#because they don’t like to worry each other and don’t like to slow down but they have to

[narnian-neverlander]

What Could’ve Been [Viktor x GN!Reader]

Plot Summary: In which you find yourself in a world so similar yet so different to your own and are simply too tired of life knocking you down again and again to still play the selfless hero.

Word Count: 3,9k

Warnings: spoilers for Arcane Season 2, talk about character death and illness, suicidal thoughts, slightly suggestive at the end

A/N: I saw that alternate timeline and went ‘Ekko’s a stronger man than I am’ and went with that; actually wanted to write sth fluffy and happy, and this is wholesome-ish, but with some very bleak undertones so I might have to write some actual fluff to compensate. Also, the religious imagery wasn’t planned from the get go but it kinda happened and it is on brand for this man, I just decided to turn it on its head a little 🤷

“Interesting. When I told you about this last, you advised the exact opposite.”

You freeze mid movement, plate hovering an inch or so over the table you were setting. “Well I… I suppose I’ve changed my mind.”

The soft tap of a cane against the floor alerts you to him crossing the room, appearing in your peripheral as you put down the porcelain with shaky fingers. “A rather… hm, siginificant change in such a short time, wouldn’t you agree? Not to mention you acted like I was telling you for the first time.” He doesn’t receive an answer, so he keeps going. “I’ve had a theory for a while. I don’t believe I’ve told you about it, because really, it’s only a pipe dream at this point, but entertaining for the duller moments nonetheless: alternate timelines. The possibility of several different realities, all co-existing with each other simultaneously. Some would call the mere idea preposterous, I’m fully aware, but then again, how would we know for certain? How could we know? Unless one or more of said timelines happened to… overlap.” The silence that follows is deafening and heavy; a precursor of what’s to come. “You’re not originally from this world, are you?”

While he knows this is a conversation that needs to be had, the way you curl into yourself and seem to wither and grow small before his eyes makes him wish he could take it all back. He tries to catch your gaze, but you purposely avoid his as you drag yourself over to the couch. Body heavy and tired, you all but slump down into worn cushions, blankly staring into space as you weakly reply with “No. I’m not.”

He doesn’t move, nor does he speak, cause while he’d been expecting your answer to a degree, now that it’s out in the open he’s… unsure what to even do with it. It isn’t a worry for long, though, as you continue speaking, slow and weary. Like you had been expecting, dreading, this moment just as much as him.

“It wasn’t a… conscious choice. To come here, I mean. It was an accident really, I didn’t even know what had happened at first.” A weak chuckle. “This was a shock to me as much as it must’ve been for you.”

And what a shock it had been for you. To have been standing with your friends in the bowels of the Hexgates one minute and to wake up in an unfamiliar bed the next. Dizzily traipsing through a space that had felt familiar yet foreign all at once; pictures and mementos from times you couldn’t remember staring at you from every surface. And to have had Viktor come through the door, bag of baked goods under one arm, to find you in the living room of what should’ve been your home, looking every bit as lost as you felt. It had been a miracle you’d stayed standing then and there, with the way he’d looked: same lanky figure supported by a cane, same messy chestnut locks, same two beauty marks against the pale skin of his sharp face, same concern in his honey colored irises when he took in your state. But no dark circles borderlining bruises under his eyes, no hollowed, sunken in cheeks, no blood on his lips to betray another attack. And no Hexcore devouring him whole. Your downfall had come in the form of slender fingers gingerly wrapping around your forearm to try and steady you; a silent question and a gentle offer of help. One of those fingers wearing the very same ring you usually kept on a chain around your neck, because you’d always been too busy or too in your own head to just ask him. To offer him your heart, your life, your everything, if only he wanted it. Always too terrified of rejection, of losing him to his illness; too scared of fucking something until it was too late. And when your hand had come up in search for said necklace, a nervous habit that had developed at some point, and you’d found a matching ring on your own finger instead, you’d finally dissolved into a wailing, sobbing mess against his chest, never wanting to let go again.

