#The first time I watched this I was convinced they were going to kiss

[kitananami]

MDNI.

ExBf!Gojo, who would still pathetically send your favorite flowers on your birthday. This card on this one read:

Happy birthday babyyy, I love youuu <3

On the front. You scoffed, turning it over.

Can you please talk to me?

On the back.

The same flowers that would be added into the glass stained antique vase that normally held every single bouquet Gojo gifted.

But these flowers were sent right back to him.

ExBf!Gojo, who reached for his phone after looking down at the porch, the porch that held the same flowers he sent to you the day before.

"Aww did I choose the wrong flowers /: "

ExBf!Gojo texted. Staring at his screen waiting for you to reply. Until the waiting turned into 3 days. After 3 days you finally replied, but instead of on text, it was a box full of his shit, sent by a delivery truck. So he swallowed the egotistical lump in his throat and grabbed his phone, realization settling in— he did fuck up bad this time.

"Y/n I'm sorry... Can we please talk?"

The last attempted text before he realized he was blocked.

ExBf!Gojo, who already knew you rarely gave second chances to other people. The woman of his dreams he spent three years with, the happiest three years of his lonely life, yet the same woman he could never get back. The one who he knew despised him and meant it when the second to last words she denounced was,

"It's over."

ExBf!Gojo, who stood at the hotel room door he booked two days before your birthday. The same man whose heart felt limp, seeing you cry for the first time in the three years you shared together, watching you pack your suitcase in pure anger. Because he knew it'd be the last time he saw you.

So he reached for you, grabbing your wrist gently, "Baby, i swear, it really isn't what it looked like—"

The last words he said to you in person before you cut him off, pulling your wrist away to swipe an angry tear falling down your cheek. The very last words of yours that hurt him because you called him Gojo instead of Satoru. And you didn't even look at him in his stupid blue eyes,

"Don't touch me. I never wanna see your fucking face again Gojo."

ExBf!Gojo, who was too friendly. Who would flirt with any pretty girl in sight without even realizing it.

ExBf!Gojo, who couldn't handle his alcohol like a childish teenager and finally pushed your limits after you saw him at the pool, pouring a shot of cheap tequila into a blond girl's mouth, followed with her grabbing his face and kissing him on the lips.

ExBf!Gojo, who started to go crazy after 6 months had passed. 6 months of convincing himself that he would get you back. He was left with nothing else than the box you sent him back with his shit. Nanami even began forming a slight concern, because for the first time in his life, Gojo Satoru was quiet and didn't have an ego anymore.

"Why aren't you being annoying anymore?" He asked.

He responded in an emotionless shoulder shrug.

ExBf!Gojo, who started to hate himself even more for how he made you feel that day, for being the reason why he saw you cry for the first time. Because it was the same day today, but a year later. A year later since he saw you in person. A year since he heard the voice that made him so fucking happy every time he heard it. But the lack of presence had him chasing any last bit of hope, hope of feeling that happiness again. If he could hear you simply cussing him out again, just to hear your voice, he'd pay. He deserved it anyways. But even you didn't give him that energy or time. You were too mature. Something Gojo couldn't be.

ExBf!Gojo, hated the thought of you being with another man. Not because he was insecure, but because it was him you chose, nobody else. Even though every single man whose path you've crossed wanted you, you never made him feel like he was an option. He was your man, and you were obsessed with him. And it was a healthy obsession because he knew you would drop him the moment you felt disrespected by him. So why the fuck was he dumb enough to do that to you?

ExBf!Gojo stood at your door, this time with your favorite flowers in his hands. But they were different this year, because it wasn't store bought, he picked it in a flower field he had to trespass. He knocked on your door and took a step back, gripping the stems of the flower he made you. In the midst of convincing himself he needed to stop being so emotional to calm down, attempting to grasp back his ego and snarky remarks, 2 minutes had passed. He knocked again.

ExBf!Gojo stood for another 10 minutes. Then started to feel too desperate. Like the weight of everything he regretted and lost spiraled into a deeper avalanche. He curved his neck back and sighed, looking at the roof of your porch as tears started to peek in the corner of his eyes.

"Y/n, please. Just let me talk to you. Even if it's one last time."

ExBf!Gojo Heard the echo of his sorrowful voice bounce off into the night of your birthday. He looked back down at the bouquet of flowers he held, taking note of the smallest details. And he began to talk to himself again.

"God no wonder why these were your favorite flowers. You always had good taste. Always knew what you wanted, except for picking the places for us to eat," he chuckled, the tears threatening to fall down his face.

"So beautiful.... you're so beautiful y/n.... I wish I could call you baby again, but I don't want to make you feel uncomfortable," he croaked out, tears streaming down his face this time.

"I don't care how stupid I look right now, I just realized you might not even be home," he scoffed, a smile forming on his face in delirium, he sniffed up his cries as the tears kept flowing, "I wish I had the opportunity to make you as happy as you made me... I didn't deserve you, but you deserved to be as happy as I was," He sobbed, starting to sound incoherent, jumbling his words.

"Fuck I miss you so much baby. I'm so sorry," he grit through his teeth, nodding his head in defeat, "I'm so sorry baby...I just don't know how to stop loving you."

ExBf!Gojo looked up to see the door slowly creak open. And he was right, you are beautiful. Too beautiful for his own good. Your eyes were tearing up regardless of how much you wanted to fight it. And you sighed.

"I hate you Satoru." You whispered.

ExBf!Gojo who didn't care that you hated him. Because at least you opened the door and said something to him. He held out the flowers,

"Happy birthday!!!" He said cheerfully with red eyes and tears still rolling down his cheeks.

You looked down at the flowers. Disorganized and messy. Like a boy made them. Because a boy did make them. A boy who every girl wanted in high school, and it disgusted you because how can you like someone like him. Until you guys reconnected during your college years. A boy who turned into a man somehow... who made sure to get you flowers every year of your birthday. A man you swore you would never fall in love with.

ExBf!Gojo who's ex girlfriend pulled him into her home after accepting the flowers and setting it by the door.

ExBf!Gojo who was sat down on the couch by his ex girlfriend as she connected her lips passionately with his, followed by aggression.

Gojo sighed into the kiss, snaking his hands all over your body to ensure this was real, that this was actually happening. That the bulge forming in his pants wasn't another pathetic wet dream he had of you.

ExBf!Gojo had his shirt lifted off of his chest, quickly assisting with your removal next. You gripped behind his hair, pulling his head backwards to the side before you began sucking his neck hungrily.

ExBf!Gojo exhaled, muscle memory kicking in, grabbing your tits and swirling the nubs of his thumb over your nipples, earning your moans that he missed so much. You sucked and kissed all the sensitive spots on his neck, marking him dark red till he exhaled,

"Mmmm baby...."

ExBf!Gojo switched places, plopping your back onto the couch as he ripped off your pants, reconnecting his lips with yours, then to your breasts, sucking feverishly. Your moans teased him, gripping his hair again. He traveled down to your core,

"I've been so fucking hungry..."

ExBf!Gojo licked the tip of his tongue down your slit, then scooped up every bit of wetness oozing down your core before ramming his tongue inside, working inside your cunt like he was getting paid overtime for it. You arched your back against the couch. His hand that wasn't wrapped around your thigh held your hand gently as you gripped hard every swipe and suck he made on your clit.

"Sa-toru... Baby- uahh," you said falling in and out of consciousness at how fucking good he ate you out.

ExBf!Gojo was going insane right now. But finally, in a good way. The best way possible. He ate you like the last supper, but he would make sure this isn't his last.

"Baby please fuck me..." you sighed, rolling your cunt desperately on his face as he reminded you of how pathetic every toy you purchased felt against your pussy, every one of your attempts to imagine times he ate you out so good, this good.

ExBf!Gojo who almost came at your breathless, desperate request, if it wasn't for him almost cumming in his pants from tasting your pussy again. The only pussy he's felt since you broke up with him. Because he knew after you, nobody could ever taste and feel as good as you.

ExBf!Gojo's arms had to be pulled up by y/n because he couldn't stop eating her pussy.

ExBf!Gojo had to hold in every urge to cum at the slightest touch of you. You sat up on the couch as he stood in front of your face, pulling down his Calvin Klein underwear, licking a strip of the precum oozing down his dick before sucking the sweetness out of him, stroking his shaft.

ExBf!Gojo who had to grab your hair and stop you before he came too quick.

"Wait Baby stoppp.... I'm gonna cum if you do that"

He didn't deserve to mess up that beautiful face of yours for his pleasure. He also really needed to be inside your pussy.

ExBf!Gojo who picked you up and carried you into your room. Laying you down aggressively yet gently, on your back. You both exchanged eye contact, yours looking into his in anticipation, and his looking into yours in pure love and euphoria. You fucking hated him, but somehow loved him too.

ExBf!Gojo lined himself up, not even needing to collect any wetness as he slid right into you slowly. He watched as your eyes closed and your mouth opened slowly into a soft moan. And he watched your beautiful face—every stroke, savoring every single one as the tightness and warmth of your pussy had him biting down hard on his lip, trying not to cum in under 20 seconds.

"Baby you're so fucking beautiful," he said before picking up his pace. You couldn't respond with any literate words.

"God I could never lose you again...." he groaned, pulling up your legs over his shoulder, he remembered every detail, every stroke, every position that drove you crazy and closer towards your climax.

You squealed out, tears forming at the brim of your eyes as he picked up his pace. You felt every inch and circumference of him, wondering how you could've ever left someone who always laid it down on you this good. Regardless of how much of a shitface he was. Your bedroom echoed with the sound of your wet pussy and his balls slapping against your cunt.

ExBf!Gojo who kissed your lips and looked at you once again, caressing your face and stroking the side of your face gently with his thumb as he kept a steady rhythm of his hips snapping against yours– slowly, pushing the back of your knees closer to the side of your body, inching into you deeper and deeper.

"The only time I could ever make you cry again is if I'm fucking you like this my love," he exhaled, "Taking me soo good..." he grinned menacingly, picking up his rhythm again, making a tear slide down your face as he felt your wetness building up, walls clenching dangerously tight around his cock,

"My good girl...."

"Please please.... yes Baby...." You managed to say. Both of your hands gripped his shoulders in an attempt to catch consciousness before you felt your peak, "I fucking love you Satoru...."

He rolled his eyes and head back, not being able to fully look at you at how hard your words hit. He kept the same rhythm, gliding into you, "I love you too baby... Fuck I can't hold it in are you gonna—"

He was interrupted by your screams and tears sliding down your cheek. You came down on him, milking his dick with your pussy. He felt so fucking good. And every bit of regret letting him in your house dissolved with your moans and cries.

"Baby where can I come?" He said uncontrollably fast, wiping your tears, nearly about to burst inside you.

And even after you came, every sensitive stroke felt like after shocks of more orgasms.

"Mmmm Satoru... cum insid—" you attempted to say, now this time interrupted by him stuffing his face in the crook of your neck. Beating every ounce of his cum into your pussy, his groans synchronized with your moaning and crying, filling you up with beads and lines of his warm cum.

"God I am never..." he popped his head back up, still slowly and lazily rolling his cock into you. He slid his hands slowly up against the blanket under you, intertwining his hands with yours, "losing you again."

_______

a/n- hi guys :P

[l-starsz]

Billie convincing reader to let her eat her pussy on her period

I'm inlove with your fics, you're such a damn good writer 🫶🏽🫶🏽

a/n: this probably isn’t great because i’m SOOO tired and my head is pounding rn but i hope it’s good at least🥲 and thank you so much ml!! i’m so sorry this took ages for me to write🫶

billie and i were laying in bed together, watching a movie. her back was resting against the comfy pillows on our bed, whilst my back was resting against her front. i was sat between her legs, and her hands were lightly resting against my thighs. we were both intrigued in the movie, or so i thought. whilst i was watching, and keeping up with the storyline, billies hands began to wander. they roamed up my stomach, cupping my boobs gently, before moving down again to this time, rest against my inner thighs.

i really tried to focus on the movie, but i just couldn't with her hands all over me. i knew nothing could happen, i was on my period, which meant that i had to wait a few more days until she could touch me. i'd been so horny. i was desperate for her, but we both knew that nothing could be done about it. well, she could fix my horniness, but i felt bad for asking her to do that when i was on my period. so i waited, and somehow put up with the feeling of being unbearably horny almost all day, every day.

soon enough, i felt her pressing light kisses behind my ear, down my neck, before lightly whispering in my ear.

"can i try something, baby?"

i slightly turned in her arms so that i could see her face, before answering her in a hushed tone.

"and what would that be, hm bil?"

"please can i taste you?"

my eyebrows furrowed and i looked away as i wondered why she was even asking. she knew i was on my period. she'd practically been taking care of me for the last few days. grabbing me a hot water bottle, or holding me in her arms whenever my cramps worsened. getting me whatever food i wanted when i was craving something. making sure i was drinking plenty of water. she really was the best. i just didn't understand why she was asking this now.

"i.. baby, you know i'm still on my period."

"i know.. i just can't wait!! i want to taste you please, love. i'll do anything."

i hesitated slightly. what if i made a mess, and then she got mad? what if i didn't taste good? she must have noticed the look on my face because she began speaking again.

"if you're not comfortable with this, then we don't have to do it. but i promise you that you don't need to overthink it, there should be no what if's filling your mind. you know i love you no matter what. i think you're the most perfect girl in the world."

how did she know?

it was like she could read my mind.

"pleaseeee? pinky promise i'll take great care of you, angel. just like always. pretty please?"

if i hadn't been so horny for the last few days, i probably would've said no, but that side of my brain just took over. i needed her so so bad. i reminded myself that she would always love me. this wasn't going to change that. she wanted this just as much as i did.

"if i say yes, can you put a towel down? you know.. just in case?" i mumbled, slightly embarrassed.

"of course, angel. whatever makes you feel the most comfortable." she answered me, placing soft kisses on my forehead.

once i'd spent a short amount of time thinking about it, i looked back into her eyes and nodded.

"i need you billie."

she just smirked at my words, before sitting me up slightly so that she could move from behind me, and settle in between my legs instead.

it didn't take her long to leave the room and grab a towel, folding it slightly and placing it underneath me. she sat on her knees at first, slowly pulling my pyjamas and underwear down so that she had the perfect view of me. once our clothes had been discarded in a messy pile on the floor, she leaned down to lay on her stomach, getting even closer to my core. i let out a needy whine when all she did was lightly blow against my pussy.

she could already see how wet i was. i hadn't told her about how needy id been for the past few days, but i think that as soon as she caught a glance of how wet i was, she immediately realised. she didn't bother to waste any more time, diving straight in. her tongue ran a long stripe up my pussy, before focusing on my clit. she was trying to get me wetter, it wasn't like she needed me to be wetter, she just wanted to tease. i reached my hands down to grab her hair, pulling her impossibly closer to my core in an attempt to get her to move faster.

we both knew that i was already pretty sensitive because of how long i'd needed this, so it wouldn't take her long to get me close, which was why she was trying to drag it out as much as possible. she wanted me to last as long as i could.

her tongue flicked my clit, before licking and slurping, just doing as much as she could to bring me pleasure. after what felt like an eternity, she finally moved to push her tongue inside of me. she worked her tongue against my tight walls as they squeezed against her. my orgasm was approaching fast, and my arousal must have been dripping all over the lower half of her face. at that point, i'd completely forgot that i was on my period, and i think billie had forgotten too. we were both too focused on me finishing.

i was so close, and to add to the pleasure, she pressed her fingers on my clit, quickly rubbing circles against it, making my moans as loud as they could get. i couldn't hold it any longer. no matter how hard i tried, i was too desperate.

"billie! baby, can i cum for you? please?" i moaned out.

"that's ittt." she praised, "cum for me, my love."

as soon as i heard those words, my orgasm hit me. my moans and cries were broken whilst i let the feeling consume me. my back was arching off the bed, and my hands were still tangled in billies hair, gripping onto it tight to ground myself slightly.

as i started to come down from my high, my grip loosened on her hair, and i felt one of her hands gently rubbing my stomach to help me calm down. when i finally flopped against the bed, trying to catch my breath, billie pulled her face away from me, looking into my eyes with a proud smile. all i could see was a mixture of my arousal, and blood dripping down her chin and coating her lips.

my cheeks turned red and i covered my face, embarrassed even though i knew billie was just happy that she'd made me feel good.

i didn't even notice her come closer to my face until i felt her carefully grabbing my wrists to pry my hands away from my face, and i heard her pretty voice.

"don't be embarrassed, angel. can i go clean you up now?"

"please." i nodded and thanked her, allowing myself to be lifted up in her arms, my head resting on my shoulder out of exhaustion.

once we took a long shower, and pampered each other, it was time for us to get back in bed and watch movies for the rest of the day, enjoying each others company just like usual.

[ghast1yghosts]

Eddie’s back hits the wall and Steve crowds into his space, never breaking their feverish kiss. Steve’s hand gently comes to cup his cheek while the other presses on the small of his back, arching Eddie’s spine to touch up against the hard line of his body.

Barely parting, Eddie’s shallow intake of air gets cut off again by the sinfully plush and slick lips, quickly passing his own to lick into his his mouth.

He doesn’t know where to put his hands—they end up bunched in Steve’s hair.

Gripping tighter on the short strands as the thumb on his face ghosts down to push his chin up. A lewd pop sounds when those lips leave and start trailing down the curve of his jaw, teasing their way down his neck only stopping when its found its mark.

Eddie drops his head back to the wall with a soft groan, basking in the overwhelming presence and feeling of SteveSteveSteve that will always feel all too consuming.

“Steve…” He can’t help the small whimper escaping.

Lips leave their place and hands cup the sides of his face.

“Hey. Hey, Eds. You okay?” Bleary and confused as to why Steve stopped, Eddie blinks his eyes open to look at the concerned expression on his face.

“W- Yeah—“ He clears his throat a little, “Yeah, I’m fine, Steve.” The man just looks at him, reading his expression carefully and quietly searching for any signs of discomfort.

Then what just happened it hits him dead on.

Eddie closes his eyes and drops his head slightly.

“Please tell me you didn’t pick that up,” he winces.

He’s met with silence and risks peeking at Steve, and then watches as realization dawns on his face followed by a snarky grin that splits his face, a laugh on the edge of it.

“Yep. You bet we fuckin got that Munson,” the camera operator calls from the side of the set. They send Steve into a fit of hysterics and Eddie shoves him back a step.

God damnit, it was the second take at least and not the first.

“Fucking Chri— We’re deleting that and forgetting this ever happened.” Steve’s laughter rings throughout the 3 sided room, “I swear to go this does leave this set.”

“Hey, at least you were convincing.” It’s the goddamn *director* this time. This is mortifying.

“Can it. You try kissin this guy and see if you remember your fuckin name.”

They raise their hands, “Sounds like a good deal to me—don’t have to ask me twice.” Eddie just shakes his head at the antics.

This wasn’t exactly how he thought the 6th day of filming for his “big acting debut” would go, but given the circumstances, he can’t necessarily be disappointed either.

His fellow cast and crew haven��t been anything less than amazing and accommodating. They’re all so passionate about the film, it’s indescribably enthralling to be apart of.

He smiles when Steve finally catches his breath, raising his hands to cup his face again, and gives him a chaste kiss—more smile than lips.

—

This is a possible sequel scenario from my Unwritten Fame AU: starting Rockstar Eddie and Actor Steve, whom have been dating for years, but only recently came out as a couple to the public.

[adrienneleclerc]

Hello! You could make a Fanfic where Toto Wolff's daughter begs her father to make a contract for her boyfriend (Carlos Sainz) in the Mercedes team so that he doesn't go to Williams 💗

Yes! And I’ll be using one of my favorite Hannah Montana quotes because Y/N will DEFINITELY be a Daddy’s Girl.

Pretty Please

Summary: Y/N Wolff is dating Carlos Sainz and is unhappy to hear that Carlos is thinking about signing with Williams.

Warning: spelling and grammatical errors, Williams hate

A/N: any hate towards Williams are things I have heard other people say. I’m also trying to get through ALL my requests so bear with me, please.

You were chilling with Carlos when he received a call. He kissed yourcheek and excused himself to take the call in another room. A few minutes have passed and Carlos walked back in with a smile.

“What’s got you all smiley?” You asked him.

“I got an offer from Williams to be their driver for the 2025 season.” Carlos said. You were in shock, however, remembering how James Vowels had a history of getting rid of their second drivers before the season finishes, thinking about Nicholas and Logan. You don’t want the same thing to happen to Carlos. But Carlos is a good driver, he knows what he’s doing.

“That’s great, babe, I’m so happy for you.” You hugged him after you said it.

In front of Carlos, you act very supportive of his decision, but in reality, you’re thinking about how you could convince your dad to sign Carlos. Carlos dropped you off at home, and when you opened the door, your mom was cooking food while your dad and brother were watching TV.

“Sweetheart, you’re just in time for dinner, have a seat. Toto, Jack, you guys too.” Your mom said. You put your things in your room, washed your hands, and sat down for dinner. “How was lunch with Carlos?”

“It was good, he’s recently got an offer to join Williams.” You said.

“That’s good, he’s a talented driver, he deserves to be in the new season.” Your dad commented.

“I like Carlos! He lets me play with his dogs.” Your brother jack said.

“Yeah, he’s talented all right, definitely too talented to drive for Williams.” You said, your dad doesn’t even have to look up from his plate to know you’re giving him puppy dog eyes, he can hear the begging tone in your voice.

“Ah no, nope, I already have a driver in mind for 2025, i can’t sign Carlos.” he said, getting up to get a beer, you followed him.

“How many ‘pretty’s do I have to put in front of the word ‘please’ for you to make Carlos a contract? Pretty, pretty…” You said training behind him. "Pretty, pretty, pretty, pretty, pretty please, daddy, please!" You begged, stepping in front of the fridge before he had the chance to open it.

"Woah!" Your father exclaimed, putting his hands up as if he was surprised.

"Does that mean you'll sign him?" You asked hopefully

"No, it means you can stop. I already have Kimi Antonelli lined up to join Mercedes, you know this.” Your father said, moving you to open the fridge and get himself a beer.

"Dad, come on! It’s better for Kimi to have one more year in Formula 2, you know how everyone treated Logan, they all said he wasn’t ready to join F1. Kimi is just a kid, one more year until he can join and Carlos will join Audi in 2026.” You said.

“Charles Leclerc also did one year of F2.” Toto argued.

“But he didn’t join Ferrari right away, dad. He was in Sauber first before joining Ferrari. Wouldn’t it be better for kimi to go to Williams to get more F1 experience before joining Mercedes?” You asked your dad.

“I’ll think about it.” He said and you frowned.

“I’m not Jack’s age anymore, dad. I know ‘I’ll think about it’ means ‘ain’t gonna happen but nice try.’” You said, crossing your arms.

“I’ll think about it. But can we finish dinner first, please.” Toto said and you nodded.

It’s been a week since your conversation with your dad and you were losing hope until you saw Carlos and your dad talking. They shook hands, you decided to approach them,

“What’s going on here?” You asked, standing beside Carlos.

“You are looking at Mercedes’s new driver.” Carlos said, hugging you. You were in shock but hugged him back.

“Really? Omg, Im so happy for you!” You exclaimed, your father winked at you and you mouthed him a thank you.

“Took a lot of convincing though.” Toto joked.

“The contract is really good, I read it over three times, and signed today.” Carlos said.

“That’s great, how about we go out to celebrate? My treat.” You offered and Carlos nodded. You guys walked away and just when your father was out of earshot, Carlos whispered thank you in your ear. “For what?”

“I know you talked to your dad about me.” Carlos said,

“Are you mad?” You asked.

“Max that my girlfriend loves me so much she’ll convince her dad to write me up a contract? I know you were just looking out for me.” Carlos said.

