiful to me. on gym day or not – i would worship you for hours if you'd let me."

he giggles softly. "that's why i don't. you gotta be more productive than being buried between my thighs from dawn to dusk." he slips your belt free and tosses it – you barely felt him doing it, too busy engraving the sight of his sweet eyes and smile into the backs of your eyelids. "but, you know, a whole week to do whatever you want to me..."

you groan lowly at the suggestion, hastily pulling him out of his pants. you don't do it with half the grace that he does, but he seems to appreciate your enthusiasm, his cock already hard and twitching with anticipation. "mm, that does sound amazing. okay, ground rules: no touching yourself at any point. only i can get you off."

"fuck, o-okay, hyung. agreed."

you pump his cock slowly, capturing his lips hungrily. he drawls out a moan, his fingers drifting up your wrist. his other hand cradles the back of your head and he presses your foreheads together, his breath warm and quick against your cheek.

you flick your wrist and he whimpers softly, grip tightening around the base of your hand. his cock leaks as he bucks into your hand. you hush him, grazing your lips along his jawline. your hand quickens. "how does that feel, baby? good?"

"mm – mmhm," he whimpers. "it does, it does! feels really good..."

you spoil him too much. ever since you got together, he hasn't needed to touch himself – you're always right there, offering to do it for him. he's glad that you do – you can reach places so deep in him that he never knew existed, and you're always so gentle with him, making sure his pleasure is a priority.

he's dated a lot of people, but you're the first one who makes him feel so loved and important. it's almost embarrassing how much he loves you, how much he adores the way you pamper him.

he sniffles softly, burying his face in your shoulder. he grinds into your fist, cock dripping precome down your knuckles.

you hum softly, wrapping an arm around his waist. "you okay, darling? this too much?"

he shakes his head. "n-no... keep going. please. i love you."

it's sudden, and you stop moving for a half-second in surprise. "i love you, too, jungkookie. is everything alright?"

he nods, grabbing your hand and moving it up and down his swollen cock. it's cute and flushed red, twitching in your palm excitedly. "mhm. i just really love you – want you to know that."

who knew that love confessions mid-handjob could be so adorable? you smile into his hot skin and cradle him close as he gasps and jerks into your hand, spilling onto your shirt with a soft whimper.

for a long while, he remains completely lax in your arms, panting softly against your neck as he comes down from his high. when he opens his eyes tiredly, you smile down at him and kiss his cheek, tucking him back into his pants.

he whines quietly, reaching for your belt. "you didn't finish, baby... i can feel how hard you are."

you hum softly, tugging his hand away. "you need a shower, anyway. can i join you?"

his lower lip slips teasingly between his teeth. his eyes sparkle. "mm, of course. you're not getting away so easily, hyung-ah – i'm gonna eat you alive."

you smirk, letting him drag you to your feet and towards the bathroom. his eyes glint with mischief and he pulls you down by your collar to meet your lips with his, one of his hands tucked into the back pocket of your jeans. his thumb is hooked through a belt loop.

you groan into his mouth as he strokes your clothed bulge with a cheeky grin. "baby, don't test me. i'm the one with the week-long free pass to your ass."

 he winks. "why d'you think i'm doing this? last one into the shower loses!"

he wins. with the steamy water hitting your back, you cage jungkook against the glass, your arms sturdy beside him. you keep him safe, protected, from the world. not once does he feel trapped – not once does he feel confined in your love. no matter how closely you press against him, no matter how deep you are inside of him – you are his, and he is yours.

there's a certain freedom in being engulfed by your arms. he never expected it. spreading his thighs, kissing his shoulder – you love him like no other has. you love him in all the ways that matter and all the ways that don't because you're overflowing with it, that love of yours. even when you're balls deep inside him – an exciting, dirty kind of love that he blushes about in the mornings – you're smiling into his neck, murmuring about how lovely he is and how he deserves you, deserves your cock, deserves your love and deserves all that is good and bright. it's your turn to lavish him with love confessions and he can barely keep track of them all, his coherent thoughts running down the drain with each solid thrust of your hips.

"hyung," he whimpers, gnawing on his lower lip. he squeezes his eyes shut, fingers scrabbling for purchase fruitlessly against the smooth glass. your cock glides against his prostate and he grabs your hip, pulling you into him with a warbled moan. "f-fuck..."

"what's that, baby?" you murmur against his skin, hot and slick. your thrusts make him unravel, strong and hard and consistent against that spot inside him that makes him see stars. it's mind-melting. "you wanna tell me something?"

he whimpers, eyes squeezing shut as your hips shift against his ass, angling differently. your cock just grazes his prostate and he clenches around you, a warbled cry of your name leaving his lips. he feels so tiny – his feet between yours, your cock buried so deep in him he can practically taste it. he arches his back, tight ass pressing back against your pelvis, and savours your growl and the way your hand grips the opposite side of his waist, gripping the slim shelf of his hip.

"gotta use your words, pretty thing," you husk. with every thrust, it takes longer to bottom out, and eventually your hips still entirely. he whines, high-pitched and wanton, and grinds against you – you keep him at bay with one hand pressed firm to the small of his back. "easy, pretty. can you do that f'me? can you talk to me, tell me what you want from me?"

you step forward, forcing jungkook to stand straighter, pressed closer to the glass. trapped in your arms, he has no room to move, no room to argue. he shivers, chest grazing glass, and can't help the unsteady shuffle of his feet. the hot, steamy water hits your back and glides down your neck, your chest, dripping onto his shoulders.

lifting a hand, you tuck it against his upper ribs, fingers pressed into the lean muscle of his chest. the flesh – pull and push, stroking and caressing. he lets out a whisper of a moan as your warm fingers flick over his nipple, hard and pebbled.

"want you," he whines quietly, voice cracking in the middle when your hand travels down his hot, slick stomach and glides over his throbbing cock. he grabs your hip, fingers digging into you until his knuckles turn white. "w-want you – want you close to me, closer, please, want you closer—"

he breaks off with a babble as you take his hands and pin them flat to the glass. the motion draws you ever nearer – closer, as he'd say, the sweet thing – and your cock reaches so deep inside him, pressing against his stomach. he's dizzy with it, veins buzzing and head detached from his shoulders.

eventually, he hears your chuckle, like a radio knob turned slowly louder. his heart rabbits in his chest as he cracks open his eyes, temple pressed against the cold clear glass. his breath fogs it, and water trails down his cheeks from his damp hair, stuck to his skin the way it always does when you tear him apart and put him back together. his cock is wet and sticky, the heat tingling in his lower spine with a pulsing desperation.

it's all over his tummy, he thinks distantly with a soft whimper. he'd be embarrassed if he could remember the word.

when you finally finish, jungkook's legs feel like jelly. he curls his fingers around yours, lacing them together as he pants against the foggy glass, his hair damp and the air thick with the smell of sex. you kiss him over his shoulder and he moans against your lips, soft and tired. he smiles and closes his eyes as you reach for the shampoo – he leans back against your chest as you smooth your hand down his stomach, gentle and warm. he can feel your pulse through your palms and your heart through his ribs.

"i love you," he whispers against your throat. he means it in every iteration it has ever been.

[shysuccubusstuff]

Bodyguard! Mr. Scarlatella:

Content: Yandere! Mr. Scarlatella but he is actually human + assassin + farmer! scarlatella; non proof-reading; female anatomy + dubcon/noncon + kidnapping + usage of substances (once for the kidnapping) + mindbreak + lovesick! Mr. Scarlatella; cunnilingus + breeding kink + baby trapping + possessive! dom + overstimulation + orgasm denial + creampie + impregnation + trophy wife! reader (kind of?)

Summary: You never imagined that the guy that was about to end your father's and your life would end up falling head over feels for you, but hey, at least you're alive, right?...

Word count: 4240 words.

Note: I just hate how my brain decides to get dry af as soon as I end with my exams/essays... btw, Merry Christmas to everyone who reads this!! I'm thinking about making a kind of pt. 2 but with Mr. Crawling, let me know if you would want to read it!! It's weird to go back to the more dark stuff when I had started to write less heavy stuff... I feel I may have gotten a bit too creative for his personality, so let me know!!

Note 2: Let me know if any content tag is missing-- I wrote this over a whole week so I may have forgotten some...

You were the daughter of one of the wealthiest so it was only natural for you to live under the feeling of being targeted by someone, even since you were a child. So when your father presented a new bodyguard for you, it was nothing out of the ordinary, just some new guy who would probably quit by the month (at most). So he arrived, long black hair falling in a cascade and deep purplish pupils that pierced you through his polarised glasses.

"Dear, this is the new bodyguard, I hope you know how to behave yourself, I don't want to keep on complaining to that damn company, they keep saying it's your fault, but it's impossible for it to be solely your fault, I mean, it's been over 10 bodyguards in less than two months... Anyways, I have to leave, Daddy has some work to do." With that, your father left, his expensive cologne lingering in the air as he slammed the door, the new bodyguard still on the entrance of your room, a slightly unsettling smile creeping on his lips as he stood there.

"So you won't even introduce yourself? Seriously, the quality of that damn company is so freaking low... Can't believe they didn't even teach you how to introduce yourself." The man bowed a bit, taking a small notebook and giving it to you. "What the...? So you're saying that you're still learning the language and don't want to mess up? Ugh, ok, whatever. What's your name?" The man with crimson hair refused to speak, stating that he had not received a proper code name yet. "Seriously? Can't even call your name cause they didn't gave it to you, well that's just perfect. Don't bother me, just stand outside or whatever, as if I care." With those last words, the man left, finally leaving you alone in your room. "What the heck is wrong with that dude? I'm gonna complain to that fucking company of security, how am I supposed to trust him when I don't even know his name..."

As time went on, you were slowly able to get to know him, getting to know that he was actually coming from Japan because of some "old acquaintance" he knew since many years ago, that he loved magic tricks and that he was actually quite... cute. It hurt to even think it, but it was true, he was a cute man, always behind you when you allowed him, always running around you with your delicious drink ready and your purse hanging off his shoulder. God, he even learnt how to do your nails, makeup and hair in case you wanted to get it done on the days you were just too lazy to get out of the house... He was even there that night.

You had waken up by around three in the morning, making your way to your door so you could get something to eat in the kitchen, soon noticing that Scarlatella (as you liked to call him in a kind of playful way because of his hair colour) was nowhere to be seen, but hey, he was human as well, maybe he just went to the bathroom or something like that. As you were about to arrive to the kitchen, you noticed that the mansion was a bit too quiet, one would even say that it would have been possible to listen to a pin dropping to the marble ground. Unsettled, you quickly made your way to your father's bedroom, but you soon found out that the bed was completely cold. Now alarmed, you run to his studio, the sound of your feet resonating all over the empty corridor as you forced the door open, soon finding a terrible scene.

It was your father, well, what used to be your father, as his body was already turning cold, his skin turning slightly blue with clear signs of choking. Just as you were about to scream, your vocal cords were unable to produce a sound, your lungs being completely filled with a strange air that made you gasp for hair before you started to feel lightheaded. As you felt your conscience drift, you silently cursed that stupid company and that useless yet slightly charming man.

By the time you woke up, you soon noticed that your whole body was intact, expect for slight marks of rope on your wrists. As soon as you recovered a bit, you took a deep breath, deciding to try and scream to the top of your lungs in case someone could hear you.

"Hey! Someone there? Some crazy jackass has kidnapped me and---!" Suddenly, the heave iron door was opened, a familiar face entering the room.

"Good morning, dearest. I'm so glad you were finally able to open your eyes, you see, it was a bit difficult to get the amount of dose correctly, as I have never tried to keep someone as tiny and beautiful as yourself." Your old bodyguard entered, the heavy door closing behind him as he brought a tray on one of his hands. "Here, I brought you a few things I know you like." You looked at the delicious-looking food, your mouth watering as you saw all your favourite desserts, together with a bunch of your most beloved fruits. Despite the confusion, you tried to keep it together, looking to the other side and refusing to do what he asked. "Dearest, you've been asleep for over t--" Before he could end his sentence, you had already hit the tray with one of your legs, sending the appetizing food.

"Why the fuck are you here? You failed protecting me-- Fuck, you left my father to die, you're lucky I'm tied here cause I would crush your fucking skull with my---" The crimson-haired man got closer, dangerously close, in fact, his warm breath hitting against your face.