And what a shock it had been for him. To have talked to you, not twenty minutes prior, an exchange of sleepy, lazy kisses and quiet murmurs, telling you he’d go get breakfast and be right back, watching as you’d curled back up under the blankets with a content sigh. To come through the door, expecting you still in bed and instead finding you in the middle of your living room, looking utterly lost and misplaced in your own home, an almost manic look in your eyes, staring at him like you’d seen a ghost. He’d approached you, carefully, like one would a wild caged animal, and then a simple touch of his had sent you into a meltdown. And at an absolute loss, he’d simply held you. Let you cry yourself to utter exhaustion in his arms, the both of you a heap on the floor, propped up against the back of the sofa. When you had finally, finally calmed down, you’d played it off as the aftershocks of a nightmare. The kind that makes you believe they’re real and keeps you trapped in them for what could feel like a lifetime. And Gods you’d looked like you had aged a lifetime while he was gone. And ever since that night you’d been… different. Getting lost in your own head more often than not. Suffering from nightmares almost every night. Migraines and something akin to epileptic seizures every once in a good while. He had let it go on, assuring you that if you needed anything he would be there for you, and in the following months, you’d seemed to settle and things had gone back to normal. Relatively. But it had been the memory loss that had made him suspicious. Or more so the fact that while some things remained, others seemed to have happened differently for you and some had never happened at all. Never having been able to leave well enough alone, he’d started digging for explanations. And now, at the end of his research, his most impossible theory proven right - he’s yet again at a loss of what to do. How to help you.

“I didn’t know how I got here, much less how to get back. From what I do understand about all of this, and it ain’t much, the thing that sent me to this world doesn’t even exist here. So at first I didn’t have much of a choice but to just… live. To pretend like everything was normal and I belonged here. But eventually I realized that even if I got the chance to go back, I didn’t want to. I wanted to be selfish, I wanted—“ Your voice cracks, thick with emotion and he watches your head drop forward like a doll’s whose strings have been cut, eyes downcast at your trembling hands. “I wanted to be happy again. And for once in my damn life I wanted it to last. It just never fucking lasts…”

Stride over to you and hold you tight, kiss you and tell you that everything would be alright, that you would figure this out together, like always. That’s what he should be doing. Every bone in his body tells him to, but just like so many other times in the past, his oh so brilliant mind prevents him. Tells him that there is no ‘together, like always’ because the person in front of him isn’t the person he’s known his whole life. Isn’t the person he married. Everything’s an ugly mess and he doesn’t mean for his next words to come across as cruel, doesn’t perceive them that way; blissfully unaware of the implications, he’s simply, truly curious.

“What would you do if you were to go back home?”

An inelegant snort leaves you and you wipe the back of your hand over your eyes in a desperate and vain attempt to stop the tears from flowing.

23 seconds.

You were counting, just to give you something to occupy your spiraling mind with, really.

23 seconds.

That’s how long it had taken him to no longer refer to this world, this apartment, him as your home. To prioritize whatever might be going in your other life. And you know it’s not fair, to be this upset with him, this version of him that you’ve been deceiving from the start; even though he has never wronged you. But you can’t help it. Guilt and regret would soon be all you’d have left again, so might as well leave him with some, too.

“Well… if I hadn’t gotten sucked into this mess, I would’ve killed myself by now. I guess I’d be getting back to that.”

The breath that escapes him sounds like you actually just sucker punched him in the gut and immediately makes you feel terrible about how casual and bitter you’d made it sound, but he’d wanted the truth and that was it. Limbs heavy und unsteady, you rise from your position on the couch and make your way over to the front door. “I’ll go take a walk or… you know, go do… whatever. Give you some space, time to think.” Your hand’s already on the door handle, but you pause and somehow find it in yourself to turn around and at least give him the courtesy of looking at him for what you’re about to say. “For what it’s worth, I never meant to let it go this far. It just became so… easy to pretend like things had always been like this. You made it easy. And while I’m sorry that I lied to you, tricked you, intentional or not, I got the chance to fall in love with you all over again. And I could never be sorry about that.”