“Well yeah, i Don’t really like how James treats his second drivers, I did not want you getting that treatment at all.” You pouted. Carlos kissed your pout away.

“I Love you so much.” Carlos said.

“I love you too.” You said.

The End

Hope y’all liked it!

[onyourj-uls]

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ happy birthday, my love

pairing: wonbin x fem!reader

genre: smut, fluff

warnings: +18 (minors dni), nipple play, oral (f), unprotected sex (don't do it!!).

wc: 1.3k

note: this is the first time i write something a bit more explicit, i had been writing other things like that but they don't quite convince me haha, you'll probably see them later (or not, idk) but i'll be working on it! btw: happy birthday to my handsome doll!! <3

i usually write this kind of stuff when i'm about to sleep, so there are probably grammar mistakes or sometimes my keyboard changes some words because it's set in spanish. if you notice any , let me know please!!!! lol

from early on, chaos reigned in your head.

everything had to be perfect.

with the whole riize, we had arranged to surprise wonbin in a beautiful private garden, decorated with warm lights, white flowers and a long table with a buffet of his favorite dishes. the idea was to do something intimate, meaningful and special, something that would show him how much we love and appreciate him.

but, like everything in life, things didn't go so smoothly.

the cake almost fell over when it was delivered, the decorations were delayed because the company was late, and the projector where we wanted to show him a video with messages from everyone was almost useless. your stress level was through the roof, but you couldn't give up, meanwhile, wonbin was still in the music studio, unsuspecting. sungchan played his role perfectly, telling him that he had to go to an address for a “meeting�� and telling the other guys to make it sound more credible.

despite the inconveniences, everything was ready on time. the table looked beautiful, the lighting created a warm atmosphere and all riize were excited, but you... you were nervous on another level. your heart was pounding because you didn't know how you were going to react. and then, the moment came.

minutes that seemed like forever passed until, finally, wonbin arrived.

he stood static.

his big bobba eyes opened a little wider, his mouth half-opened, and his expression went from surprise to disbelief.

“you... did you do this?” he asked in the softest voice in the world, still in shock.

and in that instant, you understood.

he thought you were upset.

the day before, you'd had a small argument, nothing serious, but enough to make the “happy birthday” message you sent him in the morning sounds rude. because of that, he never imagined you would prepare this for him.

his lips trembled slightly, and within seconds, tears began to pool in his big eyes.

your heart melted.

you ran to him, hugged him with all your might and, without thinking, kissed his plump lips tenderly.

“happy birthday, my love.”

he hugged you tight, hiding his face in your neck, clinging to you as if he never wanted to let go.

“i can't believe you did all this... i don't deserve it.”

“of course you deserve it, bin.” you stroked his cheek and saw his eyes sparkle with excitement.

the riize guys came over to congratulate him, patting him on the back, hugging him and joking with him. excitement turned to laughter and joy, and we spent our time enjoying the buffet, sharing an amazing moment.

every time you looked at him, his sparkling little eyes would return a silent “thank you”.

and all night long, he didn't let go of your hand for a single second.

🌼🌼🌼

after a day full of emotions, you came back home together. wonbin was still holding your hand entwined in his, as if he was afraid you were going to fade away.

“you keep surprising me,” he murmured as he plopped down on the couch, still moved.

you sat down next to him and pulled out a small box wrapped in black paper with a gold ribbon.

“still missing your birthday present.”

he looked at you tenderly, taking the box carefully.

“you already gave me the best present in the world.”

“this one is different.”

his eyes softened with curiosity as he untied the bow and opened the box.

inside the box was a watch he had wanted for months, he had never told you he wanted it, but once he left some windows on his computer looking for that watch, apparently it was almost always out of stock, so you set yourself the challenge of buying it, and was it odyssey to get it.

he was silent for a moment, admiring it with a soft smile, impressed, but instead of saying something, his eyes lifted to meet yours, full of emotion, gratitude and something else... something deeper.

“how did you know i wanted it, i... i mean... come here” he murmured softly, tugging gently on your wrist until you ended up sitting on his legs, our faces inches apart.

his hand went up to your cheek, caressing it with his thumb before leaning down and pressing his lips against yours in a slow kiss, full of tenderness.

but soon, that gentleness turned into something more intense.

the kiss deepened, his tongue began to play with yours, his lips began to move with more need, and his hands slid around your waist, drawing you closer to him. your fingers tangled in his hair, feeling his breathing grow heavier against your lips.

you could feel his pent-up desire in every touch, in how his body sought you out, leaving no room to pull away. each kiss became more demanding, more desperate, as if he wanted to show you with every touch how much this moment meant to him.

“i love you,” he whispered against your mouth before kissing you again, deeper, more intensely.

“i love you,” he repeated, his voice trembling, as his hands roamed every corner of your skin with devotion.

began to unbutton your blouse, button by button, with infinite patience, in contrast, your movements were evidently a little more accelerated, which caused him to let out a small laugh.

“calm down love, we have the whole night to ourselves” he whispered before bringing one of his warm hands up to your breast.

you began to rub yourself on his lap, after the stress of the whole day, you finally felt like you could let yourself go. his gentle caresses were torturing you, unclasping your bra, he took one of your sensitive and needy nipples into his mouth, increasing and decreasing the rhythm of his tongue while with the other one he swirled it with his fingers.

unable to wait any longer and with great difficulty because the pleasure prevented you from acting consciously, you took off his shirt, then proceeded to unbutton and release his hard erection, caressing his pink mushroom head with the tips of your fingers, then making a quick back and forth motion along its length.

wonbin began to let out small, soft moans that drove you crazy, without expecting it, he lifted you off his lap, pulling down his pants along with his underwear quickly and proceeded to do the same with your skirt, leaving only your panties on, he sat back down on the couch, bringing your heat close to his lips, running his fingers torturously through your still covered folds.

"so wet, so needy of me" he whispered sending a shiver through your entire body. when suddenly, he pulled off your panties and began to devour you just like he knew how to do it, you were unable to stand firm on your legs, your only support was running your fingers through the soft strands of his hair.

"bin... let me... please you, it's your birthday" you said with difficulty.

wonbin cleared his eyes from your wet pussy for a moment, connecting his big eyes with yours, his lips were more swollen and shiny, a worthy image that you would wish to capture for your whole life.

"you're already doing it" he said to go back to playing with your sensitive clit with the tip of his tongue, it didn't take long for your release to come and he savored it.

with your legs shaking, unable to hold yourself up any longer, he laid you down on the couch, while he aligned his aching erection at your wet and sensitive entrance.

melted into one, letting the emotions of the day, happiness, surprise and love become the driving force behind each caress. it felt different this time, as if each touch had an even deeper meaning.

every time he looked at you, he saw in your eyes something beyond desire.

it was pure love, real love.

and in the midst of it all, as their bodies intertwined, he kept whispering...

“i love you, i love you, i love you.”

hope u liked it, if you made it this far, thank you, ilysm <3

[damneddamsy]

falling | joel miller x fem!oc (part vi)

summary: Joel's summer is the picture of ease. Until it isn't. It's really just a fuckload of hard work, patience and control.

a/n: hi! here you gooooo! i was kind of going through a really bad writer's block, overthinking a lot, and now here I am - through with this chapter and onto the next! one chapter at a time, everyone! we've got this :)

Summertime rolled into Jackson like a long, slow breath, and with it, the winter blues lifted.

The snow was long gone now, melted into the earth, feeding the rivers, softening the soil. The air had lost its bite, and traded it for something warmer, sweeter. The trees stretched their limbs, green and full, and the town itself seemed to breathe easier.

And Joel, for one, found himself wishing, just this once, that nothing would change. That the warmth would linger. That the sun would keep rising over the valley, spilling golden light across rooftops and filling every corner of his life with a feeling he hadn't let himself believe in for a long time—peace.

He had always loved the heat. He’d spent most of his life in it, the thick Texas sun pressing into his skin, soaking into his bones, of summers thick with cicada songs and the dry crackle of grass underfoot. Jackson didn't have the swelter—not as humid, not as relentless—but damn if he didn’t appreciate the way it felt against his back, the way it painted the world in gold.

And without realizing it, he had started marking the passage of time by more than just the shift in seasons.

By the little things.

By Maya’s laughter, louder and brighter than any sun, when he took her to walk through the first sparkle of fireflies in the front yard. How she had clung to his guiding, balancing fingers, her tiny feet stumbling over the grass, feathery curls bouncing, but she hadn't cared—too caught up in the golden flickers floating in the dusk. Her chubby hands reached out, fingers opening and closing in wonder, taking a tumble into the grass.

“Watch it now. C’mere, baby girl,” Joel had murmured, crouching beside her, cupping her tiny hands in his. “Gotta be real gentle. Or you'll smush the poor basta—bugs. Sorry.”

He had to watch his filthy mouth nowadays, she'd gone into the stage of babbling. You can imagine both their surprise when Maya's first words were, 'ma'. Maybe because he'd said it so much around her, praising her mama, calling her a 'mama's girl'. Yeah, that was on him.

Maya had blinked up at him, her dark eyes wide with understanding, before she turned her attention back to the soft glow drifting in front of her. This time, she didn’t grab. She just watched, waiting, patient.

And when a firefly landed—just for a moment—on her little palm, fluttering its wings, buzzing and blinking, she gasped so hard it turned into a giggle.

Joel chuckled, warmth spreading through his chest. “There you are. See that?” He brushed a kiss against her temple. “Takes a little patience, huh, sweetheart?”

Maya hummed in that distracted way of hers, but Joel barely noticed—because when he glanced toward the house, his breath caught.

Leela was watching them. She sat on the front lawn, cross-legged on a blanket, the faint glow of her old digital camera screen flickering in the dim light. Her hair had grown even longer, softer, strands of it slipping free from behind her ears, catching the wind.

She lifted the camera slowly, tilting her head, and framing the shot. The soft click of the shutter broke the hush of the evening, but she didn’t lower it right away.

It was all in the way she looked at him now that he understood, not like she was waiting for the other shoe to drop, but like she was starting to believe he wasn’t going anywhere.

And Joel—he was starting to believe it too.

It had taken him long enough. He’d spent decades convincing himself he didn’t deserve something like this. That he was meant for suffering, for loss, for violence. Maybe it had been true once. Maybe there had been no way out of it back then. He'd seen so much—more than any man should. He’d seen summer mornings with Sarah, bright and full of promise. He’d seen endless nights of blood and fire when he was nothing but a raider clawing his way through the world. He’d seen the ragged edges of humanity as he crossed state lines with Ellie and watched life fade in too many eyes. And for years, all he’d done was survive.

A survivor. A raider. A smuggler. A man who had lost too much, done too much. A father again, when he never thought he would be.

But somehow—all of that had led him here.

To a town in the mountains. To a big, white house across the street, he was trying like hell to keep from crumbling. To this woman who grew up in it, who somehow trusted his twisted instinct more than anyone in this town. To a little girl who reached for him when she was sleepy, whose laughter had rooted itself so deep in him he didn’t think he could tear it out if he tried.

Maybe now, now, he finally deserved it.

Sure, there were days when the work was hard. When patience ran thin, old aches settled deep in his bones. That was among the realizations he'd earned before he hit sixty: life was going to come at him hard, and he was going to face it with a fuckload of—

Hard work. Patience. Control.

Hard work had never scared him. He’d spent weeks on this patch of land, Leel's garden, breaking his back, kneeling in the dirt, coaxing life out of the frozen ground. Jackson’s winter had been particularly cruel, leaving the soil brittle and unforgiving. He had planted and re-planted, tested the earth, and tried again. It was the kind of work that made his knees ache, that left his hands raw and sore, but he’d be damned if he let this motherfucker win.

Then Leela had shown up, as she always did, just when he was about to curse this thing to hell.

"This shit's fucked, darlin'," he grunted to her, scowl deep and tools flying behind him. "Just get your food from the store like everyone else."

"You're giving up?" she asked, surprised.

He pointed an accusatory finger at her. "Don't push me, I'm done in as is."

She stood at the edge of the garden, arms crossed, head tilted as she considered his struggle with what could only be mild amusement. Then, without preamble, she pulled something out from behind her legs—a strange-looking contraption, cobbled from old scrap parts, with wires and tubes snaking out of a small metal canister.

"The hell is that?" he asked.

"Your saving grace," she said, adjusting a knob on the side, as if that explained everything. "Condenses moisture from the air and converts it into usable water for the plants. It’ll keep the soil hydrated."

Joel wiped the sweat from his brow, eyeing the thing like it might explode. "Christ, it looks like it's gonna—"

"Fix the garden before you throw your back out again." She set it down, adjusting the tubes. "You're welcome."

He huffed, shaking his head, but there was no bite in it. "Oh, you think you're hot shit."

Leela just laughed, kneeling down to secure the device in place. "Incredible, actually," she admitted, surveying her work. "I should show this to Maria. Work it out on a larger scale for the greenhouses."

Joel exhaled, resting his hands on his hips, grinning down at her. He watched her work, the way her fingers moved deftly, the way she wrinkled her nose in concentration. It was a look he was starting to recognize—the one she got when she let herself care about something. Always thinking about making it work. Always fixing things. How she made everything feel a little less impossible.

Less afraid, is what he would say. Like the walls she'd built around herself weren’t quite so thick anymore. That was mostly Maya, he figured. That baby had knocked the breath out of her, giving her that tangible reality to anchor to.

But some part of him wondered if it was him, too. Hoped, more like. He genuinely hoped.

Now patience... that was another thing entirely. It was never his strong suit. Not before. Not with himself, not with the world. And definitely not with this.

Maya was closing on eight months, and she still hadn’t started to attempt to crawl. Joel had tried. Hard. For weeks, he sat on the floor with her, scattered the toys just out of reach, and made an absolute fool of himself coaxing her forward.

"Come on, baby girl," he'd mutter to me, stretching his hands out, and tapping the mat in front of her. "You got this, honey, it's all in the knees."

Nothing. She’d just blink up at him with those big, brown, knowing eyes, then drop her gaze to something far more interesting—her own fingers, a loose thread on her overalls, the tiny fabric ear of the stuffed rabbit in her lap.

And when she finally did react, it was to lift her arms toward him, her little hands opening and closing, silently demanding to be picked up. No movement.

Joel would sigh, rubbing a hand down his face. "You ain't even tryin’, Maya."

She'd giggle at him, that noise that would've made his whole day if it weren't for the cruelty of the situation.

Leela, of course, found the whole thing funny. “She’ll get there eventually,” she’d say, watching from the couch, one leg tucked beneath her. "You're making it a bigger deal than it is."

But he wanted her to get there. He wanted to see her move, explore, and chase after things the way the other kids did. It would be nice to not go find her in her crib every day, just have her come to greet him at the door. Maybe it was stupid, maybe it didn’t matter in the long run, but Joel wasn’t great at waiting. He never had been.

And then, one day, Maya just—skipped the whole damn thing.

It wasn’t even some big, dramatic moment. There was no warning, no coaxing, no slow buildup. One second, she was on the ground, surrounded by her stuffed animals, gnawing on her own fingers like usual. And the next...

Joel caught movement in the corner of his eye as he lazed back on the couch one afternoon. He almost didn’t believe it at first. His breath stalled, brow furrowing as he lowered the magazine in his hands. The fuck?

Maya was standing. Standing.

Maya was on her feet by the coffee table. Teetering, swaying—somehow balancing, her fingers flexing like she was bracing herself. Her eyes were locked on him, her mouth rounded to that curious 'o', and he swore he saw it—something click into place in that clever, tiny brain of hers.

Then, she moved.

One wobbly foot forward. Then another.

Joel barely had time to push off the couch before she stumbled, catching herself in a squat, then rocking forward, lunging with a squeal—straight into his arms.

His hands came up automatically, steadying her, lifting her up before she could fall. And Jesus Christ, he could hardly breathe.

Maya just grinned at him, eyes bright, cheeks flushed. Her legs still twisted off-balance, still getting the hang of it.

Joel let out a stunned breath, then laughed—actually laughed, loud and bright, chest tight with something so big, so full, he thought he might burst.

"You’re my little miracle, baby. Did you just walk?"

He lifted her higher, pressing quick, tiny kisses to the side of her head, barely able to stop himself, overwhelmed with pride, with love. She squealed, giggling, her legs kicking, completely unbothered by the fact that she’d just broken every rule in the parenting books.

Joel kept her close, his nose brushing against her soft curls as he swayed a little, still trying to wrap his head around what had just happened. His fingers spanned across her tiny back, feeling the rapid, excited little breaths against his chest.

"Look at you," he murmured, pressing another kiss to her temple, softer this time. "My beautiful, brilliant, big girl."

Maya made a triumphant little noise, wriggling in his arms like she wanted down, but he wasn't ready to let go yet. Not yet.

"You really went and did that, huh?" he said, pulling her back just enough to look at her. Her dark eyes were wide and full of mischief, her grin open and still gummy. She lifted her hands, smacking them against his cheeks before babbling something that sounded almost like words.

Joel huffed a laugh, shaking his head. "Yeah, I’m real proud of you, too, sweetheart."

She beamed like she understood. Like she knew what she did was something big. And maybe it was nothing to her. Maybe it was just another thing she figured out, just another step forward.

But for Joel—it was everything.

He tightened his hold, pressing his forehead to hers for a second, just breathing her in. "Ain't nothing gonna stop you now."

Maya just giggled, happy as anything. Then—before he could stop her—she suddenly launched herself backwards, her trust in him so complete that it nearly took him out.

Joel’s heart stopped. "Jesus—alright, okay, I gotcha," he said, catching her easily, pulling her back upright. "Goddamn, baby girl, maybe let’s work up to that, huh?"

Maya, completely unbothered, laughed that wild, open-mouthed laugh like she thought it was the funniest thing in the world.

Joel groaned, shifting her in his arms. "Yeah, you think you're real funny, don't ya?" He pressed another kiss to her cheek. "Gonna be the death of me."

Maya just patted his chest, her tiny fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt, tucking her head beneath his chin, already winding down.

She was Leela's, alright. That genius baby shit, it was all her mama. And patience had actually paid off for the first time in his life.

And when it came to control, that wasn't exactly an issue to him. He was a pro. Control was something Joel had spent a lifetime learning, but damn if it wasn’t tested now.

As summer in Jackson deepened, it was hot, the kind of heat that slowed people down, and sent them ducking into the shade, fanning themselves on porches. The days stretched long, the sky burning orange before it faded into dusky purple.

But Leela, she didn’t soften for anything.

She didn’t even seem to notice how the heat changed things, how it made people shed layers, roll up sleeves, and loosen collars. She was practical and efficient. And oblivious.

Which is why she had no fucking idea what she was doing to him.

It was the afternoon he walked past the garage and caught sight of her. The Maranello was parked inside, the hood lifted, and tools scattered across the workbench. And there she was, elbow-deep in the engine, wielding a turnscrew with the ease of someone who'd done this a hundred times.

And fuck him, but this was hell.

The top she wore had no back. Just thin straps tied at her neck and a bow at the arch of her spine, flimsy printed material clinging to her like it was barely there at all. Her cutoffs were—Christ, barely shorts. She'd obviously grown out of it. Joel was willing to bet there was more fabric in Ellie’s bandanas than what she had on. The denim rode high on her hips, long legs bare, glistening with sweat, sun-warmed and golden in the sunlight.

Joel immediately looked away, eyes darting to the street, checking to see if anyone else was getting an eyeful of her. No one. Dead end, of course. Thank fuck.

And then, just to twist the knife, she called him over. "Joel, can you give me a hand here please?"

Oh, yeah. He could.

He shouldn’t.

But he would.

No matter how much he told himself to walk away, to not look, to not think—he still found himself moving, closing the space between them, bracing for the next hit to his self-control.

"The wrench. Half inch," she asked, absentminded, like she had no idea he was about two seconds away from losing his shit.

Joel blindly reached for the nearest tool—only to realize at the last second that it was a screwdriver.

"Joel," she called again, her brows lifted. "I said wrench."

"Right." He grabbed the wrench and didn't think to check the size before forcing it into her palm, awkwardly clearing his throat. "There you go. Wrench."

She hummed her approval, adjusting her stance, bracing a foot on the frame of the car. And then—

She stretched. Sweet mercy. Gleaming arms raised, body lengthening, the hem of her top lifting just enough to show off the faint line carved down her stomach, the soft, impossible dip above her navel, all that adorable pregnancy belly he'd adored gradually yielded to whatever tormenting hell this was.

Joel swore his vision blurred for a second. It had been too fucking long since he's seen a girl like this, felt what it would do to a man. Especially a girl like her, fine as hell, smart as shit, belonged on a Hustler mag—she was light years out of his league.

The wrench nearly slipped from his fingers, a sharp metal clang against the side of the car.

Leela startled, lowering her arms. "What's wrong?"

Joel cleared his throat again. "Nothin'. The heat is all."

She blinked at him, then glanced at the wrench in his hand. "Are you sure you don't want to lie down for a bit?"

"Peachy," he muttered.

She frowned but let it go, turning back to the engine, her fingers deftly working over the machinery. Joel exhaled, trying—really trying—to shake it off, to focus on anything but the way her top barely clung to her frame, the way the sunlight played in the stray wisps of hair sticking to her temple.

He wasn’t sixteen. Wasn’t some green kid who didn’t know how to keep his damn head straight. But right now? His thoughts weren’t running straight at all. They twisted, turned, caught on little details—the smooth expanse of her back, the dark freckles, the faint curve of her stomach, the way her thick braid draped over one shoulder into the engine, shifting every time she moved.

And then—something else hit him.

She was comfortable. Relaxed.

She was here, standing out in the open, close to him, wearing whatever the hell she wanted, no fear, no hesitance. Sure, it shouldn’t have been a big deal. But it was.

Because he knew what she had been through, just a vestige of it. Knew how easily this could’ve gone another way, how some people never stepped outside without layers of fabric shielding them, without constantly looking over their shoulders. But Leela—she stood here in nothing but a thin top, cut-off denim, and skin kissed golden by the summer sun. Focused. Happy. Unapologetic. Free. Finally.

She had every reason to hide. To shrink herself down, to be small, to disappear. But she hadn’t. And fuck, if he wasn’t proud of her for that. He was goddamned pleased of who she was standing as in front of him today. A fighter.

"Joel?"

His head snapped up. "Yeah."

She was watching him now, eyes questioning, adjusting the strings at her neck. "Is it grease? Where?"

He blinked, needing a second to catch up. There was a smudge—dark against the honeyed warmth of her skin, just by her temple.

"Uh—just there," he muttered, reaching for a rag off the workbench and holding it out.

She took it, swiping at the spot. "Gone?"

Joel let out a quiet laugh, shaking his head. He stepped closer, reaching out before he could think better of it, catching the stubborn smear near her jaw. He pressed the cloth there, slow and careful, his fingers grazing along the soft curve of her face.

Leela stilled. His hand lingered.

He could feel the warmth of her skin beneath his fingertips, the faint pulse of her breath. Those parted lips, chapped yet tempting. There wasn't a moment when he was alone that he wasn't thinking about this, why patience and control were just two skank bitches in his life right now.

He pulled back. Cleared his throat. "Gone now."

Leela smiled—soft, effortless, damn near dangerous. Joel exhaled, forcing his focus anywhere but her mouth. That mouth just waiting for his. He was really losing it.

"You uh," he waved vaguely at her, at the whole situation, "you like this kinda stuff?"

She glanced down, playing with the hem of her top, twisting the delicate crochet between her fingers. Then she nodded at him with a carefree smile. Like she really, really had no clue. It was fucking painful now, how she'd truly grown up like a babe in the woods, guileless.

"My mom made a bunch of these for me from an old blanket," she told him, proud. "They're the best."

Joel swallowed hard, rubbing at the back of his neck. Goddamn it. "Yeah. I like 'em, too."