"Oh dear, I always knew you had quite the filthy mouth, but you must have been quite shocked to see that pig like that... I understand, I would never stop loving you for something trivial like that... Nor for anything, to be fair." His cold hands touched your face, the callouses in his hands making you frown even more than before.

"Listen fucker---." The man covered your mouth with his much larger hand, the shivers resulted from the cold shifting into goosebumps from the fear.

"Shh, dear. I understand, no need to explain it to me. I will make sure to re-educate you so you can go back to your natural self, that pig tricked your poor mind, but I will be able to fix it for you, see? I’m being such a good man for you, after all, I was supposed to kill you, but I even decided to turn my back to my client and let you live, I even avoided someone to think that you were alive. It was a bit of a hassle, but hey, I would do everything for you, dear.” The man finally got away from your face, taking the tray that had fallen to the ground because of you, together with the food that had been smashed to the ground. “It’s ok, dear. I understand this will take some time, luckily, I have all the time in the world, you just need some… hard love. I’m sure you will start to appreciate my company and care soon enough.” With that, the man smiled one last time to you, leaving the room with the sound of the heavy iron door closing, leaving you in the middle of the dark.

Since that moment, your slow torture started. The man left you in the dark for who knows how long, covering your eyes with a soft cloth, only taking out when he was around so he could start to… kind of associate him with the light, you supposed. He kept bringing you scrumptious plates, from your favourite foods to exotic ones. Of course, that was until the… maybe over tenth time you had throw his tray to the ground. That time, he simply took the tray, taking once again all the food on the floor and leaving in complete silence. The next time you was him was after… maybe one whole day? Your stomach kept rumbling, and what began as anger quickly became desperation, then crying and finally crying while screaming.

By around two months, your mind and body had become completely accustomed to his timetable and behaviour, letting him pet you as you ate what he brought, letting his hands clean your whole body and hair, not even complaining when you felt his hands drift towards your more private parts. Scarlatella looked extremely content with his work, rewarding you with constant praises and even a “pretty” collar for you. Despite it was a clear symbol of your turn into a kind of pet, the collar was beautiful, the gold glistening under the cold light as the beautiful charm with the form of a heart made a small noise of a bell each time you moved.

“Do you like it? I wanted something to congratulate you, after all, you have finally graduated. You are now back to your natural self.” You nodded, letting your head fall on his lap as he kept petting you. “I was thinking about giving you whatever you want, you can just ask.” He waited patiently until you were able to think about something other than the warmth that was coming from his body.

“…Freedom. I want to leave this room, please.” His eyes widened a bit, perhaps surprised that you were still able to think about your freedom.

“Dear, I know this can get suffocating, but you must stay here, it’s for your sa—”

“Please! I can feel my mind… slipping. This is getting worse each day, I… I don’t want do it, but the constant darkness is making me… think about… Just give me a bigger place, I don’t need something as fancy as my house, just something bigger than this room.” Scarlatella looked at you with a puzzled expression, his hand still massaging your scalp as he thought. Finally, he answered, not before letting a deep sigh.

“I suppose that’s fine. I can think of a story to explain your sudden appearance. Give me a few days so I can get everything ready, yeah? Promise I will do it.” As soon as he said that, he got up from the sofa that was in the room, quickly leaving the place before you were able to beg him to keep his promise.

Contrary to what you believed, Scarlatella kept his promise, coming back with a small suitcase and some clothes for you to change yourself, taking your hand as he made you walk with your eyes covered by that well-known cloth. When you were finally told to take it off, you were in the middle of a beautiful flower field. All the flowers were spider lilies, making it seem as if it was some kind of blood-filled battlefield.

“Do you like it, dear? I had to pay some money so they could build this house, together with planting these flowers.” He kept his grip around your wrist tight, not hurting you, but not letting go either. As he opened the door, you finally saw the house. It was a beautiful villa, completely decorated with cottage-like furniture.

“Yes, I like it.” Scarlatella smiled, a strange sheen in his gaze.

Soon, you realised why was he looking at you like that. You had fallen completely into his plan for turning you into his wife. He had created some complex story about you being his wife for over eight years, having to separate because you had been taking care of your sick father while he worked to the bone to get you as much as he could for the moment you came back to him. Everyone in the small hometown believed him, after all, he had been working there as farmer for quite some time, using it as a mere disguise so he could plan every little detail, creating a perfect façade so everyone would simply nod and smile to whatever he said. After that, your role became the one of a housewife, making you bake, cook, and clean, keeping the house warm and tidy by the time he arrived back home.

Soon, the days started to melt together, and your deep engraved hatred for him turned into a less bitter resentment. After all, he was the one that was providing for you, keeping you all warm and cozy while buying every single thing you asked him for, never doing anything that could hurt you. Slowly but surely, your mind started to reshape once again, now seeing him as a still intimidating, yet protecting figure. With that, it was finally the perfect ground for Scarlatella to create his perfect little wife.

Since that moment, Scarlatella started to become more physical with you, helping you around with all the cooking, “accidentally” rubbing his groin against your ass while he pretended to search for something on the top shelf. Not only that, but he made sure you could see him as a capable man, carrying the animals over his shoulder with ease, other times he was simply fixing stuff around the place. But the last moment he needed for your brain to start to see him as a possible partner was when you found him around town playing with the small children from the orphanage. He was surrounded by all of them, lifting them around and making them fly across the hair, his relaxed smile plastered on his face as he tried to make them control themselves as they waited their turn. Your eyes widened a bit, surprised to see him in such a… casual scene. So when he got back home, his working shirt slightly drenched because of the sudden rain that had started quite recently. The shirt was getting clung on his body, making his lean and muscular body stand out even further.

“Hey dear, how was your day? I hope it went great. Sorry I’m late, can’t believe I got caught in the middle of the rain while I was finishing some errands…” As he said that, he made his way around the kitchen, taking off his shirt and leaving it hanging on one of the chairs, surrounding your smaller frame with his arms. “I missed you so much, dear.” You tried your hardest to pretend not to notice, but of course you did, fuck, his groin was rubbing against your ass, and even then, it was clear that he was quite… gifted, down there. Still, you simply tightened the grip on the knife, biting your lips as you kept trying to focus on the food you were cooking.

Ever since that moment, you were no longer able to control yourself, always orbiting around him with your hand tightly wrapped around his arm every single time any other persons started to look way too affectionately at him. Scarlatella quickly noticed this, looking completely pleased with how he had been able to fix your precious little brain into a loving wife. In fact, he even started to pamper you even further, kissing your forehead every morning, asking you to let him shower together… Of course, you said yes.

So then, the two of you entered the bathroom, slowly undressing each other as the water started to warm up. “Love, you look so nice like this… All naked for me… I could just eat you up.” His hand drifted around your body, making your body shiver under his hands, and even if you were about to kiss him, he got away, extending his hand so he could help you get inside the bathtub. “Let me help you, dear.”

As the two of you finally entered the bathtub, he calmly traced your body with the sponge, making sure to scrub your skin without causing any type of harm. Then, he moved to your hair, taking the bottle of shampoo and scrubbing it while he hummed a little tune. Then, he focused on himself, redoing everything he had done to you. As he did that, your naked bodies kept pressing against each other, making you squirm at the slightest touch and forcing you to let small whimpers out every time you felt his lower half rub against your back. Finally, Scarlatella lost his composure as you kept pressing against him on purpose. “Dear… I have a feeling that you’ve been quite, eager to make our relationship more physical, am I right?” His eyes were now fixated on your face, making you feel even more flustered as you avoided his gaze. “Oh sweetheart, if you wanted that, I could have given it to you any time, after all, I do believe it is time we get to expand our little family.” And despite you would have normally shivered in disgust, this idea now started to charm you. So you nodded, accepting whatever he wanted you to do at that point. “Then we should get to business, let me get you ready love.” With that said, Scarlatella finally kissing your lips, his tongue entering your oral cavity as if he had been starving for a long time. “You taste so good… I could stay like this forever.” Scarlatella kept kissing you, his hands starting to glide towards your chest, starting to play with your nipples as his tongue kept exploring your mouth. “Dear… I think we should move to our bedroom; I don’t want your first time to hurt.”

“Oh, that’s fine, not like it’s my first time, you know, I did it a few times before you became my-.” Before you were able to finish your sentence, Scarlatella was already getting the two of you out of the bath, lifting you up and carrying you over to the bedroom he had been preparing for quite some time. Despite his gaze looked a bit crazed out, he let you down softly on the bed.

“It seems I was a bit too gentle with you, that was my fault. I suppose you must prefer someone meaner, treat you as if you were a little fuck toy, I suppose your brain is still not that adapted to having a husband, that’s ok, I will fix it.” With nothing left to say to you, he got on top of you, towering over your smaller body as he started to kiss your neck. “I just wish I could have arrived earlier… Get to be your first, let you make me yours…It’s a shame we had to meet under those circumstances.”  And even regardless his almost apologising words, his actions were crude, clearly showing his uncontrollable desire to make you completely his. “… I should definitely get you pregnant, make sure everyone knows who your husband is, let’s see if any other fucker tries to get with my sweet wife.” As he kept mumbling to himself, his lips started to make a trail towards your chest, moving even further down as your moans got louder. Suddenly, he got away from you for a second, taking something from the small nightstand. Still quiet, he opened the small bottle, letting the sticky liquid help him prepare your pussy for him. “Not like you will need it, apparently you were more prepared than me.”

“Come on, it’s not like we are… fuck, I don’t know, it’s just, it’s not like you are a virgin, right? There’s no need for---”

“I am.” His hands stopped for a second, his fingers a few inches away from entering you. “I’ve been investigating so I could make it as comfortable for you as possible, but that’s ok, I will make sure our next time is perfect… Let’s just use this time for letting you know how this works.” Without further due, Scarlatella started to tease your entrance, rubbing his fingertips against your entrance, while his other hand started to move towards your weak spot, starting to tease your clit as he kept kissing your neck. As the minutes went on, you started to notice a weird warmth inside your cunt, making your tears swell up in your eyes as Scarlatella kept teasing you.

“Stop— Can’t—It feels weird, like really weird, it’s not normal!” Scarlatella smiled wickedly, his eyes darkening as he saw how your pussy kept releasing your sticky fluids, with no shame, he got his face closer, starting to leave kitty licks over your clit before he began to fuck your entrance with his tongue, making you cry due to the overstimulation as he kept stopping just before you could release. This torture kept going for a couple minutes, making you clench the sheets, biting your lips as you kept mumbling barely understandable words: “Please, please… Just—Please! Fuck, please, let me cum, please, please…” Your words kept slurring, making him smile at the beautiful portrait he had been able to turn your gorgeous face into, he caressed your face with one of his hands, his lips still curved into an amused look as your face had become a mixture of snot, tears, and saliva. Suddenly, you felt Scarlatella’s arms wrap around you, lifting you from the bed and letting you lay on his lap, his unclothed erection rubbing against your clit, rocking your body back and forth as he kept taunting you.

“I just can’t believe you preferred some random person over me, love. I’ve waiting for you my whole life, I even learnt all this… tricks to get you to feel as good as possible.” All of sudden, his tip went in, barely letting you get ready as he kept pushing it inside and out, making your eyes water as he kept tormenting you for a few minutes more, his gaze becoming more and more obscure as his erection just kept growing. “Fuck, whatever… I’ll just have to prove you that nobody will ever fuck you like I can, get you pregnant so you can only see me… love me…” His eyes lightened for a second just from the thought, and before you even noticed, your back was once again pressed against the mattress, with Scarlatella towering over you as he was finally able to gradually introduce his whole length, the stretch making you whine and cling to his back. “You feel so good around me, love… Just wait, I’ll fill you up, fill your pretty pussy with my cum so nobody ever tries to get too close to you—You’ll look so pretty with your tummy all round—” As Scarlatella’s hips started to punish your sore cunt, you were finally able to cum, eyes rolling to the back of your head as your legs locked around him, as a poor attempt on getting him to stop for a second.

“Wait—Too soon, I can’t get pregnant yet!” You pushed a bit against his lower abdomen, your hands barely stopping him as they kept shaking because of the constant orgasms that just kept pilling up, forcing your brain to become more and more fuzzy each time. It was then that Scarlatella wrapped his own hands around your waists, using them as mere handles for him to push the tip of his cock just a bit further, just enough for you to cum once more with a pathetic whine. Despite you had already cum all over him, Scarlatella’s thrusts didn’t slow down, if not growing stronger as his mind was already too far gone.