You’re fairly certain you’ve never seen him move as fast as he does now and before you know it, you’re wrapped in a hug almost too tight, his cane landing on the carpeted floor next to you with a dull thump. “You cannot say things like that and expect me to just let you walk out of that door, I-“

Readjusting his hold on you, he cradles your head against his shoulder and loops his other arm around your middle, continuing in a hushed, gentle tone. “I can’t bear the thought of harm befalling you. Even worse, you harming yourself. In any timeline. Please, just stay. No matter what might happen in the future, just… stay with me. Right here.”

He means for it to be reassuring, comforting, loving, you know that. It’s not his fault that it has the exact opposite effect.

Wincing, a new wave of tears springs to your eyes and you remove yourself from his hold, but can’t bring yourself to let go completely; hands now linked between the two of you. “Viktor, I stole the body and life of a person you actually love. I don’t want you to force yourself to try and love me out of pity.”

“And why are you so certain that’s what this is?!” It surprises you, how genuinely upset he sounds, and a gasp is forced out of your throat when he wrenches his hands out of your grasp and his palms find your face, to force your gaze onto him and keep it there, wether you want to or not. The expression he’s wearing almost scares you; thick brows furrowed in anger and lips curled back in what could nearly be a snarl, but as soon as gold eyes find yours, red and puffy and so very desperate and grieving, whatever fire seemed to have been burning him up inside goes out all at once.

His shoulders drop and he rests his forehead against yours with a sigh, warm breath fanning over your face. “I’m sorry, moje láska, please forgive me. I’m not angry with you, I just… I can not comprehend why you are so ready and willing to accept rejection, but will not even entertain the possibility that loving you comes as easy to me as your affections for me do to you. Why can you love every version of me, but I’m not allowed the same with every version of you?” He watches you blink owlishly, your mouth opening and closing several times and he’s not sure wether it’s endearing or heartbreaking, how clear it is that this possibility never even crossed your mind. “You act like this entire situation only penalizes me, when in reality, I’m not actually your Viktor, either, am I?”

He expects this to help, to give you a new perspective. To make it clear to you that you are both the same; you are not a villain in his story. And there is a smile on your lips, but it’s so small and sad that his stomach drops at the sight. “No, you’re not. You couldn’t be. My Viktor is gone.”

And all of a sudden, it makes so much sense. How sometimes you’d stare at him with the most haunted look in your eyes, like he was a dead man walking, ready to collapse at any given moment. How you’d grow frantic when he came back late from the academy. How you’d insisted on tagging along on the most mundane of tasks, always under the guise of wanting to spend more time with him, but really just keeping a close eye on him at all times. Though he suspects the former to be true; the chance to spend even a few more precious hours with a loved one you’d thought lost, who wouldn’t jump at that chance?

His world would simply seize spinning if you were no longer in it, he can’t even begin to imagine how you feel. How tormenting it must’ve been to see him everyday, a second chance dangling right in front of you, but never certain if you were to wake up back in a world where he was gone.

You’re in his arms again in a heartbeat, one hand carding through your hair, the other rubbing soothing patterns into your back; whispering sweet little nothings into your ear as you bury your face into the crook of his neck and sob. All so much like the day you arrived and saw him for the first time, and yet… softer. More intimate.

You stay like this until your bawling dies down to whimpers and sniffles at which point he gingerly coaxes you to look at him.

“Miláček, listen to me. As it stands now, you have no way of going back to your original world.” He doesn’t call it your home anymore, you notice. “You did not ask for this, you did not choose this; you had it thrust upon you while going through enough pain and grief you considered taking your own life. For the love of everything, you needn’t feel guilty for wanting to use this chance to find happiness again. And you shouldn’t feel guilty if you continue to do so.” Still sniffling you gently caress his face, thumbs running over his chiseled cheekbones and heart stuttering when he leans into your touch. But then you catch sight of the ring on your finger again.

