#I don’t think he thought it was on purpose or anything like that - I just think he was letting off steam about the whole shitty situation

[moonlightwritingf1]

Craving You | LN4

✩‧₊˚ summary ━━━━━━━ Pregnant and aching with need, Y/N finds herself craving sex with Lando after weeks without it, though their attempts are humorously awkward due to her baby bump and slipping pillows. 

✩‧₊˚ pairing ━━━━━━━ Lando Norris x she!reader

✩‧₊˚ word count ━━━━━━━ 4.5k

✩‧₊˚ warnings ━━━━━━━ +18, sexual content, p in v, creampie?, slow sex, pregnancy sex, nipples play?, multiple positions

Based on this request.

Y/N shifted uncomfortably on the bed, her back propped up against a mountain of pillows. Her hands rested on the swell of her belly, the baby within kicking softly as if sensing her restlessness. She glanced over at Lando, who was lying beside her, his head resting on one hand, the other tracing absent patterns on her thigh. His eyes were half-lidded, that familiar teasing glint shining through.

“You’re quiet tonight,” he murmured, his voice low and rich, like honey dripping over velvet. “Thinking about something… or someone?”

She rolled her eyes but couldn’t suppress the smile tugging at her lips. “Oh, someone is definitely on my mind,” she quipped, her tone playful yet laced with a deeper undertone she didn’t bother hiding. She’d been feeling it all evening—that restless, electric energy buzzing under her skin. It had been weeks since they’d been intimate, and though she’d been the one to hesitate at first, now the craving was undeniable.

Lando’s eyebrows shot up, and he shifted closer, his hand sliding up her thigh to rest on her hip. “Care to share your thoughts?” he asked, his voice dropping an octave, the teasing replaced by something far more serious.

She bit her lip, her fingers fidgeting with the hem of her oversized t-shirt. “Maybe,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “But I’m not sure I can… say it.”

His gaze softened, and he moved even closer, his chest brushing against her arm. “You can tell me anything, you know that,” he said, his voice gentle but insistent. “Anything at all.”

She took a deep breath, her heart pounding in her chest. “I… I want to… be with you,” she finally admitted, her cheeks flushing as she spoke. “But… it’s been so long, and I’m just… I don’t know how we’d…”

Her words trailed off, but Lando didn’t need her to finish. He understood. His hand moved from her hip to her belly, his touch tender as he leaned in to press a soft kiss to her forehead. “We’ll figure it out,” he said, his voice steady and reassuring. “We’ll take it slow, just like we always do.”

She nodded, her breath catching as he brushed his lips against her temple, then her cheek, before finally capturing her mouth in a kiss that was both sweet and searing. His hand slid under her t-shirt, his fingers skimming over her skin, leaving trails of fire in their wake. She moaned softly into his mouth, her hands tangling in his hair as the kiss deepened, the tension between them crackling like a live wire.

When they finally broke apart, both of them were breathing heavily, their foreheads pressed together. “You’re so beautiful,” Lando whispered, his voice rough with desire. His fingers traced the curve of her belly, his touch reverent. “I don’t know how you do it, but you just keep getting more and more stunning.”

She laughed softly despite herself, her cheeks flushing even darker. “You’re such a charmer,” she said, her voice trembling slightly. “Always know the right thing to say.”

He grinned, his dimples flashing. “Can’t help it if it’s true,” he said. “Now… let’s see if I can remember how to do this.”

His hand began to move with purpose, fingers trailing a slow, deliberate path downward. His touch was electric, every inch of her skin buzzing as he traced the curve of her waist, down to the soft swell of her belly. He paused there for a moment, his palm resting protectively over the life growing inside her.

“You’re so fucking perfect,” he whispered, his voice thick with awe and desire. “Every part of you. Every inch.” His hand drifted lower, fingertips grazing the sensitive skin just above the waistband of her sleep shorts. She bit her lip, her breath hitching as his fingers dipped beneath the fabric, teasingly slow, as if he was savoring every second of this.

“Lando…” she breathed, her voice trembling with a mix of anticipation and desperation. Her body tensed, her hips lifting slightly off the mattress, as if urging him to take what she was so clearly offering. His hand stilled for a moment, his eyes locking with hers, searching for any sign of hesitation. But there was none—only need, raw and unfiltered, burning in her gaze.

“You sure?” he asked, his voice soft but laced with an intensity that made her stomach flip. She nodded, her hands gripping the sheets as she whispered, “Yes. I want you. I need you.”

Her words were all the encouragement he needed. His fingers slid lower, brushing against the warmth between her thighs, and she gasped, her back arching as he found her most sensitive spot. His touch was light at first, a gentle exploration that made her toes curl and her breath catch in her throat. But then he pressed deeper, his fingers circling in a way that sent sparks of pleasure shooting through her body.

“God, you’re so wet for me,” he groaned, his voice rough with desire as he leaned in to capture her lips in a searing kiss. His other hand cradled her belly protectively, his touch a grounding contrast to the fire he was igniting between her legs. She moaned into his mouth, her hands tangling in his hair as he deepened the kiss, his fingers never stopping their relentless pace.

“The baby…” she murmured against his lips, her voice wavering despite the ache coursing through her.

“We’re fine,” he assured her, his voice steady and reassuring. “I’ve got you. Both of you.” His lips trailed down her neck, his teeth grazing her skin in a way that made her shudder. “Just let me take care of you.”

And she did. With every touch, every kiss, every whispered word, he reminded her why she’d waited for him, why she’d let herself fall so completely. Because when it came to Lando, it wasn’t just about the physical—it was about the way he made her feel, the way he cherished her, even in moments like this when the world felt too big and their bodies felt too small.

“I need you,” she whispered again, her voice breaking as his fingers curled inside her, sending a wave of pleasure so intense it stole her breath. And he didn’t hesitate. He never did. Because when it came to her, Lando was always ready to give her everything.

“Stop,” she gasped, her voice breaking as his fingers curled inside her again and again, sending a wave of pleasure so intense it stole her breath. But it wasn’t enough—not anymore. She needed more. She needed him. “Lando, please… I need you. Your fingers… they’re not enough.” Her hands gripped his shoulders, nails digging into his skin as she pulled him closer, her hips arching off the mattress in a desperate plea. “I need your cock. Please, I need to feel you inside me.”

Lando’s eyes darkened, desire blazing in them as he looked down at her, his chest heaving. “You’re sure?” he asked, his voice rough, strained with restraint. “I don’t want to hurt you. Or the baby.”

She shook her head, her hands moving to cup his face, her thumbs brushing over his cheekbones. “You won’t,” she whispered, her voice trembling with need. “I need you, Lando. Please… fuck me. I’ve been waiting… dreaming about this. I need to feel you, all of you.”

His jaw tightened, a low groan escaping him as he leaned down to capture her lips in a searing kiss. “God, Y/N… you have no idea what you do to me,” he murmured against her mouth, his hands moving to grip her hips. 

“I’ll give you everything. Always,” Lando whispered, his voice a low, gravelly promise that sent shivers down her spine. He leaned down to press a searing kiss to her lips before pulling back, his eyes locked on hers as he slowly, deliberately reached for the waistband of his boxers. He tugged them down, his gaze never leaving hers, the heat in his eyes enough to make her heart race and her breath catch.

She lay there, watching him, her chest rising and falling with shallow breaths as he moved closer, his hands now on her pajama bottoms. “Let’s get these off,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire. His fingers brushed against her skin as he slid the fabric down her legs, his touch deliberate and teasing, sending waves of anticipation coursing through her. She lifted her hips to help him, her body trembling with the intensity of the moment.

Once she was bare before him, Lando’s hands moved to her hips, his touch both possessive and tender. “Turn on your side for me, love,” he said softly, his voice gentle but laced with urgency. She nodded, her breath hitching as she shifted onto her side, her back now pressed against his chest. His hand rested on her thigh, his fingers tracing slow, maddening circles as he adjusted behind her, his hips aligning with hers.

His hard length pressed against her entrance, and she gasped, the sensation sending a jolt of electricity through her body. His hand tightened on her thigh as he rocked his hips forward, rubbing himself against her, the friction teasing and torturous all at once. “You feel so fucking good,” he groaned, his voice roughened with need. His breath was hot against her neck, his lips grazing her skin.

But then—“Ow—wait, wait, babe—cramp!” she gasped, her body tensing as she reached for his hand to stop him.

He froze instantly, pulling back slightly. “Shit, sorry! Is it your leg or…?” he asked, concern lacing his voice.

“No, no—it’s the bump,” she explained, grimacing slightly. “It’s just squished.”

They paused for a moment, their heavy breaths filling the room as they both laughed softly, the tension easing for a second. “Okay, okay,” Lando said with a grin, his hands moving to help her shift onto her back.

“Okay, let’s try something different,” she suggested, her breath still uneven as she pushed herself up from the pillows. Her hands slid over Lando’s shoulders, her touch lingering as she shifted her weight, her movements slow and deliberate. She swung one leg over him, her belly pressing gently against his thighs as she positioned herself above him, facing away. Her back was to him now, the curve of her spine and the swell of her bump exposed, the dim light of the room casting soft shadows over her skin.

Lando’s hands immediately found her hips, his fingers gripping her possessively as she lowered herself onto him. “Fuck, Y/N,” he groaned, his voice rough with desire as he felt her warmth hovering just above him. His cock strained against her, hard and aching, and he couldn’t help but rock his hips upward, a silent plea for her to take him in.

She felt him nudge against her, the tip of him brushing against her entrance, and she shuddered, her breath catching in her throat. Slowly, she sank down, inch by inch, her body stretching to accommodate him. The sensation was overwhelming—warm, tight, and electric, a mix of pleasure and a deep, aching fullness that made her toes curl. She gasped, her hands gripping his thighs for support as she felt him fill her completely, the pressure and heat of him sending sparks of pleasure radiating through her body.

For Lando, it was pure bliss. Her wetness enveloped him, her warmth wrapping around his cock in a way that made his head spin. The tightness of her, the way her body seemed to cling to him, was almost too much to bear. He let out a low, guttural groan, his hands tightening on her hips as he fought the urge to thrust up into her. “You feel fucking incredible,” he gritted out, his voice strained. “So tight, so warm… like you were made for me.”

She moaned softly, her hips rocking slightly as she adjusted to the feel of him inside her. But then, the strain in her thighs became impossible to ignore, and the weight of her belly pressed uncomfortably against her lungs. “Oh god,” she wheezed, her hands trembling as she tried to hold herself up. “Lando, I’m either going to pass out or fall over.”

He chuckled, though his voice was thick with lust. “Let’s not have that happen,” he said, his hands moving to help her shift her weight. Gently, he helped her move off from on top of him, guiding her down until she was lying back on the bed. He grabbed every pillow within reach, stacking them beneath her hips as she lay back. The angle was better this way—less strain, more focus on them. His hands lingered on her thighs, his touch possessive but tender, as he positioned himself between her legs.

She could feel the heat of him against her, the tip of his cock brushing her entrance, and a shiver ran through her. “Ready?” he asked, his voice low and gravelly, thick with desire. She nodded, biting her lip as he pushed into her slowly, inch by torturous inch.

He felt divine. The way her body welcomed him, warm and wet, was almost overwhelming. She gasped, her hands gripping the sheets as he filled her completely, the stretch and fullness sending sparks of pleasure radiating through her core. His name spilled from her lips in a breathy moan, and he groaned in response, his hands tightening on her hips.

But then—of course—the pillows began to shift. She felt herself sliding down awkwardly, the angle changing as gravity betrayed them. “Okay, so gravity is not on our side tonight,” she mumbled, her voice tinged with both amusement and frustration.

Before she could adjust, Lando’s cock slipped out of her, leaving her feeling strangely empty. She let out a soft whine, her body craving the heat of him again. He chuckled, his hands moving to steady her hips. “Let’s try that again,” he said, his voice rough with need.

This time, he didn’t hesitate. He guided himself back to her entrance, the tip nudging against her folds. She gasped as he pushed in again, the sensation of him sliding inside her for the second time even more intense. The initial stretch was sharp, almost too much, but then it melted into a deep, aching pleasure that spread through her entire body. Her walls clenched around him instinctively, drawing a low, guttural groan from his throat.

For Lando, it was pure bliss. Her tightness enveloped him, her warmth wrapping around his cock in a way that made his head spin. The wetness of her, the way her body seemed to cling to him, was almost too much to bear. He let out a shaky breath, his hands gripping her thighs as he fought the urge to thrust into her with all the pent-up desire he’d been holding back. “You feel fucking incredible,” he gritted out, his voice strained. “So tight, so warm… like you were made for me.”

She moaned softly, her hips shifting slightly to take him deeper. The sensation of him filling her completely, the pressure and heat of him, was overwhelming. It was as if every nerve in her body was on fire, every touch, every movement, sending waves of pleasure crashing through her.

He leaned down, his lips brushing against her ear as he whispered, “You’re so perfect, Y/N. Every part of you.” His thrusts were slow and deliberate, each one drawing another gasp from her lips. She could feel the rhythm building between them, the tension tightening like a coil ready to snap.

But then—again—the pillows slipped, and she felt herself sliding down. Lando cursed under his breath, his hips stalling as he tried to adjust. She let out a frustrated laugh, her body trembling with the effort to hold itself up. “Okay, so maybe this isn’t going to work,��� she said, her voice breathless.

Lando chuckled, though his voice was thick with lust and a hint of exasperation. “Let’s not give up yet,” he said, his hands moving to help her shift her weight. But as she tried to prop herself up again, the pillows beneath her slid completely out of place, and she collapsed back onto the bed with a frustrated groan.

They both froze for a moment, staring at each other, before bursting into laughter. His deep, resonant laugh mingled with her breathless giggles, the sound filling the room and easing the tension that had been building between them.

Lando leaned down, his forehead resting against hers as he caught his breath. “It’s not about the sex anyway,” he whispered, his voice soft and tender, his thumb brushing her cheek. His tone was sincere, but the teasing glint in his eyes betrayed him.

She rolled her eyes, though her lips twitched into a smile. “Speak for yourself,” she grumbled, already leaning in to kiss his jaw, her lips brushing against the stubble there. Her hands moved to his chest, fingers tracing the firm muscles beneath his skin. “I’m the one who’s been craving you all night,” she murmured against his neck, her voice low and needy. “I’m desperate, Lando. I need you. I need your dick.”

He groaned, his hands tightening on her hips as she shifted closer, her belly pressing against his side. “Fuck, Y/N,” he muttered, his voice rough with desire. “You’re killing me here.”

She pulled back just enough to meet his gaze, her eyes filled with want. “Then stop teasing me,” she whispered, her voice trembling with desperation. “Please, Lando. I can’t wait anymore. I need you inside me.”

He hesitated for a moment, his eyes searching hers, before letting out a shaky breath. “Okay, okay,” he said, his voice gentle but laced with urgency. “Let’s try this again. Slowly. Just… let me take care of you.”

She nodded, her breath hitching as he moved back between her legs, his hands guiding her hips into a more comfortable position. Their laughter had eased the tension, but now, as his cock brushed against her entrance, the urgency returned full force. She whimpered, her hips lifting slightly, silently begging him to take her. “Please,” she whispered again, her voice breaking. “I need you so much.”

And this time, he didn’t hesitate. He pushed into her slowly, inch by agonizing inch, until he was buried to the hilt. She gasped, her nails digging into his shoulders as the overwhelming sensation of him filled her completely. For a moment, they both just stayed like that, suspended in the intensity of the moment, before he began to move, his thrusts slow and deliberate, drawing gasps and moans from her lips.

But then—again—the pillows slipped, and they both collapsed onto the bed, tangled in each other and laughing breathlessly. Lando shook his head, his chest heaving as he pressed a kiss to her temple. “We’re a mess,” he murmured, his voice warm with affection.

She grinned, her fingers tracing patterns on his chest. “Yeah, but we’re our mess,” she whispered, already feeling the warmth of his body seeping into hers. 

Y/N let out a frustrated sigh, her hands tugging at the hem of the oversized t-shirt she was still wearing. “This fucking thing,” she muttered, her voice laced with irritation as she tried to adjust it for the umpteenth time. It was bunched up awkwardly around her belly, the fabric clinging in all the wrong places. She glanced over at Lando, who was watching her with a mixture of amusement and desire in his eyes. “What?” she snapped, though there was no real bite to her tone.

“Nothing,” he said, his voice low and teasing. “You’re just… adorable when you’re annoyed.”

She rolled her eyes, but the corner of her mouth twitched into a smile. “Help me get this off,” she said, tugging at the shirt again. “It’s driving me insane.”

Lando didn’t need to be asked twice. He leaned in, his hands sliding up her sides under the fabric, his touch warm and electric against her skin. Slowly, he pulled the shirt up and over her head, tossing it onto the floor beside the bed. And there she was—finally completely naked, her pregnant body bathed in the soft glow of the lamplight.

Lando’s breath caught in his throat as he took her in, his eyes roaming over her with a hunger that made her shiver. Her breasts were fuller now, her nipples peaked and sensitive, and her belly was a beautiful, rounded curve that he couldn’t resist touching. His hand rested gently on her bump, his fingers tracing the smooth skin there before moving lower, teasingly close to where she needed him most.

“Lando,” she whispered, her voice trembling with need. Her hands reached for him, pulling him closer, her nails digging into his shoulders as she kissed him hungrily. “Please,” she murmured against his lips. “I need you. I need you so bad.”

He groaned, his cock twitching in response to her desperation. “Let’s try this,” he said, his voice rough with desire. He helped her shift to the edge of the bed, her legs spread wide to accommodate him. He stood between her legs, his hands gripping her hips to steady her as he positioned himself at her entrance.

For her, the sensation of his cock brushing against her was almost too much to bear. She was wet—achingly so—and the thought of him filling her again sent a wave of anticipation crashing through her. When he finally pushed inside her, the sensation was electric. The initial stretch was sharp, almost overwhelming, but then it melted into a deep, aching pleasure that spread through her entire body. God, he felt so good. Her walls clenched around him instinctively, drawing a low, guttural groan from his throat.

For Lando, it was pure bliss. Her tightness enveloped him, her warmth wrapping around his cock in a way that made his head spin. The wetness of her, the way her body seemed to cling to him, was almost too much to bear. He let out a shaky breath, his hands gripping her hips as he fought the urge to thrust into her with all the pent-up desire he’d been holding back. “You feel fucking incredible,” he gritted out, his voice strained. 