Leela arched a brow, smirking now. "I think you can pull it off."

He narrowed his eyes. "Ha-ha, I forgot how to laugh."

Still grinning, she wiped her hands down on the towel, then reached up and shut the hood with a satisfying clang. She patted it twice, dusting off her palms. "So. Your early birthday present is finally done."

Joel squinted at her. "You're about too many months ahead. And you can't just gift me a damn convertible."

She tapped the hood again, stepping back with that quiet, smug satisfaction he was quickly learning to recognize. "Too late to complain, it's yours. You can take her out for a spin whenever you like. I'll give her a few years until we call it."

He dragged his gaze from her to the car, then back again. Jesus. She really was something else.

He nodded toward her, feeling braver today. "D'you come with the car?"

Leela just laughed, tossing the towel onto the workbench. "More of a solo experience, right? You, the accelerator, and the whole of Jackson."

Joel huffed, shaking his head. He wasn't so sure about that.

And it was nothing, really, this overarching thing between them. That was what he told himself sometimes. It wasn't something they talked about, and gone above board. No you're-mine-I'm-yours-bullshit. It didn't have a name. But they both knew what it was.

Some passing moments. A habit. A reflex. A touch. The first time, she flinched. The second time, she tensed. That was as far as his confidence around her got.

One evening, Leela was in the kitchen, standing at the counter, tying up a bag of flour. A smudge of it dusted the curve of her wrist, stark white against her skin.

Joel had walked in for something—what, he couldn’t even remember now, she just seemed to rob him of sense—but his hand found her shoulder as he passed behind her.

Light. Barely even pressure. Just a touch to let her know he was there, that he was moving past.

His fingers skimmed warm skin, the edge of the bow on that backless top of hers.

She turned, just slightly, just enough that she caught the tail end of his touch as it slipped away.

And this time, she just let it happen. Let him happen. The third time's the charm.

Joel paused. Not for long—just a breath, feeling that rigidness in his muscles, before he kept moving, kept the moment from stretching until she noticed.

It had been months. Months of patient, careful inches. Of her giving just enough room, him taking just enough to not make her pull away. He never let himself ask for more than what she was willing to give, and for a long time, that had been next to nothing.

But lately—lately, it had been more.

A guiding press at her back when they crossed paths in the hall. The little brush of his fingers at her wrist when he handed her Maya. The curve of her waist, the fleeting press of his palm there, when he reached around her in the kitchen. A cheer-up pat on her cheek or gentle ruffle of her hair if she'd been feeling down the whole day. A small goodbye kiss on her forehead before he left for his place, although that had been a fairly recent advancement.

The way she seemed to grow into his touches made him feel like he was finally getting somewhere, like seeing a wound healing from the inside out—gradual and raw.

He turned back to her and watched as she dusted the flour off her hands, fingers dragging down her pants. Her hair was a little messy, a few strands falling loose against her cheek, and she exhaled through her nose, eyes on the counter, murmuring, “Did you need something, Joel? You hungry?”

He blinked. He didn’t, not really. He’d come in here for—hell, he still couldn’t remember. A drink, maybe. Or to check on Maya, who was napping in the other room.

Instead, he was standing here like an idiot, happier than a pig in shit over something as simple as touching her shoulder. And she didn’t even notice.

He cleared his throat. “Nah,” he muttered, eyes flicking away. “Just… came to see you.”

Leela breathed a small laugh. “You're checking my kitchen skills now?”

He huffed, crossing his arms. “More like makin’ sure I don't end up poisoned. Not a great way to go.”

She gasped in mock offence, swiping a bit of flour from the counter and flicking it toward him. Joel stepped back, lips twitching, but not before a dusting of white landed on the front of his shirt.

“Real mature, darlin',” he muttered.

Leela’s smirk deepened, her eyes dragging slow over him, lingering on the flour-streaked fabric. Then, like she meant to do it, she reached out—just a little—and brushed the specks off with the tips of her fingers. Soft. Barely there. Suddenly too aware of the lightest pressure of her touch.

"I promise it's edible," she teased. Then she took a step back, patting her hands together like nothing had happened. "Pecan sandies?"

"Jesus, you're killin' me," he breathed.

Joel shook his head as he forced himself to shift on his feet, to look away, to do something before he forgot how to fucking breathe. He wasn’t gonna make this a thing. Wasn’t gonna linger and make her see whatever was sitting heavy in his chest. But the moment stuck with him anyway.

He didn’t play down the past few months when it came to Leela's maternity either. To how things had changed.

She was different now—maybe not in the big, obvious ways, but in the calm, careful ones. The ones that mattered. She didn’t move like she was bracing for impact anymore, didn’t hesitate before touching Maya, like she was afraid she’d do it wrong or stain her. She held her like she was hers, her greatest effort and creation, and somewhat in love.

She was actually there.

One evening, he came up the stairs after patrol, shoulders aching, boots heavy against the old wood. He was expecting the usual—Maya fussing, Leela humming under her breath as she rocked her warily, quiet and restrained.

But when he reached the nursery, he paused in the doorway. And he listened.

Because, this time, Leela was talking to her daughter. Soft and pensive, her voice weaving through the dim glow of the room, smoothing over the walls like a balm.

Joel leaned against the frame, arms crossing over his chest, and just took it in.

She was sitting on the floor, legs crossed, back against the crib, holding Maya close. Her little fingers were curled into the fabric of her mother's top, dark curls sticking to her forehead.

Leela didn’t even notice him there.

“...I’m from,” he heard her halfway murmur, her thumb brushing absently along Maya’s back, “we had this beach.”

He’d never heard her talk about where she was from before. It was like he was piecing together a puzzle, filling in the blanks she’d never given him before.

“I don’t remember much,” she continued, almost to herself. “I was too young. But I remember the water. The smell of it. How the sand stuck to my skin. The tiny crabs.”

Maya yawned, pressing her face against Leela’s shoulder.

“I used to find seashells every time I went,” she went on, voice dropping to something almost fond. “And I’d poke a hole through them, string them together, and make these necklaces. Tourists used to buy them off me—sometimes for more than they were worth. Ten dirhams, twenty for some.” A small smile played at the edge of her lips. “I thought I was a genius.”

Joel swallowed.

This—this was new. Something she had never shared before.

He could almost see it. The version of her that existed back then, back before she'd come into this home of hers. A little girl on the shore, knees in the sand, sifting through bits of broken shells and sea glass, tucking the best ones into her pockets. That was the part that got him.

"I'll make you one someday," she promised, her lips brushing the crown of Maya’s head. "Just for you."

And Joel just stood there, his grip tightening around the doorframe, that satisfaction warm in him, in a way he didn’t have words for.

But then there were the other moments. The hard ones that came to bite the good ones in the ass.

The times when Maya got too fussy, too inconsolable, when the crying turned into something high-pitched and unrelenting, and Leela just froze up.

As if she didn’t know what to do. Or she wasn’t sure she should do anything. That kind of fear wasn’t what practice fixed. Wasn’t something that just went away with time.

So, Joel was always there to take over.

She’d pass Maya off to him, hands shaking just a little, eyes darting away like she was ashamed. Like she hadn’t spent months loving this little girl in the ways that mattered. Like she was resigning herself to failure.

And Joel would sigh, settling the baby against his chest, rocking her instinctively. He pressed a kiss to her temple, rubbing slow, steady circles against her back.

Maya would calm and Leela would turn away, busying herself elsewhere, relieving her tension with calming breaths.

"You’re doin’ good, mama," Joel would murmur to her, every time, without fail. More than a reassurance, it was a conviction, to remind her that she was still moving forward, right now she'd just hit pause.

Leela let out a breath that sounded almost like a laugh, shaking her head. "You don’t have to keep saying that."

"Ain’t sayin’ it just to say it," he triumphed.

Joel didn’t push. Didn’t tell her she was wrong, didn’t try to fix it. Because later—when Maya was calm, warm and sleepy again—Leela would come back.

She always did. And she'd try again.

X

Safe to say, at this very moment, Joel was more than content. He could pass on happy, knowing he'd seen this.

That was a rare thing these days, fleeting, it was best to catch that moment before it was gone. But right now—right here—he was.

The night air was warm, laced with the scent of grilled meat and charred corn, the last remnants of the summer morning fading under a lazy evening breeze, the sound of laughter curling up into the sky. They were all sprawled out on the porch, boots propped on railings, chairs tipped back, the easy lull of conversation moving between them.

Tommy had brought out cold beers for everyone, and Ellie was half a bottle in, already on a roll, spilling some wild gossip about a couple in town at top speed.

Joel sat back in his chair, stretching his legs out in front of him, one ankle crossed over the other. His beer bottle was solid in his palm, condensation slipping down the dark glass.

It was nice, this. Real. Complete.

But, Joel wasn’t really listening to anything. Not with her sitting right there.

Leela had settled a little ways from him, close enough that the light from the porch lamp caught the curve of her shoulder, the way her skin gleamed faintly from the heat of the day. She kept to herself mostly, only chiming in when she needed to, but she was present, body and mind. She was showing up.

A while ago, she wouldn’t have. Would’ve found some excuse, some reason to keep to herself, to slip away before anyone got too close. Now she was right next to him, stealing bites of that spicy sausage off his plate. Tearing a piece apart with her fingers, chewing slowly, licking the oil from her thumb while listening to Ellie.

Without giving it much thought, he reached over, grabbing his plate and leaning forward. He loaded it up—more sausage, a good selection of meats, some of that grilled corn Ellie had raved about earlier—and set it onto her lap.

Leela blinked, looking down, then up at him.

He didn’t bother with anything more, he knew what a single glimpse of that smile would do to him. Just took a sip of his beer.

And for a second—just a second—he let himself think. If things were a little different, if she were more comfortable, if he were more transparent—he’d have her closer. Right up against him, stretched over his lap, arm hanging off his shoulder, laughing with everyone, his palm stroking against the bare skin of her back, brushing lazy kisses wherever he could. Just hose down and be with her. As his.

The thought was so real, that it almost hurt.

So, he pushed that away to focus on Ellie, leaning against the porch railing, who was already mid-story, voice high with amusement. “I’m serious, this guy’s been sneaking out past curfew every single night, and you won’t believe who he’s been meeting—”

“Y'know,” Tommy cut in, tipping his beer toward her, “for someone who breaks curfew at least once a week, you sure got a lot to say about other people doin' it.”

Ellie ignored him. “Anyway, rumour is, he’s been—”

He let her trail off in the background, his attention pulled elsewhere. His eyes were on Maya, who had flat-out refused to stay in anyone’s lap for more than a minute.

The moment they sat down to eat, she’d wriggled free, her little legs determined to carry her across the porch, across the room, across everywhere she could reach. It didn’t seem to matter that she still wobbled on her feet, still stumbled more than she walked. She was going.

Maria chuckled when Maya toddled over to the newspaper stand, babbling the same sound under her breath, gripping the edge before promptly yanking a few pages out. All that curiosity only made her more mischievous.

“Look at her go,” she said, shaking her head. “God, she really is amazing, Leela. I can't believe she’s walking so soon.”

"It's all Joel," Leela deflected easily, waving a hand. "He's been with her all along."

Joel nudged her ankle with his foot, light but firm.

Leela glanced at him, and he shot her a look. There she goes again. Diminishing herself. Like she hadn’t spent these few months, killing herself trying, rocking that girl to sleep, teaching her how to eat with her tiny fingers, soothing every cry, every nightmare.

Joel knew. So he gave her a look that said as much.

Leela rolled her eyes at him, but he caught the twitch of a smile at the corner of her lips before she turned away.

Across the porch, Tommy wiggled his fingers from his chair. “C’mere, sweetheart. Wanna come to Uncle Tommy?”

Maya, still clutching a crumpled newspaper, gave him that big, gummy grin, hands flapping excitedly as she stumbled forward, her legs moving before the rest of her could catch up. All excitement and cute, pink booties that Joel had picked out for her tonight.

Tommy caught her easily, scooping her up with one arm and blowing a loud raspberry against her belly. Her laughter rang out, bright and breathless, tiny hands grasping at his beard.

Maria leaned back in her chair, stretching her legs out in front of her. “You know, she’s gonna start running soon.”

Tommy groaned dramatically, still holding Maya on her hip. She squealed, wriggling against his hold. “Don’t say that, darlin', please. Let me enjoy this wobbly stage before I gotta see Joel huffin’ and puffin’ after her down the street.”

Maria smirked. “Might be good for him. He could use the exercise.”

Joel narrowed his eyes at her, pointing the mouth of his bottle at her. “You wanna say that again, ma'am?”

She threw up her hands, grinning, and mimed zipping her mouth.

Ellie, who had been leaning against the railing, picked at a splinter in the wood before glancing up with a smirk. “Yeah, keep complaining, but Maya’s got more stamina than you fogeys already.”

Tommy scoffed, bouncing Maya once to make her giggle. “I know how much trouble you were, and you were already, what, fourteen when we met you?”

Ellie gasped, clutching her chest dramatically. “I am a constant fuckin' delight.”

Maria snorted, shaking her head. “Mhm. A regular ray of sunshine.”

Ellie pointed at Maya. “She gets it. Baby girl's a menace already, I can tell. Future troublemaker in the making.”

Maya, as if proving Ellie’s point, grabbed a fistful of Tommy’s beard and yanked. Tommy let out a strangled noise, drawing out a laugh from everyone.

Joel just sat back, taking it all in. Yeah. This was good. That warmth. The one that came with nights like this. Family. A strange, messy, complicated kind of family. It was the end of the world anyway, even simple was difficult.

When Tommy abruptly stood up, Joel clocked it instantly.

The movement was purposeful, a hasty departure. Tommy adjusted Maya against his hip, bouncing her lightly as she tugged at his collar. But it wasn’t just him standing—it was why. He was obviously staying out of this; smart man.

Joel’s stiffened. Something was coming. Going to happen.

“You need a change, baby girl?” Tommy muttered, though his voice was casual. Too casual. He rubbed at Maya’s back, kissed the top of her dark curls, and then turned toward the house.

No one questioned it. And that was the part that put Joel even more on edge.

Ellie slid into Tommy’s empty seat, dragging her bottle with her. Maria reached over to rub aimless, soothing circles on her back, her expression set, unreadable.

Joel’s grip tightened around his beer. “Alright,” he muttered. “What?”

Maria exhaled. Slow. Then came out with it.

“The distillation system at the dam is busted.”

Joel leaned back in his chair, pressing the bottle to his lips. He took a slow, deliberate sip, letting the words settle, pretending he gave a damn about the cold burn of the beer down his throat.

Maria kept going. “Overheating. Something’s jammed up real bad, and we’re looking at maybe two weeks’ worth of fresh water before we run dry.”

Joel lowered his bottle, exhaling sharply through his nose.

“And?” he asked flatly.

Maria’s gaze flicked to Leela. Leela—who hadn’t moved, hadn’t spoken, too intent on learning about this issue.

“This is her expertise,” Joel continued, waving a hand. “Get her over there, let her fix it. Problem solved.”

And sure enough, Leela was already straightening up, nodding, looking like she was ready to knuckle down and get to it.

But Maria wasn’t done.

She shifted. “It’s bad,” she admitted. “But—”

Joel set his beer down. There was always a ‘but.’

Maria glanced at Leela again. “That new system you mapped out a while back, the one we didn’t put into place ‘cause of the lightning battery project—”

Joel sighed, rubbing a hand over his jaw. He knew where this was going.

Maria looked at him now. Directly. She was shooting this point blank. “We need new parts,” she said. “And no one knows exactly what we need except for you.”

And there it was. The fucking catch.

Joel went completely still. Maria wasn’t asking him anything. She was telling him. And she knew exactly how he was going to react.

Ellie was the first to break the silence. “Yeah, no. That’s a stupid idea.”

Maria turned to her, brows lifting. “Is it?”

“I’m serious.” Ellie sat forward in her chair. “You want her to go out there? For what—some metal scraps? Jesse and I took down a bloater—a fucking bloater, Maria—five days ago, not too far from the lookout point. Jesus, we'll figure something out.”

“Ellie.” Joel’s voice was quiet, but firm.

Ellie clamped her mouth shut, eyes darting to him. But she waited a moment before she went on anyway.

“Then get the list of shit you need and send someone else over,” Ellie snapped. “Me and Joel and someone who—”

“There isn't anyone else,” Maria cut in.

Ellie’s mouth opened again, ready to strike. Then shut. Quietly looked away, jaw tight, seething.

Joel exhaled, finally moving from his stiff stance, elbows on his knees. He stared at the ground. At the dark wooden planks beneath his boots. His thoughts twisted, tangled. He knew one thing. He didn’t like this at all.

Maria sighed, rubbing her temple. “I get it. I do. But we don’t have time to waste. We need this up and running, and no one here has Leela’s knowledge.”

Leela finally spoke. “I'll do it. I can do it.”

That was the last straw. Joel snapped.

He pushed up from his chair, the scrape of his boot loud against the porch floor.

Everyone turned.

He ignored them, muttering, “Need a goddamn drink,” and turned for the house.

The screen door creaked as he pushed through, but he barely heard it slam over the pounding in his ears.

He knew himself. Knew his temper, knew the way it burned low and controlled until it wasn’t—until it came bursting out in a way that never did anyone any good. Knew what he was capable of when it came to this. When it came to her.

So he walked. Put distance between himself and the porch, between Maria’s careful wording, Tommy’s orchestrated retreat, Ellie’s immediate reaction, and Leela’s quiet resolve.

Because he knew exactly what the hell this meant. And he didn’t fucking like it.

"Joel, c'mon!" Ellie tried to call out to him. He wasn't ready for that just yet.

Inside, the house was dim, lantern lights flickering against the walls. The voices from the porch dulled to a murmur, but it wasn’t enough to drown out the words already hammering in his skull.

Joel barely registered Tommy leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, watching him like he’d expected this. Maya was at the coffee table amusing herself, small fingers pushing at a coaster, flipping it up, letting it fall.

Joel blew out a breath, stalked toward the shelf he'd frequented too many times, and grabbed the bottle.

Tommy's speech was coming, he could feel it. But he was in no mood to hear it.

“Joel—”

“No,” he cut in sharply. He yanked out the cork with his teeth and poured himself a glass. “You don’t get to stand there actin’ like this makes sense.”

Tommy sighed. “It does make sense. You just don’t wanna hear it.”

Joel scoffed, shaking his head. “You hear yourself? You really think this is a good idea?”

“We can handle it.”

“We—she’s got a kid. A baby.”

Tommy’s jaw tightened. “She’s survived on her own for years, man. She knows what she’s going up against.”

Joel slammed the bottle onto the counter. Maya who had wandered over from surface to surface, stood by Tommy's leg now, fist in her mouth, staring up at Joel. His anger faltered for a moment.

“You know that doesn't mean shit,” he whispered instead.

Tommy’s lips pressed into a line, like he wanted to say more, but he held back.

Joel let out a slow breath, shaking his head. “You were standin’ right there,” he muttered. “You heard her. She just up and agreed, no fuss. Like she doesn’t have somethin’ to lose. Fucking pisses me off.”

Tommy exhaled sharply, stepping away from the doorframe, closer. “And what—you think you’re the only one who gives a damn about that?”

Joel’s hand curled around his glass, grip tightening.

Tommy watched him, voice dropping lower. “I get it. You’re scared.”

Joel laughed—sharp, humourless. “Don’t put words in my mouth.”

Tommy shook his head, rubbing a hand down his face. “She ain’t a prisoner, brother. You can’t keep her locked up just ‘cause it makes you feel better. She's contributing, and I appreciate it.”

Joel clenched his jaw, looking away, looking anywhere but at his sly fucking brother. He wasn't keeping her locked up. She's free to roam about Jackson to all her heart's content. Anywhere outside those gates was death.

Tommy let out a short breath. “One day, Joel. That’s all it is. A quick trip, in and out. Not even too far. Colten Bay, where the cars are at. We get the parts, we get out.” He pointed between them. “If anyone can pull this off safely, it's the two of us.”

Joel swallowed down a mouthful of whiskey, felt the burn tear through his chest, but it didn’t do a damn thing to loosen the tension gripping him. His first drink in weeks, so really—Maria and Tommy can burn in hell.

He didn’t fucking care that it was one day. Didn’t care that Maria had spun it like a need instead of a gamble. Didn’t care that everyone in Jackson seemed to forget that time had nothing to do with luck. That all it took was one second, one wrong move, one stray bullet, one clicker—

Joel’s fingers curled around the glass, his grip too tight, his knuckles white.

Tommy glanced toward the window while bending down to pick up Maya, and Joel’s eyes flicked there without thinking.

Leela was still on the porch, still sitting in that chair, but she wasn’t listening to Maria anymore.

She was watching him.

Her gaze was indistinct. She wasn’t pissed. Wasn’t waiting for him to come back out and start swinging words at her. He knew she was trying to figure him out, trying to make sense of the way he’d walked out, the way he always did when something didn’t sit right in his chest.

Joel turned away first, the whiskey still burning at the back of his throat.

Nothing fucking mattered. What mattered was that it was her, facing this head-on.

And he wasn’t convinced of a goddamn thing.

X

Joel and Leela walked on home in silence, and it wasn't the good kind.

The wind had died down some, the night settling thick and warm over Jackson. It was quiet this time of night—just the occasional rustling of leaves, and the distant bark of a dog.

Maya waddled ahead of them on the road, booted feet scuffing the pavement, hands out like she was steadying herself on air. She still stumbled, still tottered every few steps, but she always caught herself. Every so often, she’d stop short, crouch down with intense concentration, and pluck some tiny thing from the asphalt—a loose button, a round pebble, a twig stripped bare. Each discovery was met with a moment of serious inspection before she turned to Leela, holding out her closed fist.

Leela didn't rush her. She crouched every time, let Maya show her whatever treasure she found, murmured little words of encouragement as she carefully tucked them away in her fists.

Joel watched them, hands shoved deep into his jacket pockets.

Maya was still tireless, determined to walk herself out, and they let her. Better she exhausted herself and slept without waking through the night.

Joel let the silence hang between them a while longer, turning over the conversation from earlier, rolling it like a stone in his palm. It sat uneasy in his gut.

He hadn’t said a thing since she told them all. Since she made it clear that she was going on that supply run, no matter what he thought about it.

And maybe that was the problem. Maybe that was what had him feeling like his ribs were closing in on him, like he had no way out anymore.

Because she wasn’t asking. She wasn’t waiting for his approval, for his permission, for the fight he was expecting. She had made up her mind, and all he could do was either accept it or lose his goddamn mind over it.

Joel let out a slow breath through his nose, rubbing a hand along his neck. His gaze flicked to Leela, who walked beside him now, letting Maya waddle ahead, her little hands clutching another button and a leaf—all prizes from her slow road exploration.

He envied her, in a way. The simplicity of Maya. The way her world was still so small, so safe. She didn’t know what was waiting beyond Jackson’s gates. Didn’t know about the things that hunted in the dark. Didn’t know what it was like to lose the people you loved. Not just yet.

The silence stretched between them as they reached the end of the street. It wasn’t tense, not really, but there was something unspoken lingering between them, thick as the humid summer air around them. Maybe Leela thought he’d just walk away, and head back to his own place without another word. Hell, maybe he thought he would too.

But his feet didn’t turn.

Instead, he followed her up the steps of her house, moving in quiet tandem with her. The porch light flickered faintly above them, casting long shadows, and softening the sharp edges of the night.

Leela reached for the doorknob, hesitating for just a second, as if half-expecting him to stop. Then, she glanced at him from the corner of her eye—surprise flickered there, barely a spark before she smothered it, burying it deep where he wouldn’t see.

She didn’t ask why he was still here. Didn’t call him on it. Like she’d already made peace with the idea that he’d walk away. That he always did when things got too tangled in his head. When he got too pissed to think straight.