“Gotta get you pregnant—That’s all I need—Fill your pretty pussy with my cock and get you to- Fuck- cream all over my cock, that’s it baby… Cum all over your husband, make a mess on my cock, you’re doing so good love…” His words kept resonating in your mind, almost as if it was some kind of chant, and despite you tried your best to endure it, your brain gave up, after all, Scarlatella had been taking care of you so nicely… It wouldn’t hurt to let him keep doing it for the rest of his life… right? As Scarlatella kept muttering to himself, his cock was already twitching, signifying just how close he was to releasing his essence inside of you. With your mind now completely broken, you smiled, your arms and legs tightening around his waist as his cock kept hammering against your cervix, one of his hands carefully pressing against the lower half of your abdomen, causing the pleasure to just build up even further as he finally released his load inside of you, his constant groans now turning into soft praises and kisses. “You did so good, love… Let me take care of everything from now on, I will make you the happiest wife ever, no need to think about anything, just promise to tell me everything you need or want, yeah? I’ll be the best husband int the world.” His hands kept petting your hair as his cock started to deflate inside you, still remaining inside as he refused to pull out in case some of his essence spilled out. “Let’s wait a bit, love. I will prepare the bath in few minutes; I just want to make sure everything goes correctly.” He peppered a few kisses all over your face, his hand rubbing your tummy as he kept imagining that near future he had been longing for.

[strangerstilinski]

𝙩𝙖𝙠𝙚 𝙘𝙖𝙧𝙚

𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐭𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

summary; steve takes care of his sick gf

warnings; no use of y/n, (steve refers to reader as ‘girl’ but no mentions of specific anatomy i don't think), multiple descriptions of vomiting, steve being stupidly sweet, casual/non-sexual nudity, sickfic, fluff

word count; ~4k

a/n; i wrote 99% of this while i was sick and exhausted myself, so i'm not insanely happy with it??? but, uh.. fuck it? right? also this is my first time posting something on here that isn't DOB so pls, pls be nice — i beg you.

You had thought it would get better.

You'd thought that sleep would be enough to get rid of the overpowering warmth that had begun to prickle uncomfortably under your skin, the congestion that left your head feeling like it was just a little bit too big, too heavy, for your body. The better part of the last twelve hours have been spent curled up in bed, hoping to sleep it off.

You're not entirely sure what illness is to blame for your current state, but you're cursing each and every possible one as you stumble into the bathroom and fall to your knees in front of the toilet. An immediate ache from the collision against the floor goes ignored, as does the cold that bites at your shins through the glossy tiles.

Now, as your body rolls and tenses with heaves and coughs that have you spilling the remains of your dinner from the night before into clean porcelain, you can't quite believe that you'd dared to be so naively optimistic.

Time passes in that horrible way it always does when you feel poorly, too slow at times and a total blur at others. Your head has been pillowed on your arm at the edge of the toilet for one of those blurred stretches, time fuzzy while you catch your breath. You hear the loud trill of the phone ringing out from down the hallway and your head shoots up at the sudden noise. You intend on hobbling out of the bathroom to answer it, but the too-quick motion of your head snapping to attention has your stomach turning all over again.

The ringing continues as you upend the final contents of your stomach, and the grating noise of the telephone finally dies off only to pick back up again just as your puking turns into nothing more than dry-heaves, body still protesting despite there being nothing left inside of you to give.

When the roiling of your stomach settles slightly, it takes all of your strength to pull yourself to your feet, flushing the toilet and grabbing the bottle of perfumed bathroom spray to mask the lingering smell that's doing absolutely nothing to ease your nausea.

You fumble for a moment as you locate your thermometer, placing the end of the small glass tube under your tongue as you lean onto your elbows over the sink, head dropping weakly as you wait. When you pull the device from your lips a few minutes later, the little red line reads somewhere around a hundred, and you drop it to the back of the counter with a huff.

Your weight continues rest heavily on the edges of the sink as you flick on the tap and proceed to take a few long sips straight from the stream of cold water, rushing to take in grateful gulps. It clears some of the bitterness from your tongue, washing away the rancid taste of bile and stomach acid while settling cooly in your feverish body.

You push back up, weight resting on your palms until you can regard your unusually pallor complexion in the mirror. Your eyes are bleary, a little wet still with tears from your battle with your own body a few minutes before. The sight of just how truly unwell you look has your stomach turning all over again, the cold water in your stomach suddenly feeling as if it's moving in heavy, churning waves inside of you, as if it's fighting to break free.

You barely make it back to the toilet before you're retching and dumping back out all of the water that you'd forced into your body perhaps a bit too quickly.

You're so exhausted by the time your stomach settles once more, you don't manage more than flushing the toilet and misting the air with another quick spritz of freshener before you've slumped against the wall and begun to doze.

When your boyfriend eventually comes knocking at your front door, the sound isn't enough to rouse you, not even when the noise grows a little more frantic from anxiety, palms slamming against the surface paired with muffled shouts of concern through the thick wood.

You remain entirely unaware as an increasingly worried Steve Harrington begins searching for your spare key with muffled curses. He nearly upends the potted plant you have outside your door, kicking your doormat across the hallway in his haste to unlock your door and shove his way into your apartment. Steve stumbles through several rooms before he finds you in the bathroom and his steps falter at the sight that awaits him.

You look so pathetic it's startling; curled in on yourself in a way that makes you appear smaller, weak and innocent, younger even. Your head is tipped against the wall, lolled to the side until your nose and chin are nearly touching your shoulder. He knows it has to be wreaking havoc on the muscles in your neck, and he nearly winces at the thought, pushing further into the room and squatting down in front of you. Steve's hand finds your cheek, supporting some of the weight of your head to straighten your spine just a touch as he assesses the sickly pallor your skin has taken.

“Oh, honey.” Steve says softly, thumb stroking from your jaw to the apple of your cheek and back down again.

The soft touch is enough to finally wake you and he watches your eyes blink heavily, feverish confusion pulling your brows together as you struggle to focus on the face in front of you. You pout at him and the sight of your lip jutting out is so cute that Steve fails to notice your arm rising weakly from where it was blocked by the toilet. Not until it's too late.

A honeysuckle scented mist sprays in his direction, forcing him to flinch back in surprise as the perfume invades his nostrils.

“Jesus!” Steve exclaims in surprise, hacking slightly at the taste of it on his tongue, “Baby, what the hell?”

Your nose scrunches up as both your arm and the spray bottle fall heavily into your lap. You blink at him slow, “Smells like vom in here.” You explain meekly.

“It smells fine.” He tries to reassure you, pulling the de-odorizer from your weak grip and setting it on the countertop behind himself and effectively out of your reach.

“Wha're you doing 'ere?” You question in a rasp, shaky hand grabbing ahold of his wrist as if trying to prove to yourself that he's real and not some fever-induced hallucination.

“You weren't pickin' up my calls,” He tells you softly, thumb beginning to move across the heated skin of your cheek again, “I knew you were plannin' on staying in to get some cleaning done. When you didn't answer my mind kinda ran wild. Thought you might've slipped and fallen and cracked your head off the kitchen counter or somethin'. I dunno, I just.. I got worried, sweetheart. Came to check in for my own peace of mind,” His gaze trails the length of your body, taking in your wrinkled tshirt, your bare feet, your clammy skin, the puffiness around your eyes, “I'm glad I did.”

“‘'m sorry I didn't pick up the phone,” You apologize quietly, your gaze drifting to the toilet for a moment before slowly meeting his again, “Was busy puking my guts out.”

The way your lip pulls up at the corner from your own dry humor has Steve cracking a smile, his voice fond when it sounds again.

“I see that,” He says with a sigh, “How long you been sick?”

You try to shrug but your shoulders barely move, your body too weak to manage more than a small twitch of your muscles, “Started feeling shitty last night before bed. Slept a lot. Got sick when I woke up this afternoon.” As if suddenly realizing the lack of brightness coming in through the bathroom window, your raspy voice comes again, “Time s'it?”

“Five-ish,” Steve tells you with a frown, pretty brown eyes flicking over your face, “You haven't eaten anything?”

You give him a small shake of your head, his large hand supporting most of the weight of your skull as you do so, “M'sick.”

He sighs, “You still gotta eat, honey. Have to get something in your stomach if you're gonna get your strength back.”

You shake your head again, sad eyes meeting his, “I'll just throw it up. Don't want to get sick again.”

Steve smiles at you pityingly, a sad thing, “We'll try something real small to start, how's that?”

“How small?” You ask nervously.

“Some soup?”

You shake your head.

“Just broth and some crackers?” He bargains.

Your stomach rolls at the mere thought and it must show on your face because he sighs heavily.

“Dry toast?” He tries.

Your eyebrows pull together, but the thought doesn't immediately make you queasy, so you give him an indecisive shrug.

“Let’s try some toast, yeah, honey?” Steve says softly.

His fingers gently brush your hair back from your face and your mind whirls in realization.

“Oh god,” You bemoan weakly, “'s there puke in my hair?”

“No,” He says a little to quickly, “No, baby, there's nothing in your hair.”

You give him a look to say that you don't believe him for a single second, but he's looking at you so fondly that your expression melts away into something soft almost immediately.

“You want me to tie your hair back?” Steve asks, already turning around to peek at the bathroom countertop where there's a mess of hair ties and clips littering the surface.

“The big one.” You tell him, nodding vaguely in the direction of your favorite scrunchie.

He turns back around with the puffy material pinched between his fingers, already combing your hair back and collecting it in a bundle with gentle hands. The sensation of air meeting the clammy nape of your neck feels so good that you let out a small noise of relief, leaning forward to give him more room while he tries to smooth out the lumps in your hair with his fingers.

Once he's managed a messy ponytail, his wide palms rest on the sides of your neck, thumbs ghosting along your jawline as he frowns at the feverish sweat on your brow.

“You taken your temperature at all?” He questions in concern, his fingers meeting your forehead and somehow managing to feel blessedly cool against your overheated skin, “You feel like you're burnin' up, sweetheart.”

“Hundred or so.” You tell him, eyes falling shut as you lean into the feeling of his hand against your sweaty skin.

Steve hums, an unhappy sound, “That's not too bad. Not good by any means, but it's nothin' to be too worried about, huh?” He sounds like he's trying to reassure himself more than you, so you merely nod against his hand. He sighs after a moment, “Right. C'mon. Up we go.” He urges softly, arm curling around your back with one hand gripping at your hip as he pulls you to your feet.

You're not sure how he manages it so effortlessly, the only hint of his strain is the soft grunt he lets out when you collapse against his chest and knock a little bit of the wind from him. You bury your nose into the dip of his clavicle, the strip of skin and scarce chest hair poking out from beneath the collar of his stretched shirt is soft to the touch and masculine smelling and overall a little dizzying — although, the way you sway against him has you wondering if maybe that's just the fever.

“Toast.” Steve reminds you softly, hand slipping beneath your baggy sleep shirt — one that had been his shirt, once upon a time — to run his thumb over the soft, overheated skin at your hip.

You grumble something that's not quite disapproval or approval, a weak sounding thing to protest the thought of moving from your current position, but with an endeared sigh and a soft press of his lips to your sweaty temple, Steve's manhandling you into a better position. Your feet end up over the tops of his, your arms curled up underneath his own to grip weakly onto the backs of his shoulders. He holds you steady with one hand at the center of your spine and the other spread over your backside in likely the least sexual touch he's ever graced to that area of your body.

You manage a weak murmur about him copping a feel and he laughs. It falls over your ear in a breathy little chuckle as Steve carefully waddles the two of you down the hall. His arms continue to hold you tight to his chest while walks you back around the corner leading into your small kitchen, flicking the overhead light on as he goes.

“Hows'it you're mouthy even when you're on your deathbed?” He asks, a small grin on his face as he gently gets you settled up onto one of the kitchen stools where you can rest while he makes you food.

You collapse onto your elbows against the countertop as soon as he releases you, cheek resting heavy in your palm as you peer up at him.

“Dunno..” You tell him quietly, eyes flicking over Steve's face slow in a way that you didn't quite manage in the dim light of the bathroom.