“I’m not… I’m not the person you married, Vik.” Unknowingly, you parrot his own thoughts back to him, but surprisingly enough, he finds he doesn’t much care anymore. He’s flabbergasted how he could ever even doubt for a second that it would matter which timeline you were originally from. Because it’s still you. Damn it all, it’s still you. “Maybe so. But I’ve seen the same kindness in you in those past few months that I’ve always known. The same wit. The same ambition and passion. All the things that made me love you in the first place. You said this gave you the chance to fall in love with me again; would you allow me the chance to do the same?”

The truth is, while you want to try and build a life here, you feel guilty. Guilty about the friends you left fighting a war. Guilty about taking over the life and joy of someone else, even if they are a different version of you. Guilty about forcing the man you love into a relationship with a person he technically doesn’t even know. All these months, you’d only ever reciprocated his affections, never initiated them, had barely let him touch you at all, because you’d always felt like somehow you were coercing him into cheating on someone he actually loved. But here he is now, telling you that he wants you, this version of you, all of you. Could you really do it? Leave behind everything and everyone you’ve ever known, for a chance at happiness, a fresh start? You had no guarantee that things would go smoothly in this universe either, after all. Wouldn’t you just be playing pretend for the rest of your life?

“So what, we’ll just… pretend like it’s the first time then?” you ask, a quiet breathless laugh accompanying your question. He shrugs and smiles at you. “Something like that. Falling in love with you again and again and again? I could imagine a worse fate.”

So could you. Much, much worse, in fact.

Your expression shifts somewhat without you even realizing and he immediately recognizes that he must’ve triggered some form of painful memory. He places tiny little kisses all over your face, murmuring apologies all the while and when you sigh in contentment it finally dawns on him that this is very much the first time you’ve let yourself enjoy being close with him since you got here. He doesn’t blame you; the moral dilemma that was forced on you would put anyone on edge and make them anxious about what they could allow themselves to experience without some form of consequences. He would prove to you that there would be none, he’d make sure of that; singlehandedly destroy them if they did decide to raise their ugly heads. That you didn’t always need to give and give and ask for nothing in return. That you could take what you wanted and not be punished for it. You’d taught him that after all.

“Moje světlo…?”

Gods have mercy on your soul, you never could say no to him when he used those damn pet names on you.

You crash your lips to his, desperate and practically starved; in direct contrast to all the sweet promises and gentle reassurances you just shared, there’s nothing romantic about it. It’s all tongues and teeth and absolutely filthy and it’s exactly what you need right now. Your back makes contact with the door you’d been oh so insistent on walking out of not even fifteen minutes ago, that thought now the furthest thing from your mind as his hands are already under your shirt, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

Your head falls back against the worn wood with a thump as his lips find your neck, leaving marks and bruises for everyone to see and maybe the moan that escapes your throat with a broken version of his name coupled with how weak your knees already feel could’ve been embarrassing, but you don’t have it in yourself to care; it feels like it’s been years since he last kissed you like this. Touched you like this. The whine of protest as he pulls back is cut short when he drops to his knees in front of you, hands on your hips to keep you in place and placing on last kiss on your stomach before he puts some distance between you both, not more than a few inches really, but still too much for your liking. One hand goes to cover his own, while the other cups his face, trying to tug him closer again, but he refuses. Brows knitting together in confusion and frustration, you’re about to ask him what he thinks he’s doing, but he beats you to it.

“I won’t go further unless you tell me you want this.” You almost laugh, because he can not be serious. How much more obvious could you be? Your own body is doing half the talking for you, really. But of course that’s not exactly what he means. “I want you to admit to me, and more importantly to yourself, that you want this life. I want you to realize that it is perfectly alright for you to be selfish every now and again.”

His words trigger a memory from long ago, when you’d found him passed out on the desk in the lab one too many times. After you’d been done yelling at him, you’d told him that he couldn’t just always give and give and give until there was barely anything left of himself. That it was okay to be a little selfish and take things for himself every once in a while.

Take your own advice, liar.

A voice somewhere in the back of your head purrs bewitchingly and it’s right. You are still lying. Not to him though - to yourself. Telling yourself that you feel guilty for wanting to stay here, when in reality that’s how you should be feeling. But the truth, the real truth, is that you’re scared.