“Joel,” she tried anyway, quiet. Not pushing. Not pleading. Just saying his name, like she needed to acknowledge him still standing beside her.

He shook his head. Stepped inside after her. “We'll talk after, darlin'.”

Their playful baby girl was still awake, cradled in her mama's arms now, her chubby fingers curled around something—studying it with immense curiosity. Then she turned them up to him, holding out her tiny hand.

Joel exhaled, the tension in his shoulders easing just slightly as he knelt beside her. “Oh, for me? Thank you.”

She blinked up at him, solemn for half a second before breaking into a slow, gummy smile. He kissed her fingers, then pried the object from her grasp—a small, worn button, edges fraying. It's wonder how it hadn't found its way into her mouth. He pocketed it anyway.

“I want these though,” he murmured, touching the soft curls on her head before pressing another kiss to her hand.

Maya stared at him, absorbing his words with the kind of gravity only babies seemed to have. Then, consciously, she put a hand to her eyes and dragged it down in a peekaboo motion—an awkward, uncoordinated version of what Leela had been working on with her.

Joel huffed out a quiet laugh, repeating her motion with his own hand and eyes. “Yeah, sleep time. G'night, sweetheart.”

She grinned like she understood, letting her head flop to the side, little fingers curling into the skin on her mother's neck.

Joel lingered for a moment longer, watching the steady rise and fall of her chest, before finally straightening. Leela had already stepped away, slipping upstairs without another word. Not dismissing him—just giving him space. Maybe testing whether he’d still be here when she came back down.

He needed to get his head straight before that happened. The whiskey was settling in now, thickening his thoughts, and making everything feel heavier. He strolled into the kitchen, grabbed a glass, swallowed it down in slow gulps, and let his fingers rest against the cool rim of the sink. Tried to clear the haze.

His mind wouldn’t fucking settle.

He considered every possible thing that could go wrong once she stepped outside Jackson. About how exposed she’d be. About what she didn’t know, what she hadn’t prepared for. Or had she?

He glanced at the lights in the room. Did she even own a flashlight? A pack? His gaze shifted toward the shoe cupboard. Sturdy boots? Maybe she could take his. No, that’d be suicide—his shoes would slow her down. Maybe he could fix something for her, repurpose something—

He ran a hand over his face, pressing his fingers against the slow-forming ache between his brows.

His eyes drifted to the farthest end of the living room, past the record player and fireplace, where she kept the rifles on display. Two out of three hooks were filled. Good rifles. Sturdy make. Definitely not the US. The stocks had rough engravings on them—one, the bigger one, had a cowboy hat carved into it. The other, smaller but similar to the one he took on patrol, had a sunflower.

Joel never asked if he could try the big one. Never asked why she had them. He wasn’t sure if it was respect or something else holding him back.

Joel heard her before he saw her.

Soft footsteps against the wooden floor, hesitant but not uncertain. He didn’t turn. Kept his eyes on the empty space on the wall where the third rifle should’ve been.

“Hey,” he called to her. “Where’d the other one go?”

A pause. “Oh, um.”

The hesitation made him glance over his shoulder, just in time to catch the way her expression flickered—quick, close to distress—before she forced it smooth.

“I lost it. A while ago.”

Joel didn’t say anything. She was good at keeping her face unreadable when she wanted to be. Too good. But her hands gave her away—fingers twitching at her sides, body shifting like she was bracing for something. For him to push.

Instead, he turned fully, giving her a long, quiet look. “So you can use one?”

Leela lifted a shoulder in that casual way of hers. “You just aim and pull the trigger.”

Jesus Christ. Joel exhaled sharply through his nose. “More to it than that.”

That finally got a reaction. Not much, but he saw it—the way her back straightened, the way her gaze flickered toward the rifle hooks like she wasn’t sure if she should be embarrassed or pissed off.

Joel dragged a hand down his face, his patience thinning. The irritation burning in his chest wasn’t at her. Not really. It was the world that had left her this unprepared. At whoever had let her believe that knowing how to run was the same as knowing how to survive.

And then, softly—like she could hear every damn thing rattling around in his head—Leela said, “You don’t have to worry about me, Joel.”

His jaw locked. His hands curled into fists at his sides. That was easy for her to say.

“That right?” His voice was low, edged like a knife. “I don’t have to worry?” He let out a short, humourless laugh, shaking his head. “The hell kinda thing is that to say?”

Leela sighed, not looking away. “Because Tommy’s right,” she said simply. “I do know how to take care of myself.”

Joel scoffed, glancing away like that might help settle the heat crawling under his skin. “That ain’t the goddamn point.”

“I’ve been alone for years before you or Maya.” Her voice was calm, matter-of-fact. “You think I don’t know how to get out of a bad situation?” She shook her head, lips pressing together. “I know when to run. I know when to escape. I know how to survive.”

Joel clenched his teeth. His voice came rough, gravelly. “That doesn’t mean you should have to.”

“I won’t have to.”

Joel let out a sharp breath, shaking his head. “See, now you’re just tryin’ my patience—”

Leela scoffed. “And you’re not trying mine?”

His jaw ticked. She had that look again—stubborn, set in her ways. Like she’d already decided she was right and he was wrong. That this was just some argument she could win if she dug her heels in deep enough.

Joel felt his pulse in his temples. He took a slow breath, working to unclench his fists. “Darlin'—”

“No, I get it.” She threw up a hand, a sharpness flashing in her eyes. “You don’t trust me to handle myself.”

Joel’s stomach twisted. That wasn’t it. That wasn’t it.

“This ain’t about trust or confidence,” he bit out. “It’s about common damn sense. You head out there thinking it’s just about knowing when to run, you’re gonna wind up dead.”

Leela flinched—barely. But he saw it.

“Yeah, that scared you already?” he goaded.

She blinked, and her expression flickered for the first time in the conversation. It wasn’t much. Just a shift—like his words had hit somewhere deep.

His pulse pounded in his ears, and the heat of it was too much. He couldn’t breathe around it.

She didn’t get it. Didn’t get that he had to worry about her. The fact that he couldn’t seem to stop thinking about her. How it pissed him the fuck off that she was moving through the world like she didn’t expect anyone to look out for her.

Look, he’d seen what happens to people who think they know how to survive—people who get cocky, get comfortable, get trigger-happy and think they can handle the world outside these walls.

And then they don’t come back. Then they end up dead. Or worse.

He could still remember it so clearly. The way she’d disappeared inside herself after—days, maybe weeks, of silence.

She’d been hollow back then. Like someone had cracked her open and scooped out everything that made her her, leaving behind this void of a person. And even now—months later—she still shrank sometimes. Still tensed when someone moved too fast. Still got too deep in her own head, lost in the shadows of what had been done to her.

And now she wanted to act like she knew better than him? Like she could handle herself just fine? Like she could walk out there and face the world, and all its horrors? No fucking way.

Before he could stop himself before he could shove it back down where it belonged—

“Exactly,” His voice was low, rough. “I bet you didn't give that much thought the last time you stepped outta Jackson. Everything went just fine, didn't it?”

The second the words left his mouth, he felt them hit. Joel desperately wanted to take them back.

Leela didn’t move or even breathe. And for a second—one terrible, drawn-out second—Joel thought maybe she hadn’t heard him right. Maybe it hadn’t landed the way it shouldn’t have. Maybe she understood where he was coming from.

Then he saw it.

Saw the way her eyes widened—just a fraction—before she caught herself. The way her throat bobbed like she was swallowing down something jagged, that wouldn't go down. The way her fingers curled around her elbows, gripping tight, too tight.

She looked—

No.

Fuck.

She looked like she’d just been struck across the face.

Joel felt his stomach drop out from under him, cold and fast. His hands twitched uselessly at his sides.

He opened his mouth—to say what? What the hell was he supposed to say? That he hadn’t meant it? That it had just slipped? That it wasn’t meant to come out like that? That he loved her too much to see her turned into one of those monsters? That he'd have to be the one to end her life?

None of it would matter. The damage was done.

Leela blinked—slow, making sense of what he'd said in her head, like she was trying to reset herself, to push it all down before it could spill over.

Then, wordlessly, she took a step back.

It wasn’t a flinch. Just one slow, careful step, like she was putting distance between herself and a flame.

His throat felt tight, but he forced out, “Leela, I—”

Her dark eyes lifted to his, and whatever he was about to say—whatever useless, pathetic attempt he had at making this right—died in his throat.

He saw it then. The hurt rising inside her like a tide, like something too big for her body to hold. She fought to keep it contained, to keep herself from drowning in it.

She had spent months clawing her way back from the wreckage. Months forcing herself to breathe when breathing hurt. He had seen her battle it every goddamn day—watched her press forward even when it would’ve been easier to crumble.

And now—now—he had gone and ripped her right back to the place she had fought so fucking hard to escape.

The realization made him sick. His stomach twisted, bile burning at the back of his throat.

He took a step toward her, hands aching to reach out—he didn’t even know for what—but she moved first.

Another step back. Fear or hesitance would've been better. No, she was just done.

His chest caved in.

She pulled in a breath, slow and shaking, and turned away.

No words. No parting shot. And for the first time in a long time, Joel felt that patched-up thing inside him splinter once more.

He lingered, just long enough to watch her shoulders tense, just long enough to see the way she folded her arms around herself like she had to physically hold herself together, pressing the heel of her palm to her forehead.

Then he swallowed hard, fisted his useless hands at his sides, and turned for the door. He knew when he wasn't needed. Even if he wanted to stand there and fight, he knew he'd only make it worse.

And this time, she didn’t stop him, or even look his way. Like he wasn’t worth looking at anymore.

And that—more than anything—was what finally did him in.

X

Joel had gone over that conversation a hundred times that night. Maybe more. All the would've, could've, should've.

He rewound it. Paused it. Picked it apart with brutal precision, replaying every word, every pause, every flex in her expression, every goddamn moment where he could have said something else. Done something else.

He thought of all the ways he could’ve worked around it. How he could’ve found a way to talk her down without tearing her apart. How he could’ve swallowed his damn pride, fought back his temper, and let the moment pass instead of driving a blade straight through it.

That failure pressed into his chest like a dull, grinding ache. A constant, gnawing thing that wouldn't leave him alone. He could still see her face—see the way she’d gone still, like all the fight had been ripped out of her. See the way her fingers had curled, clinging to herself like he was something she needed to guard against.

And now—he was lying awake, staring at the ceiling, feeling like his own body was too goddamn tight around him.

Had he lost them both in less than a few words out of his angry skull?

The thought twisted inside him, sharp and ugly, sending him rolling onto his side, then onto his back again, unable to settle. He clenched his fists into the blanket and breathed through his nose. It was a mistake. A bad one.

But mistakes could be fixed.

By the time dawn started bleeding through the cracks in his window, he was already up. Already moving, feeling like a goddamn pushover despite the gnawing panic chewing at his gut.

He had ten different ways to apologize. A dozen ways to make it right. All those months—those careful, fragile months he’d spent trying to earn his place in her life—those hadn’t just disappeared overnight. Right? She had to know he hadn’t meant it. She had to know why he said it. She had to know that he—

All of them crumpled into nothing the second he clicked the handle of her door.

Locked.

His gut went cold, his hand flexing against the handle before he tried again. Tighter. Harder.

Still locked.

That was his first red light, and his pulse picked up.

He knocked once. Twice. No, she wasn't shutting him out like this. Then again, louder, the heel of his hand landing flat against the wood.

"Fuck!"

Silence. A silence that stretched too long and felt wrong. His pulse kicked up, a slow, insidious dread creeping under his skin.

He stepped back, his gaze flicking across the windows—the kitchen, dark. The living room, empty. His eyes dragged toward the nursery window on the far right-hand side—nothing.

No shadow shifting behind the curtain. No rustling, no sound—not even Maya.

The sick feeling in his gut twisted tighter.

He exhaled, a sharp, uneven thing, running a hand down the corners of his mouth. Think, dammit. Think.

She could be out. Could be at Tommy and Maria’s. Could be at the stables, or the gardens, or anywhere but here. Really early in the morning. Where—where—where—

His breath came shallow. His hands flexed at his sides. And then, like a slow, sick unravelling, the realization started to set in.

No, that wasn’t it.

It wasn’t just the locked door. It wasn’t just the empty house.

It was the details. The little things he hadn’t noticed before. The way the street was too still. The way the morning air carried no trace of her scent—woodsmoke and something soft, something clean. The way Maya’s cries hadn’t woken him up at the crack of dawn.

Because she was gone.

Because she’d already left.

With Tommy. Or Ellie. Or Maria. Sometime in the morning.

"Shit," he hissed.

And Joel was too fucking late.

His heart lurched as he broke into a sprint, boots pounding against the dirt road as he raced toward the stables. His breath came rough, shallow, burning his throat, but he didn’t slow.

Didn’t stop. He just couldn't.

Not when he already felt the loss clawing its way under his skin, tightening in his ribs, wrapping around his throat. He could picture, her, out there, alone with Tommy. He should be there, no matter how much she despised him at that moment.

This fucking girl. Stupid, dumb, impulsive girl. So what if she could fix everything, so what if she could solve Jackson's every problem? What about her? What was he then, chopped liver? What the fuck was he here for?

He shoved through the stables, pushing past a startled ranch hand, heading straight for the gun rack. His fingers curled around the first rifle in reach, yanking it loose with a sharp tug.

“Joel, Maria said—” Someone stepped forward, half a warning, half a question, but he wasn’t listening.

He held up a cautionary hand. “Son. Don't.”

And that was enough for him to back the hell away.

Joel's body moved on instinct. A force of will, of desperation, of that something clawing at the edges of his sanity, telling him to get the fuck on.

He threw himself onto the saddle, boots slamming hard into the stirrups, hands locking around the reins with a grip tight enough to turn his knuckles white. The horse beneath him shifted, sensing his urgency, muscles coiling beneath its hide. He yanked the reins, heels pressing in.

The gate loomed ahead.

"Open the goddamn gate," he barked.

No hesitation. No arguments. Damn straight. The heavy doors groaned, splitting apart just wide enough—and he was gone.

Bolting through, dirt and gravel kicking up in his wake, muggy wind cutting against his face. His pulse was hammering, his breath sharp, ragged. Riding like hell itself was behind him.

Out for her.

X

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[yayasvalveplay]

Could I please request some more jazz and prowl from mirage dated d-16’s mom au,

Maybe how does prowls kids react to jazz just fluff in general. 👉👈

Make sure to drink your water!

Springer (13) Smokescreen (11) Net don't really see their dads. Springers dad was murdered due to drug trafficking and stuff got bad real fast(Prowl and him were divorced because of him finding out he was a drug dealer), Smokescreens dad just left them for a new woman.

The last marriage didn't even last an hour, as his now third ex husband threatened him and his kids while the reception was happening, the constructicons and their family were there to break up anything before it went physical, but they divorced right there.

So here comes Jazz, a lovable mech. Both kids are not convinced he's going to stay, or he's hiding his true colors like the last guy did. They are very standoffish and really don't bond with Jazz. They try and avoid him as much as possible when he visits them to take their mom on a date, or just hang around at the house.

Though when weeks turned into months, and Jazz still hadn't purposed to their mom, they became more outgoing, wanting to learn about Jazz, and his motives.

Jazz doesn't think much of it, only happy that the kiddos are pulling around finally.

"I told you my kids would come around to you." Prowl says, laying on the couch his helm laying on Jazz's shoulder, the kids are asleep next to Prowl using each other as pillows.

"You did say that. I wonder what made them change their minds."

"It was the waiting."

"The waiting?"

"No wedding, no marriage purposal in the first few weeks of seeing each other."

"Right your ex's did do that to ya. Slag Prowler, that still sucks that you had to go through that."

"It is not all bad. I've got my boys out of it." They both look over at the sleeping younglings, Jazz smiles. "You right, Out of all what your ex's could of left ya. They left ya with two of the best mechs's a carrier could ask for."

Prowl's face lights up, before he looks away.

"Prowl, did you just blush?"

"It would seem I had." He's being pulled onto a hug, Jazz kissing his cheeks. "This is good right, I am meant to be feeling, flushed?"

"Yes Prowler you are. You are doing so good."

I like to think none of Prowl's ex's took the time to really sit down and try and help Prowl. It is possible to help Prowl gain and understand Empathy more, those fuckers just didn't take the time to understand, and reach out.

But Jazz did. Jazz is helping, encouraging, and Prowl, well he hasn't been happier.

The kids telling Prowl that they love him and for years he's just been saying. "I do as well." but the moment, the moment says he loves his kids back, fully those words, the two are stopping and looking at Prowl like he is crazy. Prowl gets worried, was that not the right thing to say? it was what he had felt when his kids said that they loved him, and Jazz says he should always try and put himself into other mech's shoes.

That is what he did. So why were his kids reacting like that. Then he is getting hugged, both the kids shocked, and asking if Prowl meant it. "I do. I've always have."

Jazz comes over to see them all snuggled on the floor, all three passed out, that is why Prowl never responded to his text. He gets pillows and blankets, and gets them all cozy while he goes and cooks them all dinner.

Also potential Sire moment between Jazz and the kiddos, Jazz takes them to a park while Prowl is running late, got stuck at his job filling paperwork for the latest case he had been dispatched too, and won't be back, the kids got off of school, you don't mind watching them for a little bit do you. Jazz was happy to help.

Bringing them to the park the kids played with others, Jazz sitting down to watch them, cheering when a game of tag had them runnung away from the other taggers, or other simple games one would play t the park.

But then it was time to go home, Prowl says he just clocked out, and would be getting take out. Jazz calls for them, but they don't come, worried, he calls out again, because he did just see them not too long ago running up the steps of the play house, he had just checked his phone, no more then 3 seconds.

But he is panicking now, and goes to investigate, calling out their names still. That's when he saw him. an older man, disheveled and perhsps on something he's sluring his words, being hidden by the playset as he has a hold of Springers arms, while Smokescreen is cowering below him.

How him and none of the other parents saw this man hiding out under the play set is worrisome. "OI, get you're hands off my kids." That got the attention from the other parents. "Look man, this young mech was just ah. . . telling me were the to the train station."

"You could of asked one of us, we would of gladly directed you towards it. Now i won't say this again. Get your hands. Off. My. Kids. Or i will use force."

"No need to be violent. the kids keeping me up right." he moves and in the mechs coat, Jazz can see a knife sticking out, old blood on it's handle. Jazz doesn't stop to find out if it was his, or someone else's, only strikes.

He may have been trained under his own Sire to know martial arts, But he was also in the army for a few years. He may also not be 100% truthful about his line of work, it's classified and all that, But no one can know what he really does for a living. It's easier to say he's working for his Sire at his dojo.

The mech is pinned to the ground, Springer out of the mans grasps. Jazz hit's a few pressure points in the mans body. He is unable to move while Jazz, checks on the kids, before bringing them over towards the bench, where police have just gotten too. Jazz, Springer, and Smokescreen talk to the police, before they are able to leave.

On the way back to Prowl home, it is quiet, the only noise being the music playing.

"Hey Jazz?"

"Ya kiddo?"

". . . You were, pretty cool back there. Taking down that bot no problem.."

"It was no biggy, you two were in danger. I wasn't going to let some,,, bad mech try and course you into doing something you shouldn't be doing at your age."

"Ya but you rendered him immobile, like in those ninja movies."

"I did. didn't I?"

"Thanks,, You,,, aren't as bad as carriers other boyfriends he had in the past,,, " It was said softly, almost inaudible, but Jazz heard it, and it make his spark sore.

[flappielxx123]

This scene will never not make me insane

Amazing gifs by @beverlygifs

[sideeve]

⠀⠀⠀“WHAT?! SEX BAN?!”

﹅ contains ;; gojo satoru , kento nanami , choso kamo , toji fushiguro , ryomen sukuna , geto suguru

﹅ alt title ;; how long the jjk men can withstand the sex ban

﹅ warnings ;; sorta sub!choso , whiny!choso , toji's part is more explicit than the others , this is my first time writing for some of the character so i'm sorry if i didn't describe them well

GOJO SATORU (3 days)

“are you serious?” gojo groans, slumping forwards. gojo watched in disappointment as you crossed your arms, looking away from him. "you did it so you have to pay." for weeks, you've been trying to tell gojo to separate the colors from the whites while doing laundry. him just wanting to get it over with, he dumped them all in the same load, ruining some of your favorite pieces of clothing.

"baby, please. i won't do it again," he begs, kneeling in front of you. but to no avail, you stood your ground.

it only took him 3 days to convince you to wave your white flag, surrendering to his seduction. "you look good in my shirts." gojo's hands caress your hips as he presses his chest to your back. "i would be in my clothes if you would just listen to me." you huff, "i never said i was disappointed." gojo whispered, his hard-on pressing on your ass.

“please. just drop the ‘sex ban’. i said i was sorry.” his lips make a trail of kisses on your neck. you needed him too. whenever he wasn’t around, you would use your toys, trying to not let gojo know you were sexually needy. but they didn’t work.

RYOMEN SUKUNA (not happening!)

no. just no. it’s funny that you even thought about putting that in motion. sukuna was too desperate for sex but never wanted to admit it.

“no,” he stood above, crossing his arms, making himself seem bigger than you (as if he even needed to do that). “you can’t deprive me of sex, woman.” he grunts. “but i can, kuna. that’s what you fail to realize.” you tut, standing up to walk away.

one of his four arms wraps around your waist, throwing you back on the soft surface. "you're not going through with this." he growls in your ear, crawling go top of you.

how dare you even think such a thing? you were his woman, his twin flame. you were the only person he showed the littlest respect to and you decide to do some foolery like this.

he tugs your shirt over your head, your bra coming next. his rough hands slide over your chest. "such beauty..." he whispers. "i'll make sure you never think of this again.

KENTO NANAMI (it was on accident)

his job was taking him away from you. between being a jujutsu sorcerer and a businessman, he couldn't find time to be a partner for you.

due to the lack of attention you were receiving, you became sexually pent up, having the urge to pleasure yourself at the worst times. the feeling of neglect was creeping up on you. some days, you forgot nanami even lived with you.

"love, i'm home." nanami tugs off his tie, tossing it to the side. "i don't know how long i can take of this." he rubs his temples, deeply sighing as he led himself to your shared bedroom. before his hand touched the cold metal knob, he heard your muffled moans and the squelching of your cunt.

he slowly opens the door, peeking in the room before fully entering. "it seems i've neglected you." he watches as you quickly cover yourself as if he hasn't seen you naked many times. he unbuttons the top of his shirt as he saunters to the edge of the bed, removing the covers off you.

"seems like i have some things to make up for."

CHOSO KAMO (not even a day)

"please." he whines, his head resting on your lap as he looks up at you. ever since you shared your first time with choso, he's been going at it with you like rabid dogs. if he wasn't inside you, his head was squished in between his thighs.

"choso, i need a break." you sigh, trying to remove him from off you. his grip on your legs was tight as he put his face in between your thighs, shaking his head. he was acting like he couldn't survive without your cunt somehow being involved.

"i swear, i'll leave you alone after. just please," he whined. you couldn't resist him for much longer. you hated when he got all whiny like a baby. he was spoiled because of you.

"fine." you undo the tie of your sweatpants before his hands swatted yours away, tugging your pants and panties off. "i promised you." he kisses your inner thigh before his tongue began flicking away.

TOJI FUSHIGURO (mans was balls deep in you the second you said it)

"you really think so?" he darkly chuckles, rubbing himself on you. "toji, i'm sorry. please." you whine, wiggling your ass on his cock. "i don't think you are." he teases, stepping away from you.

you whine, following him. "it was a joke." you press your hand on his chest. "did i laugh?" he tilts his head, smirking at you. you sigh, "toji, i'm sorry." you press yourself against him, your chest touching his.