His hair looks a little fluffier than normal, soft and messy in a way that makes you want to run your hands through it, tug soft on the strand that dips down over his forehead and curls toward his eye in that effortlessly beautiful kind of way. Caramel swirls prettily with the darker shades of brown and gold in his eyes, pink lips pulled into a barely-there grin when he turns back toward you after grabbing a half eaten loaf of bread from the cupboard.

You're watching him with a dazed sort of admiration, “How s'it you look so pretty even when I'm on my deathbed?” You counter dreamily, arms crossing against the cool countertop so that you can rest your temple over the tops of them when your head suddenly starts to feel a little too heavy, vision swaying.

Steve laughs softly as he gets two slices of bread into the toaster, “I'm not sure there's a correlation between my good-looks and your health,” The sound of his amusement fades out when he looks back at you and finds your new position, “Oh, Honey..” He says simply, the words pitying.

“'m dizzy.” You tell him with closed eyes. The darkness behind your eyelids doing nothing to slow the spinning in your brain.

“Well I'm sure that not eating all day is at least partially to blame for that,” Steve says softly, “Your body can't fight the virus if you don't give it any fuel.”

You pout petulantly, knowing he's probably right, “You're annoying when you're smart.”

The swirling blackness behind your closed eyes slows, your breathing following suit as you relax against the counter.

“C'mon, sit up, sweetheart.”

The sound of his voice startles you and the quiet clink of a ceramic plate being set down on the counter beside your head has you deducing that you might have fallen asleep for a few moments. You make a small noise of surprise as your gaze moves to the food on the plate, plain dry toast. Steve has sliced it into cute, neat little triangles for you and your heart melts a little at the gesture.

Hands on your arms guide you gently into an upright position as Steve crowds up against your side, letting you rest your weight into the wall of his chest when your head swims a little from the movement. You grab a slice of lightly toasted bread from the plate in front of you and bring it to your lips, nibbling slow at the corner with your eyes closed, trying to focus on the way you rise and fall with Steve's breaths where you're resting against him — the expansion of his lungs beneath his ribs rocking you in a slow, steady movement while you attempt to force down comically tiny bites.

Steve drags his palm along the length of your spine, drawing a smooth path up and down as you eat.

“Doin' good, babe,” He praises softly, his free hand falling to rest lightly on your stomach where he begins to trace tiny circles over your shirt, “You don't have to eat it all. Just need to get a little something in your stomach.”

You hum around your sliver of toast, crumbs raining down on both of your chests and clinging to the fabric of your shirts as you chew. It takes a stupidly long time, but you manage to finish a single triangle of bread, and Steve continues with his soothing touches all the while.

He feels you grip the hem of his shirt in your fist, your sweaty face turning into his chest with an unintelligible murmur, and he brings his hand on your back up to rest between your shoulder blades.

“You done for now?” Steve asks gently, fingers rubbing softly into the tense muscles beneath your neck as you nod, “Probably haven't had anything to drink either, huh?”

You shake your head and a frown pulls at your lips when he takes a small step away from you, “Wha'-?”

“Gonna grab you a glass of water, alright? Then we can take a bath. Get you all clean and relaxed.”

He's already stepping away before you can protest, though the phantom sensation of the water that had re-emerged from your mouth an hour or so earlier has you frowning anxiously.

Unaware of your silent distress, Steve grabs a glass and turns on the tap, the loud rush of the water hitting the sink basin filling the room while he sticks his hand under the flow. He stands like that for a few moments, fiddling with the temperature a couple of times before he fills the cup. He returns to you only moments later, settling the glass into your palms with more gentleness than you think you've ever experienced.

As both of your trembling hands lift the water to your lips, you take a small sip, frowning and lowering the glass only a moment later.

“It's warm.” You complain weakly, face scrunching up in disgust as you meet his eyes.

Steve nods and his hand urges your own to bring the glass back to your lips, “Cold water will shock your stomach,” He tells you softly, “Gotta be warm if you don't wanna get sick. My strong girl just ate half a piece of toast, you don't want to immediately throw it back up, do ya?”

“No.” You murmur around the lip of the glass, taking another careful sip.

“No,” Steve agrees, wide palm coming up to brush a few loose wisps of hair back from your forehead, “Doing good, honey, real good. Just a few more sips and we'll get you in the bath.”

You frown at the reminder, clutching your cup to your chest with both hands, “Oh god,” You whisper in horror, “I smell.. I smell really bad, don't I?”

“You don't smell,” Steve promises with a soft smile, though it's not entirely convincing, “A bath'll help your head, though. You said you were dizzy, yeah?”

“Yeah,” You agree quietly, “Feels, like, swollen. Like my head's gonna explode.. But also 's spinny.”

“The steam will help,” He promises, “And you'll feel better when you're fresh and clean, y'know?”

You sigh around another sip of the warm water, a reluctant nod against the hand resting over your forehead. He urges you to drink a little more before he's dragging you back toward your bathroom.

You're forced to sit on the closed lid of the toilet, watching with tired eyes as Steve flits in and out of the room — adjusting the flow of the water in the bathtub and digging through your basket of bath salts and filling a bowl from the sink tap for reasons you can't imagine but don't bother to question aloud.

Instead, you wait. The loud rush of water filling the tub lulls you into a sort of trance until your eyes are slipping shut, head swaying heavily on your shoulders. The steam filling the room smells nice, lavender salts and oils having been added to the bath at some point, and the smell has you beginning to relax.

“Not fallin' asleep on me already, are you?”

You blink slow, heavy eyelids fluttering as you open your eyes to find Steve standing in front of you, already stripped down to his boxers. He steps between your legs to pull your shirt up over your head and you're down to only your underwear with just that one quick move. When he pulls you up, gentle hands cupping your elbows in case you sway on your feet, you lean into his bare chest with a contented sigh.

“This is nice.” You murmur, rubbing your cheek against the soft hairs littering his chest.

“This isn't even the relaxing part, honey,” Steve chuckles softly, his hands falling to your hips to rid you of your final article of clothing, “Come on. In you go.”

He helps you step over the lip of the tub, one hand in yours and the other on your waist to steady you. The water is hot and silky against your skin, a gasp on your lips when it first licks at your calves. It sends blissful shivers down your spine as you settle down into it, your eyes falling shut with a contented groan as you curl your arms around your knees and bow your head to rest over them.

You're only alone for a moment before Steve is settling in behind you, his long legs caging you in as they stretch the length of the tub. The water flowing from the tap cuts off and the room is thrust into startling silence, the thundering sound of the bathtub filling being replaced with the quiet sloshing of the water as Steve adjusts himself beside you.

You gasp in surprise when a warm stream of water falls over your shoulder and you crack your eyes open to watch as Steve cups his hands again, bringing the water to the back of your neck and releasing it in a warm rush down your spine. You hum in approval and he repeats the action a few times, dropping handfuls of water over your back as the steam works to lessen the pressure in your head.

A few minutes pass before Steve's maneuvering you around with big hands at your ribs, your thighs splaying wide over either side of his knees as he settles back against the end of the tub. Water sloshes around you with all the movement, licking high on your skin until you rest chest to chest, your face tucking into the damp curve of his neck.

“You alright like this?” Steve checks, his voice unbearably soft as the words fan out over cheek, “You comfortable?”

You hum happily, eyes closed, “So comfy, Stevie.”

He brings a big, bath-warmed palm up to rest on your shoulder, wet fingers trailing along your skin and leaving tiny oil-sheened drops of water behind that bead down the length of your arm and back as they fall.

Just as your mind starts to slip into that space between wakefulness and sleep, a startlingly cold cloth is pressed to your forehead. The chill has you reeling back slightly, a betrayed sort of frown on your face as you peer at your boyfriend who's holding a damp washcloth in his hand.

“To help bring down your fever,” Steve supplies in response to your silent question, “Sorry. I should've warned you.”

You settle back against his chest with a small huff, hand curling around his wrist as a way of telling him it was okay to try again. The cold doesn't shock you nearly as much the second time around, taking only a moment to warm into a comfortable coolness against your skin.

A deep breath fills your lungs with the sweet smell of lavender combined with the lingering musk of Steve's cologne. Your fingers trail over damp skin until you can settle your palm against his pec, blunt nails tracing slow patterns on his skin through the short damp hairs.

“Thank you,” You whisper over his chest, your breath causing his nipple to pebble up against the steam-thickened air, “So good to me, Steve. 'm so glad I have you.”

The wet cloth against your forehead disappears only to return a moment later, cool again from having been dipped back into the bowl of cold water Steve had placed beside the tub. Your breath stutters a bit at the chill, body tensing and relaxing back against him only a second later.

“How many times have you been the one taking care of me, huh?” Steve asks, fingers dragging up and down along the skin at the outside of your thigh in a soothing touch, “And I'd say you're in much better condition now than I was at least a few of those times.”

“'s different,” You argue quietly, “You were hurt. You're always getting hurt.”

“And you're always there to take care of me,” Steve agrees, “So I'm gonna take care of you. 'cause we got each other's backs, don't we, honey?”

His voice is smooth like silk to your ears, his big hand still trailing softly along your skin. His fingers find their way to your shoulder, the gentle drag of his knuckles skating along your jaw, the apple of your cheek, the length your brow bone, tiny streaks of moisture left behind in his wake.

“Yeah,” You murmur against his skin, tipping your head to place a small kiss to the corner of your boyfriend's jaw, “We do.”

[rezitio]

:: 𝐏𝐮𝐬𝐬𝐲 𝐝𝐫𝐮𝐧𝐤 Ft Gojo Satoru

Nsfw

leak : when you get him so pussy drank he becomes as high as when he was fighting Toji.

artists : gojo Satoru, reader w/ a pussy.

genre : pussy drunk, use of safe word, overstimulation, not mentioned but implied relationship .

━━━━━━━━━━━━

You have no idea how you make him feel. He adores you so much. He's always making sure you're safe, spending so much money on you. He'd destroy the world if anything were to happened to you.

So when you finally decide to show him some appreciation by taking his cock with your mouth, he can't stop praising you.

'God, you doing this all for me huh?' His fingers entwined deep into the tangles of your hair. His eyes rolled back, ' F-fuck'. Like a confetti pop, he released in your mouth once again.

His finger guides a stray drop of his seed off your chin back into your mouth. He pulls out, trying to scoop his semen from his dick when he realised he couldn't even touch it.

'Fuck, see whatchu' done to me?' He grabbed you up and put you on the bed. 'You can't be doing this to me without me doing nothin' to ya.'

Satoru always wanted to make you feel good. He had too. It's the only way for him to truly feel good. Knowing you're messed up, fucked dumb by him, satisfied; gave him true solace.

He brought you to the edge of the bed and kneeled ripping your panties of within a blink of an eye. Your legs dangled over his shoulder as he started to lick, flick, suck, anything to keep hearing those moans eventually getting lost in them.

Pussydrank!Gojo Doesn’t know what limits are. His mind is too far off to hear anything but his own thoughts. It's these very thoughts that prevent him from stopping. How you're such a good girl for trying to please him, how your mouth took him so well even though you've said countless times how he was too big. How he loved seeing you gag at first before you finally got used to his length and sucked him he had to release thrice before pulling out. God you're such a good girl.

He doesn't notice your begging and pleas for him to take it easy till you continuously push his head away with your arms and kick his shoulders with your legs. Unbeknownst to him, you had been begging him to slow down, but it fell on deaf ears. He looked up at you, and the look you saw, this man was not in his right mind. The stoned look on his face, he was at a high no reaching him.

Pussydrank!Gojo with his high stamina and skillfull tongue, he brought you to your limit countless times. You couldn't stop squirting, your legs gave up on you and you didn't feel the pleasure anymore. Your body was begging for rest before it lost its sensitivity, but you didnt know how to reach him, you didnt know how to get to him and the pain only grew so you did what you could only think off.

'Toru- Toru... spon-...' You could barely get the words out 'spongebob...'

Pussydrank!Gojo who finally got back to his senses and stopped what he was doing immediately. Pushing you on the bed gently and whispering a thousand apologies in your ear. He gently cleaned you up and wrapped you up in your robe, getting you water and a painkiller. God he feels guilty. You're gonna have to start comforting this man now. As you two fall asleep cuddling together with spongebob on the tv.

rezitio!

EDITED! Can't believe I wrote this in 24 hours but ok. I was watching the fight with Toji then it just came to me. This is my first post. Planned the whole thing in my head and took it way too far when writing.