Scared of how little you actually care. About the friends you left fighting a war. About taking over the life and joy of someone else, even if they are a different version of you. About forcing the man you love into a relationship with a person he technically doesn’t even know. You haven’t truly cared about any of it from the get go; always too self righteous to admit it to yourself, though.

Practiced fingers slip from his cheek to the hair at the nape his neck and pull; he goes along willingly this time, head forced back and his eyes lock onto yours, right as fresh, hot tears start to travel down your face. But you’re done grieving; you are livid, plain and simple. “I want this…” you breathe out, so quiet he almost misses it. You don’t stay quiet, though, you can’t anymore, and your voice rises in volume with every sentence spoken. “I want to stay. I want a life with you. All blissful boredom and domesticity. It’s all I ever wanted. Why…? Why was even that too much to ask?!”

He doesn’t have the answer, but he does have the solution, delivered with a slight turn of his head and a kiss to your wrist.

“It wasn’t. It isn’t.”

Breaths heavy and irregular, you simply take in the sight of him: all disheveled hair and kiss swollen lips, pretty blush all the way down to his neck, eyes dark and pupils blown wide, only a thin ring of gold left, looking at you so longingly, on his knees for you and you alone; like a worshipper ready to commit any atrocity for the sake and love of their god.

“You can take what you want, anděl. No one will punish you for it. I won’t let them.”

Angel. Oh, the irony. Irony turned certainty. Certainty turned reality.

So take you would. And you wouldn’t bother looking back at the things you’d left behind.

[rist-ix]

https://www.tumblr.com/rist-ix/749015401700229120 not you reblogging this when you ship bloom with the man who murdered her family 😭

Bloom's into ppl who slay! Hope this helps :3

[modern-inheritance]

*Dramatic point towards Arya and Glen*

I love my Platonic Soulmate Idiots, Your Honor.

[rafestify]

need a rafe fic please where reader is part of the pogues, her and rafe have been on and off for forever obviously due to everything he’s done but deep down he’s so down bad for reader and maybe she’s pregnant instead of sarah and he doesn’t find out until morocco because the pogues are hovering over her idk angst fluff whatever you feel!!!

Two lines — Rafe Cameron

Summary : Fem!Reader is pregnant with Rafe’s baby, but he doesn't know until pope accidentally mentions her baby (season 4 ep 10 spoilers!! ⚠️)

Rafe Cameron x Fem!Reader

Warnings : mentions of vomiting & language (english is not my first language)

A/N : as requested 😉 hope u like it anon!

Two lines, and the father was long gone, off doing god knows what. Rafe was the last guy I'd hooked up with, and even after we broke up, we somehow kept finding our way back to each other, especially after the Kildare Enduro. He knew no one else could satisfy me the way he did, and so it became this endless cycle, break up, hook up, make up. What Rafe didn’t know was that I was pregnant. I hadn’t planned on telling him, at least not until we made up.

There I was, back on Rafe’s boat with my friends, setting off to Morocco in search of the Blue Crown and Chandler Groff. My friends had locked Rafe up, tying him up in a small room, just in case. We all knew better than to trust Rafe Cameron, not after everything he’d done.

I walked into the dimly lit room, carrying a tray with a glass of water, a plate of food, and a couple of aspirin for his black eye. The sight of him, bruised, tugged at something deep inside me.

“Here,” I murmured, setting the tray down on the table beside him. “I brought some aspirin, just in case you’re feeling dizzy or something…”

He snorted, cutting me off. “What? You’re just gonna throw it in my mouth like I’m a fuckin' seal?” He wasn’t exactly wrong, but his sharp tone made me bristle. “Nobody trusts you, Rafe,” I replied, my voice steady. “Not after what you did.”

His jaw tightened, and a flash of anger sparked in his eyes. “I saved your asses!” he shot back, his face flushing with frustration. “And not even a thank you was said.”

I took a slow breath, steadying myself. “I know, Rafe. I know,” I said softly. “Thank you, really.” I offered him a small, sincere smile.