"fuck." you knew he couldn't resist the feeling of your chest on him. it was like heaven to him. "turn around." he grunts, gripping your hips to turn you around, bending you over.

he easily slid inside of you due to how wet you got over time. "don't say stuff you don't mean, baby." he laughs, thrusting into your backside. it was worth it.

GETO SUGURU (you gave in after implementing it)

you wanted to test geto's limits, giving him an extra nnn moment which made you realize something. it was always you initiating sex. "geto, please. i give up." you whine, following him around the house.

he chuckles, "everyone must deal with their consequences, my love." he turns to you. he plastered a sinister smile, taunting you. he saw how much you needed him but he wasn't caving in until he heard you say it.

"i'll do anything. my hand isn't even working anymore." you simper. it was starting to become frustrating seeing how calm he was about all of this as you were suffering.

"i need you! is that what you wanted to hear?" you shout, earning a grin from him. he walks closer to you, his finger tracing your jawline, "why didn't you say that sooner, love?" he chuckles.

[missdynamighttt]

watching porn with bf! katsuki bakugo will somehow turn into a bet to see who will give in first.

when you ask him if you could watch porn together, how could he say no to you, his girl? more so when you basically riled him up to convince him.

"bub, can we watch porn together?" you look at him, your legs resting in his lap as the both of you lounged on the couch.

katsuki's eyes widen at your directness, his jaw slightly dropping at your question. he scoffs out of disbelief, looking at you with a raised eyebrow.

"you're real damn blunt, pervert," he grins at your pout, stroking your thighs with firm, gentle squeezes.

"i'm not doing it for weird reasons! just.." you shrugged. "curious to see what happens, i guess? i dunno how to explain.."

he sighs, shaking his head. his hand reaches out to ruffle your hair with a grin. "you're lucky you're adorable. fuck it, why not?"

you grin, leaning closer to him, giving his cheek a kiss. "knew you'd come around. come to think of it, i bet you will jerk off to it first."

his eyes narrow at you and he scoffs. "that confident, huh?"

"with how hot you think i am and all? totally."

"like you don't think i'm hot too. wanna bet, sweets?"

"definitely. ground rules: don't touch yourself. and no touching each other. and i mean holding hands, hugs, and kisses. not just feeling each other up."

"tch, fine," katsuki scoffs. "no looking away to calm down. only when we talk. winner gets braggin' rights and loser lives with the eternal knowledge that the winner is better."

"fine," you scoff back. "you're gonna give in first, 'nyway. since you can’t go a single morning without pulling me into bed again."

katsuki's eyes narrow at you again, this time pouting at you with his cheeks flushed. "says the brat clingier than a damn koala after sex."

"oh, you're so on."

but little did you know, this would be harder than you thought.

you've set up your laptop on the coffee table across the couch, scrolling through the mediocre home page porn in incognito as you sit next to your boyfriend.

you were almost reluctant to continue but knowing him, he would definitely egg you on about being a coward. because one thing about your boyfriend, katsuki, was that he really wanted to win at everything.

"wanna watch?" you look at katsuki with a grin, the video on display captioned: "I hope the NEIGHBOURS were pleased with WHAT THEY SAW!", the preview of the video showing a couple standing by the window, fucking. it wasn't really your thing but you wanted to see how he'd react.

katsuki glances at the laptop before giving you a skeptical look, his tone firm. "fuck no."

"why not? whats wrong with it?"

"just.. no," he shakes his head, a sly grin slowly creeping onto his face as he looks at you. "one second. technically haven't started yet, yeah?"

he leans in, his lips meeting your cheek in a soft, quick kiss before pulling back. his fingers linger, stroking your cheek in a gentle, affectionate gesture. "just pick somethin' else, sweets."

you roll your eyes while wearing a fond grin. you're almost tempted to call him out on how affectionate he was but you didn't want him to stop. you couldn't help but find it endearing and cute.

but after awhile, you and katsuki realize pornhub's terrible acting and weird angles wasn't really working.

"no, too weird. it looks awkward. and fake."

"no, the guy is givin' me the ick. looks homeless."

"no, it looks.. painful. why is it so stretched?"

"no. wait, you're into that? i'm not opposed to it, i just think it looks weird when they do it. just sayin', if you wanna try it.."

so, you go on twitter, looking for porn accounts and already finding better alternatives.

finally, your eyes settle on a compilation of video captioned: "breeding selection 🖤" , the previews of the videos showing various faceless girls getting fucked sloppily and creampied by their partner.

this was it. it wasn't exactly your best plan but you were depedent on him getting turned on by the video and your mere presence to win the bet. and if anything turned him on, it would be the thought of breeding his pretty little girlfriend.

you glance at him from the side, taking in his relaxed demeanor as he leans back with his arms crossed, eyes fixed on the laptop as if there wasn't porn on the screen.

"this good with you, boyfie?"

he looks at you and fuck, you can practically feel the heat radiating from his gaze. his eyes rake over you, taking in every curve and contour of your body with a hungry look, like he's undressing you with his eyes, imagining what he'd do to you.

"mhm, 'ts fine."

you nod, going back to the laptop to play the video, stupidly thinking: there was no way he'd be able to play dirty, especially when he can't touch you. but no.

the video plays, only a few seconds showing the girl's rear. the guy squeezes her ass, the cum dripping out of her pussy and in between her swollen folds, down to her thighs as he plays with her ass.

and you know what katsuki does? this man talks you through it, saying the most filthy, lewd shit with a cheeky grin. this man plays dirty by talking dirty.

"goddamn. see the cum, just drippin' out of her? bet you want me fill you up real bad now, don't you? wanna recreate that with me, sweets?"

your thighs clench involuntarily, your body betraying your inner desire. you stare back at him with a glare, feeling a familiar ache settle between your legs. "we do that on a daily basis, katsuki."

"'m just sayin'," katsuki grins, thinking: perfect. you're getting horny. "the idea of pumpin' you full, watchin' my cum drip out of you.."

he was just so desperate to see you rub your clit silly so that he can do it too without admitting defeat. his dick was huge but his pride could compete.

you clear your throat, glaring at his cheeky grin before quickly playing the next video. it's longer, around 8 minutes. it has a better angle, showing the guy's dick disappearing in and out of the girl's pussy, her doughy ass hitting his abdomen. he slams into her as she moans softly around his cock, sticky from their shared slick.

you feel hot and tight in your own skin, your throat going dry. you felt your sore nipples harden as you painfully clench down on nothing, tempted to just subtly grind against the couch for a second. fuck. it hasn't even been 5 minutes yet you were so, so wet.

your boyfriend noticed. and he certainly wasn't of any help.

"shit," katsuki leans down close enough to whisper in your ear, his breath hitting your skin, but far away enough so that he wasn't touching you. "you wet already, sweets?"

"i'm not. shut up and watch the damn porn."

"aww, don't be like that. look at my pants, baby, c'mon."

you bite your bottom lip before your eyes reluctantly dart down to his pants. fuck. his boner was so fucking obvious, it didn't help that he was wearing grey sweats. you were already picturing him naked, imagining how your cunny would look like taking in his dick.

"see? i'm so fuckin' hard for you, baby, it hurts," he sighs, looking at the tent in his pants before whispering in your ear. "don't you wanna take care of me, hm?"

a small sigh escapes your lips as you try to steady your breathing, your eyes darting everywhere but at katsuki. your thoughts consumed by the sight of him, despite your attempts to remain composed.

"you're mean," you huff.

"baby, c'mon. i'll take real good care of you, i promise," he grins at you. "just gotta touch me, yeah?"

you pout again before your eyes return to the screen, thinking your only solution was to ignore him.

although, it wasn't any help as you watched the cum drip out of the girl's pussy before he fucks it back into her, when you wanted nothing more than for him to do the same to you.

he put some distance, and you thought: okay. some time to calm yourself down. but just when you thought katsuki couldn't outdo himself, you hear the ruffling of pants, looking down to see him stripping himself of his clothes.

you look up at him as you feel your face get hot from embarrassment. "hey, what are yo-"

"hm?" he looks back at you, blinking innocently. he throws his clothes unceremoniously somewhere, leaving him in only his boxers as he holds his hands up in surrender. "what? it's hot, sweets. this doesn't count 'nyway, right? besides, 'm not touchin' anythin'."

you huff, pouting at him with a glare, trying not to admire his muscles. that's the game he wanted to play? you glanced down again, a clear fucking mistake. you almost felt drool down your chin as you admired his body, tempted to take his boxers off and just go wild—

you swallowed, looking back up at him. you get an idea. if you can't beat them, then... "you wanna play that game? fine."

you reach for the hem of your shirt, pulling the fabric over your head, revealing your bare skin to his eyes. tossing the shirt aside, you slowly tug down on your shorts, sliding them down your legs until you're left standing in just your bra and panties.

katsuki's jaw tightens and his muscles tense the moment you started undressing. he clenched his fists, the effort it takes him not to pounce on you was almost physically painful. he takes in the sight of your nearly naked body, his mouth going dry at the sight of you in your bra and panties.

the porn playing on the laptop is long forgotten as he stares at you. because fuck porn when he has such a gorgeous girl right in front of him. his girl.

"the hell are you doin'?" his voice is strained, getting the courage to look away with flushed cheeks. his eyes dart back to the screen, focusing with his arms crossed.

"hm?" you look up at him, blinking innocently like he did. you put your clothes away somewhere and held your hands up in surrender, like he did. "relax. its hot for me too. besides, doesn't count, right?"

"damn it. doesn't count but it's damn well torture."

"what's stopping you from fucking me, hm?"

"you know damn well whats stoppin' me. quit testin' me or i swear to god, i'm gonna fuck you so hard after this."

you laugh, trying to ignore the ache in between your legs as a cheeky smile plays on your lips. "'m just saying. i bet it'd feel really good, y'know. having you inside of me..."

his teeth clench at your words, his hands clenching into fists to keep himself in check. "goddamn it. baby, you're killin' me here."

"bub... all you gotta do is touch me and i can make the pain go away."

"sweets... why are you torturing me?" he groans, his hands clenching onto the couch as he glares at you.

"i want you. fuck, i need you. damn it, you've seen how fuckin' hard i am. so why are you makin' me wait, hm?" his voice is low, almost whining about how much he craves you. how needy he is to be inside you.

"i wanna win too," you bite your bottom lip, almost tempted to fold.

"fuck," he grits out, his eyes closing briefly as he runs his hand through his hair. he looks at you again, his gaze filled with frustration and need. "sweetheart.. you're a pain in the ass, you know that?"

a sly smile spreads across your lips as you lean in closer to him, just close enough that your breath tickles his skin, but not touching him. you were getting there. on top of him not making eye contact, you could've sworn his boner twitched.

"i know. but... please take care of me, katsuki," you whispered, hearing his breath hitch as yours fans across his skin. "i know you wanna."

his eyes darken as he looks down at you, his resolve almost wavering. "oh, i do. i really do, sweets."

that's the last thing you hear before katsuki is finally on you, his movements quick and urgent as he slams his lips onto yours. he kisses you like he's starving, his lips hot and angry against yours, desperate to have his fill of you but take out his frustration on you too.

katsuki pulls away, glaring at you before helping you out of your soaked panties as you help him out of his boxers, his hard cock springing out and stood at his abdomen.

"wanna take care of me that badly, huh?" you grin, reaching for his cock, stroking it up as you thumb his throbbing tip leaking with pre.

his breath hitches, hissing before he reaches down your folds and rubs your swollen clit, your soft moans echoing in his ears. "shut the fuck up. you won't even be able to think, after i'm done with you."

katsuki grunts, aligning himself inside of you, gasping at the softness of your wet, velvet walls. and as he thrusts his cock into your dumb little cunny, he recreates exactly what happened in those videos.

"whats the matter?" he taunts in your ear as he folds your legs near your shoulders, fucking you into mating press. his body covers yours completely, you can feel his weight pressing down on you. "you fuckin' wanted this, right?"

"a-ah, i do..." you gasped, sore nipples feeling the skin of his pecs. "you're just.. mad i won.."

"hah? you callin' me a sore loser?"

"if— oh... if the condom... fits."

suddenly, you squealed from the sudden thrust, whimpering as he slams his cock deeper inside of you, almost kissing your cervix as you feel his balls slapping against your folds.

"won't fuckin' fit 'nyway cause i'm fuckin' you raw— shit," he gasps, desperately rutting himself into you, chasing your release and his. "feels so fuckin' tight, sweets, holy shit..."

"katsukiii," you moaned his name, rolling your eyes to the back of your head as he fucks you dumb. "i-i can't, anymore, please—"

"shhh, you can take it," he huffs before leaning down to give you an affectionate, reassuring kiss. his lips soft and gentle against yours as you wrap your arms around his neck.

he draws back from the kiss, his lips leaving yours with a soft, wet pop. "you can take it, can't you, baby?"

you whine and squirm against him, a desperate, needy sound leaving your lips. you nod, the words failing you in that moment, silently begging him to keep going, to give you more of the pleasure that you need. he smiles at you, leaning down quickly to give your cheek a kiss.

"atta girl," he murmured with pride, kissing down your jawline. his mouth is hot against your skin as he peppers your collar bones and chest with open-mouthed kisses. "that's my girl."

"k-katsuki," you pant, your hips rolling against his as your body begs for the sweet, sweet release that only he can give you. "m-m' gonna.. c-cum.."

"yeah? you gonna cum for me?" he groaned. he wants to see you lose yourself in pleasure. he craves to be the one to bring you to your high. "you wanna cum for me, pretty girl?"

"please," you whimper, your voice shaky and needy as your eyes meet his pleadingly. "please, yeah, m' gonna cum for you, please just—"

your words cut off as you let out a soft cry, your head tilting back further into the couch as your body trembles with the need to let go, to give in to the pleasure that's threatening to overwhelm you.

"cum for me, sweets," he grunts, his hips rocking against yours. "show me how much you like it when i fuck you like this, c'mon."

and that's all it takes— clenching down on him and burying himself inside of you—and you're both gone.

your body tenses, a gasp of pleasure escaping your lips as you feel him cum inside of you, bodies shaking with the force of your release and his. your hips press against his as he relaxes into you, your nails digging onto his (glorious) back.

katsuki pants, taking a moment to admire you. the way your chest rises and falls with each breath, teetering on the edge from your high as you cling to him. like a koala.

"you did so good, sweets," katsuki murmured. he steadies himself beneath you and pulls his cock out, pressing the tip against your folds, waiting for the moment of his dreams. he almost has hearts in his eyes when he watches the cum drip out of you, going down his tip as he pushes it inside you again. "so damn good."

"i asked if you wanted to recreate those videos," he grins when he hears you gasp, feeling the tip of his cock rub your folds, squirming against him as you bit your lip. "i'll make sure i get all the details right by breeding the shit out of you."

and as the night wares on, you both collapse onto the couch, panting and exhausted, a tangle of limbs wrapped around each other, cuddled up close after having the most mind-numbing sex.

"so.." you look up at him with a lazy smile, laying your head on his chest. "loser lives with the eternal knowledge the winner is better, huh?"

he groaned, closing his eyes for a minute before staring at you as he runs his fingers through your hair. "sweets... you're real fuckin' lucky i love you. otherwise, i really would've went above and beyond and made sure i knocked you up."

"i wouldn't be opposed to that."

katsuki narrows his eyes at you, his fingers flicking your forehead. "don't tempt me, brat."

you rub your forehead with a pout, sticking your tongue out at him. "so mean."

he scoffs, his hand reaching out to grab your wrist, gently but firmly pulling your hand away, hovering his lips to where he flicked earlier to give your forehead a soft kiss. "get some sleep, sweetheart."

"fine. i love you too, bub. goodnight."

"tch. love you more, dummy."

and honestly? katsuki doesn't need porn to get his dick hard. not when he has you. his personal porn star, his gorgeous girlfriend, and of course— his favorite person.

‎‧₊˚✧[ it's me, kia! ]✧˚₊‧ ｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ ‎‧₊˚✧[ more of katsuki ! ]✧˚₊‧

⋆˚࿔ kia's note ˚⋆ inspired by my ex 🧍🏻‍♀️ hope this was to your liking and i hope you enjoyed, i apologize if it seems too.. lewd? nyways, i'll start working on these requests and the older brother's best friend/ best friend's older brother trope with katsuki (i cannot choose), comment if you wanna be tagged 💜💜

[cosmiic-world]

lovesick!sylus who always buys you the things you want without you telling him. if you pass by a store and point out something in a window with an excited “cute!”, he already has the shop name listed down in his head.

lovesick!sylus who loves putting a smile on your face. whether it be with gifts or actions. everytime you show up to onychinus, he always has something for you. “i saw it in passing. i thought you’d like it.” he shrugs it off. you knew he was lying but you went along with it anyway.

lovesick!sylus who never lets you pay for anything when you’re with him. “i have my own money, you know.” you’d say to which he usually responds with a curt “save it for when you actually need it.”

lovesick!sylus who absolutely hates when you leave on a mission for days on end with no contact. he ends up sending mephisto to keep an eye on you for him, unbeknownst to you. he’s sure you can handle whatever missions the association gives you, he just gets worried when you can’t contact him.

lovesick!sylus who one day sees you at onychinus spending time with the twins, playing games with them and having fun.

lovesick!sylus who watches you silently from the doorway as you chase the twins with the widest smile on his face. it wasn’t until you bumped into him that you even knew he was there.

“oh! sylus! welcome back.” you’d say, breathlessly. he couldn’t help but chuckle. “help me find the twins, yeah? they convinced me to play some kind of hide and seek tag hybrid game.”

lovesick!sylus who couldn’t ever find it in himself to tell you no. how could he deny you when you had the biggest grin on your face? “alright. i’ll help you.” he said, laughing as you jumped up and squealed.

“okay! i think luke went that way and kieran went the other way! i’ll go look for luke!” you said before scurrying off.

lovesick!sylus who would usually think playing children’s games was beneath him, but he found himself letting go and actually having fun.

lovesick!sylus who found himself wound up in a closet again, his limbs tangled with yours as you tried to keep quiet. it was the twins’ turn to find you and you ran to sylus, dragging him to the first spot you could think of.

you were peeking out from the door of the closet, panting very softly as you were catching your breath. sylus couldn’t take his eyes off you. the carefree joy that your features held warmed his heart.

lovesick!sylus who pulled you back in carefully as soon as he heard one of the twins near the room. he’d meant to keep you quiet, but he couldn’t stop himself from whispering a small, “i love you,” and kiss you.

lovesick!sylus who chuckled upon being found with a loud “gross, boss!” from luke as he found the two of you kissing. “the things you’ve done to me are unfounded.” he said to you, smiling.

[tonycries]

The Way You Kiss Me - G.S.

Synopsis. The four times Satoru tries really hard not to kiss you - his best friend’s pretty younger sister. And the one time he doesn’t.

Pairing. Gojo Satoru x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! Suguru’s sister! reader, childhood enemies to lovers, PINING Satoru, like really really disgustingly down bad, creampíe, oral (fem receiving), pússytalking, needy JEALOUS! Satoru, running away from it, spítting, punching is Suguru’s love language, mentions of aIcohol, pet names, swearing.

Word count. 7.4k (That’s wild)

A/N. BOO! Surprise upload. This was so fun to write omg.

“You sure this is how the grown-ups get married?”

“Duh, I know everything.”

“Nuh uh, Toru.”

“Yuh uh!”

The first time Gojo Satoru kissed you was underneath that dingy playground slide that the two of you always raced to after elementary school. 

Usually, your older brother, Suguru, would walk home alongside you two - but this time, he’d just so happened to have been held back for throwing paper planes at the teacher that day.

A sign from the universe, Satoru internally celebrated, something he’d learned from those sappy romance novels his mother left lying around the house. No matter that he was the one that made those planes.

You were six back then, standing in front of a determined Satoru - reaching up on his tip-toes, face pink, smelling of those cheap strawberry lollipops he’d sneak into class and taunt you with. At the much older and wiser age of seven, he’d insisted on being the first one to lean in.

Just barely even grazing your dramatically puckered lips before-

Satoru learned two things that fateful afternoon:

Even as a seven-year-old, Suguru’s punches really hurt. 

Never mess with you. Anyone but you. 

Life only seemed to go downhill from there - because that last lesson was proving to be hard along the years. Really. Fucking. Hard.

Little did Satoru know that this would be the start of some strange, unpredictable little dance of push and pull. No, you definitely weren’t his wife. Nor were you exactly best friends - not really, that spot was reserved for your brother. But you didn’t think you could ever be just that either.

And the punch that’d knocked his wobbly tooth out onto the playground floor that day was a painful reminder that whatever that was - whatever weird thoughts he had later in middle school about how you’d tasted like candy - didn’t matter. No matter how part some tucked-away little part of him wanted it to.

Hell, eleven years later and Satoru still can’t walk around that familiar block without feeling slightly queasy. Which is why, after that failed first kiss, he knew there wouldn’t be a second. 

Instead, he settles back to teasing your pouty self, pushing all your buttons, tugging on those cute dresses you wore. Face burning so strangely with- humiliation? when you bickered right back, calling his haircut a “tragic attempt at modern art.”

“So you’re saying I look like art?” A gangly, now-seventeen Satoru blocks the bustling high school hallway, ignoring the bell. Grin only growing at your frustrated huff, he half-jokes, “Aww, if you’re that soft on me, sweetheart, maybe we should go to prom tog-”

You slam your locker, effectively shutting both it and Satoru at the same time. “I’d rather go with Yaga.”

“...you would not.”

“Would to.”

“Would not.”

“Would to.”

“Would- Sugu–!”

And all Suguru can do is wrap two hands around his neck, mock-choking himself, wondering if it was really too late to embrace a quiet life as a monk. “You’ll both be MLA cited in my farewell note.”

He was used to it, though, forced to watch all this chaos since quickly mending his friendship with Satoru over ice cream the day after the punch. Convinced that this was some punishment for a past life’s misdeed.

With a squawk of protest, Satoru’s turning back to you, eyes crinkling with a hint of mischief you knew too well, “Would not.”

Your face burns, “Would to, Toru.”

You didn’t go with Yaga. but Satoru didn’t exactly count that as a win in his books, either, because you did show up that night hanging off the arm of some jerk from the football team. 

And there you were, all dolled up - which he very objectively noted - way too prettily for some bastard like him. Stars in your eyes, and everything he couldn’t have in that smile. 

Everything. 

Way too gorgeous, even when he finds you sitting outside the gymnasium later on in the night. Too busy bawling your mascara off to even throw out your usual greeting insult his way. Murmuring out wetly about “that asshole” and how he humiliated you by stranding you in the middle of the dance floor for someone else. 

“Well, he was a jerk anyway. Even Yaga would’ve been better, hell, I-” Satoru stops short to his horror at the way you only cry harder.

Way too irresistible, especially as his body moves before his mind - holding out an open hand before he knows it. “I’m a much better dancer than him and you.” And oh Satoru will forever remember the way his heart lurches as you blink your teary eyes up in confusion, “Well, aren’t ya gonna take up the challenge?”

Weirdly, it wasn’t weird at all. 

If anything, you had to hold back your laughter the entire time at the way the great “campus sweetheart” Gojo Satoru was so on edge.

Just a friend comforting a friend, right?

So why was he avoiding your gaze with the subtlety of a sledgehammer, summer blue eyes pointedly trained right over your head. That pretty pink blush dusting his cheeks reflecting the hands hovering in midair over your waist. So close - and yet, fear in each and every turn and swirl.

Yours were searing into his broad shoulders as you tried to guide him to the muffled music from inside. And shit.

That night ended with a second kiss. 

You don’t know who leaned in first, just that Satoru’s soft lips were just fleeting on your glossy ones - barely even a touch. And that shit shit shit- this was Satoru. This was you. 

Everything. 