She moaned softly, her hips shifting slightly to take him deeper. The sensation of him filling her completely, the pressure and heat of him, was overwhelming. It was as if every nerve in her body was on fire, every touch, every movement, sending waves of pleasure crashing through her.

He leaned down, his lips brushing against her ear as he whispered, “You’re so perfect, Y/N. Every part of you.” His thrusts were slow and deliberate, each one drawing another gasp from her lips. She could feel the rhythm building between them, the tension tightening like a coil ready to snap.

She was desperate for him, her body trembling with the need to feel more of him, to be closer to him. Her hands gripped the edge of the bed, her nails digging into the mattress as she arched her back, offering herself to him completely. “Lando,” she whimpered, her voice breaking. “Please… don’t stop. I need you so much.”

He groaned, his thrusts growing more urgent as he felt her desperation. “I’ve got you,” he murmured, his voice rough with need. “I’ll always take care of you.” His hands moved to her breasts, his fingers brushing over her nipples, sending shivers of pleasure through her. She gasped, her head falling back as the sensations overwhelmed her.

“Your tits,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire as he leaned down to take one of her nipples into his mouth. She moaned, her hands tangling in his hair as he suckled gently, his tongue teasing her sensitive skin. The combination of his cock filling her and his mouth on her breast was almost too much to bear. She could feel herself teetering on the edge, the pleasure building to a crescendo.

“Lando, I’m close,” she gasped, her voice trembling. “Please… I’m so close.”

He pulled back slightly, his eyes locking with hers as he continued to thrust into her, his movements steady and deliberate. “Come for me, Y/N,” he whispered, his voice laced with urgency. “Let go. I want to feel you come around me.”

His words were all it took. Her orgasm crashed over her like a tidal wave, her body trembling as pleasure radiated through her. Her walls clenched around him, milking his cock as she moaned his name, her voice breaking with the intensity of it.

For Lando, it was too much. The feeling of her pussy squeezing his cock, pulling him deeper into her, was unbearable. He let out a low, guttural groan, his thrusts growing erratic as he felt his own release building. “Fuck, Y/N,” he gritted out, his voice rough. “I’m going to… I’m going to come.”

She moaned softly, her body still quivering with the lingering waves of her climax as she felt Lando’s thrusts grow erratic, each one driving deeper into her. His hands—which had been gripping her hips with such possessive intensity—now roamed over her body, one sliding up to cup her breast while the other traced the curve of her belly. His fingers moved with a mix of reverence and desperation, as if he couldn’t get enough of her, even now.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he groaned, his voice ragged and thick with need. “You feel… so fucking good.” His thumb brushed over her nipple, the touch sending a jolt of pleasure through her already oversensitive body. She gasped, arching into his hand as he leaned down to capture her lips in a messy, heated kiss.

She could feel him trembling above her, his control slipping as his thrusts became shallow and unsteady. “I’m gonna come,” he warned, his voice low and gravelly, his breath hot against her skin. His hips stuttered, and then he was spilling inside her, his cock pulsing as he filled her with his warmth. The sensation was overwhelming—intimate, possessive, and so fucking good. She clung to him, her nails digging into his shoulders as he buried himself to the hilt, his release flooding her completely.

“Fuck, fuck,” he panted, his forehead resting against hers as he rode out the last waves of his orgasm. His hands roamed over her body, one cupping her breast while the other slid down to her hip, his touch grounding and possessive. “You’re fucking perfect,” he murmured, his voice rough and awed. “Every inch of you… I can’t get enough.”

She felt him softening inside her, but he didn’t pull away, instead staying connected to her, his hands continuing to explore her body with a tenderness that made her heart swell. His fingers traced the swell of her belly, then slid up to graze her nipple again, his touch feather-light and teasing. “So beautiful,” he whispered, his lips brushing against her temple. “I love you so fucking much.”

She sighed, her hands moving to cradle his face, her thumbs brushing over his cheekbones. “I love you too,” she murmured, her voice soft but filled with the same intensity that had been between them all night. She pulled him closer, her lips brushing against his in a slow, tender kiss that spoke of everything they’d just shared—and everything they still had yet to discover.

[bloomiize]

perv/gooner!jake is gross and he's gotten even worse

READ PART ONE HERE (not needed but it adds context)

perv!jake finally asks for your instagram when you're paired up for a project. It’s not like he doesn’t already know it by heart. Not like he hasn’t jerked off to every single one of your posts. Not like he wasn’t drooling over that innocent little selfie you posted last night. He just wants you to know he exists now. And you happily exchange Instagrams with him like it’s nothing.

perv!jake tells his roommate everything. He asks for advice on how to get closer to you, more specifically, how he could get his dick wet.

"She sounds hot. If you ever wanna recreate that hentai scene, let me know." Jake and his roommate have always joked around about sex, but this time it felt real. Too real. His dick is already begging to be touched at the thought of fucking you, he doesn't mind if he isn't the only one.

perv!jake made an effort to get to know you. Your favourite colour, the way you like your coffee, the songs you hum when you're zoning out. He also knows how you always tug your skirt down when you think it’s ridden up too high, not high enough in his opinion. How you're so naive to just bend over without thinking, right in front of him. He knows you prefer lacy panties over thongs, soft and girly, the kind he imagines peeling off you with his teeth. He’s memorized you. Every inch. Every habit. Every sound you make.

perv!jake likes how close you two are now. You always invite him over to study, to work on the project like good classmates. And yeah, maybe he’s looked through your drawers when you’re in the kitchen. Maybe he’s taken a not-so-innocent glance at your laundry basket, eyes locked on the crumpled pair of panties sitting right on top.

He’s thought about it.

Pocketing a bra, a pair of panties, hell—even a sock. Just something. Anything that smells like you. Feels like you. Something he can wrap around his fist while he jerks off to the thought of your soft little voice saying his name.

It’s disgusting. He knows that. Still doesn’t stop him.

perv!jake can never make it halfway through the door without his dick twitching. Can you really blame him, though? You’re always wearing a tiny tank top, no bra, and he can see everything. Your shorts, if you can even call them that, barely cover your ass, riding up with every step you take. Jake nearly cums in his pants right then and there.

perv!jake helps you solve a complicated problem, and you light up like he’s the smartest boy in the world. As a sign of your appreciation, you hug him, tight, soft, your tits pressing right up against his chest like it's nothing.

And he moans.

Quiet. Slips out before he can even think. You don’t seem to notice. You just keep smiling, thanking him like you can't feel something hard pressed against you. His dick’s already leaking, he can feel it.

He clears his throat, cheeks red. “I- uh, I’m not really feeling the best. I think I’m gonna head out early.”

You pout, sweet and worried, and offer to get him some water, maybe let him lie down, hoping he'll stay a bit longer. But he’s already opening the door.

Because he needs to get home. Now. He’s seconds from cumming in his pants, and he knows once he’s alone he’s gonna jerk it to the feeling of your tits against him—again and again until he’s lightheaded and shaking.

gooner!jake cant stop thinking about you, or more specifically, your tits. Its hard not to when they're so perfect. Soft, warm, and pushed against him when you hugged. He swears you did it on purpose, not that he minds. He can't stop fucking the panties he took from your apartment a few days ago when you had him over, surely you didn't notice they went missing. They're dirty and sticky from his fluids but he can't stop, he wont stop. Jake's not proud of it but this is the closest he's getting to fucking your perfect pussy.

gooner!jake got a call from you in the middle of edging himself for the third time tonight.

"Hey! Did you make it home okay? You left in a hurry and you said you weren't feeling well..." Your voice rings through his head. He's gripping his dick tighter now, still moving his hand up and down. He can't just cum immediently to the sound of your voice, that would be so embarrassing. He has to last longer for you.

"Y-yeah I made it home fine. T-thanks" Jake's holding back moans. It's disgusting how even when he's on the phone he won't stop. He cock is throbbing in agony, he's been edging himself non stop and he so desperately wants to cum, to feel you, to fill you up.

"You don't sound sound okay Jakey, you should've just stayed. I would've taken care of you." You say it so innocently that Jake loses it. He lets out a groan and thrusts his hips violently into his hand. Jake knows your panties are ruined by him but it doesn't stop him from shoving it into his mouth, pretending he's tasting your sweet cunt against his dirty tongue

How could you just say that so casually? Calling him Jakey? Saying you would've taken care of him?

You have no idea what you do to him.

"f-f-fuck y/n. I want you so fucking b-bad." It slips out of Jake's mouth before he realizes it.

"Walking around with those t-tiny shorts. I should've just be-bent you over." His brain is practically gone at this point, all he cares about is cumming. His eyes are rolling to the back of his head while his hand moves furiously. He's moaning loudly enough that you could hear him through the phone. He doesn't care anymore; he wants to be gross for you, if you'd let him.

"I'm go-gonna cum, fu-fuck!" His hips sputtered into his fist and thick, hot ropes of cum sprayed all over his phone. He's oversentive from edging himself nonstop, brain completely empty and dick still hard.

gooner!jake realizes that you were still on the phone, you didn't hang up. Before he can apologize, your small voice comes out,

a whimper.

Are you... are you touching yourself to him right now?

from bloomiize: tysm for reading the first part!! I honestly wasn’t expecting anyone to ask for a part 2, let alone enjoy my writing 😭 I was super nervous posting >< but your support means everything!! lmk if you wanna be added to the taglist for part 3 !!

taglist (OMG I HAVE A TAGLIST?!?! if you commented on part 1 I tagged you, lmk if you wanna be removed! ^^)

@femmefqtqle @seobinghard @maysshade @dark-moon-light02 @jjongsies @nikismyprincesses @iaaespa @heeseungsbm @shy9-29

[tikitakatia]

Escape — A. Putellas x Reader

"Write to Me and Escape"

WC: 5.5k

Summary: You couldn’t hold it in anymore, you just had to see them even if it wrecked you. But what you find changes everything, and nothing feels the same anymore.

Pt. 1 , Pt. 2 , Pt. 3 , Pt.4

The rhythm with go4goald2 fell back into place quicker than you expected.

Alexia had warned you about the media days, press events and tight schedule. You’d nodded to yourself, thanked her for the heads-up, and tried not to be disappointed when she used the words “a few days.” It had taken months for her to remember how to tell you things before they hurt. You gave her credit for that. Quietly. Without saying it out loud.

But now with her occupied and off your screen, off your mind in a way that felt both guilty and relieving, you opened Chattr without hesitation. No wince. No weighing what it meant.

Just you. And them.

The message was already waiting.

[go4goald2]: Okay, important: If your life had a laugh track, what moment would it play the loudest?

You grinned before you even started typing.

[lostinthecrowd]: When I waved back at someone who was waving at the person behind me, then tried to cover it by swatting a fly that didn’t exist.

[go4goald2]: Oh my god, I’m cringing in solidarity.

[lostinthecrowd]: It haunts me weekly. Specifically at 11:47 p.m. when I'm trying to sleep like a normal person.

[go4goald2]: Good, it keeps you humble.

You laughed and felt something in your chest unspool just a little.

[go4goald2]: Okay, but now I need more. What's the most embarrassing thing you’ve ever done on purpose?

You didn’t overthink it. You didn’t try to be cool. You just told the truth.

[lostinthecrowd]: I once tried to flirt with a barista by ordering “whatever you think matches my vibe.”

[lostinthecrowd]: They gave me a decaf oat milk lavender latte that tasted like sadness and dirt.

[go4goald2]: Nooo. Did you drink the whole thing??

[lostinthecrowd]: Yep. Smiled through it then tipped five bucks out of pure shame.

There was a pause. Just long enough to notice.

Then:

[go4goald2]: You´re such a dumbass.

[go4goald2]: I love you.

You froze.

Not because you thought they meant it.

Not really.

But because it hit different, even as a joke.

Because the part of you that was still clawing for something real? It wanted to believe it. Even just for a second.

You didn’t reply right away.

[go4goald2]: I´m so sorry. That was too much.

[lostinthecrowd]: No. It wasn’t. I just... didn’t expect it.

A pause. Then:

[go4goald2]: I think about you a lot when I'm not talking to you. When something dumb happens. When I see something and wonder if you’d laugh at it. That's normal, right?

You stared at the screen.

Felt your chest clench in that stupid, hopeful, terrified way.

[lostinthecrowd]: Maybe not normal. But... not bad.

Another beat.

[go4goald2]: Have you ever fallen for someone just by how they see you?

That was… something.

Because yes.

Because that’s exactly what this was starting to feel like.

You typed slower this time.

[lostinthecrowd]: I think I'm scared of how much I want to say yes to that.

You waited.

And waited.

Then finally:

[go4goald2]: I won't ask you to say it. Not if it’s not the time. I just want you to know you’re seen exactly as you are. You don’t have to change anything around me.

You closed your eyes. Let the words settle.

Alexia was trying. She was.

But this?

This felt like being chosen in real time.

And you didn’t know what to do with that yet.

So instead, you reached down, scratched behind Tofu’s ears, and whispered, “You’re not helping, you know.”

He snorted. Rolled over like he disagreed.

Your phone buzzed again.

[go4goald2]: Are you still with me?

You hesitated.

Then, without thinking too hard, you typed:

[lostinthecrowd]: Yeah, I’m still here.

And god help you, for the first time in a long time, you meant it.

[go4goald2]: If I asked you something kind of dangerous, would you answer?

[lostinthecrowd]: That depends. Are we talking dangerous like “eat expired sushi” or dangerous like “emotional vulnerability at midnight”?

[go4goald2]: The second one, obviously.

[lostinthecrowd]: Then maybe, ask.

[go4goald2]: Do you think some people are meant for us… But not meant to stay?

[lostinthecrowd]: Jesus.

[go4goald2]: Too much?

[lostinthecrowd]: Not too much. Just… accurate.

[go4goald2]: I think about it a lot. How sometimes you meet someone and they wreck you. Not in a bad way. Just… Like they rearrange everything inside you. And then they’re gone. But you’re still left shaped like them.

[lostinthecrowd]: And then you meet someone else, and they touch that same part of you, but gentler.

[go4goald2]: Yeah. Like maybe the first person cracked you open so someone else could find you.

[lostinthecrowd]: I don't know if I believe in fate.

[go4goald2]: Me neither. But I believe in timing, and maybe we don’t always get to choose what hurts.

[lostinthecrowd]: Sometimes I think I was supposed to love her, just not forever.

There was a pause.

Not the bad kind. The kind that means someone is breathing slowly before saying something that might change everything.

[go4goald2]: And now?

You stared at the screen. Tofu shifted against your thigh. You started typing, fingers shaking.

[lostinthecrowd]: Now I'm scared, because I think I'm falling again. and I don't know whose arms I want to land on.

You didn’t get a reply right away.

But the typing bubble flickered.

Flickered.

Then it disappeared.

Then..

Your phone rang.

Not Chattr.

Not go4goald2.

Alexia.

You froze. Let it ring once. Twice. Four times.

Your thumb moved before you could talk yourself out of it.

“...Hey,” you said, your voice paper-thin.

There was a pause. Then:

“Sorry,” she said, exhaling like the air had been punched out of her. “I didn’t mean to call. I mean, I did. I just…”

You waited.

“I’m at the hotel,” she said, too fast. “Patri and Pina were curled up on the couch watching some stupid romcom, and she was laughing so hard she had to hide her face in her hoodie. It made me think of you. Of us. Of how we used to be when everything still felt easy.”

She paused.

“And I just.. God, I missed you so much it hurt. Like physical, actual pain. And I didn’t know what to do with it, so I called.”

You didn’t say anything and allowed the silence to wrap around both of you like fog.

Her voice cracked. “I don’t know what I’m doing. I just know that it’s 1am and I heard your laugh in my head and I realized it’s been months since I heard it for real. And that’s my fault.”

She sniffled. Not trying to hide it. “I spent so long trying to prove I could be everything to everyone. I didn’t realize I was becoming nothing to you.”

You swallowed hard.

“I miss you,” she whispered. “Not just the version of you that laughed with me. The quiet parts too. The hard days. The mornings when you hated everyone but me. I miss you. All of it.”

She laughed, watery. “God, I sound drunk. I’m not. I’m just tired, being a little stupid. And a lot in love, still.”

A beat. Then she said, almost childishly soft,

“You don’t have to say anything. I just wanted to call before I got too scared to.”

She hung up.

No goodbye. Just a breath. Then gone.

You stared at your phone like it had short-circuited your brain.

And then it buzzed.

Chattr.

You opened it.

[go4goald2]: Hey, you okay?

Your fingers moved.

Paused.

Then:

[lostinthecrowd]: She called.. She cried and then said things I didn't know I still needed to hear.

A beat.

Then:

[go4goald2]: And what do you need right now?

You blinked. Let your eyes close. Let the weight of that question settle into your ribs.

And then you typed:

[lostinthecrowd]: I don’t know, but I think I need to find out without disappearing again.

Because that was the truth.

You weren’t running.

But you were on the edge.

And you didn’t want to fall without knowing where you’d land.

For two days, you didn’t text Alexia. You didn’t open Chattr either. The silence just settled in, uninvited but familiar, like it had a key. You moved through the apartment like your skin didn’t fit right, trying not to look at anything too long. Everything in here had her fingerprints on it, some literal, some worse.

Tofu had no such crisis. He charged through your day like he owned it. Like this was his apartment and you were just lucky to live in it. He leapt onto the couch without asking, claimed the sunny spot on the rug like a seasoned diva, and barked loudly when you took too long filling his water bowl. He had no patience for emotional spirals. He had toys to destroy and treats to extort.

And still, somehow, he made your chest ache.

Because she gave him to you.

Just a few weeks ago, the night before she left for international break, she showed up with a bag full of supplies and said, “He’s yours now. I think you need each other.” Like he was a peace offering. Like he was a bridge. Or maybe a way to say I still love you, without the risk of hearing it back.

You told yourself it didn’t mean anything.

But she’d remembered the kind of dog you always paused to pet on the street. She picked a leash in your favorite color. She said, “His name’s Tofu,” with a smile so soft it was like an inside joke you hadn’t caught yet. And then she kissed your forehead like she didn’t still live in the ache of your throat.

Now Tofu was sprawled across your lap, toy half-chewed between his paws, utterly unbothered by your entire existential crisis. You ran your fingers through his fur absentmindedly, blinked at the ceiling, tried not to think too hard.

But it was impossible not to think of her when he was like this.