:: - 17/12/23

:: - 17/12/23

《kodaswrld for banner》

[msookyspooky]

Fours a Franchise

Part 17

wordcount: 8,467

Jill looked at herself in the small mirror she had on her bedside table at the hospital. A small compact she had from her bag she used to repeatedly check up on herself to make sure she looked the part of the poor survivor. Her eye was still screwed up but not as red. Bruises here and there; just not as swollen. What hurt the worst was the stab on her back that asshole gave her. Unlucky for him and collectively for you; it missed major organs but damn did it hurt.

She smoothed her long dark hair with her hands as she did her usual side part with a sly smirk. She just couldn't help smirking to herself. She actually got away with it! She couldn't wait to get home and privately celebrate. Well, not too soon. She still had to look devastated for her friends and mothers deaths. With her Mom dead and her not being 18 for another few months, would she have to live with her estranged Dad or distant relatives or someone else for a bit? Oh well, who cares!

She was going to be so rich and famous that in a year she'd 'go to college' just to keep up appearances, then if she wanted to drop out she could and be swimming in cash. For life. YN this, YN that. Won Court cases, fame, a new paid for house somewhere, book deals. Well now, it was Jill Roberts' turn to shine.

She knew she should be more cautious but today was a good day. She was being discharged from the hospital under police protection tomorrow because soooo many people were chomping at the bit to know about the final girl. Flowers all over her hospital room, cards, even expensive gifts, paid for everything and news stations trying to get in contact with her.

You? Well, it was an easy decision. She still hadn't come right out and blamed you. Trying to play the innocent sweetie pie act a bit longer. Really milk it out. Wait till you got caught. However, as soon as she thought you might be a problem; she was gonna tell the police when they asked for yet another statement that now that her head was more clear and everything 'sank in'...Yes...Yes, it's shocking. YN must have been working with those two men to kill everyone. And they recruited Charlie? But that can't be!...Oh, but it is. Maybe that's why her Cousin and Uncle tried to kill YN years ago? Because she was actually the villian this whole time and they knew her secret. And YN attacked her and YN must have helped kill everyone this time too! The monster deserved to be behind bars boo hoo blah blah what a tragedy. Fake cry. Sniffle a bit.

People will eat that shit up. Especially once the authorities find you with those two. The manhunt for you was most definitely on; considering you escaped the hospital in the middle of the early morning with those two unnamed men after a Deputy was shot by them.

Jill had to not giggle or smirk too much; still in the public eye. The hunt for the 3 of you would be Legendary. Once they find you with those two, who the fuck would believe your side of the story anyways? Jill would be the sole survivor. Any nah sayers locked up or killed. This was in the fucking BAG! Soon, she'd be on the Ellen Show and Yahoo Mail articles and Facebook posts and Tweets and the ID Channel-

Her thoughts of grandeur were interrupted by a short forceful knock. She quickly went to get back in bed acting sore and sad.

"Don't bother rushing. I can see you standing from the window." A female voice rang out.

Jill faltered and had to stop herself from moving too fast. "Oh, it's my...Um, stitches. They want me to walk just not too much." She told the older woman as she entered without even asking.

Gale Riley Weathers whatever the hell her name was...Of course it was.

Gale nodded and closed the door behind her. Back to dressing in her old 'Reporter' style she probably had stuffed in the back her closet behind her robes and casual wear as Mrs. Riley. Stay at home 'writer' that hadn't wrote diddly shit in years.

Jill forced a smile upon her youthful face. After all, the nosey hag was the best in the biz and could get her one helluva a book deal. It's why Charlie spared her.

“Gale, what a surprise.” Jill put on that smile and soft voice, "How's your shoulder? Does it feel okay?"

Gale gave a wry smirk and a slight huff like chuckle. "...It's fine. Good enough for me to go home. Especially since you got a lot more damage and you're going home, right? I mean, if you can have that happen to you and be discharged soon then what a wimp I'd be to stay."

"Oh yeah, matching Shoulder stabs. Twinsies." She jokingly gave that carefree air-head teen act adults seemed to love from her. "And some bruises but nothing I can't handle. I mean, I got it bad but I don't think shoved off a landing and stabbed is anything to mess with...You're tough."

"Yeah." Gale nodded. "Yeah you're a scrapper yourself. Do what you need, do what you want, thrive not just survive...Kinda like looking in a mirror."

Jill forced a slight chuckle at that. The smile not reaching her eyes as a bit of silence stretched between them. Gale moved around the room, heels clacking against the hospital floor as she pondered something. "...Huh."

"Yes?"

She glanced over at the teen. "Nothing just...How funny. Us having matching superficial wounds. What are the odds?"

"Yeaahh....Yeah, pretty lucky." Jill nodded with a reluctant look.

"Almost too lucky." She gave with a wry smile that didn't reach her eyes either. “I swear, it seems like it was almost planned.”

Jill cautiously watched her as Gale acted aloof. ‘Reading’ labels on objects while talking. What was this old bitch getting at?

Gale mused aloud, "I mean, YN gets stabbed in the gut twice and those two, that we are not naming apparently, were shot and stabbed in many places and even almost gutted. Didn't think any of them would live...Trevor got his face peeled off...Coroner said alive while it happened just like YN's old boyfriend in ‘96-"

"I was there. Can we... Not talk about it?" Jill mumbled. "Just makes me uncomfortable. I mean, he was my first love and my…" She trailed off with a strained voice. Not too much, just enough.

Dewey would've been apologizing and comforting her for overstepping. Gale just stared.

The middle aged woman walked about the room a bit. Thinking before replying to the teen girl. "Sorry about that...I guess. But ya know… You'll have to answer to the cops and media about all this in a lot of detail. Over and over. You know how it is..." The silence etched on as Gale looked around while leaning on her good shoulder against the wall. "It's just really bizarre that me and you got wounds that weren't fatal. The final girl and the prize winning journalist that can help the final girl. Everyone else was butchered. Hung like a dead fish, burned, skinned, repeatedly stabbed, gutted, shot…Yet we both only got banged up and shoulder wounds... Daammmnn lucky."

Jill looked uncomfortable at Gale probing as she retorted in a short tone of voice, "Well, we should be grateful to be so lucky. I mean my poor friends...My own Mom…God-" She pretended to hug her face to potentially cry. A tiny forced shaky sucking in of breath as her shoulders shook. “I just…I just can't believe they killed my mother-”

"Cut the shit.”

….

Jill stiffened as Gale coldly told her, “I'm not part of the media anymore. There's no cameras."

...

Jill stilled and looked up for a moment trying to keep the innocent act up. "Excuse...Me?" She drew out shakily.

Gale just stared her down with a raised brow, "Your eyebrows aren't turned up, you're forcing your eyes to water by not blinking this whole time then blinking rapidly, the waver in your voice needs work too and stop sniffling so soon. People don't sniffle till the snot is running down their faces. Interviewed a lot of people including guilty people…I know fake crying when I see it. No Oscar for you anytime soon."

“What are you saying?” Jill just stared at her. "...Are you seriously claiming a girl that lost her friends, mother and boyfriend is fake crying? Are you seriously insinuating that?...Gale?" She said her name with an edge.

"I only accuse or go after the truth. And you?...I feel like maybe you hit your head just a little too hard. You know, what with that giant scuffle that happened. Somehow a teen girl fought off two grown men and a teen boy and now YN too? 4 people at the same time, huh? Things aren't adding up. Especially after YN fled the hospital...Whaddya gonna tell the cops when they ask why?" Gale asked mockingly and folded her arms.

Jill sat on the edge of the bed, body tense and ready to pounce if need be. "I'm gonna tell them the truth. I visited YN and she attacked me and two men attacked me and I was lucky to escape with my life till Dewey showed up. What? You got a mic on, Gale?" Jill's voice dropped an octave to her real voice, not the fake sweet act. "Ohhh…I get it. You want me to say it was Billy Loomis and Stu Macher like Sheriff Riley is convinced? Is that it? Is this some kind of bribe to get your old namesake back by proving something? Or maybe so you and your husband don't look like crazy lunatics saying two dead murderers are alive after such a tragedy?" She mocked back haughtily. “That's sick to do to a victim, Gale. Very tactless.”

"...No." Gale mumbled. "One: I don't have a mic.”

“Sure you don't.”

“Two: of course not. Without them captured; that's career suicide for both of us. They'll label you as crazy or a conspiracy theorist as well as me. I'm not stupid, you lil shit." Gale huffed, "... But you do have to talk, you know. This 'Oh poor me. I'm just a weak fragile teen girl who was victimized.' crap isn't gonna cut it forever. You were in this hospital room when Dewey and I recognized them and by the way you looked…You did too. You weren't surprised it was them. You couldn't wait for Dewey to shoot them so they couldn't say a word.”

“I was stabbed. I just wanted them caught for what they did; I didn't care who they were…And if that meant killing them to spare others the same fate then so be it.” She replied tilting her head and narrowing her eyes in barely contained annoyance at this back and forth between the two.

Gale was quiet for a moment before adding, "They're gonna search your phone too."

Jill sighed with a shrug, "If they find it. I lost it. Need to get a new one. Old one went missing that night and never found it in all the chaos. Couldn't remember my passwords or anything either. My Mom handled all that and I forgot what she said it was. So a new account, card, phone and cloud storage too I guess…I'm really devastated about it. I had so many pictures of me, Olivia, Trevor and Kirby on there.”

Gale scoffed, “It's 2011 and you don't use an email?”

“I'm a kid and schools don't like us to even have phones in class let alone use them for anything constructive. You know, they're bad for our learning. My one teacher had to have a student help her with a password change on her computer…I didn't check any email or password often. Mom did almost everything for me. So, I just plan on getting a new one and having someone help show me. " Jill feigned innocence with such a shitty lie.

"...How convenient." Gale grumbled before she sighed heavily and shifted her stance. "So what?...Get rid of the phone evidence then try and get rid of anyone in your way? All your friends, your Mom, your accomplice. Is YN the enemy now? Had to get her outta the way to get the spotlight? Those two were a surprise to you too I'd say with how things played out and now you're running with it as extra measure to not get caught.” Gale smirked wryly in realization of something. “...You're not giving a real statement because you're buying time to see if they get YN or not."

Jill scoffed loudly, "Listen Lady, I don't know what you're talking about-"

Gale laughed in outrage and smacked her hip with her good arm, "Man, you are really trying to sell it!” She lost her mocking smile, “Seriously, I'm not a bleeding heart like my husband. And we both know…We both know-" She repeated, lowering her volume. "You were not visiting YN in the ICU when she wasn't even awake yet. You had to rip off all your monitors and sneak with all your injuries under cameras and away from nurses just because you were sooooo worried about her…Worried about her ratting you out, more like it. You had to get rid of her when you realized she wasn't dead."

Jill felt her body tense and a slight sweat breaking out on her skin. This goddamn bitch. She should've told Charlie to stab her in the fucking head.

"...I told you, I was worried. The killers were still alive." She clarified once more in a firm tone. “I was attacked by YN then by them. Okay? I was just checking on her. I was scared for her.”

"Oh! So, you snuck in just to see her and got close enough for YN to wake up from surgery trying to randomly hurt you?" Gale mocked. "Are you fucking kidding me? One minute you're worried, then you want her dead and claiming she's involved, now you're straddling the fence to buy time-"

"The bitch attacked me! I don't know why; She panicked or something and then those two showed up." Jill argued with her tone accidentally becoming defensive.

“Oh, but not at the house? You and her supposedly tried to save each other's lives and you held her hand just for her to try and kill you in the ICU when you went to her room when she was just out of surgery? Sneaking too?” Gale demanded. “I still am on the fence with those two involved now…But I know one thing; you're full of shit. You are way more involved than you're saying and we both know it. In fact…Dare I say, YN might be right about you that night.”

Bitch.

Jill sneered, "...I could have your career tanked for questioning a victim like this. AGAIN. All those tabloids dogging you like it's 2000. So how about you back off before you become a nobody.”

Gale stood up from the wall and glared at her, "I'll come back on top; I always do... I think we both know how you knew the type of wound I got without even speaking to me or my husband. We both know you did not leave your house before Ghostface attacked your Mom and two Detectives. We lost two good men on the force... I know you could care less about them when you're the one that stabbed them. And we both know who actually helped Charlie this whole time. It wasn't those idiots. It was you. You and him. He fucking stabbed me in a way that you could keep me alive for your stupid little book idea."