He looked at me for a moment, his gaze softening just slightly. “You trust me, right?” he asked, his voice quieter, a bit more vulnerable. I bit down on my lip, feeling the pull he always seemed to have on me.

“Yeah,” I admitted, almost reluctantly. God, he knew exactly how to get to me.

He looked at the ropes binding his wrists and nodded toward them. “Then untie me. Get this shit off me.”

I shook my head, feeling a pang of guilt but holding my ground. “I can’t. I’m sorry.” I pressed my lips together, trying to keep my resolve. “Just… eat the food. We wouldn’t want you dying in here.” With that, I turned and walked out, the door closing softly behind me, leaving me with a sigh that I didn’t even realize I’d been holding back.

As I stepped out of the room, I was met by Kiara’s anxious expression, her arms folded tightly as she waited. The moment she saw me, her face softened slightly, though worry still flickered in her eyes.

"How’d it go?" she asked quietly, as if afraid to hear the answer.

I shrugged, trying to mask the mixture of emotions stirring inside me. "Same old Rafe," I replied, keeping my tone light, but my gaze drifted, unable to meet hers directly.

Kiara studied me for a moment before speaking again. "Soo... did you tell him?"

I frowned, genuinely puzzled. "Tell him what?"

She raised an eyebrow, giving me a pointed look. "That you’re pregnant, with his child."

Oh, right. That one.

I swallowed, feeling a sudden knot in my stomach. "Uh—no, not yet," I admitted, my voice barely a whisper. "I just… I don’t know how he’d react." My hands found each other, my fingers nervously fidgeting as I tried to imagine how that conversation would even go. "What if he doesn’t want to keep the baby?"

Kiara sighed softly and reached out, placing a reassuring hand on my shoulder. Her warmth grounded me, pulling me back from my spiraling thoughts. "Look," she said firmly, her gaze locking onto mine. "You have us. We’ll help you through every single part of this. That’s what friends are for, right?"

I looked at her, the tension in my chest easing slightly. Her words held a strength that I so desperately needed. "Yeah," I whispered, a small smile breaking through my worry. "Thank you, Kie."

She wrapped her arms around me, pulling me into a hug, and for a moment, the uncertainty and fear faded. In her embrace, I felt a flicker of hope—a reminder that I wouldn’t have to face this alone.

After battling fierce winds and waves, we finally arrived in Essaouira. The coastal city spread before us, its whitewashed buildings with blue shutters gleaming under softened storm light. Narrow streets twisted through the medina, lined with shops selling handmade crafts and drenched in a timeless, rustic charm.

The Atlantic crashed against the ancient medina walls, sturdy and weathered, while blue fishing boats bobbed in the harbor—just like the skiffs in the Outer Banks. The salty air and easy warmth of the locals, the slow rhythm of the sea, and the hum of daily life brought back memories of home, as if Essaouira was a Moroccan echo of the Outer Banks.

We continued to wander through the narrow streets of Essaouira, the sound of bustling market vendors and the distant call of seagulls filling the air. John B and Sarah led the way, their steps light and carefree, like they had no care in the world. Following behind them was Cleo, Pope, and Kiara, their conversations flowing easily as they walked, with JJ and I bringing up the rear. But it was Rafe who trailed behind, his presence almost ghostlike, like a lost puppy, following silently in our wake.

As we strolled through the maze of alleyways, I felt a sudden, sharp wave of nausea hit me. It was sudden, and intense, as if something in my stomach was threatening to rise up. I let out a soft huff, pressing my hand to my stomach, trying to hold back the overwhelming feeling of sickness.

JJ, who had been walking beside me, must've noticed the change in my posture because he looked at me with concern. "Y/N?" he called, his voice laced with worry.

"Oh god," I muttered under my breath, the nausea worsening, my head spinning.

"What's wrong? You okay?" JJ asked, his voice low, concern evident on his face.

I shook my head, barely able to focus on him. "No... I need to sit," I said, my voice strained. I felt like I was going to collapse if I didn’t stop moving.