But it seems that every time Satoru was about to kiss you dangerously close to the way some tiny, forbidden part of his heart wanted to - the universe throws an obstacle at him. An obstacle that was six feet and named “Suguru”, currently running at break-neck speed out of the gym.

“MOVE YOUR ASSES!” he cackles, “THE FOOTBALL TEAM ISN’T TOO HAPPY ABOUT ME BREAKING THEIR STAR PLAYER’S NOSE.”

And not a word is uttered about the kiss as the three of you speed out of the school parking lot in Suguru’s busted-up black hellcat, the wind mussing up the hairstyle that took Satoru over two hours to perfect. Sneaking in glances at the sight of you singing along at the top of your lungs to some overplayed pop song on the radio. 

He learns another two things that night:

Apparently, Suguru’s right hook still really fucking hurt. And thank god for tonight’s casualties of noses, because it was a wonder that he didn’t look too hard at how close Satoru was with you. 

He didn’t…dislike the feeling of your lips on his. And judging by the way you meet his eyes in the rearview mirror - you didn’t either.

It’s mainly that last one that makes him gulp.

Neither of you remember the third kiss - though, Satoru’s sure that at least 80% of Shoko’s instagram followers did.

According to a very hungover Shoko, and the many, many forms of documentation, it had happened on the New Year’s eve during your third year in university. In which you were much more used to the raging parties that would be hosted at Suguru’s apartment, and only slightly less intimidated by them.

“And you’re a lightweight too, dumbass. You were gone.” Shoko sighs from across the café table, eye bags deeper than the last time he’d seen her. “Like gone gone.”

God, what a way to start the year.

Satoru bites back a remark about how “gone” Shoko herself had been. Sitting up straight in his seat, regret immediately hitting his senses faster than the guilty throbbing at his temples. He winces, managing out a semi-disbelieving groan of, “Gone gone?”

And she’s only nodding wearily, subconsciously tapping out the rest of her cigarette ashes onto his untouched plate of sweet pastries. 

“I’m talking dancing on expensive coffee tables and fighting to stop you from giving everyone there a strip show.” She cracks a smirk through a waft of smoke, “Though, she would’ve loved that I’m sure.”

“Har har har, you’d make even Nanami laugh with that one.”

“Eugh, gross.” Shoko taps through her phone briefly, swirling it around to show Satoru a few pictures that definitely gave him a mini-heart attack at 8:57 in the morning. “You look like you’re about to pen really bad poetry.”

And perhaps this was Shoko’s plan all along - to shock Satoru to the core hard enough that she can note it down as one of her sketchy psychological experiments. 

But he knew. Could feel it in the hazy fragments of memories - or, at the very least, in that entire highlight that Nanamin had oh-so-conveniently put up on Instagram titled, “Blackmail.”

You knew. 

You’d kissed him back. 

“I don’t have a-.” you slur, stumbling ever-so-slightly as you try to meet Satoru’s glassy eyes. Because shit the years have had him shooting up faster than you could look up. “-a New Year’s kiss, y’know.”

You were older - more gorgeous, if that was even possible now. That tight dress hugging your body so unfairly in a way that had him forgetting you were his best friend’s sister. 

The one person in this whole world that he couldn’t have.

But Satoru leans in closer, more because he wants to than anything - he could pick out your voice anywhere let alone over the thumping music currently filling his crowded living room. Lips loose as he tries to play up the cool-guy facade he’s been dubbed with since freshman year, “Hah, loser. Because I do.”

“Where?”

At this, Satoru is stumped - damn, you were good. 

“Not- uh here?” If he was in any clearer state of mind, he’d have been embarrassed at the way his voice cracks so traitorously as your unsteady hands pull him in closer by his overpriced button-up. 

Your body was flush against his now, so addictive. Gaze half-lidded and flickering between the sliver of milky skin exposed on his chest - from that impromptu striptease he’d almost started earlier - and the blue eyes that were currently locked you. You whisper a strained, “Liar.”

Close - too close. So dangerously close.

He breathes out against your lips, the smell of booze and you so heady in his mind. And the heavy words falling from his lips sound like lies, even to him. “Not.”

“Toru?” you hum, a sound that has him gasping. “Shut up.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

And there went your New Year’s kisses. At exactly 11:37PM, if the photos were anything to go by. 

And holy shit were there many. All of which showed your arms looped around Satoru’s neck, crashing his lips to yours. His own, resting against your waist, a scandalously red blush - whether from the alcohol or you - adorning his cheeks. Looking more blissed out than he ever remembers feeling. 

“I’m a dead man, Shoko.” 

There’s a lengthy silence, leaving Satoru stewing in thoughts of how Suguru would react once he finds out. And whether or not he’d be able to rise from the dead just to see how pretty you’d look at his funeral.

Morbid thoughts broken only by Shoko’s cough, “Hey, can I keep your eyes for experimentation if he actually catches you?”

Subtly, he sends himself those photos from last night.  

Luckily for Satoru’s eyes, they never ended up being donated towards Shoko’s questionable contributions to the world of medicine. 

And by some grace of the gods above, Suguru never mentioned a word about the kiss that would’ve inevitably made its way to him. Or maybe it was because Satoru stole his phone until he managed to pester Nanami just enough to take down that highlight. But, semantics. 

His heart, however, might as well have been part of some experiment.

Because it’s been working overdrive since that night - mind reliving that moment over and over and over and- shit, he’s fucked. So, so fucked. 

Fucked enough that it took Satoru months just to muster up to even look in your pretty eyes once more, unless he wanted to get lost in them forever. Fucked enough that he dared to wonder again and again when there might be a fourth kiss - if there would be a fourth kiss. 

He just never thought it would happen the way it did - with you, standing outside his front door. 

“I’m sorry, Toru.” you mumble, “It’s just- I think we both need to grow up.”

You’ve freshly graduated now, looking more and more irresistible each time he sees you - even when you’re looking at him like that. 

Rolling his eyes, “Ha, is this another way of saying you want my secret to getting taller? Because the first thing is to-”

“I’m serious, Satoru.”

And oh how he wished you’d say something - anything - else right now. Call him anything but that. Maybe even throw an insult his way, tell him those new sunglasses look ugly, or about how you got that internship he would’ve died for. 

Satoru manages to choke out a heavy, “I don’t understand.” But that uncomfortable coil of something curling at the pit of his stomach said otherwise. And it causes him to finally breathe out a hesitant, “Maybe you’re right.”

As if that was all the answer you needed, you’re stepping out of the front door. Slow, and deliberate like you were giving him another chance - a thousand more. Sighing out a defeated, “It’s been years.” It has. “And we’re just running in circles.” You have. “I’m starting to think this is just some game to you.” It wasn’t.

“Wait!” he grasps your hand - soft. The look in your eyes even softer as you turn around to face his desperate face. “Please, sweetheart.”

Satoru doesn’t even know what words he wants to say - let alone whether they’d come out of his heavy mouth. 

So, instead, he’s crashing them into yours. 

Brief. Fleeting. Like each one before this. Too addictive, too short, that he thinks he’s almost imagining it as you pull away gently, until he sees that look in your eyes. 

“Toru, I have a date.”

The fourth kiss.

Satoru’s letting go of you like it burned - and, truly, it felt like some deep, dark part of him was burning down right now. “Great.” That should be hm that should be him that should be- “I’m…happy for you.”

And the last.

He fucked up.

He really, really fucked up.

That first date turned into a second. The second into a third. And unfortunately for Gojo, eventually, you were nearing your one-year anniversary with that asshat you’d met during the early days of your internship. 

He’d seen the man himself once, briefly at another one of Suguru’s famous parties. Ducking out of sight before he could be introduced, yet long enough to know that he wasn’t as tall, or as handsome, or as absolutely fucking hilarious. 

What did he have that Satoru didn’t? 

The answer to that, Satoru’s reminded of every time he’s causing ruckus over at Suguru’s apartment, and sees you walking out of your room, tittering on the phone to none other than your boyfriend. So gorgeous. So not his. 

You, that loser had you.

“If you sigh again I swear I’m shoving this popcorn up your a-”

“It’s a sad movie, Suguru!” he defends, draped across your couch at another one of those movie nights you loved to organize. As usual, there was the popcorn, the god-awful movie (if Satoru picks it), and the arguments. The only thing missing, however, was you. Ugh, something about an “anniversary” and a “seafood date”. Seriously, it’s not like you even enjoyed that new seafood restaurant in town, and he’s sure that bastard didn’t know-

“Satoru.” his best friend’s deadpan voice cuts through his little reverie. “We’re watching Mean Girls.”

And he’s barely even opening his mouth to snark back before-

SLAM!

Suguru pauses the movie almost immediately, turning to the direction of the front door. “Uh oh.” 

And lo and behold - there was you in all your pissed off, beautiful glory. Throwing your keys on the table, your fiery glare passes over the two men as you stomp to your bedroom. 

“Seafood wasn’t that good, sweetheart?” Satoru calls out behind you, eyes sweeping down your figure. Heart stuttering in his chest when you turn around with your fists clenched, lower lip wobbling in a way that Satoru would both kill whoever made you feel this way and die to be on the other side of those daggers in your eye. 

Sniffing out an icy, “Fuck off, loser and loserette.”

Then in a whirlwind of rage, you’re gone - your bedroom door slamming only slightly more gently than you’d done with the front door. Leaving a deafening silence, and Satoru whining, “Why am I the loserette?”

“Deserved.” Suguru shrugs. Warily eyeing your door, as if it was about to pounce at any given second, “Let her cool down before you give her an aneurysm at least.” Unpausing the television, propping his feet back up, “S’enough having to deal with you on top of a boyfriend like that.”

And that has Satoru perking up in interest - both figuratively, and literally as he snatches the remote and pauses the movie. “Wait wait wait what-” Holding it way out of Suguru’s reach, “What do you mean a ‘boyfriend like that’?”

Scoffing, “Funny. Now give me back the remote.”

A beat of silence passes. One. Two.

Only then does it dawn on Suguru that this might just not be some strange prank to stroke Satoru’s ego, and he was actually  more serious than he’d ever seen him. Damn. 

“Bro, have you really never met the guy or something? He’s a complete tool. I don’t know what happened, but this breakup was a long time coming.”

Satoru blinks, feeling a red hot surge of anger. “What? Seriously? Why didn’t you do anything about it?”

“You think I didn’t try?” he sighs, running a hand through his hair at the other’s uncharacteristic silence. “Hah, and just imagine, the man was talking about marriage, too. As if.”

And suddenly, Satoru’s hit with an image of you walking down the aisle. Not something he was a stranger to, but it still takes him aback. The sway of the fabric beneath his fingers, your lips against his. Hell, in that split-second he even dreams up how Nanamin would be crying very reluctant tears of joy. 

Everything. Everything that wasn’t his.

His fist tightens around the remote, until he could hear the cracking of plastic. Mind whirling with the thought of you and him and you. How he wished it was him and you. “I would’ve been better.”

Oh. 

Shit. 

“I- fuck this. Suguru, since elementary school I…”

And, well, Satoru’s so busy putting that extra physics seminar he took in university to work - trying to calculate the odds of surviving a jump out of this seven-storey window - that he almost misses Suguru’s low hum, a distant, almost barely-audible little interruption, “Well duh.”

“Hold on.” he’s snatching away the remote that had somehow slithered its way into the other’s hands once again. Ignoring his best friend’s croak of protests to pause in the middle of Regina George being hit by the bus - which, he felt was strangely enviable right now. “That was- what? YOU KNOW?”

“Huh? Even my parents know, the only one that doesn’t is her.”

“...”

Satoru didn’t know how Suguru seemed so calm, but he felt like he was about to spontaneously combust. Heart stuttering in his chest as he sideglances at your firmly shut door - like he was just waiting for you to jump out and tell him this was some elaborate prank. 

Begging for you to come - it would’ve hurt less.

But you don’t.

Fuck. 

And the only response he gets is a low whistle, before a phone is being shoved in his face - flashlight illuminating that crimson blush. “Damn, the great Gojo Satoru speechless? The groupchat is gonna love this, might even send it to my sister, y’know.” 

He didn’t care - didn’t give a shit if this video made rounds to Gakuganji himself. Only one thought racing through his mind right now. 

“But why aren’t you punching me like in elementary school?” 

And Satoru knows he’s smart - intelligent even. Hell, he was the valedictorian, the youngest employee to claw their way up to being on the board of directors. But he’s never felt more stupid when Suguru breathes out a bewildered, “Dude. That was for blaming me for the paper planes.” 

“Oh.”

Then the movie is unpaused. 

---

The last time you kissed Gojo Satoru was at the doorstep to that overpriced penthouse of his, exactly a year ago today. 

The last time you saw Gojo Satoru was just a few hours ago, lounging around your living room like he owned it. Honestly, he might as well have been part of the furniture at this point - like some expensive, fluffy couch. One that prattled on about your “dumbass boyfriend” and god-knows-what else to rile you up just for the fun of it.

Which is why it was odd to step out of your bedroom - eyes just a bit puffy, throat still tight - to a suspiciously quiet hallway. 

The lights were turned off, nothing but the pouring rain sounding from outside, television paused on some rerun of The Princess Diaries. Damn, you told those idiots not to start that one without you.

“Sugu?” you call, finding his bedroom empty. “Thought tonight was movie night?” Padding across the empty apartment, contemplating whether or not to get your phone and call him when-

Ding!

Ah, there. 

You roll your eyes as you head towards the front door, ready to give Suguru a piece of his mind for going out at this ungodly hour and forgetting his key. Seriously, what if you opened the door and he was hurt, or worse, or…

Satoru. 

Speaking a mile a minute.

Satoru.

“-florist was closed and the store clerk looked at me like I was crazy but I got this for-” he pauses abruptly, as if realizing something with a jolt. “-you.”

“You- what-” you don’t know where to look - at the drenched, disheveled Satoru filling your doorframe - rain in his hair, curtaining his frantic eyes, drenching his snug t-shirt. Or at the obscenely large bouquet of cheap strawberry lollipops being placed gently into your arms. 

What follows was an electric silence - and you have half the mind to tease Satoru for finally shutting the fuck up for once in his life. 

But, no. Instead, you eye the way he stands stubbornly at the doorway, fists clenched, blue eyes locked so intensely on yours that it was like they burned. 

Face flushed a familiar pretty pink that makes you realize that shit, he might be taller, voice deeper, broad shoulders tight against his t-shirt - but this was still the same boy that cried when you stole his favorite Digimon card in middle school. The same one that kissed you underneath a dingy slide, smelling of strawberry lollipops.

It’s the steady tap! tap! tap! of the water droplets from his hair that have you tearing your traitorous eyes from his see-through white t-shirt.

Guess you’ve both done some growing up since then.

“You loser.”

“Yes, sweetheart?”

The pink wrapping of the bouquet rustles as your grip tightens. “He proposed to me today, y’know.” and yet, your quiet, even voice was the only thing ringing in Satoru’s ears. He jolts, as if some visceral, primal part of himself had been poked awake. Breathing heavy, fists clenching until he could feel the neat indents of his fingernails on his palm. Of course. He’s late. He’s late he’s late he’s late-

That is, until you’re plowing on, “I said no.”

“Huh?”

You think back to the stuffy restaurant, the man sitting from across from you - how wrong it felt. And all it took were those four words for you to realize that. “I said no.” 

Satoru snaps his head up, stepping close - so close. Voice strained like he wasn’t asking - begging. Praying, “Why?”

“We…” you raise a brow at the way Satoru flinches as you trail off. So desperate. A smirk makes its way onto your face, “...we haven’t divorced yet, right?”

And then you’re kissing him - or maybe he’s kissing you. 

Fuck, you don’t know - nor do you really care right now. Not when Satoru’s got his lips crashing against yours for the fifth time in your life, kissing you like it would be the last. Big arms dipping down to your waist, pulling you so tight against his muscled frame that he had half the mind to wonder whether it hurt. 

“Love this. Love the way you kiss me- fuck-” he’s spitting against your lips, kicking the door shut behind him. “Oh- would ya get mad if I-” he tries to get out through kisses. Only to suck on your pretty lips with a pained grunt. “If I-” Again and again, like it killed him to part. “-hah- celebrated right now?”

“Yes.” You’re letting the bouquet fall to the foor, white-knuckling that useless, drenched excuse of a shirt. “Now kiss me properly, Toru.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Such a sloppy mix of teeth and hands and him. Shoving a knee between your legs, making up for years and years of late nights with nothing but his fist and the pretty thought of you. 

“Yeah, that’s it, sweetheart.” Satoru breathes out, as your urgent fingers that dispose of his shirt, feeling the gorgeous dips and curves of years of hard work to impress you. “Suck on m’tongue pretty- fuck-” His own fisting your shirt, pulling. Ripping.

“Toru!”

“I want you.” He’s letting the poor, tattered pieces drop in a pile on the floor, trailing a hand between your damp thighs before he can stop himself. “Oh how I’ve wanted you. And I don’t care if I have to buy fifty new outfits to make up for it.”

And it’s the feeling of his long index stroking up your sopping slit through your shorts that has you pulling away with a gasp. Delicate little strings of saliva snapping from Satoru’s kiss-bitten lips. “If we continue like this…” your voice wavers as he presses hot kisses along your collarbone. “-my brother’s gonna walk in.”

“...wouldn’t wanna relive that playground kiss, huh?”

It’s all he says before picking you up so easily, hands resting on your ass. Giving a playful spank ass you wrap your legs around his toned waist. 

And it’s sloppy.

Both his lips still hotly on yours and the way he’s stumbling urgently to your room through pure muscle memory. Pulling away only when you’re all splayed out so prettily for him on your mattress.

“Blue?” he breathes, pulling your shorts off. And it comes out strained - like the very sight of your panties - all soaked and flimsy with your slick - has whatever’s remaining of Satoru’s sanity flying out the window. “Blue? Oh, you’ve gotta have planned this, you little minx.” his hot breath hits your cunt as he shifts down the bed, tongue drawing languid, wet little circles on your inner thigh. “Because don’t tell me this was all for him?”

It was coincidence - or maybe fate - but that doesn’t stop you from giving Satoru a slow, teasing nod. Muttering out, “So what if it was?”

The only answer you get is thumb hooked around your shorts, pulling it just enough so that your brother’s best friend can spy your pretty pussy.

“Well then.” he chuckles at the way you jump when his fingertip just barely grazes your clit. “Guess I jus’ hafta prove m’better.”

A low groan is falling from his lips as soon as they meet your puffy ones, giving your pretty clit a chaste peck. Lingering long enough that he’s sure your sweet sweet juices cover his mouth.

And oh Satoru’s sure he’ll never forget the way your jaw falls slack, glassy eyes following his every move as he runs his tongue along his glossy lips. Savoring your candied taste, “Never kissed you like this before, huh?” 

Fuck, you’re sweeter than he’s imagined.

You whine desperately, something that has him smirking smugly, “Hah, what? Cat got your tongue?”

“You’re better when you shut up.” It’s all you can do to buck your hips into Satoru’s pretty face - not that you had to, because one taste of your dripping cunt and he was addicted. Surging forwards until he was nose-deep, locking your ankles around his head with a firm yank.

And you can’t lie - maybe you’ve imagined this exact scene a few times before on those lonely nights. But you just never expected Satoru to be so depraved. Desperate.

“Ngh- fuck, Toru-” you reach a hand down to thread your fingers through his hair, tugging his face up. But Satoru doesn’t stop - not even for a second. Tongue still dipping to spread your swollen folds with his tongue, looking you right in the eyes as he murmurs a strangled, “Mhm?” 

“Thought you were gonna prove you’re better, hm?”

So goading. So like you. 

At this, Satoru pulls back ever-so-slightly to laugh - laugh. His plump, glistening lips curling into a humorless little grin, “Oh I will.” Thumb circling your throbbing clit. Just dragging your twitching body across the silky sheets close to his, one hand pinning your hips down. Hard. “I will.”

Loving his new favorite place between your legs one hand toys with your clit, quick, messy little patterns. Tongue even more so. 

“Not just better.” he grunts, “Gonna make you cum so much harder, too.” Having your thighs shake with each word hissed out into your cunt, each turn of his deft fingers. “Till I’m the only thing on your mind. Me.”

And it’s all you can do to let out choked up groans of his name, back arching off the plush mattress to let him make out with your cunt deeper. Sloppier. So, so starved with the way he’s speeding up, tongue dragging across your walls. In and out in and out in and-

“Fuck! Hngh-” you angle his head - and he lets you. “There- Toru-”

Honestly, you didn’t even have to tell Satoru - he could feel it. Could feel it in the way your plushy walls are squeezing his hot tongue so harsh, until it was almost difficult to fuck your pussy so sloppily. In the way you’re letting out such delicious whines each time he grazes against those sweet spots. 

“There? Hah- I know.” he pulls away to muse, and your cute, disappointed whine goes straight to his already rock-hard cock. “Did he?”

He didn’t. And you’re shaking your head so pathetically - in a way you’d be embarrassed about usually. 

But that’s the last thing you’re thinking bout because you feel it - the cold, sinful feeling of Satoru spitting on your filthy cunt. Once. Twice. Blue eyes widening in delight at the way the mess of spit and slick drip down your slit. 

“Cute.” his tongue smoothes over the slutty pool, and the only thing your delirious brain can make out now is a low moan of, “So? Who’s better?”

It’s all you can do to choke out a broken little, “T-T-” Face burning at the way he was so clearly enjoying your struggle. And, well, no matter painfully hard it made his dick - he had to go just a bit easy on his girl, right?

“Shhhh, s’alright.” you flinch as he shoves two absolutely drenched fingers into your mouth, making so much more of a mess of it than necessary. Drinking in your cute gags, “I was asking her.” He’s making your head spin with the way he’s speeding up. “N’ she’s hah- very talkative.” Words muffled, and slurring together - like he was drunk off of you and your cunt. “Let’s hear what she has to ngh- say, huh?”

And with that, he’s alternating between lapping at your clit and squeezing into your sloppy entrance - like he couldn’t - didn’t - want to make up his mind. Oh, with your teary mewls strangled, the sound of Satoru making out with cunt is so loud. The squelches so obscene. 

“Fuuuuck.” he drawls. “Louder than I thought. I think she says I’m better, don’t you think?” 

You angle your head just right to catch the way his jaw grinds deeper into you, eating you out like his last meal. Your slick drooling down his chin so sinfully. 

“Ngh- fuck fuck fuck- ngh-” your yelps are dreamy, feeling like you were losing your mind with the way he was stretching you out. 

Like you were about to snap. Any second now. 

But Satoru’s only increasing his movements, drawing out your little moans. “And I think she’s saying…”  Getting sloppier. More erratic - and it didn’t matter if his fingers were cramping up now, cock aching with the need to be inside you. “-that she’s about to cum.”

You do - so hard and loud - both you and your cunt. 

You’re shaking, all but gushing all over Satoru’s mouth, tight pussy squeezing his tongue so hard. Barely even realizing the searing grip you’ve got on his hair as you drag your sloppy pussy all over his mouth.

But Satoru doesn’t mind - he gladly welcomes it, in fact. Tonguefucking your snug cunt senselessly, letting you chase your high as roughly as you wanted. Over and over.

Even when you’re vision isn’t as spotty as before, even when nothing’s coming out of your mouth but little whimpers. Your breathing dying down until all that rings in your barely-lucid mind were those obscene noises of Satoru’s lips all on yours. 

“T-Toru-” you whine, big fat tears pricking at your hazy eyes. “M’so sensitive.”

And of course this is Satoru, the same boy who’s been pushing your buttons for years just to giggle at your adorable reactions. Which is why he grins against your twitching cunt, “So?”