Jill gave a sharp laugh of outrage as her nerves got to her. "Ha! Oh, so the honor roll student, good girl killed people? Killed her wn Mom!? Her best friend's!? You're SICK! You are so fame hungry and sick- I can't believe this! Leave."

She went to press the call button. Fingers hovering over it just a second as Gale spoke.

"-You know they're gonna look through all those snuff films of these murders, right?" Gale quickly rushed out.

Jill scoffed while hitting the call light. "No shit."

"Oh?" Gale smirked haughtily. "So you know...That one of Olivia Morris was recorded from two different angles?"

"Yeah, Ghostface. Ghostface's. And a partner was probably those two creeps in the bushes or something while Charlie killed her. YN was across the street, you know, their accomplice. She almost got me killed on that staircase." She spat with a smartass smug smirk at Gale. Trying to frame everyone but herself at this point.

"Then why was that one video recorded from your bedroom?"

....

....Jill felt her heart plummet. Everything froze as her ears wrang and her palms tingled like the bed dropped out from under her.

“...What did you just say?” She asked in a hushed tone, brows furrowing.

“That second angle of the video was filmed from your bedroom window, Jill.” Gale coldly replied.

. "...What? T-That's insane-" She furiously shook her head with a nervous laugh.

Gale gave the same smartass smirk back to Jill in return. "See, there's no way that video came from anywhere but your bedroom window. You had a clear shot. Are you seriously going to claim it was Kirby? Especially when at one point you can see her left hand in the shot when the video was recorded from the left side of that glass? C'mon! You can hear your voices and she sounded more scared than you!... She didn't have that camera, Jill. Billy and Stu weren't in your room. And YN was actually trying to get into the house from outside to help your friend at the time…No one but you could've recorded that."

“I didn't-”

“You did. Police have it. Got it off a website these murders were posted on. I just saw it in evidence today. But rest assured, they have it.” She chuckled in smug amusement. “Good luck trying to do what Roman did. Police stations, especially during a murder case, are like fort knox to break into.”

“I didn't!” She yelled.

Gale chuckled, “Oh really? Hm. It got uploaded that night…Are you gonna say Charlie did it? You were injured at the hospital, so you never saw Charlie alone and now with your phone mysteriously gone?...How convenient." She drew out and tilted her head in satisfaction at how tense Jill was.

Jill stared with wide eyes, brows furrowed, breath quickening as Gale smirked at her.

…This goddamn bitch. Fucking cunt. Nosey piece of shit. Skinny ass old hag fucking-

The insults in Jill's head were endless as Gale figured it out.

A nurse tried coming in and Gale quickly blocked the door with a chair. Banging persisted as Jill gripped the bed sheet, teeth gritted as Gale smugly told her as quickly as she could in a hush whisper as close to Jill as possible, "That video came from your phone and even if you destroyed it; It's still in the phone records with the carrier you stupid ass moron! They can dig and dig and diiggg-"

Gale jerked back as Jill yelled, "And what would an old washed up Boomer like you know ANYTHING about tech? Huh?! You probably still call it the net and print out pictures of memes and shit off pinterest!"

"I got sources including tech geeks I talked to…And I'm fucking GenX!” She quickly rushed out without taking a breath. “This ‘old hag’ would've recorded the old fashion way on a camera recorder hidden in your friends room and uploaded it using a public computer at the library or at least a laptop with a DPV or VNP or whatever the fuck its called! Not my smartphone connected to everything about me and in my fucking room beside a witness that knows me, you dumbass!" She jeered back as the door slammed open and people rushed in.

Jill felt her heart had been hammering in time with the door banging. Eyes darting looking for something to bash Gale's head in. Seething with anger and fear as she was damn tempted to stab Gale with her fork on her tray and claim she had to defend herself somehow…Until witnesses barged in.

They questioned Gale as Jill felt her world crumbling around her...Everything she thought she was so clever at and it went up in smoke in an instant.

"And when we find YN! She'll fight you! Then this will have to go to court and WAY higher than Woodsboro PD will be involved, sweetheart. It'll all unravel…It's over, Jill!" Gale called over the security guard's shoulder that was shoving her to the exit.

A nurse came in to check over Jill as the teen trembled and breathed heavily. Panicking at the idea of them realizing that particular video's angle was shot in her bedroom. She hid that and got rid of her phone that they'll soon recover calls and text and videos from. She was so focused on getting the video to let people see the murders she never suspected...She never thought-

"Get out...Get out! Get the fuck out!" She screeched at nurses who looked bewildered but complied after Jill stood and threw a tray, "GET OUUTTT!!"

Once alone she started hyperventilating. Grasping her hair and hunched over. Not even feeling the stab Billy gave her on her back, the stitches and pain dulled by morphine and fear.

If they find you with those two? She had a chance. You being with two wanted killers and even if people thought they were dead it would overshadow her…Maybe.

...If they found you alone? And you told the cops the truth? Gale was right...Court. Her phone gone out of everyone else's still on their person; she'd be the main suspect. They'd go to her phone carrier with a waiver to go through records, even videos and calls and texts all deleted but still there on their end. She thought a VPN on the web was enough and deleting evidence then getting rid of the phone! Most of all? Nothing could get rid of evidence that it was recorded from her bedroom window looking at Olivia's room. Eye witnesses including YN and Mrs. Meeks knew she and Kirby were there when it happened. If they find you? It's over! She couldn't even kill Gale, no doubt FBI getting involved in this case if it goes to court. It went from the sole survivor's only word against a bunch of killers to now...It's fucking over.

"Shit..." She tensely gave her voice genuinely shaky now. No more acting "Shit, shit, shit, SHIT, SHHITT!!" She screamed, throwing her tray against the wall.

————————————

You stood in front of Billy's bedroom door. Feeling sick to your stomach…Seriously, you might throw up. Skin clammy and breathing shallow. Debating heavily should you or should you not? Your voice wavered in uncertainty as you forced out, “Stu?...Can I come in?”

“Go away.”

Honestly, his tone alone was enough to make you want to agree and leave him be. Stu proved clear back in 1996 that when this side of him came out; he was dangerous. Maybe even more dangerous than Billy could ever be.

Your fingertips danced over the doorknob. Upperteeth skimming your body lip in trepidation before a sigh escaped you.

Despite his warning, you didn't listen.

Opening the door because you couldn't handle this silent treatment or the unsaid any longer. Not anymore. You had no one but him and Billy in this mess and despite what Stu says about ‘never seeing him again’ he WAS dangerous and he was quite the ‘sore loser’. Billy knew it. Hence his ‘We'll have to sleep with one eye open’ argument after Stu stormed away to the back of the trailer. And what can you say? You just couldn't go back to constantly looking over your shoulder especially over a misunderstanding you knew if he would just listen you could mend…Maybe.

So, you forced yourself to walk inside despite the fear. If he killed you; what else was there to lose? Best Friend dead, friend who was like an older brother to you hates you, can't see anyone, might never go home, the whole Country might soon hate you, you might go to prison…

“Stu.” You softly said his name and gingerly closed the press board style door behind you. He had a lamp on, rereading that letter that you saw he had ripped in half. It crinkled in his hands when you came in; his features twitching in irritation.

He didn't answer you. Just glared down at that paper. You lightly swallowed, trying to find any words you could without him attacking you or Billy getting involved again.

“Stu…We gotta talk. We have to.” You hesitantly mumbled, already getting a headache from this. “We just have to…Please?”

“About?” He mumbled back while not looking at you. His voice was uncharacteristically stern.

“Everything.”

He rolled his lips before smacking the paper. “...This is bullshit.”

You just nodded. “Yeeeaahh. Yeah, I call it bullshit too. Could've saved everyone trouble if he was more blunt.”

Stu scoffed, “So, you want him to admit it? Wow.” He said with a wry smirk on his lips.

You sighed, “Stu, please. That's not what I meant.” You rolled your eyes softly. He was already starting it.

“What do you mean then?” He demanded and tossed the ripped letter aside. “Because why would you keep this if it means nothing to you, huh?” He gave a bitter chuckle under his breath. “Why would you go to him over me? Why?!” He demanded, getting upset all over again. His emotions were like a raging tornado that threatens anything in its path once he gets worked up.

You stayed near the door and replied in a low voice, “I told you, you were passed out-”

“That's not what I meant and you know it!” He snapped. Sucking in a breath as he lowered his voice. “...I left my number there at your cabin for a decade and you didn't call me. Not once.”

Yeah, he had you there. You still argued, “I didn't call Billy either. And you never called me.”

“I was doing what you asked! I left you alone!”

You averted your gaze, “Yes, okay fine… I did want that…I wanted to be left alone at the time. By you and him.” You grimaced at the honest truth.

“WHY!?” He demanded with raised brows in outrage. “Why!? I was already at your house on and off so why the hell did it matter?”

“Stu. Because you're a killer.”

He rolled his eyes. “Oh, classic excuse.”

“Seriously, Stu! I did not want Randy or Dewey to accidentally see you. They came over randomly, you came over randomly, and I was just a huge ball of anxiety 24/7.”

“Oh please.” He huffed, “I evaded them seeing me for years before you told me to get lost. Nah, there was another reason. Probably some guy. Probably rat boy in there. And you're a rat too so how about you leave me be and both of you go off and have your backstabbing rat life together and get married in a sewer and have your ugly ass rat babies.”

He flopped back on the mattress acting like he was going to go to sleep. You frowned, feeling annoyed that he just didn't get it. Instead he was pouting like a child.

You warily sucked air through your nose and tried to stretch your neck. “Okay… Because I didn't want them hurt by you.”

He huffed with his eyes closed while putting his hands behind his head, “What are you on about, man? I haven't laid a finger on them since we were teens.”

“No but you were planning to. You thought about it and that was enough. You even thought about killing Randy in the barn when he found us days ago. I had to draw my gun out on you and Billy!…All these years later, Stu. And you still think about it when all else fails.” You retorted with a frown. “It's why I didn't want you around a decade ago.”

He shrugged with his eyes still closed, “Eh, but I didn't. And even in Hollywood years back, it was just an idea and you got your granny panties in a bunch over it for nothing. You chicks are all the same. Getting all worked up and holding grudges.”

You gave a mild glare as he was just irking you more and more. “Okay, new one. Because you didn't hesitate to scare the shit out of me in that motel the second things didn't go your way. And I didn't feel like being scared in my own damn house after that. THAT is another reason I went no contact. For my safety and my friends.”

That made him go from pretending to try and calmly chill to jerking up ready to snap your head off . “Hey, what the- YOU had a gun on ME first!” He pointed at you with venom in his voice.

Your eyes narrowed. “Because I felt threatened and you were gonna kill me if I stopped you from killing my friends.” You argued, old resentment resurfacing from a decade ago even if you tried to be calm but it was failing the more he talked.

Stu sneered, “You're nuts and freaking delusional, man! I was not. It was just a scare tactic. We were desperate and lacking sleep and turning on each other and you wanna act all innocent when you threatened me and him-” He pointed to the living room. “With a gun multiple times!”

“There should've been no tactics!” You exclaimed, failing miserably at trying to be calm. “And considering how you both were and how fast shit escalates with you two; what choice did I have?” You jerked your arm to the living room where they had just beat the shit out of each other hours ago. “I mean, damn! You both go from 0 to 100 in 3 seconds. I can't take a risk of thinking it's ‘just’ a scare tactic.”

“Oh cry me a river; it was a decade ago. Let it go.” He waved you off in annoyance. “And tonight is different. I've had it.”

You groaned and rubbed your face leaning back against the door. You both ran in circles verbally. Damn him. Doing this at this hour while you felt like shit. Seriously, was it the pills or just exhaustion?

You clicked your tongue and rolled your head back in exasperation. “...M’kay, back to my first and most important point. I didn't want to be caught. There. Billy did not get some special treatment either.” You grew serious trying to make him listen. “I didn't need or want my friends and family finding you at my house even if you didn't do anything. Or the cops of all things or the media. No one needed to know you lived and you were at my house. My secret needed to be kept a secret!"

He bitterly laughed, “Oh and look how good that turned out.” He jeered, giggling out the reply sadistically. “Randy was, ya know, just hanging out! Dewey is probably blubbering like a baby right now that you betrayed him too.” He grinned. “So what good did that do you?”