So sure of you. So certain you’d hold him, feed him, love him. No hesitation. No fear.

He trusted you more than you trusted yourself right now.

And God, what did it mean that she’d given you something this soft? This loud? This real?

You missed her. That was the truth. You missed the girl who used to dance in the kitchen while brushing her teeth. The girl who always pulled your hand into her lap when you were anxious, like that was enough to ground you. The girl who said “I love you” like it was a fact, not a performance.

You missed her so much it made your teeth hurt.

But missing someone didn’t erase what they did to you.

Tofu snorted in his sleep and shifted, shoving his back against your stomach like he was trying to merge your atoms. You laughed, quietly and bitterly. Even the dog didn’t believe in personal space.

You were trying so hard not to fall into the same shape you used to hold with her. But everything in this apartment: the blanket, the coffee mugs, this ridiculous little gremlin she gifted you, was a memory dressed like comfort.

And then there was go4goald2.

You hadn’t talked since the night Alexia called. Since everything broke open and left you standing in the middle of the mess, holding pieces of two different people who both made you feel too much.

They hadn’t messaged. Not since that quiet, careful question:

“And what do you need right now?”

You didn’t know if your silence had said too much. Or not enough.

You wanted to miss them. That would’ve been easier. Cleaner. But what you felt instead was worse:

You wanted them. Present-tense. Fully. Still.

Their steadiness. The way they listened without grabbing at your pain. The way they never asked you to perform softness, but you just found yourself being soft anyway.

And maybe it was good that they hadn’t texted. Maybe they sensed the edge you were standing on. Maybe they didn’t want to crowd it.

But God, part of you wanted them to fight for the space they’d carved into your chest.

Just a little.

Not with declarations. Not with pressure.

Just something. Anything. To say:

I’m still here. Even now.

But they didn’t.

By the third day, you still didn’t check your phone.

Not out of resolve, not even out of strength. But just because you didn’t want anything to answer to yet. You got dressed slowly. Took a real shower. Let the hot water hit your neck long enough to make you feel human.

Then you leashed Tofu and left the apartment.

No headphones. No destination. Just a slow walk through streets that didn’t ask anything of you. Tofu trotted like he owned the world, occasionally stopping to sniff something so thoroughly you almost apologized to the sidewalk.

You passed the bakery where Alexia used to make you pick out the pastries because she “couldn’t be trusted around sugar.” The coffee place you found together by accident. The crosswalk she once danced across in the rain.

You didn’t linger.

Not because the memories weren’t still in your chest. But because you finally understood something:

You don’t owe every memory a place in your future.

Tofu barked at a pigeon, almost dislocated your shoulder, then looked up at you like did you see that??

You laughed. Just a little. Just enough to count.

You kept walking.

Past the part of town where the noise softened. Past the old bookstore with the spray-painted sign. Past the bus stop where you used to wait for her, headphones on, heart in your throat.

And at some point, you sat down.

On a bench. Sun on your face. Tofu curled at your feet like a tiny guard.

You didn’t cry. You didn’t spiral.

You just let yourself feel the space in your chest. The one where love used to hurt, but now just… waited.

You didn’t know what you were choosing yet.

But for once, it didn’t feel like something was being chosen for you.

When you finally opened your phone, it buzzed to life with the weight of unread words. First, Alexia. A string of messages you hadn’t seen, each one longer than the last. No guilt, not this time. Just softness. Apologies that sounded real. Updates that sounded like effort. Hope that didn’t demand anything in return. She said she missed you. That she was proud of you. That even if you didn’t say it back, she’d keep trying to be someone worth coming home to.

You read every word. Didn’t respond. Not yet. Your chest was already full.

So you opened Chattr instead.

One message.

[go4goald2]: If we never talk again, I’ll still be glad I got to know this version of you.

You stared at it for a long time. Not because it hurt, but because it didn’t try to make you feel guilty. Just seen.

You blinked. Typed slowly.

[lostinthecrowd]: I missed this. You. I was scared to come back, and I didn’t know if I deserved to.

The reply came fast. Like they’d been waiting.

[go4goald2]: You never had to earn this. Just had to be you.

Something tugged behind your ribs. You let the words linger. You thought about who you were when you talked to them. How safe it felt. How easy. And how terrifying it was to want that ease somewhere real.

Then:

[go4goald2]: You ever feel like... If someone actually saw you, not your texts, not your voice, but you. They’d change their mind?

And after a beat:

[go4goald2]: I’m not as charming out loud. Not as easy to love in real time.

You felt that one like it had hands. Like it gripped the version of you who’d been broken open too many times and still wanted to be seen. It knocked the breath out of you, soft and brutal.

Because Alexia saw the real you, and still drifted.

And here was someone who hadn’t even looked at your face, and already thought they weren’t worth being loved back.

You sat with it. With the ache and the clarity and the ridiculous, inconvenient spark of hope.

Then you typed, slow. Barely breathing.

[lostinthecrowd]: What if I want to see you anyway?

You stared at the screen like it was holding its breath for you.

That message, “What if I want to see you anyway?” felt like too much and not enough, all at once. A confession. A dare. A quiet leap off the edge of something you weren’t sure you’d survive.

No reply came right away.

You waited, chest tight, thumb hovering like you might take it back.

And then, finally:

[go4goald2]: Are you sure?

[go4goald2]: I can tell you where. Or I can come to you. Doesn’t matter how far. I’d show up.

You didn’t know what to do with that. The certainty. The promise. It slid under your ribs and settled there, warm and terrifying.

Your thumbs hovered.

[lostinthecrowd]: Barcelona.

You hit send and stared at it like it might echo back at you.

The typing bubble flickered.

Then:

[go4goald2]: No way! I’m not far from there. Funny how small the world gets when you want to find someone.

[go4goald2]: There’s a park not far from the center. Quiet, not a lot of people this time of day. Benches near the pond. Friday? Afternoon?

Friday.

You glanced at the calendar. That was tomorrow.

Alexia wasn’t due back until Saturday.

You chewed your lip.

Typed:

[lostinthecrowd]: Okay. Friday. 3PM. I’ll be there.

Your stomach flipped.

[go4goald2]: You don’t have to dress up. I just want it to be real.

And god. That hit harder than it should’ve.

You let the words sit for a while. Then replied:

[lostinthecrowd]: I’m nervous. Like… really nervous.

[go4goald2]: Me too. I keep thinking… What if I ruin the version of me you made up in your head?

[lostinthecrowd]: Maybe we’re both scared of being seen.

[go4goald2]: But I still want to be. Even if it’s messy.

That was the one that pulled your chest open again. Not in a loud, devastating way. Just quiet. Steady. Like something soft demanding space.

You smiled. A little.

And then, because the universe couldn’t leave you alone for five seconds, your phone buzzed again.

Different thread.

Different gravity.

Ale: Can we go on a date when I’m back? Just one. No pressure. Just us, somewhere soft. I miss seeing you happy.

You didn’t move. Couldn’t.

It felt like the floor shifted beneath you. Like the walls of the apartment tilted, just slightly. Everything inside you paused, holding its breath.

Of course. Of course she’d say that now.

When you’d already agreed to meet someone else. When your heart was already being pulled in two directions, and you weren’t sure who was holding it tighter.

You opened the message. Read it again.

“Somewhere soft.”

She remembered.

You wanted to cry. You wanted to scream. You wanted to throw your phone out the window and pretend none of this ever happened.

Instead, you typed. Slowly. Carefully. Erased it.

Typed again.

“Maybe. I don’t know yet.”

It wasn’t warm, but it wasn’t cold either. It was honest.

And right now, that felt like the only thing you could give.

You stared at your phone like it had just exposed you. Like it had read your thoughts out loud.

Your fingers hovered. Then curled. Then pulled back entirely.

Because this wasn’t innocent anymore.

This was a plan. A place. A person waiting on the other end of a meet-up that you said yes to.

While your wife started making the effort of trying to mend your marriage.

You pressed the heel of your hand against your chest, like you could quiet the storm happening underneath.

“I’m not a cheater,” you whispered to the quiet. To the dog. To no one.

But god, it didn’t feel like the truth.

Because something in you wanted this.

Not to hurt her. Not to run.

But to be chosen, just once, without the history attached.

You swallowed hard.

And for the first time since this all started, the shame didn’t come from what she did to you.

It came from what you were about to do to her.

That evening, the apartment went quiet in that way that didn’t feel peaceful, just still. Like the world had pressed pause and forgotten to hit play again.

You didn’t cook. Didn’t clean. You couldn’t even remember if you’d eaten.

You sat on the floor instead. Cross-legged in the warm patch of light near the window. The carpet was soft under your fingertips, Tofu a few inches away, belly-up and blissed out like none of this was his problem.

And he was right. None of it was.

You watched the dust float in the air, caught by the last of the sun. Tried to match your breathing to something, anything, but every inhale felt offbeat. Too shallow. Too loud.

It should’ve been simple.

You loved her. You did.

Even when she let you fall apart quietly. Even when you stopped asking her to notice. You still wanted to believe that the good version of her, the one who used to wrap her arms around your grief like it was something she could carry too, that version still existed.

And maybe she did.

Maybe she was coming back.

But then there was them. The stranger who didn’t feel like a stranger anymore. The one who never saw how you looked like, never watched you shut down in real time, but somehow knew exactly where to speak light into your dark.

And that scared the hell out of you.

Because it felt safe. Because it felt new. Because it felt like something you didn’t have to work so hard to keep.

Your gaze landed on the edge of the couch where Alexia’s blanket was still folded. You hadn’t washed it. Part of you wanted to. Scrub it clean of her. Make it smell like detergent instead of memory.

But you didn’t.

Because the truth was: you still curled up in it on the nights that felt heavier than they should.

You leaned your head back against the couch and let your eyes close.

Am I the bad guy now?

You didn’t say it out loud. Just let it echo.

Because wasn’t that the worst part? That you didn’t even know who you were rooting for anymore?

Yourself?

Your marriage?

Your undoing?

Tofu let out a dramatic little huff and pressed his nose to your ankle, like he could sense the unraveling.

You reached for him without thinking, hand sliding across his soft side, grounding yourself in the simple fact of his presence.

“She gave you to me,” you whispered. “And now I don’t know what to do with any of it.”

He didn’t answer. Just blinked at you with that dumb, unconditional loyalty you were starting to envy.

You picked up your phone.

Didn’t open it.

Didn’t scroll.

Just held it. Like a secret. Like a lit match you were scared to put down or use.

What if seeing them changes everything?

What if it ruins the version of yourself that’s still trying to believe you can fix this?

What if it makes you want something you can’t explain?

The idea of going back to who you were before felt impossible. But going forward, without knowing who would be standing next to you?

That felt just as dangerous.

The sky outside bled into lavender. The room got colder. You didn’t move.

Not yet.

Just sat there in the quiet, heart in your throat, phone in your lap, dog at your feet.

You must’ve dozed off at some point.

When your eyes blinked open, the light had shifted again. Warmer. Golden. The kind that made everything look softer than it really was.

Your head was tilted against the couch, your hand still curled around Tofu’s back, and your phone… still sitting untouched.

But the moment you closed your eyes again, you weren’t in the apartment anymore.

You were in a kayak. Red. Wobbly. Drifting down a lazy river somewhere in northern Catalonia, back when the heat clung to your skin and love felt like it could conquer everything. Alexia was behind you, her paddle mostly useless, feet kicked up like this was a goddamn vacation and not a couple activity. Her hair was stuffed into a crooked braid, her shoulders already pink from the sun she swore "wasn't that strong."

"You’re gonna burn," you told her without looking back.

"Impossible," she said. "I’m invincible. Also I have olive skin, remember?"

You rolled your eyes. "Sunscreen doesn't care about your bloodline, babe."

She laughed. Loud. Carefree. The kind of laugh that made your chest crack open a little wider every time.

Later that night, she lay face-down on your bed, moaning into the pillow like a dying Victorian orphan.

"Don't say I didn't warn you," you said, smirking as you dabbed aloe on the back of her neck.

She groaned. "I regret everything except loving you."

You paused. Only for a second.

Because she said it like it was a joke. But it didn’t land like one.

And in that moment, her skin hot, her hair a mess, her voice low and unguarded, you knew. Not the lightning-bolt kind of knowing. Just soft. Obvious. Like looking down and realizing your hands were already full.

You loved her.

Not the polished version. Not the public one.

You loved this Alexia. Burnt and bratty and too proud to admit it.

The memory hit hard now.

Your eyes opened, throat tight, guilt curling low in your stomach.

Because you hadn’t stopped loving her. Not really. Not even through the worst of it. The silence. The distance. The ache of not being chosen.

She was trying again.

And a part of you still wanted to believe in the version of her who once said I regret everything except loving you.

But then there was go4goald2.

Someone who didn’t carry your history like a weight. Someone who made you feel seen in real-time, even if they didn’t know what your voice sounded like out loud.

You sat up slowly, wiped the sleep from your eyes, and looked at your phone.

You still wanted to meet them.

Maybe not to fall in love. Maybe not to escape.

But to say thank you.

For holding space when you couldn’t hold yourself. For reminding you what it felt like to laugh without fear. For showing you that there was still a version of you left worth loving.

You didn’t know what would happen tomorrow.

But you knew one thing, at least.

You weren’t choosing between love and loneliness anymore.

You were choosing between two kinds of hope.

You woke up before your alarm.

Didn’t check your phone. Didn’t need to. Today was already sitting in your chest like static, too loud, too charged, too much. You made coffee with hands that wouldn’t stop shaking. Brushed your teeth twice. Put on a playlist and turned it off before the first chorus.

Tofu stayed close, like he could sense the storm under your skin. He followed you from room to room, tail wagging, expression confused. You kept petting him like that would settle something. Like you could tether yourself to the day through his fur alone.

You showered. Washed your hair. Put on your favorite jeans, the ones Alexia used to tease you about for being “aggressively soft”, then changed into different ones. Stood in front of your closet like maybe it would whisper instructions. Settled on something neutral. Safe.

Breakfast was two bites of toast and a glass of water you forgot to finish.

You didn’t let yourself think about what the meeting would feel like. You just kept your head down. Focused on the little things. Zipping the jacket. Filling Tofu’s travel bowl. Making sure your phone was charged. Reapplying lip balm for the third time, like it might protect you from whatever this was turning into.

You clipped on Tofu’s leash. Reached for the doorknob. Exhaled.

Then you heard it.

The key.

Turning in the lock.

You froze, heart jamming sideways in your chest.

The door opened slowly, hesitant, like the person on the other side didn’t know if they were still welcome.

And then you saw her.

Alexia.

But not composed, camera-ready Alexia. Not the confident girl you used to trail behind like sunlight. This version looked destroyed. Her hair was half-tied, frizzed at the edges, cheeks blotchy from dried tears. There were shadows under her eyes that hadn't been there before. Her hoodie was stained, clinging to her shoulders like it couldn’t decide whether to hang on or fall off. The duffel on her back was lopsided. Her laces were untied. And she was breathing like she’d run every step from the airport to your door.

You blinked. You weren’t sure if you were hallucinating.

“You’re back early.”

She didn’t smile. Didn’t say anything soft. Just stood there, swaying slightly.

“I wanted to surprise you,” she said, like it physically hurt to speak.

Your hand clenched tighter around Tofu’s leash.

She looked down. Saw the bag. The keys. The phone still lit in your other hand, half a sentence still unsent.

You didn’t mean to say it. But it slipped out, sharp and trembling.

“I’m meeting someone.”

She blinked. Like it stunned her. Like she hadn’t let herself believe it was real until now.

“You don’t have to go.”

You stared at her. “You don’t even know who it is.”

“I think I do.”

You stepped back. Confused. “What?”

Alexia reached into her hoodie, pulled out her phone with shaking hands, tapped something. Then she stopped and looked at you, not as a wife. Not as a lover. As something closer to a stranger asking for a chance.

Your phone buzzed.

Chattr.

One new message.

[go4goald2]: Just say the word. I’ll be there.

Your stomach dropped.

You didn’t look up right away. Couldn’t.

You stared at the message, willing it to be a joke, a glitch, anything but what it was.

Then you looked at her.

And the look on her face told you everything.

“It’s you,” you breathed. Not a question, but a realization clawing its way out of your throat.

Alexia didn’t nod. Didn’t move. She just stood there like her bones couldn’t take the weight of it either.

“It’s always been me,” she whispered.

And then everything inside you, every cell, every thread, recoiled.

“No.” You backed up further, voice rising. “No, that’s not.. It can’t be.”

“I didn’t lie,” she said quickly. “I just didn’t say”

“Didn’t say?” you cut in, a half-laugh cracking out of your throat.

“You tricked me, Alexia. You let me think someone else cared about me.”

“I did care about you,” she said, voice breaking. “Every word was real. I didn’t know how else to talk to you without hurting you again.”

“So you catfished your wife?”

She flinched. “It wasn’t like that.”

“Then what was it?” You threw your arms up. “What?! some twisted experiment? You wanted to see if I’d fall in love with you blindfolded?”

“No!” She stepped forward, and for once, she looked scared. “I just... I missed your voice. I missed being someone you trusted. And I knew if I showed up as me, you’d never let me in.”

“You’re right,” you said, and your voice was colder than you’d ever heard it. “Because I trusted you. And you used it.”

She was crying now, full-body crying, not bothering to hide it. “I thought maybe if I gave you space to choose me without the pain, we could start over.”

“But you didn’t give me space,” you said. “You gave me a lie.”

The words hit her like a blow. Her knees almost buckled under the weight of them.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“And yet,” you snapped, “here we are.”

You looked down at Tofu, who was watching both of you with ears pinned back, tail thumping slow and uncertain.

Your throat was tight. Like grief trying to turn into fire.

“I opened up to you,” you whispered. “Whoever you were. I told you things I never got to say to you. And you just... stood there. Letting me think I’d found someone new.”

“I was someone new,” she said, barely audible. “Someone trying. Someone who never stopped loving you.”

You shook your head. Everything inside you was loud now. Blistering.

“I don’t know what the hell I feel right now,” you said, and you meant it. “But I know I can’t feel it here.”

You crouched down, unclipped the leash.

“Tofu, stay,” you murmured, your voice trembling.

He whined, tail sweeping the floor once before going still.

You straightened and looked at Alexia. Not angry, not bitter, just… Tired. Worn through at the edges.

“I’m leaving you,” you said, steady now. “But not alone.”

She blinked. Confused.