JJ quickly guided me to a pile of carpets that were stacked outside a shop. The soft fabric felt like a relief under me as I sat down, trying to steady my breathing. The rest of the group quickly noticed, and soon I was surrounded by their concerned faces. Kiara dropped to her knees in front of me, her eyes searching mine, her hand resting on my knee in a comforting gesture.

"What's up? What are you feeling?" she asked, her voice soft and filled with genuine concern.

"I'm really nauseous," I managed to answer, my hand covering my mouth, just in case. I didn’t trust myself to hold it down any longer.

Cleo, who had been standing off to the side, stepped forward, her arms crossed over her chest. "She probably needs food. It’s been like two days..or what?" she said, her voice tinged with practicality.

"Yeah, the baby’s probably hungry too," Pope added, offering a casual shrug, as if it was just an obvious conclusion.

I froze, my stomach twisting. The mention of "the baby" caught me off guard, and suddenly, all eyes turned to me. Rafe, who had been hanging back, still distant, looked like he was suddenly paying attention. His gaze shifted from me to Pope and then back to me, his brow furrowing.

"What baby?" Rafe asked, his voice sharp, as if something about the situation didn't sit right with him.

Oh god, here we go.

Pope went silent, and I could feel the tension rise in the air, thickening around us. I glanced up at Rafe, who was now standing a few feet away, looking at me with an expression that was hard to read. His eyes narrowed as if trying to make sense of what he had just heard.

"No, seriously, what baby?" he repeated, his voice insistent, even stern now.

I took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the moment settle over me. There was no easy way to say it, but it had to be said. "I’m pregnant, Rafe," I said quietly, locking eyes with him. "With your baby."

The words hung in the air between us, like they were too heavy to carry. For a long moment, Rafe didn’t say anything. He just stood there, silent, his expression unreadable. The others were watching him closely, waiting for a reaction, but he remained eerily still.

I could feel the tension growing, an awkwardness settling in the space around us, as if everything had just shifted. My hands were shaking slightly, not from the nausea anymore, but from the weight of what had just been revealed. And Rafe, he was just staring at me, his mouth slightly parted but no words coming out.

"Go get her something to eat," Rafe suddenly snapped, his voice cutting through the tension that still hung thick in the air.

Without another word, he dug through his small waist bag, the leather creaking under his movements. I wasn’t sure what he was looking for, but then, with a small grunt of satisfaction, he pulled out a wad of cash—several bills, all stacked neatly together. As he unfolded them, I saw that he had about $400 in his hand, a small fortune for street vendors in Essaouira.

"Wait what?" JJ’s voice broke the moment of disbelief. He raised an eyebrow and shook his head. "They don’t take dollars, you idiot—"

"I said go," Rafe interrupted sharply, his tone hardening. There was no room for argument, no sign of hesitation in his voice. It was almost as if he was trying to regain some control over the situation, and in doing so, he completely dismissed JJ’s protests. His words were a command, not a suggestion.

The rest of us exchanged uneasy glances, the shift in Rafe’s demeanor catching everyone off guard. But without further discussion, John B, Sarah, Cleo, Pope, and Kiara reluctantly turned to start walking back toward the market, their steps unsure but obedient. JJ hesitated for a moment, clearly frustrated by Rafe’s abruptness, but eventually followed along as well.

Rafe’s eyes lingered on me for a second, his expression unreadable. He stood still for a moment longer, his gaze momentarily drifting over to the group before returning to me. He didn’t say anything else. His words had been clear, and I could tell that something about the situation had shifted for him.

"I don’t care whether you want the baby or not, but I’m keeping them," I said, the words tumbling out before I could stop them. My heart pounded in my chest, the weight of my decision pressing down on me. The truth was, I had made up my mind. I had to keep the baby, and nothing anyone said or did would change that. Not even Rafe.

Rafe’s eyes widened at my declaration, and for a moment, he just stood there, staring at me, his face unreadable. Then, he kneeled down, and he let out a sharp breath. "Hey, hey, hey—who said I don’t want to keep the baby?" His voice was calm, but there was an underlying tension to it, as if my words had hit a nerve.