It takes everything in you to raise your head off the pillow that just seemed to be swallowing you whole, and even more to shoot Satoru a half-hearted glare. “So m’gonna ngh- assume you’re jus’ a pussy with a s-smaller dick than-”

You don’t get to finish your sentence - he doesn’t let you. Because Satoru’s fumbling with his belt, peeling off those still-drenched pants just enough for you to admire his clothed erection. 

And, shit, admittedly you expected him to have a big dick - having been subjected to way too much locker room talk with your brother - but this was ridiculous. 

“What? Too big?” He flashes you that infuriating grin. Palming his rock-hard cock through his boxers at the way your beautiful eyes trace the outline of his cock, all swollen and big. So intimidatingly big. “Damn, sweetheart, if I knew that this was how I’d get that feisty lil’ mouth of yours to shut up then I’d have done it a lot sooner.” 

And you don’t even know if you’re breathing, the pads of your fingers dancing along his bulge. Tracing those prominent veins. Thumbing that little damp spot at his fat head. “You wouldn’t have.” 

He hisses as your soft hands dip into the hem of his underwear. Voice cracking slightly, “I wouldn’t.”

Then you’re gasping - in sync with Satoru’s low moan - as you finally let him spring free. Thick cock hitting his sculpted abs, red tip smearing precum in a lewd little pool. Weeping and so so angry at the sight of you.

At the heavenly feeling of your thumb teasing under his sensitive slit, “Oh, shit.” 

He’s throwing his head back when you give an experimental pump, all the way from his pretty tip to the tufts fo white at his hilt. Fist gliding all over the thumping veins. Bucking his hips up like such a slut into your touch. 

“O-oh fuck.” he cracks an eye open at the way your hand looked so small compared to his dick, how well you were taking care of him. “Been ngh- dreaming of this since I learned what handjobs were, y’know? Hah- shit- ya gotta stop before I fuckin’ pass out.”

And Satoru thinks he could cum right then and there at the way you’re bringing your soaked index up to your mouth. Batting your lashes as you suck on them with a lewd pop! “From jus’ that?”

“You have no idea.”

That’s all it takes for Satoru to throw your still-quivering thighs over his shoulders, effectively shutting up whatever tease is on the tip of your sharp tongue by kissing your swollen folds with his fat head. Giving it one, long drag. 

Your mouth is sagging open at the slow, torturous teasing. The sheer anticipation that had your mouth running, “S-so much for ah- jus’ being ‘friends’, huh?”

“Oh, sweetheart.” And you’re flinching from Satoru’s deep, dark tone. The way he’s bracing his fingers so bruisingly on your hips, reeling all the way back till his tip was just kissing your hole. “We stopped being friends the day you married me on that playground.” 

And then he’s slamming in - pushing past that first, feeble ring of resistance, gummy walls stretching out so perfectly for him. As if he fit right in - and he tells you that. Pants it into your open mouth a little over fifteen times, in fact. 

“Shiiiit, look at you.” he can’t tear his eyes away from the side of your lips stretching so wide to try and milk him. Sloppy entrance stretching out like magic. “S’like you’re made for me, huh? This pussy is made f’me?”

“Ngh- fuck, Toru! S’too big-” you keen, feet flattening on the mattress. As if to escape. To maybe fucking breathe.  

Not even half-way in yet, but aleady torn between pushing away and sinking yourself down on his swollen cock for more more more-

“Don’t you dare run away.” he warns, looking up at you through his long lashes. “I’ve waited too long for this. N’ you’re not taking this pretty pussy away any time soon.” Inch by fucking inch. Grinding in short, sharps jabs - no rhythm of rhyme, like they were genuinely out of control. “Way too f-fuckin’-” All the way until your puffy folds was meeting his hilt. Finally. All the way in. “-long.”

And once Satoru had you split apart on his dick - had those tears rolling down your cheeks, cunt swallowing him so sluttily - it’s like something snaps. 

Because he doesn’t waste a second - he’s already wasted almost two decades, anyway - filling you up with his mean hips. Not fucking easing you into it because you always did bring out that part of him, the part that him looping two strong arms around your waist. Pulling. 

“Oh- f-fuck c’mere.” Satoru gasps, pressing your body so crushingly against his. Kissing your shaky shoulers, your sweaty forehead, the gentleness so contrasting to his hips.“God I’ve missed out- fuck fuck fuck-” 

You’ve never seen the great Gojo Satoru - campus sex symbol - so uncomposed. Eyes half-lidded, just boring into yours, mouth slack in a soft oh! as he drags his cock all over inside your gummy walls. And the sight is so heavenly that you make the mistake the mistake of cracking a minute smile.

Just barely curling your lips before - “Don’t smile at me like that.” He’s dipping down a hand to roll your ravaged clit between two bullying fingers. “Fuck, she’s gonna be the death of me. Right?”

You keen at the- stimulation? The strech? The sheer embarrassment as you realize that Satou’s still talking to your sloppy pussy? Nodding so mockingly up at you as he plows on, “Mhm, she says you needa be ngh- knocked down a god, you’re tight- peg or two. So- get- ready-” 

He’s using this as an excuse to sit up on his knees, dragging you onto his lap so easily like some ragdoll. 

“That’s more like it.”

You’re sliding deeper down his painfully hard cock - all the way till his heavy balls rest beneath your ass, clit rubbing against his pelvis every time he bounces you like some slut.  

Deep. Ruthless.

“Keep your eyes open, sweetheart.” He chuckles, and you’re screwing open your eyes that you don’t even remember shutting. Trying so hard to stop crying out at the feeling of the curve of his dick massaging your walls. “Ya gotta hngh- see the o-only one who’d fuckin’ you properly, right?”

You squeal when he’s taking your clit captive once more. Finger quick, deft. “Y-yes.”

But that wasn’t enough for Satoru - it might as well never be. Because he’s only ramming his hips up further. Like he’s pushing into your stomach, your lungs, all the way into your cockdrunk brain. Fat head alternating between kissing your poor, abused cervix and all those sweet spots he’d mapped out with his tongue.

“Sounded unsure to me.” he’s pouty against your hardened nipples bouncing enticingly in his face. Fingers quirking faster on your clit, “Maybe I should ngh- stop then?”

“No!” Your hips stutter against Satoru’s. Nails clawing down the sculpted panes of his shoulders, leaving red angry marks for him to take as a sign tomorrow morning that no, it wasn’t just one of his dreams this time. “No no no- m’sure. You’re the only one makin’ me feel this way.”

You can feel the way he’s twitching wildly at your words, dick thumping harder inside your sensitive cunt. 

He punctures each word with a heavy, calculated thrust. Hand stretching and squeezing open your cunt from behind to let him slide impossibly deeper. “Hmmm, I’m not convinced.” 

Your stupid mouth is only capable of letting out broken, choked-up little moans of his name, ankles locking around those dimples at the end of his spine. “S’you–”

“Still not convinced.”

But he’s still speeding up his movements, just dragging you up and down his cock. “Who else made you hah- feel this good?” Sure to claim you from the inside out - to leave marks everywhere. Heavy balls on your ass, weeping tip on your cervix, lips bruised as you whimper at his murmured, “That ex of yours?” Biting down your neck, “That barista that always flirts with you?” Pulling away only to breathe into your lips, “Who?”

“ I- fuck it’s only you, Toru.”

“Sound convincing to you?” Satoru hums down at your cunt, biting his lower lip at the way you were milking him so good. Your slick soaking him all the way down to his balls - so needy in a way he never thought he’d see. “Yeah-” be breathes, nosing at your neck. “She agrees- fuck does this tight lil’ pussy of yours agree.” A few tears, a few gorgeous marks down his back, and he was finally convinced. “You’re mine.”

You don’t even realize it when you’re cumming, and Satoru doesn’t either.

Both of you too caught up in each other to recognize that familiar, white-hot pleasure running down your spine - all the way down to where he was so mercilessly buried in your cunt.  

And you’re well into the blood roaring deafeningly in your ears, the sight of Satoru - all wrecked - blurring as he fucks his hips up. Harsh. Eyes rolling to the back of his head as he paints your quivering walls white. 

Cumming and cumming so hard that you can feel his seed dribbling down your thighs, making such a mess all over Satoru’s lap. Your poor, overfilled cunt soon bloated and unable to keep up with it.

“Toru–” you whine, like a prayer. Milking the fucking soul out of him while he gently paws at your messy hair.

“Shhh, I know I know, sweetheart.” Such a stark contrast to the way he was filling you up like his favorite sex toy. Not even bothering to move anymore, one hand on your hip, moving your limp body up and down his sensitive cock to fuck it deeper. The other still playing with your clit, “S’alright, my girl”

Satoru’s hands never leave you, and he prays that now that he got a taste - well, you better be alright with them not leaving you for as long as he lives.

“As long as you live, huh?” you chuckle groggily, a noise so dreamy that Satoru can’t even be mad that he said it out loud. “And all that riling me up these years. Do you have a degradation kink or something?”

“Well, only one way to find out~”

“Oh shut up you-”

SLAM!

“Yooo, I bought dinner from that- WHAT THE FUCK?”

There were only two more lessons to be learned:

Always lock the door. Always. And in case you don’t, a bouquet of lollipops will do the trick to a Suguru reeling from the newest addition to the family. 

Cheap takeout tastes better with an apologetic Suguru, and an ice pack to his cheek - and you to kiss it better.

A/N. Can you tell I kept listening to that one Artemas song while writing this?

Plagiarism not authorized.

[lamefish]

kento nanami is an anniversary man. nsfw

you think it's sweet, how he has the date of big events in his life on memory. when it's a loss, he'll take the day off to remember, with his head in your lap as he tells stories of whomever has passed. you listen intently, ask questions about them and watch as your husband recounts every good thing about a person.

he celebrates the good, too. almost excessively. the date you met is circled on the calendar, and kento will wake you up with breakfast in bed and a day of doting to show you just how important this anniversary is to him. you turned his world upside down in the best of ways, and what kind of man is he if not one to celebrate the light in his life?

of course, your wedding anniversary too. it's the one he goes all out for: more often than not you put a weekend aside to take a trip and spend some uninterrupted time together. you'll act as newlyweds again, because you still feel like newlyweds despite the passing years, and you'll be reminded over and over just how lucky you are to have found your soulmate in a man like kento nanami.

a man who is sentimental, and so very in love with you. and also celebrates the first time you had sex.

that first year, he had spent the day doting on you so profusely that you were convinced he was going to propose. he was pulling out all of the stops, taking you out fopr an expensive meal, dosing you with fine wines and so many kisses you could get drunk off the taste of him alone. he took you home, ran you a scented bath and took care of the house while you relaxed.

and of course the night ended in mind blowing sex—as your nights usually do. he had insisted on fucking you in missionary despite his recent penchant for taking you from behind and, once he has ripped two orgasms from you and was working on your third, he let it slip.

“we made love for the first time a year ago today,” he whispers against your lips, cock pulsing inside of you as he reaches deep inside of you. “just like this—looking into each others eyes, three orgasms from you, two from me. fell in love with you that night, do you know that honey?”

“you kept track of the day?” you cant finish your sentence without a moan breaking from your throat. “kento, you’re something else.”

“of course i did. it’s an important date, reaching such intimacies—feeling these beautiful velvet walls of yours for the first time… i’ll never forget it.”

you laugh, though it’s quickly swallowed by a kiss from your lover. he rocks his hips into you, feels every inch of his veiny cock disappear inside. he looks down to watch himself sink into you, though his gaze his brought back when you speak.

“three.”

kento blinks. “three what?”

“orgasms from you. you said you had two, but you came a third time right at the end—i milked you dry and you were so sex-drunk and exhausted but you insisted on making me food.” you reach down and grab his hand, the one that had been cupping at your chest, and hold it up for him to see the gentle scar that runs across his thumb. “you cut yourself slicing the bread because i fucked you mindless.”

it comes back to him in gentle flashes. you had, in fact, milked him of a third release. he had just been so out of his mind with nerves and pleasure that the memory had washed itself clean from his mind. he scolds himself mentally for ever daring to forget a detail about being intimate with you, but smiles.

“i remember,” he says. “you told me sex made you hungry so i wanted to incorporate it into your aftercare…”

“silly man,” you wrap your legs around his waist and lick your ankles behind him. with a gentle nudge, he’s forced that tiny bit deeper inside of you. “my silly man.”

kento moans—his eyes flutter shut and his lips catch between his teeth. he adores you—he really does. so much so that the sheer memory of his first time with you is quickly becoming too powerful of a memory to have.

and you, his beautiful other half, laid beneath him with lustful eyes and parted lips, smile up at him. “are we recreating our first time, ken? is that what this is?”

he nods, a little wordless as he tries to keep his mind straight.

“then i think you know what i’m going to do to you, my love.”

he smiles. “milk me for all i have. it’s all yours anyways.”

you lean up and kiss him. it’s slow, gentle, like your first kiss with him was. you taste him wholly on your lips and thank all the divine beings that may exist for putting such a man in your life’s trajectory. his cock twitches inside of you, he fills you out so perfectly.

still, you smile as you roll your hips up to meet his. “just let me handle the aftercare this time.”

[tojisteddy]

Jumping The Gun

or: the one where John Price fucks the idea of marriage into you.

cw: 5.9k words (gawd DAMN), 18+ MDNI, klutz in love!Price, kinda toxic!Price, smut with plot, no use of y/n, dumbification, squirting, p in v, protected & unprotected sex, dubcon, dumbification, creampie, breeding kink, marathon!, water show, cum eating, engagement, reader!has tattoos, reader!is in denial of Egypt, Daddy said a couple times idk, john visuals, reader visuals,

a/n: My Whole Life by Alina Baraz *chefs kiss*

Everyone in the 141 was shocked when John Price came back after taking a month an a half off for leave with a golden ring on his ring finger, a new picture frame to place on his desk, and practically jumping off the roof to fill out more paperwork for a special someone. Again.

You were his third marriage.

John was good at making quick decisions, making up his mind at the exact right time when it was do or die. But the old man was a complete klutz when it came to love.

The first marriage, admittedly, was never gonna last long. He was fresh out of highschool, still in the infantry and married his highschool sweetheart. His parents were sceptical but supportive. It wasn’t uncommon to marry early, hell, his parents did so why couldn’t he?

It just wasn’t in the cards.

The distance and the worry was just too much. The divorce was clean cut since they didn’t have any kids and we’re still young. Him and his ex-wife, Cara, were still fairly close. He’d get a call from the woman and her husband (surprisingly) to come over for dinner every once in a while. No bad blood.

But that second marriage? John was a goddamn idiot.

Was it his fault he married with his eyes and not with his brain? Yes. A man is still a man at the end of the day. You see a woman with an amazing set of knockers on her, pretty blue eyes, skinny waist and blonde hair— you’d fall for it too!

She was obnoxious, loud, and always, always, always needed new clothes, shoes, hair and nails done. Now John had no problem spending on his woman, he’d bring down Jupiter if had to. The problem was she complained and whined. Complained about the clothes not being ‘high quality enough,’ the house not being big enough, the brand new convertible not pink enough. Whined when she went over the already pricey budget the man set for her, that she couldn’t spend his life savings on her, that John was too hairy, ran too warm, too tall—no fucking sense.

He got out of the marriage by the scrape of his teeth, lucky that his siblings convinced him to get a prenup. She left with no pounds to her name, shoving all her belongings in that hot pink convertible and crying that no money went to her when the captain had sold the house.

But you? Oh you. His honey, sweet girl, little wanderer— you were the real deal.

John was walking with a couple friends heading to some bar a few hours after being back in the UK. You were walking the opposite direction, bags from different stores after a day of shopping in your hand. You looked like a model, long black trench coat on, a fitted baby blue crop top, black leather shorts that showed off the tattoos that went down your legs, slouched heeled boots that went mid calf. Curls blowing in the wind, you thankfully hadn’t noticed the hairy fellow till you bumped into him.

“You alright?”

Your brown eyes met his blue ones as he steadied you upright. You were awe struck, as if you were meeting a famous person on the street but you had just ran into a good looking older, muscular, brunette with a few stray grey hairs. You slowly started nodding, laughing aloud at yourself at how dumb you probably looked. “ ‘M just fine.” You said breathlessly.

You started to hear the passing cars, bustle of the streets and the murmur from your phone as your friend on the line was calling out to you. “Shit, I-I gotta go.”

And your feet was guiding you away without another word but your eyes were still glued to the man as you walked away. Looking back as he watched you walk away. You chuckles as you got back on the phone with your friend, disappearing into the croud.

The second time he saw you he was heading for a tea, as he walked past ‘Walker Travel Agency.’ John glanced inside and there a woman sat— no— you, sat turning in your chair towards the computer as you spoke to someone through your Bluetooth. You were dressed in an oversized white button up, black slacks, hair now pin straight in a low ponytail, pinned back by a few purple clips with very a light blush on your cheeks.

Even dressed casually, you were a sight for sore eyes. He tried his best not to look like a creep as he finally went to go get his tea but his eyes were glued to you as he walked past the office again. He figured it was fine just this once. Twice, three times— okay, maybe a forth that was completely out of the way of the military base and his own home but this was fine.

He was just getting tea after all.

But the forth time you stood by the water cooler sipping water, you caught those blue eyes. A small smile formed on your face as he tripped a bit once he saw you finally looking back at him. You gave him a small, shy wave with your fingers before he completely passed the building. Your angelic smile growing wider as he passed the building again to get to his car.

And that continued for another week, waves and smiles and stupid blushes that made his heart jump outs until he finally got the courage to pop his head in. He’d just say hello, this was a silly crush. Nothing more, nothing less.

The doorbell chimed once the door opened and you immediately sat straight in your chair, as you were trained to do when a potential customer came in.

“I was thinking of a trip?”

No he wasn’t. He knew that, you knew that by the way he was completely dressed in military attire and kept staring at you instead of the posters of different vacation spots on the wall. But you nodded your head, gesturing for him to take a seat in front of your desk.

“Where would you like to go sir?”

You two hit it off after that. John would pop his head in, leaving thirty minutes before his lunch break even started just to get his little dose of you, before running off to get a tea. You even started making tea so he didn’t have to go to the coffee shop.

Right, it was his lunch break?

You’d made sure to start packing lunch for two and arranging meetings so your lunch break was suddenly at the same time as his. You didn’t know why you did it for your new friend, it just felt right. You made that forty something year old man feel like a teenager again, he couldn’t just sit on this crush forever. He wouldn’t.

*Care to join me for a pint after work?*

A simple text that he’d debated on for two days had him flushed.

*new message*

Don’t usually drink beer :(

Two days down the drain. Maybe he should’ve asked for dinner instead? Or a movie? A walk? Too fucking causal—

*new message*

but if you’re the one asking, how can I say no?

text me where baby :))

Gaz had to make sure he wasn’t sick before he left work that day because he was as red as a cherry tomato.

You laid it out clean to John that you weren’t ready for a relationship.

“ ‘M too flighty ya see.”

“How so?” You two had already been in the crowded pub at a booth, you’d been chatting for 3 hours already senselessly. One pint for each of you, you weren’t good with beer while John just didn’t wanna make a drunken mistake.

“I told you I’ve just been here for a year, right?”

He hummed, nodding for you to continue.

“Well I was in Brazil before that, Osaka for a couple months before that. DR, LA and France before all that.”

“Oh, you’re a real traveler I see.”

“More than you.” You smirked and John laughed, “Think you can beat me sweetheart? Been all over the world ‘nd back. Thrice over.”

You teased, “I can beat’cha soon enough, just wait on it.” You sighed, picking up your half empty glass to take a sip, “But really, a relationship right now is a no-can-do for me. I’d hate to waste yer time after you’ve been so kind t’me honey.”

“Not a single moment with you has been a waste’ve time, believe me [+].” It was gentle but stern, your fingers brushed over the table which made your heart race faster.

John was too sweet, sinkingly so. It made you question how his marriages didn’t work sometimes but you kept your mouth shut about it. You gave him a smile, “I wouldn’t mind bein fuck buddies though.”

His thick eyebrows furrowed together, “Oh John come on now, you ain’t that old!”

Friends who fucked, he knew what it was. But with you? Someone that he’d grown to care for? This was a line he preferred not to cross.

But damn, those brown eyes under the dim light, the mid length blow out that went just below your shoulders, your long sleeve flared blouse that showed off your cleavage just right, wasn’t helping. He hadn’t even realized he’d given you a ‘sounds good to me’ before you gave him an okay and went on to another topic as if you two hadn’t just agreeded to be sex partners.

The night came to a close around 10:50, John didn’t want you at the station by yourself late at night since you were a woman so he took you home.

“I’m a grown woman, John.” You insisted for the thousandth time.

“Yer a grown woman that ‘m drivin home. Exactly. Yer right.” John nodded along with you nonchalantly and you groaned into a giggling fit, no longer being able to fight with him over this.

You pulled up to your apartment and pointed out a parking spot, John followed suit. Thinking you’d probably rather get out of a parked car than hold up traffic on a Friday night.

You got out the car, looking between your apartment building and the older man.

“You wanna come up?”

John fucking Price was a god damn problem.

The first time you two fucked, was just to dip your toes in. See if the older man could handle you, keep up with what you were up to.

The second time was for good measure. You had to make sure it wasn’t an illusion! Get your bearings in order.

The third time— looking back you should’ve known that’s when he caught you. And I mean really had you for good because you’d be damned if he was fucking some other girl the way he was fucking you.

You had to have a cordial briefing with your friend group, explaining to them how you were now a born again Christian because John didn’t just have you seeing stars. No— you saw Jesus resurrecting from the tomb, legs shaking as they were wrapped around his hips. Chest to chest, as John knelt on the bed, fucking up into you through your orgasm. You’d pushed yourself away from him but he snatched you up just before you passed out.

“Stay with me lovie, can’t have you passin out on me can I?” His pink lips connected with your neck again. Your entire body was trembling. This fool, this barbarian, loooved making you a dummy on his dick. You’d learned that the second time. But this time, fuck, it was strange.

“Strange, baby, it feels- mmph s-strange.” You mumbled through a moan, you were limp as he held onto your waist with one arm, bouncing you just the way he needed you to. He was practically using you as a sex toy and you hadn’t minded. You were drooling on his shoulder and down your own face and that freak kept lapping it up. Opening your mouth so he could spit it back in you and suck on your tongue.

“Your tight little cunt squeezing me so good. You love when I suck your tongue, don’t you pretty?”

Your eyes were rolling into each other again, “loooove it sooooo much Daddy.”

“Come on, kiss me while I give it to you.” He didn’t have to tell you twice to get your lips to latch onto his. John kissed so romantic like, slow, desperate— like he was trying to mold the two of you together and you loved it. John’s thrusts got fast, barley pulling out with every swing of his hips up into your tight walls. But he kept hitting your g-spot, clit rubbing right at the bottom of his hairy abdomen. It felt amazing— too amazing—

You yankied yourself away from him again, “wait! ‘M serious- J- fuuuck- John! It’s too weird! I’m- shit- ‘m gonna pee!”

“ ‘S not pee, let it go.” He gruffed, groaning at how good you felt around his swelling cock.

“It isssss!” You whined out, slapping at his arms but he wouldn’t let up.

“Come on sweet girl, squirt all over me. Wanna be covered in you.”

And the crash came, water works flying every which way and your eyes. John came right after you, babbling about how good you were, how amazing you felt around him. But you were crying real tears now, you swore you just peed all over this older man’s thighs even though you told him it was weird. It was humiliating.

“I told you I was gonna pee, ‘nd you didn’t listen!” You hiccuped, covering your face as John laid you back on the bed. He’s eyebrow lifted as he slipped out of you, removing the filled condom and examining the situation that was now on his pudgy stomach, his thighs, your legs and the bed.

“Sweetie,” he started chuckling at how cute were being, you shoved one of your wobbly legs at his chest. It didn’t do any damage. “Have you never squirted before?”

“No,” you sniffled, “ ‘s just pee!”

“ ‘S not the same thing lovie.”