You gestured toward the dog, your throat thick. “Because I don’t ever want anyone to feel the way you made me feel.”

You walked to the door, opened it, and left.

Not because you stopped caring.

But because for the first time in months, you needed her to feel what it meant to be left standing in the wreckage alone.

Tofu stayed by the door.

Still. Watching.

Like even he understood that this type of forgiveness doesn’t come with words.

It has to be earned. Step by brutal step.

Pt. 6

[the-stellaron-hunters]

things you said prompt list

Aventurine

things you said over the phone

Aventurine figured you would call.

It’s definitely because of the gift that he sent your way. He is fully expecting you to ask him what’s with the sudden goodwill coming from him, and he has a response prepared in case that happens — something casual enough that you might believe that everything is still alright between the both of you, convenient enough that you may not ask him any other questions. But that doesn’t mean he has full control of how he truly feels, and that certainly doesn’t mean he has a handle of how the rest of the conversation goes, at least not when the both of you haven’t talked properly in months.

This would be far easier to deal with if you were both at fault. The problem with Aventurine is that he gets attached to someone, and he has a habit of showering them with all the attention he could give, and suddenly he feels too vulnerable and he needs to put his guard up and he’s gone and it’s as if he is out of their life, and just when there’s this reasonable assumption that he has completely cut ties, he is back again like nothing happened, and he does it again and again and again.

And this is not the first time he’s done this to you. It’s probably not the last time, either. Meanwhile you update him every now and then about what’s going on in your life, mostly in the form of texts, sometimes in handwritten letters when you feel like it. And there are a lot of times when he would just never answer, and you never seem to point it out even when your message logs become one-sided.

Aventurine answers your call and you both exchange pleasantries. He talks about anything and you talk about everything — how are you doing, I’ve missed you, I hope you are well. And for a while it feels like all is right in the world and everything is back to what you both used to be. But it doesn’t last long because after a while you fall quiet, and then he inevitably goes silent, and then he is dreading what comes next because he has an inkling of what you’re about to bring up, and for all the time he has contemplated what he did, he’s still not sure how to handle it.

You break the silence.

“…So.”

“So.”

“We haven’t talked in a while.”

Regret stabs in his chest and his breath splits into two. He feels his mouth twist as he tries to come up with something to say, but you don’t even give him enough time to think of a response.

“Hey, I’m not angry. You do know that I never hold it against you, right? I mean, you always do this with everyone. Not just me. I’m used to it.”

And you say that like you’re worried that he is going to hate you if you accidentally push one of his buttons, too cautious of what lines to cross even though you’ve both never really talked about boundaries. You say he does this to everyone and you’re not wrong. Everyone has grown used to it so he thought the more he did the same thing to you, the easier it would get.

The problem is you’re not everyone else. 

That’s the worst part. He knows you meant every word you just said. The bigger, more realistic part of him thinks that he should be grateful you’ve grown used to his habits, but the small, battered, vulnerable part of him thinks that you deserve better than this. He thinks you should be angrier, that you should hold it against him. Maybe he might keep doing the same thing to other people because he needs to protect himself, but that shouldn’t apply to you.

He is not about to tell you all that, though. Not when he’s not completely certain of how you feel about him anymore, and especially not when he has never given you a good reason to expect more than what he has shown you. So he gathers all those thoughts together and he ties them into a neat bow, hoping he doesn’t have to unpack it anytime soon. “Of course I know that. I appreciate it as always.”

“And I haven’t opened your gift yet,” you say. He couldn’t tell if you’re changing the topic on purpose, but the excited lilt in your voice says otherwise. “Not that I’m ungrateful, but it’s not my birthday. What’s the occasion? What made you want to give this to me?”

I just didn’t know how to approach you again after ignoring you for so long, Aventurine thinks to himself. He expected you to ask that, but it doesn’t make the conversation any easier. He hasn’t forgotten all the excuses he has come up with, but they no longer feel right. Because I wasn’t sure how I’d handle it if I tried to call you and you never picked up. It’s far easier to give you things that you might like than to start a conversation just to see how you’re doing. “I saw it and I thought you would like it,” he settles on saying instead, “so I thought to myself, why not send you a gift? I’ve been busy, after all. It’s the least I could do.”

You hum. “Huh. I thought this was a peace offering after ignoring me all this time. You know. Like usual.”

Your tone is light and your words are teasing. You want him to not take your words seriously, but the truth in your words is too heavy to ignore. “It could be,” he tries to say it like he’s fooling around as much as you are, ignoring the way the words burn in his throat. “Why, did you want it to be one?”

You fall very, very, quiet. There’s something contemplative, something pained in your silence that he can’t quite pin down.

“Maybe I do.”

Your voice is tinged with an emotion that’s difficult to judge. And he would’ve dwelled on that if he could, but maybe you didn’t want him to have the upper hand in the conversation because you immediately change topics; you open the gift and you tell him you like it, he says he’s glad, and you both continue talking like nothing happened.

As soon as the phone call ends, Aventurine receives a text from you, a simple thank you with an image of the scenery in your place attached to the message. As he snaps a picture of the sundusk through his window, he thinks about the hope and uncertainty and the faintest spark of expectation in your voice. He doesn’t know how he is going to do it — he is going to worry about the consequences later — but he needs to find a way to free up his schedule in a short notice.

[lila-lou]

✨Turning Heads - 2/5✨

Summary: You were just supposed to act. But from the moment Jensen Ackles knocks on your door, the lines start to blur. The chemistry is real, the scenes are intense—and he's... well, he’s married.

-requested-

Pairing: Jensen x Reader

Warnings: Language

Word Count: 4178

A/N: English isn’t my first language, please be lenient. DISCLAIMER: Everything is purely fiction. I do not intend to attack or hurt anyone. The story is, of course, entirely made up and meant for entertainment purposes. I love them all.

Sitting on the small couch in Jensen’s trailer a few weeks later, you shifted uncomfortably, your script resting on your lap. You had gone over the lines a dozen times, but your mind wasn’t really on the dialogue.

Jensen, sitting across from you, leaned back against the armrest, flipping through his own script with an easy, relaxed posture—completely unfazed. Meanwhile, you were practically vibrating with nerves.

“Alright”, Jensen said, tapping a line with his finger. “This part right here—where Soldier Boy kinda loses control for a second—we should probably talk about how we’re gonna play that”.

You nodded quickly, feeling the heat creep up your neck. “Yeah. Right. Totally”.

Jensen glanced up at you, and his lips quirked as he took in your rigid posture. “You good?”.

You exhaled sharply, running a hand through your hair. “Yeah, just… I don’t know. I’ve never done a scene like this before”.

Jensen closed his script and gave you his full attention. “It’s a lot, I know. Especially for your first big gig. And having to do it practically naked? That’s a whole other level”.

You swallowed hard, nodding. “Yeah. I mean, I know everything’s choreographed, and I trust you, and the crew is professional, but…”. You hesitated. “It’s still terrifying”.

Jensen leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. His expression softened, the usual teasing glint in his eyes replaced by something more serious. “Listen, I get it. It’s awkward as hell at first, no matter how long you’ve been doing this. But my job—besides, y’know, pretending to be an asshole—is to make sure you feel comfortable”.

You bit your lip. “I appreciate that”.

He nodded. “You’re in control, okay? We go at your pace. If anything feels weird, too much, even a second too long—say the word, and we adjust".

You played with the corner of your script, still feeling the weight of tomorrow hanging over you. “I just keep thinking about the modesty patches”, you admitted. “I know I won’t be seen naked, but I’ll be naked, y’know”.

Jensen smirked. “Yeah, those things don’t leave much to the imagination”.

You groaned, covering your face. “Not helping”.

He chuckled. “Sorry, sorry. But look, I promise—when we’re on set, it’s not gonna feel as bad as it does in your head right now. We’ll have a closed set, only essential crew. And I’ll keep my eyes where they need to be”. He lifted his hands in mock innocence.

You peeked at him through your fingers. “Uh-huh. Sure”.

Jensen laughed. “Hey, I’m a professional. But, y’know, if it makes you feel better…”. He leaned in slightly, lowering his voice. “I’ll be in the same boat. Just some modesty gear and a prayer”.

You snorted, the tension in your shoulders easing just a little. “Right. I’m sure you’re really worried about being half-naked on set”.

He smirked. “Okay, fair point. Not my first rodeo”.

You sighed, finally setting your script aside. “Thanks, Jensen. Seriously. I know you don’t have to do all this, but it means a lot".

He shrugged, his smile easy. “Like I said, it only works if there’s trust. And for what it’s worth, you’re gonna kill it”.

You exhaled, nodding. “I just hope I don’t pass out from nerves first”.

Jensen grinned. “If you do, I’ll catch you”.

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at your lips. Maybe tomorrow wouldn’t be as terrifying as you thought.

The next day, the set was eerily quiet, the usual hum of background chatter completely absent. Only the essential crew remained, their movements efficient and professional. The motel bathroom was dimly lit, the shower running, steam curling against the tiles.

You stood near the edge of the set, wearing nothing but a robe and a pair of slippers, biting the tip of your thumb as you watched the final adjustments being made. Your stomach was in knots.

Jensen was already inside the shower, water cascading over his bare chest, his modesty patch in place, though from this angle, it looked like he was completely naked. He was talking to the director, nodding at something Kripke was saying, looking completely relaxed—like this was just another day at the office.

You, on the other hand, felt like you might pass out.

A hand touched your shoulder gently. “Hey, you ready?”. The intimacy coordinator, Sarah, gave you a kind smile. You appreciated her presence—she had gone through every detail of the scene with you and Jensen the day before, making sure you felt comfortable.

You exhaled shakily. “As ready as I’ll ever be”.

Jensen glanced over and caught your eye. His lips curled into a reassuring smirk, and he mouthed, You got this.

You nodded, even though your nerves were still buzzing.

“All right, places!”, Kripke called out.

Your cue was coming up. The robe had to come off. You swallowed hard, steeling yourself, and untied it with slightly shaky hands.

Jensen, still leaning against the shower wall, tilted his head slightly as he watched you step into position. His eyes flickered down for half a second—not in a way that felt unprofessional, but in a way that told you he was taking in your nerves, not your body.

He shifted slightly under the spray, the water dripping off his hair, and offered you a small nod. His way of saying, It’s just us. We’ve got this.

You inhaled deeply.

Kripke called out, “Action!”.

Everything around you faded—the cameras, the crew, the nerves. It was just you, standing under the artificial glow of the motel bathroom, and Jensen—Soldier Boy—waiting for you beneath the stream of water.

The shower was already running hot, steam thickening the air as you stepped inside, your bare skin instantly covered in a sheen of moisture. The warmth made everything feel heavier—your breath, the tension, the way Jensen’s gaze darkened as he took you in.

Soldier Boy wasn’t a man of tenderness. He took what he wanted, unapologetically. That’s exactly what this scene was meant to show—the raw, unfiltered way he devoured the woman who had somehow managed to capture his interest.

Jensen moved the second you stepped into the shower.

A rough hand wrapped around your wrist, yanking you forward so fast that a gasp left your lips. Before you could process, your back was already pressed against the cool, wet tiles, the contrast to the hot water making you shiver.

“Fuckin’ finally”, Jensen - Soldier Boy - growled, his voice thick, rough.

His body caged yours in instantly—broad shoulders, towering frame, every inch of him pressing down against you. His hand was splayed over your ribcage, so massive it nearly covered the whole expanse of your side. His grip was firm, almost bruising, fingers digging into your damp skin as if reminding you who was in control here.

Your breath hitched, but you didn’t have time to react before his other hand came up, gripping your jaw roughly and tilting your head back. His thumb brushed your bottom lip, and his smirk turned wicked.

“All that attitude, all that fuckin�� mouth”, he murmured, voice thick with condescension. “Bet you sound a lot better when you’re moanin’ instead of talkin’ back”.

Heat coiled low in your stomach, the way he manhandled you making something primal stir deep inside you. You knew it was just acting—you knew—but your body wasn’t quite on the same page.

Then his mouth was on yours, hot, demanding. The sheer intensity of it made you whimper.

Jensen—Soldier Boy—swallowed the sound eagerly, one large hand sliding down from your ribs to grip your thigh, hoisting it up against his hip. The movement was rough, controlling, making you fully aware of just how much bigger he was than you.

And that’s when it really hit—how small you felt beneath him.

His massive frame nearly engulfed yours, his chest pressed flush against you, slick with water and heat. His hands, calloused and huge, wrapped around your bare skin like he could completely consume you. His presence was overwhelming, his control absolute.

You barely registered the way your own fingers clutched at his arms, at his biceps, feeling the raw strength beneath them. You weren’t just acting anymore. Your skin tingled where he touched, your pulse thrumming hard beneath the surface.

And then you felt it.

The subtle, unmistakable press of him against you—solid, hard.

Your breath stuttered for a second, and so did his.

Jensen’s fingers flexed against your skin, like he was trying to ground himself, trying to stay in character, but something in his stance shifted. You saw it in his eyes, the way they flickered—just briefly—from Soldier Boy to Jensen.

And then—he nearly dropped you.

Not completely, but his grip on your thigh slipped for half a second, enough that you gasped and scrambled to hook your arm around his shoulder, your fingers digging into the damp muscle there.

The loss of balance made the scene visibly fall apart.

“Cut!”. Kripke’s voice cut through the air like a whip, sharp and immediate.

The room went still, the only sound left was the steady patter of water hitting the tiled floor. Jensen exhaled hard, his jaw clenching as he carefully—carefully—set you back down onto both feet, his hands lingering for only a second before he pulled away completely.

You barely heard Kripke sighing in the background, probably blaming the slippery floor or poor blocking, but you knew better. Jensen knew better.

His hands went straight to his hips, head tipping down as he let out a breath that sounded almost like a laugh—one of disbelief, frustration, maybe even amusement.

You, on the other hand, didn’t know what to do. Your skin was still burning from where he had touched you, from where his body had pressed against yours, from the very real thing you had felt just moments ago.

Jensen finally looked up, rubbing a wet hand over his face before glancing at you. His eyes searched yours for a moment, almost like he was trying to gauge your reaction.

Then, barely above a whisper, just for you— "Sorry".

It was so quiet, almost lost beneath the steady stream of water, but you heard it. And for a second, you saw something almost vulnerable beneath the confidence, beneath the Jensen Ackles persona.

But before you could say anything, Kripke’s voice rang out again. “Alright, let’s go again from the top of that last section. Reset positions. Cameras ready?”.

Jensen inhaled sharply, his shoulders straightening, rolling the tension away as he slipped seamlessly back into character. You swallowed hard, shaking off your own thoughts as you repositioned yourself against the wet tiles.

The second Action was called again, everything changed.

Jensen’s fingers were on you instantly, rougher this time, like he had something to prove—to himself, to the scene, to you.

The Scene continued.

As his large hands gripped your waist tightly, spinning you so fast your palms smacked against the wet tiles, your chest pressing flush against the cold surface. A gasp left your lips at the sudden movement, but it wasn’t from surprise alone—it was the force of it, the sheer strength in how he handled you, like you were weightless to him.

“Thought I told you not to run that fuckin’ mouth”, he muttered, voice thick, gravelly, dripping with that unmistakable Soldier Boy arrogance.

You barely had time to react before his body pressed into yours from behind, his broad chest molding against your back, his massive hands sliding down your sides, gripping your hips possessively. His fingers dug in, hard enough to leave marks.

Jensen—Soldier Boy—was consuming you.

Your breathing was ragged, a mix of nerves, heat, and the sheer overwhelming presence of him against you.

His lips ghosted against the shell of your ear, hot breath fanning against your damp skin. “You gonna be good for me now?”, he murmured, voice dangerously low.

A shiver ran down your spine, your fingers twitching against the slick tile. You knew your line. “Make me”.

The second the words left your lips, Jensen moved.

One of his hands left your hip and grabbed the back of your neck, fingers wrapping around your throat just enough to tilt your head back toward him. His grip wasn’t choking, but it was possessive, dominant, a silent reminder of who was in control.

Your pulse thrummed beneath his fingertips, and you could feel him smirk against your jaw before his lips crashed against yours.

The kiss was rough, demanding. He kissed like he fought—aggressive, unapologetic, like he owned you in that moment.

The heat between you was suffocating, the steam making everything feel heavier, thicker.

And just like before, you felt him. That same hardness, that same evidence that this scene was blurring lines neither of you had anticipated.

This time, Jensen didn’t falter.

He didn’t drop you, didn’t hesitate—but you felt the way his breath hitched, just for a fraction of a second, the way his fingers flexed against your skin, betraying him.

The way the control he prided himself on was slipping.

But still, he stayed in character, his lips ghosting over your jaw before he pulled back just enough to sneer, “That what you wanted, sweetheart?”.

“Cut!”.

The room snapped back into reality.

Jensen’s grip on your neck instantly loosened, his hands dropping from your body like he had just been burned. He took a half step back, but his breathing was still heavy, his jaw tight.

You stayed where you were for a second, your hands still pressed against the wet tile, trying to breathe, to force yourself to remember this was just acting. But it hadn’t felt like just acting. Not to you.

Jensen exhaled sharply, finally breaking the silence. “You okay?” His voice was lower than usual, rougher. It wasn’t Soldier Boy’s voice anymore—it was his.

You finally turned to face him, your gaze flickering up to meet his. His green eyes were darker than usual, still hooded with the weight of the scene, with something else. Something unspoken.

You nodded, though your voice wasn’t as steady as you wanted it to be. “Yeah. You?”.

Jensen hesitated. Just for a second. But that second was enough.

Then he smirked—his usual Jensen smirk, easy, charming, playful—but there was something behind it. Something restrained. “Yeah”, he said, rolling his shoulders like he was physically trying to shake it off. “All good”.

Kripke’s voice cut through the moment before you could say anything else. “That was great. Let’s do one more for safety, but that was it”.

One more.

You saw the brief flicker in Jensen’s expression—the awareness that doing that again, feeling that again, could be dangerous. But he nodded, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck. “Yeah. One more”.

You had barely sunk into the couch in your trailer, robe still loosely wrapped around you, when the exhaustion hit. The adrenaline from earlier had finally worn off, leaving behind a mixture of relief, residual heat, and an underlying tension you couldn’t quite shake.

The talk with Kripke had gone well. He had praised your performance, reassured you that you handled the scene like a pro, and reminded you that today was the hardest part. He had even joked that you should take the rest of the afternoon to decompress.