You felt a deep anger turning in your gut at his mockery of your best friend's death and the situation with Dewey. It was so fresh too. The wounds are still red and hurting to prove it. You wanted to throw something at him, scream at him but somehow you couldn't even move. The anger wasn't hot, it was cold. A chill over you at seeing him for who he was; a cold blooded killer.

“...Wow.” You gave in a lower tone with a heaviness in the air.

“Yeah, wow!” His tone was defensive in turn. He stared at you long and hard with an almost bored expression and shrugged. “Tough. It's the truth. Now, you have no one after all this time. Including me. You blew it more than Monica Lewinsky-”

“I know that, asshole!” You snapped, losing your patience and will to live through this the more you talked to him. “I know the irony. I didn't plan this. I didn't plan for you and Billy to be at that barn, and worst of all…Okay, the worst thing is-” You bitterly chuckled, shaking your head and voice catching.

“- Worst is that these two new killers had no idea you and Billy existed! You both could've stayed out of it completely and none of this would've happened.” You scoffed. No light in your eyes as you still wanted to cry over all this but barely held it together for your pride's sake. “My friend died because of a mistake that could have and should have been prevented. That's on me for life. Everything I tried to prevent blew up in my face. EVERY. DAMN. THING.” You smacked your hand with each syllable. Stu seemed unmoved as you ranted, “Seriously, every single thing that could have gone wrong, did! Are you happy? Is THIS what will make you smile back in your big mansion you claim you have? This gonna make it all better for you while you're with models and preparing for your next big gig or party or whatever?”

Stu raised a brow. A silence in the air for a moment before he mumbled. “You done?”

You stared at him. Pouring your heart out and he didn't care. You…You didn't…Damn, your brain was almost not working!

“...Fine.” Was all you said as you went to turn and he ordered.

“Stop.”

You stopped on command from leaving out of pure instinct at the tone he used.

“No, I'm-”

He cut you off. “I said, stop. You wanna talk? Don't run away the second the fire's on your ass instead of mine. You have bellyached about the same shit for years now it's my turn to be the victim for once. Sit.”

You turned to him in outrage, “I don't owe you shit after what you just said to me! It's…It's not the same thing. Randy and Dewey-” It died in your throat. You'd be venting, sobbing, pacing and heartbroken about this for quite some time. But you only had a select amount of time to clear this shit with Stu even if you both still parted ways permanently. At least he might not try to kill you years from now. You wanted to leave and never look back or even turn you all in but you shoved your fragile heart to the side right now. Either try and convince him for your safety down the road or live on edge for life. Cause vengeance and Stu was…A Casey Becker.

You paused and thought it over. Then nodded and rolled your lips in resignation. “Okay…Okay fine.” You gingerly went to the bed to sit at the edge.

Stu glared at you. “...I treated you well, YN. Better than any skank I've ever been with.”

You glared a bit, opening your mouth and he angrily shut you down. A rant of his own at what he knew you were gonna say.

“Before you say it; Screw Tatum. You knew her for a short part of our lives. Best friend my ass, you knew her for a few months.”

You went to open your mouth.

“I'm talking now. Shut it.”

God you wanted to smack him. You held back digging your nails into your palm with what you knew was a sour look on your face. You old injury from years back hurting as you fisted your hands.

“ I meant what I said. Tatum was a quick fling that didn't mean shit to me. I only dated her as a cover so me and Billy could kill Sidney. Billy's idea, not mine. She was cute with a nice rack so I played along. She didn't mean anything. You did. Alright? You were different…At least I thought.” He used a stern tone you rarely heard from him. “You were so much higher than any girl to me back then.” He raised his hand as if you were metaphorical on a pedestal before smacking his leg. “So much fucking higher, man.”

He leaned forward as you shrank back a bit. His blue eyes full of an emotion you couldn't read. “I gave you EVERYTHING…Everything, YN. My future, my plans, my freedom, my life, my friendship with Billy. I risked it all for you and you broke my fucking heart in half. I tried to save you and you stabbed me in the back. Then I tried to make up for everything after Windsor and you never forgave me after years of me thinking we were finally cool. Then, I had one slip up. Okay? One tiny fuck up and you cut me off like I'm chopped liver. Well, till you need me in our 30's for help…You're a using bitch. Always have been, always will be. You damn me but you're just as sick playing with a guy's heart just to save your own ass.”

You averted your eyes and didn't grip your fist so tightly. Feeling your palms sweating, feeling nauseous from what you inferred was anxiety, feeling bewildered at the emotion in his voice.

He huffed, shaking his head as if trying to find the words. His blue eyes seemed to bore into you as he gave in a hushed tone, “You…You told me you loved me. Do you know how fucked up that was? No girl told me she loves me. My own mother barely said it.” He hissed out. Pain in his voice you rarely got to hear. Always covered by a cocky attitude or perverted joke. “You wanna talk about fucked up? You played me like a fiddle and I forgave you for YEARS. Then you wanna play victim the second I get pissed? Fuck that and fuck you. I deserve to be pissed! FUCK YOU!”

You flinched at the boom in his voice at the last part. Angry Billy; What's new? Angry Stu and hurt Stu was a scary creature to deal with. You looked at him a bit differently as he spoke. What he said was hateful and nasty earlier but what do you expect from Stu Macher of all people? But this?...It made that note with his phone number you kept but never called all these years burn a hole in your chest. Your emotions are in turmoil with fear, anger, shock and hurt and…And guilt.

“Stu…I-” You fidgeted. “Look, I understand why you're hurt and angry.” The words felt uncomfortable to even say.

“Damn right I'm hurt.” Voice a low mumble in his throat; sounding almost like a growl of sorts as he glared daggers at you.

“But the big 3 words and why well…I mean, you were trying to kill me. I was…Kinda desperate?” You reluctantly gave while wincing as it stammered out.

Stu's eyes narrowed, “No excuse.” He grumbled.

“I mean…It's kind of a good excuse.” You tried to smirk and joke but It died in your throat at the glare he gave you. You sighed heavily. “C'mon. Give me a break, even a tiny inch here, Stu... Stu, we were kids! I was scared. You were trying to choke me to death. I was running for my life and trying to save everyone.”

“Did you love me?” He demanded.

“I…It probably wasn't love. Again I was a senior and scared but…I did care about you-”

“Bullshit.”

“I did.” You affirmed. “I don't know what I felt but I know I cared.”

But he just shook his head, “Oh cut the crap. You've never cared about me! You were scared of me or using me as a guard dog; no in-between.” He bitterly grumbled.

You rubbed your face trying to avoid any bruises or soreness from fighting Jill. “No I-...I guess… Yeah. Sometimes.” You reluctantly admitted with a heavy sigh. Your stomach was sinking and turning. “I'm sorry but sometimes I probably did.” You sighed out all the fight in you dissipating.

He stared.

Long and hard he stared at you before scoffing with a wry smirk, “There it is. That's all it was. I forced myself on your life and you were scared of me and just said whatever to save your ass!-” He didn't finish his sentence and flung a pillow in a fit. Thank god it was just a pillow. For now.

“That's not all, okay? I did care about you!” You tried to save yourself like a drowning woman at sea.

“Stop lying!” He yelled getting closer to you on the bed. You expected Billy to burst in at any moment with the volume your voices were reaching.

“I am not lying.” Pivoting on the bed to face him while scooting back. “Stu, you were my friend before you did what you did! Why can't you or asshole out there remember that?”

“Oh that makes it better? You only cared as a ‘friend’! You never cared past your guilty conscious and moral compass. I was your ‘friend’ because I put in the effort while you only knew me from Tatum.”

You groaned, “We had a class sitting beside each other; that's not true.”

“It is. And then you were my ‘friend’ to save your ass years later from me or from Billy or anyone else wanting to kill you.”

“No-”

He laughed in outrage, “Ohohoho, okay. So you cared huh? I loved you and you only cared? You never even cared that much!”

“Stop it, Stu!” You lashed out, finally yelling back. “I cared in High School even when I shouldn't. I really fucking did. When it was so wrong and sick and…Too much and...” You sighed and trailed off.

His eyes narrowed. “What are you talking about?”

You clamped up realizing you admitted a bit more than you were proud of. Always claiming to yourself and others you cared about them as friends only but…Who the fuck were you kidding? Even then? It was just too confusing and wrong and then the mix of hating them at the same time for what they did intermingled with that. Maybe not Billy as much until these confusing feelings with this letter happened but Stu had years of you getting to know him without the mask and talking and dinners at your cabin on and off or a chat on the phone…How could you not have some level of fucked up confusion over all that?

“Hey. Talk.” He snapped his fingers and intensely eyed you. “What? Are you trying to tell me… That you…What? You had a crush on me or something?” He taunted mockingly.

You felt your face scrunch up and looked away. “It's not the time for this, okay? I just lost everything. I'm just trying to clear the air about NOW not 15 years back.”

His taunting smirk receded and he looked at you in surprise. “...No, it's the perfect time. Now say it.”

“Stu.”

“Did you like me as more than a friend? I won't kill you, you have nothing left to lose now anyways, Billy will save you, we might all die or go to prison anyway so say it! Did you or did you not want me?” He pressured looking at you with desperate demanding eyes. A glimmer of what you would describe as hope under all that rage.

You didn't answer and he gripped your arms and shook you, “YN!”

“Ow, Stu-” You grimaced at him touching your arms that were fucked up from the last few days.

“I'm gonna hurt you more if you don't fess up! Fucking talk, woman!” He ordered but his action didn't match his words as he loosened his grip

You groaned inwardly and shot him an annoyed look. “...Yes. Okay, fine. fine! FINE!” You raised your voice each word and shoved him off you as you had his undivided attention.

You shakily ran a nervous hand over your head, unsure how to even come back from saying what you've known for years and hated yourself for. “I did. I had a crush on you…I'm not saying love, okay? That is a big word for people like us…I mean, you.” You swallowed. “But I did have a crush, I guess. I know it was probably obvious but clearly not if you thought it might've been just to save myself.”

“You did?” He looked taken aback before he scoffed clearly not trusting you as he leaned back. “Oh suurree. I bet you did on Billy too, huh?”

You frowned and looked away.

“No way.” He grumbled.

“Billy's name with mine; per usual.” He rolled his eyes.

You sighed realizing there was no point in hiding it. “...Well sorry, but it's true. I liked you both in your own way before you got with my friend or...Oh fuck. Before guys attacked me at my parents house.”

“Then why not get with me then?” He demanded eyeing you up and down skeptically. “Why hide it?”

You scoffed a humorless smirk on your face in exasperation. “It was the 90's! I was confused how I could crush on you and Billy at the same time and felt like a slut that you both were taken by my friends. I felt awful!...So, of course I just said it was a fleeting thing that would go away. I never wanted to admit it. I don't want to even admit it now.”

“Did it?” He pressed easing closer.

You rolled your eyes, “...I don't know, okay? Your asking questions that don't matter-”

“Oh, but they do.” He urged.

You rolled your eyes feeling sweaty yet chilled as he was up in your breathing space. “No it doesn't…” When he wouldn't stop staring you groaned and begrudgingly just started admitting it like pulling teeth. Feeling awful and lightheaded. “...Sometimes it did. Sometimes it didn't. Okay? Sometimes the feelings came back then left just as quickly the second you open your mouth.”

He gave a look that was almost a stubborn pout at that. Like a kid not getting the answer he wanted. “Yeah yeah. Then you dated Randy two years later. Why not just be the friend group's bicycle, huh? Maybe all of Woodsboro could have a ride if you gave James of all guys a chance!” He bitterly insulted you. “The horror movie logic? I grew up and realized it doesn't exist. Even you can live.” He grumbled with a triumphant smirk

…But as he said it with that haughty smirk he glanced at you.

At the expression you had; you saw him frown. A slowly forming frown after the words left his mouth. The smirk and sadistic glee left his eyes a bit. He adjusted in his seat and cleared his throat looking down. Rolling his eyes whether at himself or you was undecided.

“Yeah. I'm not too shocked you think like that of me. Of any woman really.” You numbly replied. You felt your chest ache. “I guess I can admit it now. James was a piss poor distraction from how confused I felt and so I wouldn't be the spare tire in the group. As for Randy? Ray and I dated as a fling out of pure confusion. Make no mistake, I was happy for him and Karla. We were young and almost died and he was in a coma after college. We were confused kids. And truthfully? I guess it worked out because you and Billy would've found an excuse to kill whoever I was with. James or Randy. Derek was a distraction too…The one that got away. Got snuffed out, shockingly not by you two, was that Detective...Mark Kincaid was it if anyone had been it and he's dead. He's been dead over a decade.”