“Yes it issss!” You retorted, going to kick him again but your own leg giving up on you.

John rubbing your thighs as he got inbetween them. Your pussy was glistening in the rooms light, too mesmerized, he let the pads of two fingers take a swipe of all the juices that sat on your vulva and putting it in his mouth. He moaned at the taste.

You gasped, “John!” You hadn’t meant to see the sight through your fingers but shit, it was making you even more wet. The older saw you squirm, shaking his head, he needed a front row seat this time. He lifted your thighs over his shoulders so his mouth was right in front of your cunt.

“Gotta feel it on my tongue baby, won’t you? Please?”

You two went on like that, calling each other whenever you needed. You were always the first to know when the Captain got home, before his own family, because he’d have his fat cock in you by the time you could finish saying ‘welcome back.’

John couldn’t lie and say it was inconvenient getting to let off steam other than exercising or taking a swing of bourbon. It didn’t help that you were actually such a sweet girl, he loved being around. You two would hang out when you had the chance, going out and about or just watching a movie at home. When you were out, all dolled up in a mid thigh, navy blue sun dress and white heels showed off those gorgeous legs, curls in a high ponytail— you two looked like a sugar daddy and a sugar baby. But you never cared about the looks people gave you, you’d grab his larger hand in yours that was freshly manicured with long soft yellow nails and swing your hands back and forth. Even taking the time to introduce the man properly when you ran into your friends on the street.

“He’s a real carin, smart and just all around incredible guy I swear,” Your eyes would beam at him, so longingly then back to your friends and back to John because you always found yourself getting lost in his pretty ocean blue eyes. “I’m real thankful to have met a man like him.”

How could he have not fallin for you?

It was when you and John accidentally ran into his parents while casually hanging out in his home town he knew he just had to marry you.

You were as charismatic as ever, your southern charm easily pulling them in. John thought for sure they’d be more careful since you were younger than the past two women that John brought to meet them. But despite how eccentric you looked in your shorts that hung off your hips, waist beads around your stomach, crop top and the tattoos that his parents generation definitely weren’t used to, layered necklaces and bracelets— they easily fell for you just like he did.

“You sure ‘bout takin them out for lunch, [+]? You don’t have to.”

You rolled your eyes, pulling out of the parking spot and onto the road.

“It’s only right to treat the folks who raised you John. They’ve done well with you, ‘nd ‘m sure your siblings ‘re just as kind. Plus I kinda wanna see more of your smile through your mom. It’s sooo fuckin cute.”

Yup.

That was right there confirmed, he was gonna put a ring on that fuckin finger. He could’ve blurted it out while at that quaint little lunch you had. His parents adored you, even got your number down to give you a call if you needed anything while you were still in the UK.

The man was gonna get you to stay in the UK.

The first time he’d asked, it was too fucking casual. Again, the man was always too eager. Tripping and falling through love was a bad habit of his. You’d laughed in his face.

“John, baby, please be serious.” You threw your braids up in a ponytail, tip toeing around the room to get your clothes. John did that on purpose, the old man always wanted a little more time with you, to see the sunrise kissing your skin perfectly as that after glow of sex looked gorgeous on you.

He’d pout under that thick beard, fuckin precious bear, “ ‘M bein serious. Want us t’get married, be happy.”

“Don’t you leave next week John?”

“So?”

You deadpanned, “John.”

Okay, he was too eager that time. He should’ve thought it though. Right, you deserved proper proposal planning. Not some random after sex question. You made your way over to that big guy, he was still naked, sitting on the bed with his feet on the floor. You bent over, that same gleam in your brown eyes that shown every time you looked at him. He could’ve fuckin melted right then and there as you placed your hands on his knees, leaving a long a gentle kiss on the corner of his lips.

“You call me if ya need anything John. I mean it, even if it’s those fuckin cookies-“

“—Biscuits—“

“—Whateverrr~” you giggled, lightly touching his beard as John took your waist in his hands. Shit, he’d miss you. Miss your kindness, your willingness to drop everything for him, those long lashes that fluttered when you woke up. “I’ll send ‘em yer way, letter ‘f course too. Whatever ya need, John, you let me know.”

With the softest kiss on the lips, you were on your merry way just as you usually were.

The second time John proposed, he did it right.

He had a proper ring. Simple, because you loved simple. The box was in his pants pocket the entire night, itching to get out. You went to a nice fancy dinner to a place you swore you’d only told him once about, took you for a nice stroll, your curls in a half up, half down, dress hugging you just right and John was in a dressy casual. Ultra simple, classic. He was sure he’d get a yes this time.

He hadn’t even gotten the chance to get on he knee before you’d grab his hands. Your bottom lip trembling.

“Sweetheart…”

“Need you tuh listen t’me baby, please.” You pleaded, tears already threatening to burst out like a dam.

“Now I care ‘boutcha so much John. So much that I hate myself fer puttin you in a situation like this.” You sniffled, squeezing his hand to reassure him.

“But ya can’t marry me.” John lamented.

“John—“

“—what is it then? Is it the age gap? I thought you’d gotten over it.”

“John-“ “-clothes? I’ll give it to you. Want me to shave? Done. Love? I’ve got multitudes. If it’s money- it’s yours.” He was racking his brain for something, anything that could’ve draw you to keep him near. 

“I don’t want your money John.” You cursed.

“Then what do you want?! Why can’t I give it to you?!”

“I want your happiness above all else John! But I can’t-“ your voice croaked. You let go of his hands, “I can’t give that back to ya. I know I can’t.”

“Tha’s a fuckin lie—“

“—I’m sorry John. Truly.”

Without another word, you’d ran off. Your heals clicking against the pavement, cries heard through the silent park.

You’d known John for a year but technically only about 5 months since he was away for the other seven. But you knew so much about him, he’d send letters whenever he could, call, text and be right with you when he was back because it ‘felt like the place he needed to be’. It wasn’t a shock that John had grown to love you, it was a shock that you’d grown to love him too.

It scared the living shit out of you.

So you did what you always did.

Move.

It never took you long, you always had a storage unit ready, a few cardboard boxes in the back of your closet, a new job to hire you in another country because you always knew a little bit of the language. But this time you didn’t move far enough, you didn’t have to heart to. If John were to call you right now, you would’ve dropped what you were doing and ran to him.

Which is why you blocked him on everything (even though he didn’t use social media that often).

You moved yourself to the countryside, in a much smaller apartment but in a much quieter town by the sea. You were working the front of a fish market, did you know about fish? No. Did they hire you because you were pretty and your endless list of credentials at other random places on your resume? Yes. You didn’t have a problem with blending right in, building peoples trust with ease.

It was a good and bad habit.

John on the other hand was loosing his mind because he didn’t know where the hell you were. He couldn’t call you, couldn’t text you, and you weren’t replying to his letters. Fuck, the man called his parents and they managed to get an answer but only vague answers.

He’d come to you flat after being away, rushing through (but properly taken care of) a mission because he needed to make sure you were alright. As he rung thr buzzer, he got no answer. He was lucky one of your neighbors came out and told him what had happened.

How could you have moved without telling him, of all people?

It hurt him more than anything to have a mishap like that happen and then not be able to contact you. But to move? With no explanation?

He could play cat and mouse.

He’d play it constantly in the 141, taking down terrorists and the like in less than a couple weeks— you’d be an easy find. He was sure of it.

He’d found you soon enough, a couple days, in that god damn fish market, a wide smile on your face as you talked to the multiple people who crowded the stall where you worked. Why were you working here of all places?

He ignored the growing concerns, joining the line of customers at the stall. Most of the customers having something to say to you and you encouraging more conversation as they made their orders and paid. Then it was his turn. He took a step forward and you looked up at him like you’d seen a ghost. Your heart dropped out of your ass. He looked to the fish that sat on display on ice, then to you and titled his head.

“When do you get off?”

“John-“

“-When.” The older man spoke tightly. It came out more like a statement than a question.

The lady who worked with you, Malissa, chimed in with a knowing smile, “Give ‘er an hour.”

Your eyes widened at the older woman whilst John gave her a pleased look, “I’ll be around.” John left the building and you felt your stomach turn over. You glared at Malissa and she laughed at you, “But it’s love, isn’t it [+]?”

Was it that obvious?

Couldn’t have been. As if the blush showed on your brown cheeks. You gave him the same smile you did everyone else, didn’t you? The same kindness, same glances you snuck, soft touches, and the same brushing of fingers. The way you held onto that man’s arm as you presented him to your friends like a trophy, you did the same to anyone else you admired, right? Right?

No fucking way you did. John was the one, well, situation you fully committed to head first. And you didn’t even know when that happened, you liked the thought of someone romantically caring for you, the kindness and joy that was always a package deal when being in that guys presence. Someone that took you and your hopes and dreams serious for once in your life.

Oh God, you were in deep love with John Price.

You could’ve been thrown across the field by your own heart pounding so loud when you walked out of the market. John sitting on the bench, cigar between his fingers, watching the passersbyers and then at you. He stood, nodding for you to follow him in some direction.

“Let’s take a walk.”

The tension was too damn high. You could feel it through the air as you too walked, the only sound being made was the sound of you feet on pavement, the jingle of keys, the sea in the distance. Your curls were probably a mess now, the cold air blowing every which way.

“How’ve you been?” You tried cutting through the ice, eyes finding anything else to look at.

John paused for a moment, a sigh coming out, “I didn’t think you hated me enough to block me [+].”

You winced, as if it pained you to hear those words alone. “I could never hate you John.”

“Then why-“ another frustrated sigh, “You switched jobs to avoid me!”

You squinted your eyes, “Why would you wanna see me after that John!? There was nothing more to say. I was trying to make your life easier!”

“And why would life be easier without you?” His eyebrows furrowed, hand on his hip. He kept rubbing his face.

You opened your mouth to say something, try to get out of the mess you made but nothing would come out. John wanted to laugh at this but it’s not like it would be genuine. Scoffing, he flicked the end of the cigar to the ground. You were like a Hurricane, create a mess to keep people away but right at the center, there was a serene calm. Only soft winds. You didn’t know what you were doing with yourself. John, saw that.

“I’ll take you home.”

“I can walk from here though.”

John gently took your hand in his, looking down at you with sincerity in his blue eyes. “You know how I feel about you bein alone like this. Let me take you home.”

It didn’t take much convincing, it was just a short 5 minute drive from the hills you stood now to your flat. John opened the door to the car for you, making sure you were safely tucked in before slamming it shut and getting in the drivers side. He drove off, down to the main road but then passed the street you had pointed out.

“Where we going?”

“Home.”

“But my place is-“

“—[+], please.” His jaw was clenched, gripping the wheel and your thigh. “You hate it so much, you yell to the rooftops that ya hate me. Despise every breath I breathe. I’ll stop right now.”

Like you would. You huffed, crossing your arms and looking out the window.

John didn’t get irritated easy. Patience was a vertue, that’s what his parents told him all the time. After two marriages you’d think the man would’ve learned by now.

But the man was starving for you, aching to have you say you were his and he was yours after all this and you still not knowing what you wanted— he’d make the decision for you.

You would be his wife and you two were getting married.

The thought of John being mean hadn’t crossed your mind once.

John Price who was usually so gentle, tapping your thigh so you could move yourself in whatever position he wanted you in, grabbing pillows so it would be easier on you, always checking if you were alright every take you reached you high.

That was not the John you were dealing with right now. He was manhandling however he wanted, both hands on your ass cheeks, legs over his arms, slamming you up and down on his cock and letting you cum over and over. Till he had enough of you in that position and fucked you right on the floor, your back getting carpet burn in front of the bedroom door that you didn’t get the chance to close.

And fuck, you thought it was heavenly before, him raw was otherworldly. You felt every ridge, every vein, every twist of his throbbing manhood, every once of precum that made your walls even wetter than they already were.

“Gonna fill you up-“

“—John- mmm- you can’t-“

He grunted, swatting your hands that tried to push him away.

“Gonna fill ya up like a good husband should,” the man’s nodding at his own words, already pussy drunk. But he was speaking words that he’s held back for months. “gotta getcha ready for when we have a baby.”

You hiccuped, John was talking crazy. A baby? A marriage? With John? And he’s whispering it all in your ear. This was tooooo much— too full—

“John i-it’s too deep! I- shit- gimmie a second—“

He pouted, fucking pouted, as if he didn’t know he was pushing his fat, veiny, cock to the fucking hilt of you. Your ankles somehow at the back of your head, “Can’t ya see it baby? You, waddlin around with our baby inside you-“ John hissed, you just kept clenching around him perfectly everytime he thrusted into his “-In a new house- haaah— after we broken it in ‘f course. Gotta break it in for good- fuckin- measure. Little ones running around, an office for daddy ‘nd a office for mummy— It’ll be perfect.”

You didn’t even realize you were cumming, your ears were just ringing, cunt contracting around Johns dick like you were aching for it.

You’d never in your life had a man cum inside you, but my God. John, this old barbarian, was gonna get you addicted to each and every single shot of cum that came from his leaking tip that reached inside your deepest place.

“Fuck, gotta give you another baby.”

John was determined to fuck you into delerium, you’d pass out after cumming so much and wake up to John sucking his cum out of you. Water breaks? The older man is sipping it and putting it in your mouth. Felt stuffy in the bedroom? No problem, John’s moving you to the bathroom to fuck you there with your leg propped up on the bath tub, the wall in the hallway looked like it was missing your face being pressed into it as John drilled you from behind.

Hungry? John’s feeding you whatever he cooked up the thirty minutes he’d left your bruised pussy alone, and then having you cock warm him in the fucking kitchen. All while kissing all over you, how you were such a pretty wife on his dick.

“We gonna get married John?” You slurred out, sticking your thumb in his mouth then sticking it in yours and moaning at the taste. Sweet.

You were fucked out, if the man said he was gonna max out your cards right now he could’ve. But you were, in fact, his finance. Right then and there, no one could convince you otherwise.

“S-Say that again sweetheart?”

You gripped the back of his neck your your hand, getting him to look at you head on, pecking his lips once. Twice. Three times, “You said you’d make me your wife, you’d really do that John? Make me a wife? Won’t get tired of me?”

“Oh birdie, h-how could I ever get tired of you? I-I’m in love you you.”

“Really? I love- I love yooouu John.” Your hips practically rolled on their own, the captain throwing his head back against the headboard for dear life.

“Fuck mee lovie— whatever you want, whateverrr you fucking want.” His hands found your hips, guiding you just the way you needed to get off. Slow, mean— loving.

“G-god, so amazin, amazin John! Wan’ a chapel wedding -ngghh- You, me, some rings and that fuckin preist,”

“ ‘F course baby, course.” John was stammering out words, he could barley keep up now. Fuck, rings. Those fucking rings— “wait baby, gimmie a second.”

“But John,” you keened, hating the idea of being apart for even a millisecond. Oh you’d be the death of that old man. And he wouldn’t’ve minded dying in your sopping cunt knowing you wanted to marry him.

He’d marry you from hell if he had to.

He reached out to the nightstand, an arm hooked around your waist to keep you close as you sloppily rode him, fumbling to grab the black box he placed there yesterday.

Some how he managed to get that box open, two golden rings sat inside. He grabbed yours, tossing the box to the side and slipping the ring on the proper finger.

“Oh! It’s sooo pretty John!” You moaned, eyes stuck to the ring, heart eyes practically forming in your pupils as you looked at the man who was balls deep inside you.

“Come on wife, you know how to cum for your future husband don’t you?”

“You keep looking at it.”

“ ‘S just so nice John.”

It was a single gold ring that fit your finger perfectly, the matching one that you asked to put on John once woke you up. You two were completely knocked out after two days of going at it like animals. You couldn’t feel your legs and your voice was an inch off from being shot. But you couldn’t keep your mouth shut. You loved being engaged, you loved John, and you loved the thought of a future with him.

“You wanna have a small wedding, don’t you?” John entangled your fingers together, his other hand caressing your thighs. The sunshine was shining through the window of the dim room.

“I’d prefer if it was just you ‘nd me. We can do somethin with your family later. I-I think it’ll be real intimate ‘f it’s just us. Like the movies-“

The older man’s eyes crinkled, “Oh, so you’ve thought about it?”

You scuffed, “I’d be silly not to think about marryin you at least once, John.”

Price opened his mouth, feeling more than shy at his grown age. He stuttered, “No take backs, alright? You gotta marry me now.”

You hooked your ring finger with his John’s matching one, giving it a quick kiss.

“No take backs.”

a/n: it’ll be a miracle if anyone even reads all this. if you did, leave me a message or comment if you liked it or if you hated it pls I wanna hear your thoughts.

[iiiiiiis-things]

idk just thinking about how you burst into your home damn near slamming the door shut, only for toji to stop it with the large palm of his hand before he smoothly walks in behind you. you're on 10 right now, stomping and shouting around the house (while your husband follows like a lost puppy) until you make your way to the kitchen yelling something about how it was "totally unnecessary to punch him" honestly toji didn't even know what the hell you were going on about, i mean he wasn't even listening. he silently convinced himself that it wasn't his fault- no it was definitely yours that he couldn't focus on the sweetness of your voice. i mean he just couldn't stop himself from trailing his eyes down to your ass, sinfully watching from his stance at the doorway as it jiggled with each hard step you took. "you can't keep doing this shit man-" your words go in one ear and out the other, again wasn't his fault, he can't help but think about is how fucking sexy you look right now. lace tussled into a slight mess, lip gloss smeared across your puffy lips because of how much you opened your fat ass mouth out of anger, and that dress ? oh that dress is what gotten you in the situation in the first place, the way it hugged your frame perfectly, mapping out each of your curves in all the right ways. had you not wore it like he told you to he wouldn't have had to beat his boss ass for staring at you a little to long. lashes that had been ripped off are still in his car, sitting prettily right on his dashboard, he couldn't care less in fact he was glad you took em off ecstatic even, toji loved to see you natural, toji thought you were so god damn fine

"what ?"

...did he say that out loud ?

"nothin'" he muffled out "are you even listening? see this the shit i'm talking about-"

toji wanted nothing more than to bend you over the kitchen island and shut your big ass mouth with each deep stroke he gave you, dick hitting deep in that gummy area that always turned you into mush whenever he found it, but alas he didn't, he knew you were angry, just didn't know why. aren't you glad he protected you from the preying eyes of his boss ? did it cost him his job ? maybe.. but it doesn't matter because it was all for you, his lovely wife. "here asshole" toji finally snapped out of his head when he felt you shove something against his chest before walking off. noodles ... you made him-

"a cup of noodles ?" he questioned following you out the kitchen "you didn't eat at the party." the scar on his pretty lips decided to rise. oh how sweet you were, even after being so pissed at his possessiveness you still cared enough to make sure he ate before the night was over but there was still one problem.. "you didn't either" "i'm not hungry." once you reach the bottom of the stairs he stops dead in his tracks "baby- where you going ?" "to bed." no hug ? no kiss goodnight ? no invite ? oh he fucked up.

smut! under the cut (18+)

"now do you forgive me?" voice comes muffled from beneath you as you ride out your nth climax of the night your husband had been sucking and licking into you for hours drawing out orgasm after orgasm. and shit were you ovulating? because you just can't get enough. "fuck" you roll you head back in pleasure riding the sweet sensation of his nose repeatedly brushing against your clit

*smack!*

"i asked you a question mama" you moan loudly at the combination of the nickname and his tongue thrusting in and out of you hitting that special spot each time. "y-yes baby" you grind down to match the rhythm of his tongue as he begins to play with the fat of your ass tugging and gripping tightly, encouraging you to move your hips faster "'m sorry baby, so so sorry" his lips wrap around your rednend clit while he stuffs two fingers into you. at this point you were so overstimulated but you just couldn't stop riding his face even if the world was ending. bringing a hand to his hair you push it back unveiling those gorgeous green eyes. toji looks up making eye contact with you, you begin feeling the tension that was building up about to finally burst (again) "i didn't mean to upset you" he wraps his fore arms around your things getting you to grind down even harder against his perfectly fat nose "i-it's okay toj- fuck you're so deep" "i just don't like when other boys stare at you" he couldn't even bring himself to call his boss a man. a man would never violate a women's privacy like that, basically eye fucking her while she's out with her man. you felt everything, every touch, and god you were so hot, moans were leaving your mouth left and right as you felt him continue sucking, his fingers thrusting into you so desperately as if they were asking for forgiveness too.

this was gonna be a longggg night .

[starstruckmiraclekitty]

“I’ve never cum before.”

Your shy admission from earlier that day swirled about in Simon’s mind, and the more he thought about it the more he just couldn’t believe it was the truth.

So he made it his sole mission that night, to make the woman he’d had feelings for years for cum, just for him.

He wasted no time in taking you to his quarters, slowly and gently ridding you of your clothes. When he finally set eyes on your naked frame, he was truly convinced you’d ruined him for anyone else. He’d be yours until his dying breath.

He’d make you cum for him, if it was the last fucking thing he did on this earth.

You were a sweaty, writhing mess beneath him and Simon couldn’t get enough of it. The taste of you, your scent, the softness of your skin and the fucking way you sounded had Simon’s brain in a daze.

“Oh, oh my god.” You cried out, your fingers digging harshly into your lieutenants scalp. The pleasure he was giving you was unlike anything you’d ever experienced before. A burning heat began to fill your insides, as a tingling feeling spread across your abdomen.

You felt yourself clench at the sensation, your thighs tightening around Simon’s head causing him to moan against your soaked core. His eyes lifted to you as he licked a firm strip through your folds, groaning at the taste.

“Simon!” You cried out, your fingers tightening their hold on his hair. “Please, please!”

He gave a hearty chuckle in reply, his fingers and tongue increasing their pace as wet, lewd sounds from his mouth and your pussy filled the air. It was sinful just how fucking good at this he was.

Simon watched as your eyes rolled into the back of your head, your pretty lips parting as you let out a strangled cry of pleasure. The sight was euphoric, and had Simons cock aching.

He needed to be inside that pretty little pussy of yours, but he was a patient man. He wouldn’t give you his cock, not until he made you cum on his tongue first.

He pulled his face away for only a moment, throwing you a small smile as his fingers continued their assault on your core. “You gonna cum, pretty girl? I can feel you clench around my fingers, I know you’re close. Just let go, be a good girl and cum for me.”

You whimpered in reply, the tight feeling in your abdomen only growing at your lieutenants words. You’d never felt this before, never felt so weightless. You allowed yourself to focus on the sensations of Simon’s tongue, as it dragged through your soaked folds, and his fingers, pumping and curling against your walls. “I-I can’t.”

“You can, good girl. Just let go, I’ve got you.” Simon groaned into your heat, his hands squeezing reassuringly at your plush thighs. “Cum, now.”

It was as if an invisible cord snapped in your belly, as a feeling of complete and utter weightlessness filled your body, a pleasant buzz tingling inside your blood. It was unlike anything you’d ever felt. You let out a soft cry, your eyes rolling back into your head as you began to shake against your lieutenants grasp. “Oh, oh my god!”

“Fuck, that’s it. Such a good fucking girl for me.” Simon pulled away from you, his mouth glistening from your arousal. The sight had the pleasant burn in your belly increasing. He looked so fucking hot.

“Simon.” You breathed, struggling to regain your senses. He made his way to you, crawling so that he was now hovering over you, a smile dancing on his lips as he looked down at you.

“You okay, sweetheart?” Simon cooed, pressing a gentle kiss to your sweaty forehead. “You were so fuckin’ good for me.”

You gave a weak nod, not trusting yourself to speak in that moment. You let your eyes flutter open, and found Simon looking at you intently, his lips parted ever so slightly.

You let your eyes flicker down, and saw Simon stroking at his impossibly hard cock. The sight made your mouth water, and had that invisible coil forming in your belly once more.

“You think you’re up for cummin’ again, love?”