Jensen had been there too—charming as always, back to his usual self, laughing with Kripke, nodding along to his feedback. But every now and then, you had felt his eyes flicker to you. Not the teasing, big-brotherly looks he had given you before filming had started. No, this was something different. Something unreadable.

Now, an hour later, you were curled up with a bottle of water, trying to replay the scene in your mind, trying to decipher what exactly had happened between you and Jensen in that shower.

And then, a knock.

You jumped slightly, not expecting anyone. You frowned, setting the water bottle down and straightening up. “Uh—yeah, come in”.

The door creaked open, and there he was. Jensen. Except… not Jensen the way you usually saw him. He looked almost nervous.

His usual cocky ease was replaced by something more uncertain, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his jeans, his weight shifting slightly as he hovered in the doorway. His damp hair was tousled like he had run a hand through it a few too many times.

You blinked at him. “Hey”.

“Hey”, he echoed, then hesitated. His jaw tensed, like he was debating something. Then he let out a small breath and finally stepped inside, closing the door behind him.

You sat up a little straighter. “You okay?”.

Jensen let out a dry chuckle, shaking his head slightly. “Funny. I was about to ask you the same thing”.

You tilted your head. “I’m fine. Why wouldn’t I be?”.

He gave you a look. “C’mon, short stack. That was… not your average day at work”.

You exhaled, running a hand through your hair. “Yeah. No kidding”.

A small silence stretched between you.

Jensen shifted again, his fingers tapping against his thigh, like he wasn’t sure what to do with himself. Finally, he sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. “Listen”, he said, his voice lower now, more serious. “About earlier…”.

Your stomach tightened slightly. “Yeah?”.

He met your eyes, something there that wasn’t just casual, wasn’t just friendly. “That got… a little intense”, he admitted.

You swallowed. “Yeah. It did”.

His lips parted slightly, like he wanted to say something else, but he hesitated again. That wasn’t like him. Jensen Ackles was never hesitant. But here he was, standing in your trailer, looking at you like he wasn’t sure if he should say what he was thinking.

Jensen exhaled sharply, his fingers rubbing the back of his neck before finally meeting your gaze again. His usual confidence was off—not completely gone, but definitely cracked.

Then, to your surprise, a faint flush crept up his neck. “I, uh…”. He let out a breathy laugh, shaking his head. “Look, I just—wanted to say sorry”.

Your brows furrowed slightly. “Sorry?”.

His jaw tightened, and for the first time since you had met him, Jensen Ackles actually looked embarrassed. “Yeah”, he muttered, shifting his weight again. “That—what happened—that doesn’t… happen to me. Ever".

Your stomach flipped. You knew exactly what he meant, but you still asked, “What doesn’t happen?”.

Jensen gave you a look, one that said don’t make me say it, but when you just raised an expectant eyebrow, he let out another dry chuckle, shaking his head. “You felt it”, he muttered, looking anywhere but at you.

Your face heated instantly.

Of course, you had felt it—the very obvious, very undeniable way his body had reacted to yours in the heat of the scene. But hearing him acknowledge it out loud? That was something else entirely. “I—uh”, you started, suddenly very aware of how small the space between you was. “Yeah”.

Jensen groaned, dragging a hand down his face.

You couldn’t help it—you laughed.

That made him glance up at you, his brows raising slightly. “You’re laughing at me?”.

You pressed your lips together, trying to stifle it. “I mean… kinda?”.

Jensen scoffed, finally meeting your gaze again, the corners of his lips twitching. “Unbelievable”.

You shrugged. “Sorry. It’s just—you’re Jensen Ackles. Mr. Charming, Smooth, Experienced Actor. And yet, here you are, blushing in my trailer, apologizing because you got…”. You trailed off, letting the weight of your words hang between you.

Jensen ran a hand through his damp hair, exhaling again. “Fucking shit".

You tilted your head, teasing now. “So… what was it?”.

He blinked. “What?”.

You crossed your arms. “What was it that got you?”.

Jensen narrowed his eyes slightly. “Excuse me?”.

“I mean, you said it’s never happened before. So… what was different this time?”.

For a moment, he just looked at you, his expression unreadable.

Then, after a beat, he let out a breath, shaking his head with a small, almost incredulous smirk. “You”, he murmured.

Your stomach flipped.

Jensen studied you, his smirk fading slightly, replaced by something softer, something more real. “You caught me off guard”, he admitted. “Didn’t expect you to be so—”. He stopped himself, lips pressing together.

Your heartbeat picked up. “So what?”.

Jensen hesitated again, then finally sighed, shaking his head. “Doesn’t matter”, he muttered, running a hand down his face. “Point is, it was unprofessional, and I didn’t want you thinking I was being a creep or something”.

You swallowed, your pulse still quick. “I didn’t think that”.

Jensen met your gaze again, studying your expression, and for a second, the teasing, the tension, the awkwardness—all of it shifted into something heavier. Something unspoken. Something neither of you were ready to acknowledge.

After a beat, he cleared his throat and glanced toward the door. “Alright, well… guess I’ll leave you to it”.

But before he could move, you reached out—just a small movement, your fingers brushing lightly against his wrist. “Jensen”.

He stopped. Looked down at where your hand had touched him. Then back at you.

You swallowed. “I didn’t mind”.

His jaw tightened slightly, something flickering behind his eyes—something he pushed down fast.

Then, after a long, silent beat, he huffed a small, almost amused breath and shook his head. “Yeah”, he murmured, eyes still locked onto yours. “That’s kinda the problem, isn’t it?”.

And just like that—he walked out.

The second the door clicked shut behind him, you let out a groan and facepalmed. "I didn’t mind". Seriously? That was the best you could come up with?

You had just been trying to reassure him, to ease his awkwardness. But the second those words left your lips, the entire conversation had shifted.

And then—that comment. "That’s kinda the problem, isn’t it?".

You sank onto the couch, your heart still pounding as you replayed it over and over in your head. Did that mean what you thought it meant? Had he been feeling this pull too? Not just today, not just in that scene—but for the last few weeks?

You groaned again, dropping your head back against the couch. What the hell were you doing?

Jensen was married. Happily, as far as you knew. You had met Danneel briefly when she visited set. She was gorgeous, confident, the kind of woman who seemed untouchable. And yet, here you were, sitting in your trailer, practically burning from what had just happened with her husband.

But, your mind argued, he was the one who came here.

He was the one who hesitated at the door, the one who blushed, the one who admitted that what happened in that shower wasn’t normal for him.

He was the one who said that was the problem.

And, shit, you couldn’t even pretend it wasn’t a problem for you, too. Because the truth was, you hadn’t minded. Not one bit.

Jensen was just so much. He had been since day one. Larger than life, effortlessly charming, teasing and protective in all the right ways. And physically—Shit, you had felt him today, really felt just how massive he was compared to you, how his hands had completely swallowed your skin, how easily he had moved you like you weighed nothing.

And the worst part? You had gotten just as turned on as he had.

You clenched your jaw, your fingers gripping the couch cushion beside you. This was bad. Really, really bad. Because now, you couldn’t stop wondering.

How long had he been feeling it? Was today the first moment he had slipped, or had there been other moments—small ones, lingering ones—that you had missed? Had he been watching you, noticing you, thinking about you the same way you had caught yourself thinking about him?

You squeezed your eyes shut, willing your heart to stop hammering, willing your body to calm the fuck down. None of this mattered. It couldn’t matter. Jensen was off-limits. Untouchable.

But as you sat there, still replaying the way his fingers had gripped your skin, the way his voice had dropped when he whispered Sorry, the way his pupils had blown when he pulled away from you in that shower… You weren’t sure you believed that anymore.

———————————

A/N: Please let me know what you think.🥰 

-

Taglist: @blackcherrywhiskey @baby19sthings @suckitands33 @spnfamily-j2 @lyarr24 @deans-baby-momma @reignsboy19 @kawaii-arfid-memes @mekkencspony @lovziy @artemys-ackles @fitxgrld @libby99hb @lovelyvirtualperson @a-lil-pr1ncess @nancymcl @the-last-ry @spndeanwinchesterlvr @hobby27 @themarebarroww @kr804573 @impala67rollingthroughtown @deans-queen @deadlymistletoe @selfdestructionandrhum @utyblyn @winchesterwild78 @jackles010378 @chirazsstuff @foxyjwls007 @smoothdogsgirl @woooonau @whimsyfinny @freyabear @laaadygisbooornex3 @quietgirll75 @perpetualabsurdity @pughsexual @berryblues46 @deanwinchestersgirl8734 @kr804573 @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing @barnes70stark @roseblue373 @shanimallina87 @ascarriel @deanwinchesters67impala @thebiggerbear @quietgirll75 @barnes70stark @kellyls04 @spxideyver @ralilda @americanvenom13 @ozwriterchick @lmg14

[diminuel]

Hey, I have an idea about how Crocodile could end up in Impel Down with Luffy involved with Alabasta.

I think in this case it could be that Crocodile ended up in jail because of the involvement of a corrupt marine who blamed him entirely for the Arabasta rebellion… Also, his children don't talk about Crocodile because they are angry at falling into said marine's trap…

The details of how it all happened are still to be polished, but the idea is that someone high-level (possibly Spandam, which would make it an entire operation with Cipher Pol members of some level lower than 7 in said kingdom) had the "proof" to implicate both the royal Falima (they wanted the Poneglyph) as well as Crocodile (they suspected he was harboring Nico Robin) in the civil war… All this ends with a confrontation similar to the one in canon, but with the shisibukai accepting full blame, along with his departure to Impel Dawn, of course knowing that Ivanko is there, so just a couple of months in his cell and he will disappear. on level 5.5 and then leave there with the okamas…

Also, this could mean that in Ernies Lobby, Luffy didn't just go to take him down for Robin, but because he knows (either from Arabasta or he finds out in the arc) that they were the ones who framed his mother…

This would also make Kite congratulate his older brother when he sees him later in Water 7.

Extra points if, in the Ernies Lobby plot, it's revealed that Robin is Dragon's unknown daughter, whom she had before meeting Crocodile, and no one (much less Dragon) knew that (she's the result of a forgotten night between Dragon and Nico Olivia)… let's give ASL an unknown Big Sister.

Also, it's funny that the government discovers Dragon's unknown daughter (and that no one knows anything about their relationship) and that they don't reveal either her husband or the army of children they have together.

Hello hello~

You could for sure write a fic with a premise like that! I’ve got something similar in mind for Stinky Child AU and I think the Mini-Mingo and Grumpy Verse is pretty much the same (maybe?? though it’s got sillier moments as well.)

I think the main issue with Alabasta and Crocodile’s plans and actions is that it feels unlikely that he would fight Luffy seriously or that he would one day decide to cause a devastating drought because he wants to get rid of Cobra and seize the country for himself. Could Crocodile do horrible things if it serves his purpose? Yeah, sure. Would Dragon love/ stay married to someone who causes suffering to millions of people? Nope. So we have to assume that Crocodile’s values and Dragon’s values are at least somewhat aligned for them to still be a couple. So no evil Alabasta take over plans. No nearly killing Luffy.

Which means that Alabasta needs some tweaks. And like you, I’ve thought about going the “the World Government started it” route. I don’t entirely like stripping Crocodile of his villainous streak, but there’s no way if Luffy came into Alabasta and decided that Crocodile had to be stopped, that Crocodile would be able to crush his own child (and his kid’s dreams) like that. So, WG wants to get rid of Cobra, make use of the conveniently placed Warlord Sir Crocodile to carry out their plans (they bring the dance powder into the country, expect Croc to use it to frame Cobra and let the civil war get rid of the Nefertari family, putting the country under WG approved rule) and have him take the fall if things go wrong (and then put him away on level 6 because he knows too much.)

[mediocre-hospital-24]

Jayce Keeps a Journal About You (Head Cannon)

Author’s note: I will try to frequently post small head cannons or drabbles between my longer fics or one shots. This one is Jayce but I do the other arcane men as well. If there’s something you would like to see me write about in one of these snippets, feel free to ask!

Warning: Nudity I guess? I’m still learning how to tag warnings sorry. Is this 18+? Idk if you’re a child don’t read anything I write anyway lol

********************************************************************************************

He keeps a freaking diary.

Has had like 7 over the course of his life.

He writes so much random crap in them too!

Dreams, recipes for things, sketches of prototypes, ideas for new things, and brain rot thoughts to just throw into the void.

Eventually got smart enough to keep a separate journal about you two in your home where Viktor hopefully won’t find it because that one is FILTHY!

He purposely leaves his other one in more peculiar places for Viktor to snoop in because he ABSOLUTELY KNOWS Viktor loves to snoop.

The one about you is bound in dark blue leather and was a gift from you when you saw him pick it up at one of the book stores you would meet at.

It’s just him musing about you, drooling over certain parts of your body that he then DRAWS.

The man has an anatomy textbook basically of just YOU.

So MANY NAKED SKETCHES.

Just you, no one else.

He even writes about love bites you give him and just gushes about how perfect and sexy he thinks you are.

Babe has it so BAD for you lol.

It’s not creepy tho!

He mostly just sketches when you’re asleep, he knows you’d be embarrassed, but they’re just for him anyway.

He just has so many feelings and putting them on paper is something he really enjoys doing! It’s relaxing for him to just see you sleeping spread out all over the blankets after he’s absolutely wrecked you.

It’s probably his favorite sight in the whole world to see you half covered by sheets completely in the nude.

He especially loves when your tits are out.

He could stare at them forever and he’d still want more time to commit them to his memory.

He isn’t hiding it from you though, he hopes to show you some of his favorites sometime and maybe he could even convince you to pose for him (do it the man will freaking go FERAL after).

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Snippit:

You were completely knocked out.

Limbs a sprawling mess, lips parted, and sheets tangled and bunched haphazardly around you.

The day had been long, and far too warm for your liking.

After you finally got home from the junk shop you worked in, you quickly showered to wash the sweat and grime from the day away; and promptly cranked your air conditioning unit to max.

You were so exhausted you didn’t even bother with clothes, your boyfriend slept naked most of the time anyway so you knew he wouldn’t mind.

You unceremoniously plopped on the bed and pulled up the thin sheet as the cool air blew on you, finally getting a chance to relax.

When said boyfriend walked through the door to his apartment, he couldn’t help but smile at the sight of you.

He loved that you trusted him enough to be in such a vulnerable state in his bed.

Jayce dreamily drank in the moment before carefully making his way over to a decorative globe in the corner of the room and lifting the top.

He reached in, grabbed the journal, and fountain pen he kept along with it, and made his way over his desk.

It was conveniently illuminated by the reading lamp you often left on when you got home before him.

The large vanity mirror that hung across from the bed always had the most perfect view of you from where he was sitting.

You were such a messy sleeper when you were restless and overheated, the sheets often getting discarded near your legs or on the floor.

This left Jayce with a clear view of your uncovered chest; your pretty nipples on display just for him.

It was always difficult for him to just sit there looking at how beautiful you were but not really being able to express it in the moment.

That’s how the drawings started, as a way to pour his deep overwhelming pride and adoration for you when maybe you weren’t there at the time, or in this case, off in dreamland.

He’d wake you up with his tongue later ( your favorite way to be awoken).

But for now, he’d enjoy the quiet peace of the moment, and the soothing sounds of occasional tiny snores.

[imagine-it-was-us]

love me not pt.2 || Carlos Sainz

Inspiration: Ravyn Lenae x Rex Orange County "Love me not"

Author's note: So this is part2! Had fun writing this one, hope you'll like it!

Pairing: Carlos Sainz Jr. x female reader

Warnings: mentions of nsfw, drinking, ghosting, toxic relationships.

Summary: They started as a spark – fast, reckless, impossible to ignore. One night turned into something more. But when love feels like a push and pull, when you only know how to leave before you're left… how do you stay?

Word count: 2.1k+

Part1

Her stomach dropped, but she knew that the club was packed with their acquaintances so she would never let them see how deeply the situation actually stung. She didn’t storm across the club floor. She glided – controlled, purposeful, a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes still plastered on her face like nothing was wrong. Like she hadn’t just seen his hands on some girl’s waist. 

Carlos noticed her the second she was within reach. He blinked like he was shaking off the blur of lights and drinks. And maybe he was trying to shake some of the guilt off too. One thing that he immediately did though was dropping his hands from the stranger dancing before him.

Y/N leaned in close, lips barely brushing Carlos’ ear, her tone syrup-sweet but laced with venom.

“Can we talk?”

Carlos didn’t say anything. Just nodded, jaw tight, and followed her to the darker side of the club, away from the stranger and curious eyes.

The second they were swallowed by shadows and bass-heavy beats, her façade cracked.

“What the hell was that?”

He didn’t pretend not to know. He leaned against the wall, crossed his arms, looked past her.

“She touched me. I didn’t do anything.”

“Your hands were on her waist, Carlos.” Her voice dropped lower, sharper. “Do you usually hold strangers like that, or is that a new habit?”

He scoffed, eyes narrowing. “Oh come on, it’s not like we were fucking there. Just don’t do that. Jealousy looks awful on you.”

She was taken aback by his comment. “So this is what this is about? You’re trying to make me jealous?”

“Maybe I was just trying to see if you even care. Don’t act like you didn’t disappear last week without a word. Like you don’t keep me guessing every time we’re apart.” 

“Are you serious right now?” she hissed, stepping closer. “I’ve been showing up for you. Every GP. Every late-night call. Every time you needed me, I was there. You think that’s nothing?”

His voice was lower now too, angry in the quietest way. All his insecurities laced his words.

“You’ve been showing up when it’s convenient. I never knew if I was just… a stop between flights for you. You never said what this is. Not once.”

Her throat bobbed, but the words came out steady. “And you did? I didn’t think I had to spell it out. We were–” she paused, correcting herself.”–are something. Or I thought we were. Until I saw you wrapped around her like you didn’t have someone waiting in the corner of the room.”

Carlos looked away, jaw tightening. He hated how much this felt like before—like every time he’d let himself hope someone might stay, only for them to stay vague, unreadable. His ex had once said, “You’re too intense. You expect people to read your mind.” But he didn’t want someone to read his mind. He just wanted someone who wouldn’t leave him guessing all the time.

“And I thought maybe you’d finally tell me you wanted me. Actually wanted us. But you never did.”

She blinked, once. Then again. The lights from the club caught the shimmer in her eyes, but the tears didn’t fall yet.