You saw the bitter jealousy in Stu at the truth. He tsked in irritation, “...Yeah he was just to save your ass. You knew him a few days and he wanted to bust me and Billy.” Stu grumbled with narrowed eyes the second you mentioned Mark's name.

"He was the only one that understood me without being crazy." You just coldly told him. “But no, that's what you want to think. That I can't care past using like you and Billy are. You're projecting your own personality onto me. I cared at that party or I would've killed you when you got knocked out or let Sidney. I would've turned you in. Shot you at my house. Shot you at the motel. I cared not to ever turn you in; YES! Out of fear but also out of your well being which is way more than a scumbag like you deserves. Seriously, you have tried to kill me, killed my friends, tried to assault me once, tried to kill me, saved my life, then was good to me for years, then tried to kill me again, then came here to save me, now you're insulting me and making me feel threatened again- It is a fucked up conundrum loving someone like you, Stu! Can't you understand that!?” You almost pleaded with that thick skull of his as it just blurted out.

“You are such a whiny victim wannabe, I don't know how I put up with you all these years. Constantly boo hooing! Poor YN, poor wittle YN so pathe-...” He froze as he realized what you said. “Wait…Wait, wait…”

“ME!?” You yelled, still heated. “You ate my food, crashed at my house, threatened me! Who the fuck?-”

His eyes were wide as he shushed you, “Wait, what did you say?”

You blinked. “Huh?”

He looked at you in wonder, “You said you loved me.”

You looked bewildered. Flabbergasted…Mortified even. “I-I did not!”

“You did!” He urged scooting closer. “You said it's a Conundrum loving someone like me? What the fuck does that mean?” He searched your face and huffed. “What? That I'm too messed up to love?”

You stared back with wide eyes, kicking yourself. You usually had more skill than that then to just blurt something like that out. You sighed and looked at him reluctantly. “...Yes, I mean no I-” You softly addressed the elephant in the room. “Maybe if you weren't who you are I would've…I might've…” You trailed off voice shaky and unsure. You closed your eyes with a grunt of embarrassment. “Damn it, why are you like this!? You just have to press; That's you! You have to have your way or you kill or manipulate or insult! I don't owe you anything; this was just me trying to not have you fight Billy or kill me no-”

!!!

You didn't get it out as your eyes snapped open at feeling something bump against your face. Kinda hurt, actually. Your eyes widened as you tried to understand what the hell just happened before realizing you felt his lips…On yours and-

Stu Macher was fucking kissing you. Deeply. Passionately. Stu was kissing you on Billy's bed.

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Authors Notes:

Okay, between life just being weird right now. Seriously, I wasn't even excited for Halloween and that is not me...

I had a tiny scene from Scream 4 show up on Tiktok of Jill recording Olivia's death and thought "Wow I didn't see that...Wow, that's stupid of her...Wow, this messes with my plot- OH FUCK!!"

And I redid like 20k words give or take because I had all of Scream 4 done ready to post till I saw that and I just couldn't ignore it PLUS writing my own books (It would be cool if yall bout them once I publish 👉👈... It would be neat of you guys and stuff.) plus life and trying to get a part time job and writing for clients bc a bitch got bills and just...FUCK!

So yeah. That is why this is so late and I've been MIA recently. Ily all for supporting me and your patience I am so sorry but Jill being that stupid in canon is too much to ignore and I lowkey like this plot better even if it's riskier.

I'm gonna try every 2 weeks every weekend now that I think I have a clear plot and have most of 4 done.

[cuteskunkz]

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One Night With You

~ Part 3 ~

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(Mike Schmidt x Reader)

Summary~ The night starts to heat up between you and Mike after a few shots. 1.7k word count

Read part 1 & part 2 for context <3

Tags~ SMUTTT, pet names, olderbf! Mike (you're 20, he's 28), fem reader, public-ish sex, dominant Mike, submissive reader, creampie, drinking

Note~ I wrote this is a day!!???!!! Big shout out to my coworker Malachi who helped me with the direction of this fic! Heads up, I did minimal proofreading on this hoe bc it's deadass 3am and I have to be up in 5 hours for work (send help). I'm debating if I want to continue with this story so if you want me to update lemme know :33

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Mike signals over to the bartender to bring out more shots, holding up four fingers. He nods at him as he drops off the drinks. "How 'bout two more, hm? Since you're soo confident..." he teases, a hint of competitiveness in his voice.

You furrow your brows with determination, "Fine! Don't expect me to drag you home when you black out though!"

"You actually think 3 shots are gonna fuck me up that bad? You're hilarious" he chuckles as he tilts his glass towards you. You take the shots in unison and glare at each other, scanning for any reactions to the alcohol.

Mike hiccups finally giving you the opportunity to pester him. "Aww is it too much for you? Should we slow down?" you assert in a sarcastic and flirtatious voice.

He flutters his eyes trying his best to adjust to the intoxication, "You won't be laughing when I say that to you later tonight..." Mike says while holding back a laugh

You punch him in the arm and giggle, "Oh yeah?" You gulp back your third shot, immediately feeling the sense of relaxation hit. It's like all your problems and worries fade away into nothingness when you drink. You meet Mike's gaze, wanting to hear more about him. "So... what's up with you lately? If you're going to take me out, the least you can do is tell me a few of your secrets."

"I mean, life's been rough lately but... when isn't it, Y'know? It's one always one thing after another." You can hear the frustration in his voice as he swirls around his glass, avoiding eye contact. Mike looks around the bar and then down at your hands.

"Yeah... I know. My fucking job blows and all I want to do is just- start fresh... no more late nights working my ass off just to miss rent again." The drunken state you're in is allowing your emotions to spill out with no hesitation.

"Believe me I'm in the same boat. I mean..." he sighs and rubs his temples. "I work as security for an abandoned pizzeria like....it's fucking abandoned! What am I actually securing dude!" Mike buries his face in his hands, feeling insane for working such a dead end job. "There's people my age with degrees and real accomplishments under their belt and what am I doing? Wasting my life days at a time for shit hours and pay."

You grab his hand and hold it tight. "Mike... I'm literally a stripper... I'm in no place to judge" you say in an attempt to lighten the mood and smile at him. "We do what we do for a reason, right? To keep a roof over our heads... and to go out drinking!" He chuckles at your words and takes a deep breath.

"Yeah...." Mike grips your hand tighter and wets his lips before speaking, "You wanna take a walk?"

"Sure! Fresh air won't hurt." He holds your hand to help you out of the booth and guides you to the parking lot. With it being a small town it, isn't so crowded out. Cars occasionally pass by as the warm breeze cools you both down. You look up at the night sky, amazed by the twinkling stars. Mike stares at you longingly and smirks. He can't think back to the last time a girl made him feel the way he does right now

"Isn't it so beautiful, Mike?" you say while gazing at the stars.

"Yeah.... definitely" he responds still taking in your features. His chest tightens and thoughts begin to race in his head. Mike didn't want to ruin the moment by taking things too fast but god did you look breathtaking right now. "So beautiful..."

You peer down at him and notice he hadn't looked up once and was fully referring to you. This causes a pink color to rush across your cheeks and you move closer to him. He caresses your cheek and plays with a strand of your hair. "Y-you... you don't have a boyfriend, right?"

You seductively respond back at him, "You want to change that, sir?" Mike swiftly wraps his hand around the back of your neck to bring you in to meet his lips. His kiss is hungry for more, clearly desperate for your embrace. He's completely given up on taking it slow.

You pull away and look up at him, your eyes glassy from the drinks. The lip gloss you wore transferred onto his lips. "You sure about this? I know we were drinking and I don't want-"

"Mike..." you roll your eyes at him, wanting him to take control.

"I just don't want to be too rough on you... or ruin my chance with you." he says in a low voice.

"All that flirting earlier and you're backing out now? Don't you want to..." you pout at him playfully, "teach me a lesson for going out with strangers?" A little giggle escapes you when suddenly you're grabbed by the wrist and dragged to the alley next to the bar.

"Do you want this? Yes or no. No bullshit, tell me now." he exclaims as you're backed up against the wall, him towering over you.

"Y-yes sir I do..."

He reaches his hand up your skirt and feels up and down your lacy panties. "You wore these for me, hm?"

"Y-yeah I did... Do you like them?"

"Of course I do sweetheart. Very kind of you to do that for me" He starts pulling them to the side, eager to feel your arousal. He slips his finger in to rub small circles with your wetness. "All that from some kisses? What an eager little girl, so adorable"

"I really like you- that's all!" You're not sure why Mike is making you feel this shy and bashful. You'd like to think you're very dominating towards men due to your profession but he's proving this to be false very quickly.

He grabs you by your chin, forcing you to look him in the eyes and speaks. "Promise me that if at any point you feel uncomfortable or want to stop, you'll tell me...okay?"

You mumble this promise over and over again while feeling up on him through his jeans, your excitement for what's to come literally dripping out of you.

"That's a good girl. You're an amazing listener, do you know that? Keep it up, kiddo" he teases. He turns you around to face the brick wall and pushes your skirt up. "You ready for me?"

You nod your head quickly, overcome with passion.

"Use your words, pretty girl. You can do it."

"Yes... I'm ready, I promise!"

"Yes, who?" Mike says in a commanding manner.

"Yes, sir..." Your legs tremble uncontrollably and your breath accelerates, something about the thrill of possibly being caught is turning up the heat.

He slowly pushes into you, letting you adjust to his cock. "Theeere we go... How does that feel, babygirl?" He bottoms out, his tip kissing your cervix ever so slightly.

"It's g-good sir... feels good" The euphoria from the shots and his length are sure to collaborate with each other in your body.

Mike starts to thrust slowly, using your hips as leverage. Small whimpers and moans slip out of you. "I bet it does... You're so tight around me... I seriously don't know how you're not taken already... A pretty girl with a tight pussy like this should be fuckin' married by now."

He pounds into your cunt harder almost as if he's mad at you for being single. The sound of skin on skin fills the dark alley. Your eyes roll backwards when he hits your sweet spot repeatedly, pushing you closer to the edge of breaking. "Sir p-please... can't go for much longer... S'too much" you beg.

"You can take more, I know you can. Hang in there for me, okay? He says this in such a genuine way, it's only making you fall for him more. You're really hoping this isn't a one night stand situation.

He grunts and moves his hands around your neck, putting you into pretty much a headlock. His cock throbs violently in you, threatening to release soon. "Fuuckk I needed this..." You arch your back against him allowing for your g-spot to be avoided as to not cum quickly.

He instantly noticed this shift and pulls you back up, "You wanted this, don't run now..." There's a hint of condescension in his words. You moan loudly when he juts harshly into your poor pussy, leaking with fervor.

"Can you stay quiet for me baby? Just a little longer, okay? We can't have people finding us out here, right?"

"B-but sir-"

"No buts princess... That's a direction. What happened to my good little listener?"

You pout and bite your lip to hold in the moans begging to topple out of you. Only small whimpers and whines allowed you remind yourself mentally as he continues on. He purposely rubs on your spot with his thick cock and sneaks a hand down to toy with your swollen clit, guaranteeing to make you cum any second.

"M'gonna... gonna cum... Mike please!!!"

"Cum on my cock like a good girl, baby. You deserve it after all..." You quiver and whimper as you reach your limit, your pussy clenching down onto his member. You squirt from the stimulation, dripping down on your legs and leaving a wet spot on his jeans. Mike's thrusts get sloppier and his moans get heavier simultaneously.

"Y-you're on the pill, r-right?" You nod aggressively with his hand over your mouth to block your screams of pleasure. "G-good... gonna ffuckin' cum inside- shit... fucccckk...." He pumps all his cum into you, whining into your ear. He keeps his cock stuffed inside your hole so he can catch his breath.

"You did very very well baby.... I'm proud of you" he says while stroking your hair. When he pulls out, little drips of cum leak down your thighs. Mike pulls your panties back into place and pats you on the head. "Ready to head home, little one?"

You turn around to face him and smile from being fully fucked out and cockdrunk. "Cooould I... come home with you maybe?"

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