“I didn’t think I needed to say it,” she whispered. “I thought you knew.”

He exhaled hard, like the wind had been knocked out of him. “Yeah. Well. I didn’t.”

And just like that, the space between them turned to ice. She shook her head and stepped back, a shaky laugh breaking through her chest. 

“You know what? You’re right. We never said what this was.” Her voice broke around the edges. “Maybe that’s on both of us.”

Carlos stayed frozen, watching her like he wanted to reach out but didn’t know how.

Her smile was small, barely there. “I need to go.”

She turned before he could say anything, and this time, she did walk away fast. Tears slipped down her cheeks, hot and silent. He watched her go, back into the neon haze, knowing full well he should’ve stopped her. But he stayed rooted to the spot, jaw clenched and hands curled into fists like holding on to his pride would somehow hurt less than holding on to her.

What neither of them realized was that the events of that night wouldn’t mark the end of their story. If anything, they cracked something open—just wide enough for all their old patterns to creep in like smoke under a door. Unseen, but impossible to ignore.

They didn’t talk about what had happened at the club. But they didn’t stop talking.

Carlos broke the silence two days later with a photo of another skyline – burnt orange bleeding into nightfall, a captionless whisper of connection sent straight to her phone.

She stared at it for too long before replying:  “I do love a dramatic sky.”

And that was the unspoken deal. They would never define it. Never name it.  Because naming it would make it real – and real meant it could break. So they stayed in the blur.

She’d see him in paddocks, sunglasses on, attention split between his engineers and whichever girl he had his arm loosely wrapped around. Blonde, brunette, it didn’t matter. They all blended into the same silhouette she refused to memorize.

She didn’t ask. And he never offered.

So she posted a photo of herself wrapped in some tattooed arm on a rooftop in Paris, captioned with a lyric that wasn’t meant for anyone in particular – except it was.

Carlos saw it. Of course he did. He left her on “seen.” For a whole day.

Then he’d post a blurry shot from a bar, two wine glasses on the table, someone’s nails just barely in frame. She’d block the notification from popping up on her lock screen, but she always looked anyway.

They played the game with equal skill. What they were doing was clearly wrong and toxic and maybe that is why they deserved each other. 

And in between, the pull between them stayed magnetic. Late nights blurred by alcohol and proximity would bring them back together like waves crashing against rocks. They’d stumble into each other in stairwells and hotel hallways, heavy hands and heavier silences.  Neither of them asked, “Is this just for tonight?” Because neither of them wanted to hear the answer.

They didn’t talk about who they were with last week. They didn’t talk about what they were doing. They just crashed into each other, over and over, as if the ache might finally feel like something close to clarity.

It wasn’t just the sex. It was the way he’d linger a little too long after, quietly staring at the ceiling like he wanted to ask her to stay. It was the way she’d steal his shirts, not because she liked them, but because they still smelled like him the next day. It was the quiet check-ins that proved that even though they acted like they didn’t care, deep down they both did.

They called it nothing. But it was everything.

Still, it remained unspoken. Always just out of reach. And eventually, the cycle began to feel almost safe. Like if they never put words to it, it couldn’t hurt them. Like maybe it wasn’t heartbreak if no one admitted their feelings out loud. 

Until the end of the season party. In Monte Carlo. Again.

Almost half a year had passed since the first explosion in that same city. Now the roles were reversed.

Carlos stood near the edge of the dance floor, glass in hand, body tense. The club was loud, bass vibrating in his ribs, but all he could hear was her laugh. Not the polite one she used in the media pen, but the real one. The one he’d heard pressed into his pillow.

She was dancing. Carefree. Electric. Her dress clung to her in all the ways that used to be just for him. And the guy she was with? Just hands. Hands on her waist, too familiar, too comfortable. Like he knew her.

Carlos watched, jaw tight, drink untouched. It was stupid, he knew that. He’d done the same. Hell, worse. But it was different seeing her like this. Not because she was dancing with someone else. But because for the first time, she looked like she actually didn’t need him.

And that terrified him more than anything.

The lights flashed over her face, and for a second her eyes met his. Somehow, it was all he needed to turn this around. 

It took him a couple of seconds to approach them.

“Sorry, mate, I believe she is taken,” Carlos said, his tone as steady as ever.

She crooked her eyebrow, a soft and teasing smile curling her lips.

“Didn’t know we were making declarations now,” she said, voice light, but her eyes flicked with something deeper. There was a flicker of disbelief that he was actually doing this.

Carlos stood close enough now that the guy got the hint and backed off, hands raised in amused surrender. She didn’t stop him. Didn’t even look at him again. Her gaze was locked on Carlos.

He leaned in just enough that no one around them could hear, his breath warm against her ear.

“You’re not taken,” he said, his voice low, roughened by something like nerves. “But you should be.”

Her smile faltered. For the first time tonight, it wasn’t playful. “You don’t get to say that now.”

“I know,” he said. “But I’m saying it anyway.”

She studied him, every line of his face, the flush on his cheeks from drinking – or maybe from dancing with jealousy too long.

 “You said nothing for months, Carlos.”

“And you didn’t ask for anything either,” he snapped, a little too quickly. Then, slowly putting his hands around her waist and pulling her a little closer, he carried on, voice now softer, as if proximity helped calm the temperament down. “I didn’t know if you wanted more. You always looked like you could leave me without looking back.”

Even though her brows pulled together, she still flung her arms around his neck, one palm tangling into his hair like muscle memory.

 “That’s not fair. It takes two to tango.”

She hated how much of herself she’d already handed over to him. In moments, in trust, in all the quiet ways that don’t scream “love” but whisper it loud enough to hurt. Every time she left his hotel room, it felt harder. And deeper. And more terrifying.

“No,” he agreed. “It’s not fair. None of this has been. I’ve been with other people. You’ve been with other people. We pretended it was fine, because neither of us wanted to be the one to say it first.”

She blinked, like something sharp had been said without warning.

“So say it now.”

Carlos hesitated for a split second, then took a breath like it was the only way to get the words out.

“I want it to be you. Only you. I’m done pretending I don’t care when some guy’s hands are on you. I’m done acting like it doesn’t kill me when you smile at your phone and it’s not me.” His jaw clenched, voice thick. “I miss you even when we’re in the same room. That’s not casual. That’s not nothing.”

The silence that followed felt deafening.

Her throat bobbed with the weight of her own unsaid things. She swallowed, voice trembling just slightly when she finally spoke.

“I didn’t want to say it first because I was afraid you’d leave. Because people always do when I start needing them too much.”

“I’m not like the guys you dated before,” he said, eyes dark and certain.

“No,” she whispered. “You’re worse.”

Carlos laughed softly, a little breathless.

“I deserve that.”

“We were both cowards,” she admitted and smiled when she felt his arms gripping her waist even tighter.

He nodded. “But I’m done running.”

She looked up at him, really looked at him. “You sure?”

“I’ve never been more sure of anything,” he said. Then, after a beat, “Say it back.”

Her eyes welled up. Not from sadness – from relief. And that scared her just as much.

“I don’t want to do this with anyone else.” She minimized the distance between them to the bare minimum. “I’m yours, Carlos. No more games. No more stories.”

The music thudded around them, bodies moving in time, but they were still – a moment carved out of chaos, quiet and private.

She wasn’t sure what came next. Only that she didn’t want to go into it alone anymore.

Carlos rested his forehead against hers, eyes closed like he was holding something fragile.

“You’re mine,” he murmured. “And I’m yours.”

And this time, they didn’t let go.

Next part

@iloveallmyboys

[sudoki-sara1]

Anything for Family

Warning, smut ahead you know the drill. Incest and voyeurism blah blah blah. Let’s get this smut!

(In Argus)

Late at night, Jaune was unable to fall asleep. Maybe it was because of his sister’s presence… perhaps this place reminded him too much of home. Or perhaps it was the memories of him, Ruby, and Weiss and what they did- his train of thought was interrupted as he heard a knock at the door.

Jaune: It’s unlocked!

Saphron and her wife, Terra, enter the room.

Saphron: Jaune… sorry to interrupt-

Jaune: It’s fine, not like I was gonna fall asleep anytime soon anyways.

Saphron: Can we… talk?

Jaune sighed as he sat up on the edge of the bed with Saphron sitting beside him.

Jaune: Alright, what’s up?

Saphron: Look… this might sound a little… odd, but we have something to ask of you.

Jaune was now a little skeptical.

Jaune: Go on…

Saphron took a deep breath before speaking.

Saphron: We want a child…

Terra blushed as Jaune listened.

Saphron: Not just… any child. We… want it to be an Arc… we’ve thought of this for a while now.

Jaune: *sigh* Well I don’t know what you expect me to say.

Saphron: Jaune… you’re the only one I can go to for this… please.

Jaune: Saph… I… don’t… think I can do this. Insemination is… I’m not sure if-

Saphron shook her head.

Saphron: No can do. I… Terra doesn’t… she wants things to be natural.

Jaune blushed.

Jaune: W-Wait what? Hold on… you want me to…

Terra looked at Jaune with a begging face.

Terra: Please… I… I need this.

Jaune: S-Saphron are you really okay with this?

Saphron: Totally, you’re my brother. It’s not like I’m letting my wife sleep with an absolute stranger. I know you would never hurt her.

Jaune: This is just… a lot to take in…

Saphron: Even if you do I’ll be watching to make sure it wasn’t on purpose.

Jaune: Wh-What?! I can’t have you watching me.

Saphron: Why not? Would I be distracting you~

Jaune: W-Well no… it’s just… it’d be really weird.

Saphron: Well too bad.

Saphron got up and sat on a chair in the corner of the room.

Saphron: I’ll be watching from here, so get to it you two.

Jaune: Hold on, I never-

Before he could finish his sentence Jaune felt his pants being undone. When he looked he saw Terra on her knees in front of him.

Terra: I-I need to suck on it to get it hard, r-right? S-Sorry… I’m new to this.

Saphron: That’s right, honey~

Both of the girls were shock as Jaune’s cock rested on Terra’s face.

Terra: W-Wow… it’s um… q-quite big.

Saphron: Shit, Jaune, you never told me you were packing~ M-Maybe I should show Terra how it’s done~

Jaune: Sh-Shut it, Saph… Don’t make this any weirder than it needs to be.

Terra licked up the shaft before kissing the tip. She unbuttoned her shirt slowly, letting Jaune have a good peak at her breasts.

Terra: Do… Do you like them? I um… heard boys your age find these attractive.

Jaune: They’re… definitely a plus. Adds to your beauty.

Terra: Th-Thanks… I’m uh… gonna start now.

Jaune nodded as Terra opened her mouth. She took the tip into her mouth, struggling to take more of it.

Jaune: For your first time you’re pretty good at this. Huh?

He felt Terra grab his wrists and guide them to her head. She looked up at him before taking the tip out of her mouth and stroking his rod.

Terra: P-Please use my… my mouth.

Jaune looked over at Saphron who was watching intently before she nodded. He took a deep breath before pulling Terra’s mouth on his cock.

Terra: *Cough*

She choked on his cock as breathing became harder. She didn’t hate it though… hold on was she getting wet? She was… she absolutely was. Unable to stop herself Terra slid a finger down her pants, and rubbed herself as Jaune used her like a toy.

Jaune: D-Damn… your mouth is… amazing.

Terra: Mm…

Terra felt the cock in her mouth twitch. Jaune tried to push her off, but she refused and took it deeper. Pushing the cock down her throat as Jaune came.

Jaune: Ah~ T-Terra… hah…

Terra: Hah… that was… wasn’t as bad as I expected.

Saphron: Oi! Jaune, you were supposed to fuck her!

Jaune: Ah, s-sorry… I got a little caught up in the moment.

Terra: Y-Yeah… um… sh-shall we?

Terra stood up before taking off the rest of her clothes. Jaune soon followed suit, and Terra took in the sight of Jaune’s scarred and lean build. She ran her fingers across his numerous scars.

Terra: I uh… I can see you worked hard.

Jaune: Thanks… um I guess I’ll-

Before he could get up Terra straddled his lap.

Terra: Please… a-allow me to um…

Jaune: S-Sure.

The two blushed as Jaune’s cock was pressed against her stomach. She placed her hands on his shoulders for support before taking a deep breath and inserting his cock. Terra bit her lip trying to distract herself.

Terra: Gods… I-it’s so… big!

Jaune: You okay? Think you can-

Terra: Yes! Gods yes I can take it!

Eventually she had finally taken it all inside. Terra wrapped her arms around Jaune’s neck as she gritted her teeth.

Jaune: T-Terra? Are you- Mmph!

Terra quickly kissed the boy to shut him up. The kiss turning into a make out session as she slid her tongue into his mouth.

Terra: mm~

Saphron: Fuck… that’s kinda hot.

The two eventually separated to breathe.

Jaune: Hah… Terra… hold on-

He grit his teeth as Terra began to bounce on his cock.

Terra: Fuck~ so big… so good! Ah~ ah~ your brother is amazing, honey!

Saphron: Yeah, I know he is~

Jaune: Gah~ s-slow down… I’m gonna… ah~

Jaune grabbed Terra’s waist and pulled her down, forcing every inch of his cock into her. Hitting her womb he came deep inside her, painting her insides white. She kissed him once more and moaned as she felt him cum.

Saphron: Damn… I’m kinda jealous, honey.

Terra: Hah… you know, I think he’s too horny to think straight… wanna give it a shot?

Terra got off of Jaune, all sweaty and her pussy dripping with his fresh cum.

Terra: My legs need a rest anyways.

Saphron bit her lip as she got off the seat, leaving a visible wet patch. She kissed her wife before kneeling in front of a horny Jaune.

Saphron: Fuck~ my brother’s cock is right in my face… and it’s soaked in my wife’s fresh juices. *sniff* And it smells incredible~ how dare you hide this from me~

She grasped the base of his cock before licking up the shaft and taking it into her mouth.

Saphron: Mm~ (It tastes incredible too. Fuck~ my brother’s cock is turning me on so much~)

She took off her clothes after taking his cock out of her mouth. She pushed Jaune onto the bed while flaunting her tits.

Saphron: Hey, Jaune~ I bet you’ve always dreamed of these puppies~ now you get to know how they feel~

Too weak to fight back Jaune let his sister squeeze his cock between her tits. She kissed the tip poking out from the top as she winked at Jaune.

Saphron: You really are big~ even my tits aren’t enough to fully cover it.

She slowly moved up and down. Jaune’s breathing got heavier.

Jaune: W-Wait… t-too sensitive…

Unable to fight the pleasure Jaune released his seed all over Saphron’s face. Saphron licked the cum off her face as she gave him a smug look.

Saphron: W-Wow… all this for me lil bro? I’m flattered~ but I think you still have some left in those balls of yours~

She crawled on top of Jaune before aligning his still rock hard member with pussy and moving down on it.

Saphron: A-Ah~ Terra wasn’t kidding lil bro. Y-You’re a bea- Mmph!

Jaune let his instincts take over and pull Saphron into a deep kiss. As his tongue explored the inside of her mouth his hands moved lower down her body. Eventually they landed on her ass giving it a firm squeeze.

Saphron: J-Jaune… when did you get so good at thissss!

She moaned as Jaune gave her ass a slap before beginning to thrust in and out of her.

Saphron: Ah! J-Jaune~ s-slow downnnn!

Jaune kissed her neck, leaving behind hickies. He acted more like an animal in heat than anything else. Soon Saphron could feel his cock throb.

Saphron: J-Jaune seriously! P-Pull out! Ah~

Jaune didn’t speak. He just kept fuck- no, he was breeding. His sister wanted a child then he’ll make sure they have one. Saphron wouldn’t admit it, but she wanted to feel his seed. Whether it impregnates her or not she wanted it.

Saphron: Gods~ y-you’re being so… ROUGH! Gah~

As she stuck her tongue out Jaune took it into his mouth as with one final thrust he released his seed and painted her womb white. She laid on top of him completely exhausted. As his dick finally calmed down and softened it slipped out, letting his seed pour out of his sister’s pussy.

Saphron: Jaune… I love my lil bro~

Terra: Told you he was good.

Saphron: Y-Yeah… totally… too bad it was just sloppy seconds…

[gr8ntaire]

do u think when Marc meets little kids (all decked out in gear to support him 🥺) he thinks of his little kid self and how much love and devotion HE had. Turns the whole thing into something just as lovely and pure as he possibly can because he recognises how important stuff like that is. waaah.

[fellhellion]

Ngl, I’m not entirely sure where the “Miguel and Hobie hate each other” reading comes from, when from their like. One interaction i don’t personally get the impression they think much about each other at all shdhdjfjf

Miguel seems kind of exasperated with Hobie sure, but the tone of that interaction is relatively lighthearted. It’s more of a joke that by virtue of Miguel being a stringent rule follower, Hobie not caring overly much about those rules exasperates him. And Hobie knows it annoys Miguel and thinks that’s funny, thus prodding him again with the “I’m not even here/nah still here” routine. But there doesn’t seem to be like, genuine personal anger on either side. Just an ideological divide that actualises even further when Miles’ very existence provides another answer to the overhanging stakes.

[sadlazzle]

i think i might wait until the new mh dolls at smyths go live n then buy all three cause i feel bad still :(

[princeofyorkshire]

You can just say you find the xmas pics cute. I’d rather you be honest

ok thank you for not shooting me <3

[holeforzenin]

𝜗𝜚˚⋆ GIVING ROOMMATE TOJI A HONEY PACKET TO MAKE HIM HARD

You’re digging through the kitchen drawer for a pen but instead, you find a single, slightly crumpled honey packet— one of those ones from a diner Toji probably pocketed without even thinking.

That’s when the memory hits you: someone once told you honey boosts testosterone. Supposedly gets the blood flowing or something like that. You don’t know if it’s true but suddenly, you’re struck with the image of Toji randomly getting hard for no reason— looking all confused and irritated and the idea of teasing and laughing at him for being a confused old man is too good to pass up.

You find him at the kitchen table, slouched in one of the chairs with a pile of mail in front of him. He’s fresh off work, still in his dusty jeans and oil-stained shirt, arms looking way too good folded up like that. His hair’s a little messy with his bangs cascading down his forehead and slightly tickling his eyes. He smells like outside yet he still looks like sin.

You casually slide the honey packet across the table like it’s a top-secret document. He glances up. “What’s this?”

“Just try it,” you say softly, feigning innocence as you open the fridge for a drink. “Natural energy booster. Thought it might help after work, y’know?”.

Toji raises an eyebrow, but he doesn’t question you. Just casually tears the packet open with his teeth and licks the honey off the edge like it’s nothing. You watch from the fridge, biting the inside of your cheek to hold in your laugh. It’s criminal how fucking good he looks doing something so simple. You grab your drink and vanish to your room before he can notice the grin creeping onto your face.

It takes a while but maybe thirty, forty minutes later, you hear him shifting around on the couch. You peek down the hallway— and fucking shit.

He’s still lounging there, TV on but he’s clearly not paying any attention. One hand is resting on his thigh, the other tucked under his head and his hips keep shifting. You freeze when you notice the obvious shape straining against the front of his sweats. It’s not subtle either— it’s blatant. The fabric’s tented, and he keeps adjusting himself with this irritated little scowl like he’s trying to figure out why he’s getting an erection without warning or doing anything.

You casually walk into the living room, trying not to beam. “You good?” you ask, doing your best to sound normal.

Toji grunts. “M’fine. Just—” He sits up a bit straighter because you were there, then glances down at himself. He frowns. “Dunno what the hell’s up. Got this fucking—”

He stops short, noticing your eyes lingering where they shouldn’t be. He tugs the hem of his shirt down over his crotch but it doesn’t do much. “You seeing this shit?” he mutters, looking genuinely confused. “Haven’t even been thinking about anything”.

You shrug, taking a sip of your drink. “Weird. Could be the honey,” you offer innocently. “You know, some people say it boosts testosterone”.

He stares at you. “You serious?”

You nod, lips twitching into a grin.

“…You gave me a fucking boner on purpose?” he says slowly, piecing everything together. You can’t help it. You burst out laughing like a immature child.

He rubs a hand over his face, groaning in annoyance. “Fucking brat,” he mutters, and when he stands up— yeahhh, there’s definitely no hiding it now. The fat bulge in his sweats is very prominent and you shamelessly glance down again.

He catches you.

“Oh, you like that?” he says teasingly, a slow smirk creeping across his face now. “All that just for you, huh?”

Your laughter dies in your throat. You did not think this far ahead. Toji takes a slow step toward you, still adjusting his sweatpants. “You think you’re real funny, sweetheart. Gonna be even funnier when I make you deal with it”.

You blink up at him, your heart racing.

“Still feeling like a joke to you?

You open your mouth to answer, but your brain has completely short-circuited. The taunting grin on his face grows wider when he sees the panic start to creep into your expression.

Toji watches you squirm for a second longer, then chuckles low in his throat, eyes glinting with amusement. “Look at you,” he murmurs, taking one more step toward you, close enough that you can feel the heat rolling off him and maybeeee even the tiniest hint of his hardened bulge pressed against your tummy, but you don't dare look down. “All flustered over a little blood flow”.

You glare at him, trying to muster a comeback, but he just leans down a bit, voice dropping conspiratorially. “Y’know, if you wanted to see my dick that bad, sweetheart, all you had to do was ask”.

Your jaw drops. “What?! I did not!”

He starts laughing— really laughing this time, the kind that makes his shoulders shake as he straightens back up and ruffles your hair like you’re a dumb little sibling who walked straight into a trap.

“Oh my fuck, your face,” he says between laughs. “Worth every second”.

“You’re the worst,” you hiss, shoving his arm annoyingly but he doesn’t budge.

“And you’re a little brat,” he throws back, grinning like the cat that got the cream. “Giving a grown man unsolicited honey just to watch him pop a boner? That’s sick behavior, kid”.

“You didn’t have to eat it!”

“You slid it across the table like a damn drug deal!”

You try to storm off, but he catches your wrist gently just as you turn. You pause, blinking up at him again, and he just gives you a crooked smile and murmurs, “Next time you wanna see it, just knock”.

Your whole soul leaves your body.

He lets you go, snickering to himself as he flops back down on the couch like he didn’t just commit a crime against your sanity.

[prosypepper]

sensitive ft. toji fushiguro

to be as strong and high-spirited as you are, toji was definitely caught off-guard when he found you crying for the first time.

it didn’t happen on purpose, either. there was no sign as to why you’d be upset, you hadn’t told him anything all day that could even lead to you being so sad, sobbing hysterically into his pillow.

but that didn’t matter. all toji understood was that you were upset, sad, angry, something; and he needed to make it better. so there he stood, frozen in his tracks for a while, an unfamiliar pang in his chest at your cries—the sound alone almost upset him, for some reason.

you didn’t notice toji until he slid into bed behind you, easily scooping up your body in his arms and moving you around to rest on his chest, your arms still grasping the pillow. your cries got even harder for a second at the realization toji had you.

“hey, hey,” toji spoke, calmly, soft, “what’s wrong, babydoll?”

toji’s brows furrowed when you only sniffled and hyperventilated for a minute, chest heaving as you attempted to catch your breath—to no avail. if it wasn’t for you practically melting into his touch, he would’ve thought he was making the situation even worse.

“baby,” toji whispered, waiting for a moment before pressing your head into the middle of his chest, “breathe.” his palm ran over your head repeatedly, taking big, deep breaths of his own in hopes you’d follow after. he could feel your tears soaking through his shirt, making big, wet spots, but at that moment, he cared for nothing more than to make you feel better.

like magic, your breathing began to slow down, sniffles becoming less frequent, the clutch you had on the pillow softening. toji took a big sigh of relief at that. he held you like that for a solid fifteen minutes, gently rocking you back and forth with his body.

yet toji didn’t count the minutes, he just stayed. stayed until you stopped crying, until your breathing was back to normal, until there was no sign of woe in the room. he rested his chin atop your head for a little, stroking your arm with his fingertips.

“you okay?” toji asked, almost awkwardly, when obviously, you were not okay.

“mhm,” you hummed, eyes open and staring at the window next to your shared bed.

“hey,” toji repeated, drawing his head back, your sad, wet eyes attracted to his like magnets, “none of that. what’s wrong?” just the simple question caused tears to well up in your eyes again, but you blinked them away and sighed.

“don’t know,” you said, resting your head on his chest by yourself that time, “overwhelmed, i guess. and i watched a sad movie. everything jus’ got to me at once.”

toji frowned, knowing he had no idea that life was piling up on you—and he hadn’t done anything to help beforehand.

“‘m sorry, baby,” he apologized, pecking a kiss to the top of your head, “didn’t know you were so stressed.”

“it’s not your fault, toji,” you replied, nuzzling into his chest, “i just suck at communicating.”

“that makes two of us,” he paused, thinking deeply about what to say next, “you can tell me whatever. scream, cry, hit me, i don’t care.”

“toji, i’m not gonna hit you,” you giggled, a smile finally creeping on your face—the smile toji had been waiting for since he first saw you so upset.

and for once in his life, with you in his arms, toji thought he was doing something right.

[tonycries]

Care For You!

Synopsis. “Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer” they say, right? But you don’t think they meant close enough to be in their bed.

Pairings. [SEPARATE] Gojo x Reader, Sukuna x Reader, Choso x Reader, Geto x Reader, Nanami x Reader, Toji x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, enemies to lovers, hate/ angry séx, spítting, light exhíbitionism (Nanami’s), mentions of kníves (Sukuna’s and Geto’s), chokíng, degradatíon, cúmplay, squírting, overstím, jealousy (Toji’s), some HEINOUS things, pet names, swearing.

Word count. 5.7k

A/N. Woahhh I got carried away and this got long, HAHAH.

♡ TOJI FUSHIGURO - F*ck the divorce! (And you)

“What were you sayin’, doll?”

Of course, the only response Toji gets is a wet, pathetic little murmur of something - maybe a curse, probably a plea for more more more-

Something that has his swollen cock twitching so wildly inside your snug cunt - barley even halfway in but still stretched so obscenely around him. Something that had him letting out a low chuckle at how fucked-out his poor wife already sounds.

“What? Can’t talk anymore?” He coos, relishing in the way your nails rake furiously down his sculpted back in reply - a warning. “Drunk on m’cock already?”

But Toji doesn’t stop, not even close. Only slamming faster, deeper into your snug cunt, quick, maddening grinds just to squeeze inside. “How cute. And you were so keen to run your mouth about divorce earlier, you little bitch.”

Fuck.

And then you spit. Hitting right there on the edge of Toji’s pissed off smirk, splattering against that little scar you loved and hated so much.

As if that wasn’t enough insult to injury, your mouth is moving so stupidly before your mind. Ignoring how your pussy was desperately sucking his throbbing cock to look him right in the eyes. Babbling out a broken, yet determined, “Fuck you.”

At this, Toji has the audacity to throw his head back and laugh. Laugh. More to infuriate you than anything as he presses such a deceivingly tender little peck on your mouth. And you know it’s on purpose the way he lets your saliva smear all over both your lips.

“No.” He whispers against your lips, amused, like a little confession. “I’m fucking you.” 

God, and it works. You’re all but seething. Fighting the urge to smack his pretty face as he drags his aching cock all against your plushy walls. Back, back, back till his weeping tip was just kissing your sloppy entrance. “And m’gonna fuck all thoughts of that divorce right outta ya, doll.”

It’s all that’s said before Toji’s finally bottoming out in one, harsh thrust. Rough enough that you’re sure it’ll leave marks - his heavy balls on your ass, your ankles on his back.

Not even giving you the time to adjust - why would he? He’s got his pretty wife all splayed out and needy for him, what more could he wait for? Ramming his swollen cock into you like he hated you. Like he hated all thoughts of that stupid little idea you brought up, and was well and fully intent on fucking it out of you.

And if that wasn’t enough, he’s wrestling you to face him. Squeezing your cheeks together into such an embarrassing little pout that forces you to look into his darkened eyes. “Open that fucking mouth.”

You just hated how your jaw drops slack as if on instinct. Hated how you can do nothing but moan deliriously as he spits right into your open mouth. Hated the way your eyes roll to the back of your head, plushy walls squeezing him to insanity till you can feel the rapid bump! bump! bump! of his prominent veins. Messy. 

“I’m the only one that gets to do this.” 

God, it was too much for him too. 

“Think y’can divorce me?” He’s rutting into you so animalistically, hips stuttering and sloppy. Like he couldn’t decide between hitting that sweet spot he knew so well and abusing your poor cervix. “Think anyone else can make you get off this good?”

“I- Hngh- fuck fuck fuck, Toji-”

“Answer me.” he gasps, strained. Angry. Desperate. Breath hot against your face as he pulls and tugs on your lower lip - like a little punishment, as if his throbbing cock wasn’t enough. “Tell me. You think any other loser is gonna fuck you till they can shut up that bitchy mouth of yours?”

And God it was so maddening how he was right - how you knew no one could have you all breathless and cockdrunk like this.

But you couldn’t go down without a fight.

“M-maybe.” you spit, sounding a bit more whiny than you intended. “Maybe some other guy is gonna fuck me better, n’ have a hngh- b-bigger dick too.” 

And Toji notices - of course, he does. Because he’s reaching down to toy with your swollen clit, pinching and rolling the sensitive nub between his fingers as if to say “Really?”

He knew you too well. Well enough that he’s only fucking you harder into the mattress, like it hurt to hear any nonsense of some other guy falling from your pretty lips. Like he was taking it out on your ravaged pussy, sliding in and out of your sloppy cunt with reckless abandon. 

“Shut up.” he groans, glancing down at how sinfully you were milking the fucking soul out of him. Hips hitting yours so bruisingly with each word- “Shut up- shut up shut, you little slut.”

“Ngh- Toji. S’too much. Sh-shit.”

“Shut up and take it.” And you can’t escape his unforgiving thrusts even if you wanted to. “No one knows this cute cunt like this. You like this.” Unable to run away with the arm around your hip, the fingers relentless on your puffy clit. “Because this sloppy pussy is mine, I’m the only one fuckin’ her like this.” Teeth latching onto any inch of skin he could reach, rock-hard cock sliding in and out in and- Like he wanted you to stay. Needed you to stay. 

“And m’gonna fuck you till there’s no divorce in that pretty lil’ mind.”

♡ NANAMI KENTO - Gentleman?

“You think you deserve respect?”

Whoever told you that Nanami was perfect - the epitome of a gentleman - was the biggest liar you’ve ever encountered. Because they’ve clearly never had to work together with that uptight, scrutinizing, overly-strict son of a-

“Yes, I fuckin’ deserve respect.” you spit, the words coming out a bit more breathless than you wanted. Nanami’s office desk cool against your cheek, ass grinding traitorously into his throbbing erection. “Not that you’d know anything about it.”

He’s leaning down to whisper hotly against your ear, “I do. But-” And oh Nanami’s gripping your waist like it was the only thing keeping his sanity tethered to him. Pulling your sloppy pussy closer to him. “-you really think you deserve respect even when you’re being such a slut f’me?”

And maybe you’re an idiot - maybe you’re a mastermind. 

Because in one, fluid motion you’re gripping his silk tie to pull Nanami impossibly closer. That low, throaty groan going straight to your quivering cunt as you grit out, “Yes, sir.”

Several things happen at once - the first being that you learn that Nanami’s ties are soft. Comfortable, even, as he hastily pulls off the damn things, wrapping it around your wrists. Tight. 

You gasp at the realization that you’re now bound and completely vulnerable, pinned to the desk by his weight. Exactly where he wanted you. 

“This,” he huffs, amusement bleeding into his words. “-is more like it.”

God, you hated him. You hated his rubbing up against your back through that sinfully tight shirt as he pools your sweet juices on his fat head. You hated the way he was dragging it lazily, up and down up and down. Teasing. Calculated. Watching all your cute reactions. 

Fuck, you needed him.

“Are you just fucking talk-”

You barely get to finish the sentence before he’s ramming his aching cock inside your sopping pussy. Not even moments later, as he fucks you into the desk. Like he was trying to break it. Break you. 

Hips colliding with yours over and over and over, you were only thankful that these walls were sound-proofed. Because otherwise, the entire office building would be hearing all your delirious moans. Breath ragged, mind spinning, only babbling out, “Fuck fuck fuck- s’deep. Can feel you so- hngh- good-”

“Yeah? S’good.” Nanami huffs out a laugh at how perfect you were for him. Pussy sucking him up so well that it was impossible to tear his eyes from the sinful sight. “And you still expect me to treat you like a lady?”

Making you wish more and more that the people who always tittered in the coffee room about Nanami being the “perfect gentleman” could see this right now. How he was talking to you so fucking mean and splitting you apart on his cock even meaner.

“Hah- f-fuck you.” And the only thing you can do is pull uselessly at the restraint around your wrist, knowing it’s a pathetic attempt. As if to drive the point deeper, Nanami purposefully pulls you up by the tie, using it as leverage to bounce you back into his thrusts like some fucktoy - his favorite one, of course.

You yelp at the change in angle, his swollen cock dragging so dizzyingly against all the right spots. Pounding into you, deep. Disrespectful - like he promised.

“Fuck me?” he clicks his tongue and scoffs so uncharacteristically. Then again, Nanami was always out of character with you. “Last time I checked, I-” One, harsh thrust. “-was the one fucking you. Like a slut.”

“At least this ‘slut’,” it’s hard to speak with the way he was fucking pushing into your lungs. “Can do a better job than you.” You crane your neck to glare at him as best you could. “You call this fucking?”

Then it’s like something snapped. Several somethings, in fact.

Nanami’s tie, his sanity, you by the end of this.

And before you know it, you’re on your back, splayed out sinfully on top of the desk. Nanami’s heavy cock pulling out just to throw you around how he pleased, immediately burying back into your sloppy pussy like it killed him to stay apart. 

“Little bitch. Always testin’ me.” he’s grunting, drawing urgent, frenzied little patterns on your clit - not even circles because for once in his life, Nanami was too impatient. Too depraved. “Always fuckin’ getting on my nerves with your smart mouth and-” Hips getting so filthy, a rough, maddening tandem. “Slutty lil’ skirts.”

Once he started, Nanami couldn’t stop - he couldn’t stop his movements, so desperate to get you off. And he couldn’t stop his words either.

“Wan’ed this so bad. So fucking bad.” Words slurring. Maddening - like a man possessed. “Cos’ you’re such a fucking bitch n’ I wanted to bend you over and shut you up at every meeting we had. Didn’t care for an audience.”

He’s milking himself on your dripping cunt with reckless abandon, groaning at the way you’re taking each slam of his hips so well. Bruising on your ass, your swollen clit, your mouth as Nanami hisses out little profanities into it. Like a mantra. 

“Mmpf- fuck, K-Ken. S’too much oh my god. Feels so-.”

Knock! Knock! Knock!

“Hey there, Mr. Nanami. M’just here to confirm that the team meeting will be here in five?” A voice, unassuming from outside the door. “Yeah. Jus’ come in then, we’ll be ready in five.” You don’t know what you’re reeling more from - the looming interruption or Nanami’s next words. Cock still unforgiving. Disrespectful. Turning to you as he whispers against your lips, “Better get done, you little slut. Before HR finds out why we have so many debriefs here.”

♡ GETO SUGURU - To kill? To ruin.

“So, you couldn’t kill me. Now what, pretty?”

Your eyes stay locked on the cult leader sat in front of you. The way his inky hair framed that relaxed smile - too relaxed. His arm bruising around your waist, tight to keep you from escaping. Long lashes fluttering so enticingly as he waited for your answer. 

Your target. 

Unfairly beautiful - even with the knife at his throat, his own just inches away from your neck. 

And you don’t know if you’re even breathing - or if he is either. Waiting to see how one word could change everything. How you’d end up killing each other, a bloodbath. Or-

Or how you’d end up spread so shamefully on Geto’s tatami floors, legs dangling off his strong shoulders. Poor pussy so bloated with his cum already. Hands scrambling to grip onto the floor - his biceps - his hair - just anything to keep yourself from losing your fucking sanity while he fucks you like he’s lost his. 

Over and over and- You’ve lost track of time now, it’s been hours, both of you barely lucid at this point. 

“Awww, what happened? Shy?” he’s tutting mockingly in your ear, acting as if you’ve got the capability to form any coherent sentences right now. “N’ you were so feisty earlier.”

“F-fuck ah- you.” you manage to choke out, teary and barely coherent with the hand wrapped around your throat. Only growing tighter with each cute lil’ whine leaving your swollen lips. 

“Ha! Guess you’re still feisty.” Geto lets out a breathy laugh, unsure where to look at - how you were staring up at him with such sultry, defiant eyes or the way your heavenly cunt was sucking him like anything but. Puffy folds bulging obscenely around him. So messy and wet, painted white with this cum. “Feisty enough to gimme another one?”

Hell, Geto doesn’t even know if he can cum again - but that sinful little pool of cum spreading on the floor makes some primal, raw part of himself think he just might will it out of himself. Or die trying. 

Messy. So messy. 

“D-die trying?” you repeat breathlessly, more to yourself than Geto. Oops- had he said that out loud? 

Oh, Geto was having way too much fun with this. Way too much fun with how you were so overstimulated and fucked dumb. Watching as you wonder how you were the one supposed to assassinate him, but might just not make it out alive yourself.  

“Mhm.” he grins, at how cockdrunk you were, squeezing your throat tighter. Blood roaring in your eyes, vision spotty now. “Die trying, or cum f’me first. Your choice.”

He’s fucking you so mean. So hard that you were sure the creases of the tatami mat would be there on your back even tomorrow. Geto’s warm cum dribbling down your legs, nothing but rough, lewd squelches from below. Sloppy and addicting. 

“I- don’t-”

“I d-don’t.” he mocks your delirious little stammers. Biting down on your neck, hard. “Shut up.” Thrusts only getting sharper, more calculated - like it personally offended him you were even able to talk this much. Hand squeezing tighter and tighter- “Jus’ cum if you wanna breathe, pretty.”

“But I don’t think I hngh- can!” you sob, nails clawing at his wrist pathetically. Vision blanking, dripping pussy only sucking him more desperately. 

And Geto really can’t help but spread your swollen folds apart with his thumb, watching the way his seed oozes out of your fluttering hole. A lewd ah! ah! ah! leaving your lips each time he fucks it deeper and deeper. Fingers barely grazing your throbbing clit, so sensitive that even that was too much. 

Cunt so embarrassingly needy that it was almost difficult for Geto to move inside you, milking his cock too well. Too overstimulated. He didn’t care of course - it just made it all the more fun - but oh it made his dick twitch so wildly inside your gummy walls. Balls squeezing painfully as he snaps his hips faster. More purposeful.

Fuck. He’s strong. 

“But-”

 “Just shut up and cum.”

And then you can’t help it - you are. 

Creaming all over Geto’s cock, his unforgiving unforgiving cock. Body moving before your mind as a hand shoots out to grab his pale neck. Dangerous. Wrapping so deliciously as you pull him down, nails digging into skin so hard it could draw blood. 

You didn’t care if you did - would’ve enjoyed it even. Enjoyed it more as you kissed him, hard. 

“Fuck you. Fuck you fuck you, I should kill you.” you wheeze into his open mouth. All tongue and tears, and thick, hot ropes of Geto’s cum. Painting your already-overfilled pussy white, like he’s cumming harder than he has his entire life. Like he hadn’t been pumping your poor cunt full of his seed all these past hours. “I should kill you.”

And you can only take it. 

Only keen at the way his nails leave neat little crescents on your neck, breath coming in short gasps. Geto pushing all the air out of your lungs with each thrust. Each ram of his thick, relentless cock. 

“Yeah. Kill me.” Smirking, voice shot and just dripping with such danger - one that didn’t bode well for your poor cunt. “But only if you aren’t able to cum f’me one more time.”

♡ CHOSO KAMO - “You seriously like this?”

Those were the first words out of your mouth - bewildered ones, at that. 

Because, sat on top of the fidgeting special grade, pinning him to the ground with your weight, the last thing you expected was to feel his achingly hard erection. Already so damp, and hot against your ass - drawing a sinful little hiss from Choso’s pretty lips as you grinded experimentally against it. 

He liked this.

And you did, too. 

And you certainly didn’t expect to find yourself mere moments later, panties just pushed to the side so you can be split apart on his aching cock. Hands gripping his chest, your hips rocking down against his like such a slut.

“H-hah- fuck fuck fuck, you’re so fucking messy, baby.” Choso lets out a guttural groan, jaw dropping into a soft little oh! at the heavenly sight of his cock sliding in and out of your dripping cunt. In and out in and out in and-

Cunt clenching at how beautiful he was underneath you - cheeks flushed, dark hair undone, sticking to his forehead as Choso bucks his hips wildly to meet yours. Absolutely wrecked. “Yeah? Look who’s ngh- talking.” you smirk. 

“F-fuck you.”

“Oh?” you taunt. “Last time I checked, I’m hah- the one riding you.”

At your words, he’s huffing softly - so different from how he fucking up into your ravaged cunt a jagged, sharp thrust. Eyes twinkling at the way he knocks all the air out of your lungs with the sheer stretch. Somehow, you have a distinct feeling that if this was his way to shut you up then you really didn’t mind.

“So what?” he spits. Fingers reaching across to roll against your throbbing clit, over and over in hasty little circles. “So what if you’re riding me like a cute lil’ whore? I’m the one oh fuck- messing up your insides.”

And then he’s bucking his wildly up into yours like he’s trying to prove something. Toned pelvis bruising on your own, breath ragged and you’re wondering whether Choso can even remember to breathe. Too focused on marking you up from the inside, feeling the way your plushy cunt squeezes and milks him dry. 

“I could f-flip us over so ngh- fucking easily.” he grunts, breathing ragged. “Take over s-so easily. Take this pretty pussy all I want. But no, y’look too pretty like this, baby.” 

You knew he could. Without even breaking a sweat, in fact, if his iron-hold grip on your hips told you anything. 

Strong - he was so strong. 

“Then why- ah! don’t you?”

You had half the mind to wonder whether Choso let you pin him down just because he wanted to- but you don’t get to ponder about it for too long. Because no sooner has the thought entered your mind before he’s running his mouth. 

“Shit, because I could cum from jus’ this sight.” Talking, like he couldn’t stop. In awe. “Oh? You hah- like being praised, no? Can feel you squeezing the fuckin’ life outta me. Hell, I can ngh- see you.”

And God, it’s so embarrassing the way he could read you so well. Immediately babbling out little praises about how good your gummy walls felt and how pretty you were. How he didn’t give a fuck if this was breaching your regulations as a sorcerer, he could do this forever and ever and-

“Shit!” it’s all you can do to keen and buck desperately as he easily finds that one spot that has you seeing stars. Alternating between hitting that spot with each and every rough thrust, and toying with your swollen clit. “Shut up- shut up shut up-”

You didn’t want him to - and Choso knew that, of course.

He chuckles, “Aww, shy, baby? You don’t have to be.” 

“Fuck you,” you manage to grit out, despite your burning face. Your steadily dwindling sanity. “M’not shy”

He gives your ass a quick smack! before speeding up. You shiver and he thinks you look so pretty, gasping for air as he pushes into your lungs. So pretty that Choso can’t help but pull you into a kiss. 

“Then just let me ruin you. Please, wan’ it so bad. So badly, fuck-” Relentless - barely even a kiss, like he was continuing the fight from before. Teeth and desperation and cries of the other’s name. Looping an arm around your waist to keep you from running - because this might just be the only fight you didn’t want to escape from. “Fuckin’ use me. Just use me.”

It’s like magnetism, not even a hair’s breadth between you two. You don’t know who’s getting filthier - you or Choso. Your hips are stuttering and sloppy, and so are his own. 

Nails raking down his chest, leaving deep, red marks. And he’s marking you in his own way - a little revenge - sharp canines biting down your neck. Intoxicating. Both of you barely even lucid as you chase the other’s high, trying to get them to break first. 

This fight, however, you lose.

Because it only takes one, two harsh thrusts before you’re covering Choso in all your sweet sweet juices. The realization that he looks so pretty with your slick glistening on his abs hitting you before the fact that you squirted. Covering him, dripping off his milky skin. So fucking filthy that it made you feel so sinfully dirty to do something like this on a mission.

And you still are - using him over and over to chase peak after peak on his cock. His thick, relentless cock. One that only twitches dangerously at the sight, a fucked-out little giggle leaving him. 

“Got hngh- o-one win under my belt. Shit, yer’ so pretty, now show me what you can do, lil’ sorcerer.”

♡ RYOMEN SUKUNA - Unforgiving

“Why should I?” You blink up tearily at the towering monster in front of you - or rather, your king, you should say. Big arms crossed, bare legs spread, his cock buried deep in your dripping pussy, so so hard and angry even after all these hours. Unmoving. “I’m not a toy.”

Not that he’d ever be the king of you. 

But it’s times like this - when he’s looking at you like you’re more a plaything than human, cum dribbling down your legs, poor cunt so overfilled, - is when you think, shit, you might just not make it out alive.

Sukuna grins, “It’s either you do it yourself or nothing. M’not gonna help such a disobedient slut.” 

The only response you give him is such a heated glare, one that does nothing but make his smirk grow wider - cock twitching so ferally inside you. Teasing you for so long before telling you to do it yourself. He liked this.

“Oh but,” he pauses. Looking you right in the eyes as he spits on your pussy once. Twice. Adding to the mess of cum and slick down below, barely giving a fuck about the expensive sheets.

And you didn’t want to like it - you refused to like it. But shit, the way Sukuna smeared his saliva all over your sloppy pussy, stuffed and bulging around his thick cock, had you squirming like such a slut. “I’ll give ya a little help.”

Yeah, he liked this. Loved it, even.

Loved this familiar little song and dance - the way his prettiest lil’ consort was more bark than bite, snapping at him. But so so pliant when you’re split apart on his massive cock, jaw slack, eyes rolling to the back of your head, cunt sucking him up so maddeningly good. Needy for more of his cum. Loved how you don’t even register it - the way you’re grinding and dragging your pussy on his dick. Deeper. Harder. 

Loved how your eyes snap open when you realize, giving him that beautiful stare that told him to “fuck off” a thousand times over.

“Awww, n’ you were having so much fun.” he coos, shutting up whatever insult was on the tip of your tongue with a quick smack! to your ass. “Time f’me to teach you a lil’ lesson, brat.”

And then he’s pounding into you like a madman - heavy balls smacking your skin. Wrapping his big arms around your waist to keep you still, because God he was so mean. So rough. Enough to bruise.

Warm, you were already so warm with his seed, the feeling so addictive that Sukuna can’t help but fuck it deeper and deeper into you. Wanting - needing - nothing more than to give you more. 

“Fuck you.” Is all you can manage to get out. Sukuna’s swollen cock too big, the stretch too sinful, his hips so unforgiving. He always made you feel like such a cumslut. “I d-don’t need to hngh- be taught anything.” 

It’s all that takes for his hands to wrap around your throat, like something snapped. Fingernails sharp, right over your racing pulse. He could kill you. And oh it was like you were asking for it, too - but he wouldn’t. Can’t. Instead crashing his lips onto yours, shutting you up before you dug your grave even deeper.

“So mouthy. Such a shame this heavenly pussy is on such a fucking bitch.” he nips at your bottom lip, teasing. Dangerous. “I should kill you right now for your disrespect.” Suddenly so much meaner with his thrusts, so calculated and controlled. Bucking his hips up wildly to hit that one spot he knew too well. Over and over and- “But I won’t.”

Shing! 

You never dared to come to the king’s chambers unprepared, of course.

“Then I will.” you held that sharpened comb to his neck. Sharp, digging ever-so-slightly into this skin. Pathetic in comparison to his nails, you knew, but something - anything - to keep this monster in check. 

But Sukuna saw - he saw that little wobble in your lips, the way your hands falter minutely when he laughs. Laughs like he didn’t have an impromptu knife to his neck right now, like this cute lil’ human wasn’t the first one in eons to pose a threat to his life. 

Because he knew.

He could feel it - the way your dripping cunt squeezing his achig cock, rocking to meet his merciless cadence. Eyes glassy, drool dripping down the corner of your mouth, so fucking needy and on the edge. And he wondered if you knew - what a perfect little slut you were being for him. Exactly what he’s been looking for. 

“Oh shut up.” Sukuna murmurs, hot against ear. “You can’t kill me, you pathetic little human.”

“I can.”

And because you don’t know what’s good for you, you’re holding the knife tighter to his neck, wondering how the hell you haven’t drawn blood yet. Close. Just one flick of the wrist. So close.

His fingers snake down to your swollen clit, pressing down. Hard. 

“Stop actin’ up n’ just cum f’me.”

And it was so embarrassing. Embarrassing the way he couldn’t bat a lash at your pathetic attempt to take down the king of curses. Embarrassing how that’s all it takes for you to see stars behind your eyes, blood roaring in your ears as you cum so desperately around his cock. 

You all but scream Sukuna’s name - just a strangled, breathy mess of moans and tears. So fucking overstimulated that it hurt so good. 

Sukuna wasn’t any better - though, he’d never admit it. But you were so pretty for him, all teary whines and your tight pussy trying so greedily to milk the soul out of him, that he just can’t help but cum. 

“Fuck fuck fuck. Take it.” Balls squeezing painfully, dick twitching wildly. Again and again, sloppily pumping thick, hot ropes into your quivering pussy. “You don’t fuckin’ deserve it- but hah- take it-”

And you’re so cockdrunk and dizzy with the feeling of him filling you up - dripping down your legs, pooling in a sinful little patch underneath you - that you barely even feel the nails tightening around your throat. Knife knocked to the ground. Though, you think you’re so delirious that you might not have minded either way.

“Tried to kill your lord, huh?” Sharp. Dangerous. “I think you need more than jus’ one lesson, brat.”

♡ GOJO SATORU - Liar liar

Now, Gojo loved your smart mouth. 

Ever since those glory days from high school - he always has. He loved how it was always ready with a bitchy comment about his blindfold and an even bitchier smirk afterward. Always so hot-headed, always so fucking gorgeous. 

But Gojo loved your mouth even more when it was just inches away from his, telling him to just shut the fuck up before “Yaga hears and realizes that two of his teachers have gone missing.”

Oh, you looked so pretty for him all splayed out over your desk, papers askew, office door just closed - but not locked. Your pretty cunt so messy and just dripping through your panties already. He just couldn’t help but tease you a little bit. 

“Does it matter?” he hums, pulling the drenched fabric aside just enough to drag his leaking tip up and down your puffy cunt. Barely teasing your sloppy slit. Hands just everywhere, goosebumps racing down where your skirt was flipped up.

“Of course it fucking-”

“Ah ah.” he interrupts your little rant. Breath hot against your mouth, “Someone might hear.”

God you could fucking smack him right now - not that it would be of any use, of course, with limitless. But you had a nagging little feeling that Gojo would turn it off for the moment, just to feel that cute smack against his face anyway. “Fuck you, Satoru.”

Instead, you’re crashing your lips onto his. So filthy with the way it’s just a mess of teeth and saliva - seething. Barely even noticing the way you’re pulling his angry, throbbing cock closer, heels digging into his slutty waist. 

“You’re all big talk but you’re just a-” he’s reeling his hips back, so filthy on purpose with the way he’s letting his weeping head smear precum all over your hips. “-desperate little-” Fat cock surging forward to stretch at your swollen folds. “-slut.”

“Fuck off.”

“No, m’fucking you.”

Nothing more is said before Gojo’s bullying his massive cock into your tight pussy. Head falling into the crook of your neck with a low groan as he ruts into you in jagged, tight little thrusts.

Like he wanted to tear you apart. Like he was holding back. 

“F-fuck. M’not a fucking-” you moan at the burning stretch. So delicious with the way he was drawing quick, methodical little circles on  your throbbing clit. “Slut.”

Because of course you couldn’t keep your mouth shut - not even when Gojo was fucking you dumb on his cock. 

And it’s all you can do to just sit there and take it as he thrusts his hips harder. It almost felt like he’d deemed you unworthy of allowing you to adjust. Hands locking around your hips to sit you all pretty on the desk while he slides his cock in and out in and out in and-

“Fucking liar.” 

“Wh-what?”

“This one-” Gojo draws his hand back ever-so-slightly from your poor, abused clit. Palm facing your sloppy pussy like he was going to-

Smack!

“-is honest with me.”

You don’t even know if you’re in the proper state of mind to respond to that - and you don’t even want to try. To embarrass yourself. As if the way you were letting out strangled gasps of Gojo’s name, hips bucking wildly, wasn’t pathetic enough. 

“God, you love this, huh?” he’s panting, like the way your gummy walls were squeezing the ever-loving life out of his thick cock had broken open some dam. “Shit. Do you even realize how much you love this?” he glances down at your messy pussy. Your sweet sweet juices smearing and spreading in a lewd little pool on the table below. “Sweetheart, you’re just drooling everywhere.”

And as if that wasn’t unfair enough, Gojo goes suspiciously quiet for a beat. One. Two. 

Before spitting a steady stream of saliva to the mess down below, awestruck at the way your cunt clenches and quivers like such a slut. 

“Hngh- oh my god. T-Toru. Fuck!”

“See? Ya love it.” he’s speeding up. And you don’t know what’s more erratic - his fingers on your swollen cunt, so frenzied they were like a blur, or his hips. Leaving marks with how mean he was being. Merciless. Fucking merciless. Massaging all the right spots inside, no reason or rhyme. “Fucking liar, so pretty takin’ all of me. Can’t even handle me properly.” Running on just the thought of you and getting you off and you you you-

Smack!

“Did ya know you try to squeeze the soul out of me every time I smack this cute lil’ pussy?” he chuckles, the complete opposite of how his cock was so mean. “She can’t get enough of me. Really love this cock, huh?”

You grit out, “I fuckin’ hate you-”

And as if to prove something, he’s giving your swollen pussy another smack! Right over where your clit was so pulsing and angry. White-hot shocks of pleasure going all the way from Gojo’s fingertips to your hazy mind. 

“She might just love me as much as you do.”

And when you cum, you’re cumming so hard you didn’t know whether you’d make it out alive. Riding your high on Gojo’s unforgiving cock. Wave after wave that have you so cockdrunk and delirious that you’re worried that someone could-

Click! “Is anyone-”

Your back hits the mattress before you can react - before you even think to wonder what the fuck just happened. Before the smell of pine and candy hits your senses and it hits you that shit those navy blankets look too familiar. 

“Satoru…” you glance up from Gojo’s bed at the man himself looming over you. Cock still buried so deep in your cunt, rocking so hard into you that the mattress creaks in protest. You can barely choke out, “D-did you just hah- teleport us-”

“Yeah.” he sounded so infuriatingly smug. “Decided m’not letting you go till you start being as honest as this cute pussy.”

A/N. Plagiarism not authorized.