I blinked, caught off guard by his response. The words seemed to hang in the air for a moment, and I wasn’t sure what to say next. His eyes were fixed on me now, intense, searching. It felt like something was shifting between us, and I couldn’t quite wrap my head around it.

"We’ll take care of them," Rafe continued, his tone softening just a fraction. "I’ll be with you throughout the whole journey, Y/N. You’re not doing this alone." His voice held a kind of resolve, as if he had already decided, as if he was offering something that felt almost too good to be true.

For a split second, it felt like the world around me had stopped moving. The noise from the market faded into the background, and all I could hear was the steady beat of my own heart. The words he said felt surreal, like they were echoing in my head. "I’ll be with you, 'aight?"

I blinked again, almost feeling like I was in a dream, like I had slipped into some alternate reality where everything suddenly made sense. But when I looked at Rafe, his gaze never wavering from mine, I felt a wave of disbelief wash over me. It felt like a nap dream, a momentary illusion that would disappear when I woke up.

"What?" I said, my voice coming out in a whisper of disbelief. "Sorry—"

Rafe seemed unbothered by my shock. He placed his hands on my knees, his movements deliberate. "You heard me, Y/N." His words were firm, and there was no mistaking the sincerity in them.

For a long moment, neither of us spoke. The air between us was thick with unspoken thoughts, and I could feel the weight of what he had just said settle in my chest. It was almost too much to process. I had always expected Rafe to pull away, to make this harder for me. But here he was, standing before me with something I hadn’t expected, a promise. A promise to be there. A promise to face this together.

My mind spun, trying to make sense of it. I glanced away for a moment, as if hoping the world would shift and reveal the truth. But when I looked back at him, his expression hadn’t changed. He was still looking at me with those steady, unwavering eyes.

"You’re serious," I murmured more to myself than to him.

Rafe didn’t flinch. "Yeah," he said simply, as if there was nothing more to discuss, as if the decision had already been made. "I’ll be there for you. For us."

For the first time, I didn’t know what to say. My heart was still racing, but for a different reason now. There was a part of me that wanted to believe him, to hold on to this moment, to trust that things might actually be okay. But there was also a part of me that was terrified of what this all meant, of how my life was about to change in ways I couldn’t predict.

I stared at him in utter disbelief, barely able to process the reality unfolding before me. It felt like some kind of miracle. My vision began to blur as tears pricked at the corners of my eyes, the emotions welling up and spilling over, probably caused by the pregnancy hormones, but I couldn’t stop them. I tried to blink them away, but they only gathered faster, until a warm tear rolled down my cheek.

Rafe’s expression softened when he noticed, his gaze never leaving mine. He reached out and wrapped his arms around me, pulling me close in a way that felt so natural, so steady. He didn’t hesitate for a second, and his embrace was warm, reassuring, holding me together when I felt like I was on the edge of falling apart, and God, it felt good to be back in his arms.

His hand rubbed gentle circles on my back as he murmured, “We’re gonna be parents.” His voice was soft, filled with awe and disbelief, as if he was speaking the words for the first time and couldn’t quite believe them either.

I nodded against his chest, clutching onto him as tightly as I could. The weight of his words settled over us, the reality of what lay ahead, and as much as I wanted to be brave, I couldn’t shake the fear that started to consume my mind. I let out a shaky breath, my voice coming out in a whisper, “I’m scared, Rafe.” The words felt small, vulnerable, but they were the truth.

He pulled back just enough to look at me, his hands gently cupping my face as his thumbs brushed away the stray tears still slipping down my cheeks. “I know,” he said, his voice barely more than a whisper. “I am scared too.” There was a flicker of vulnerability in his eyes that mirrored my own, a glimmer of uncertainty about the unknown future that lay ahead.

“But we’re in this together,” he continued, his voice growing stronger, as if he was convincing himself as much as he was reassuring me. “I don’t have all the answers, and I don’t know what’s coming… but I’m not going anywhere.” He leaned down and rested his forehead against mine, closing the space between us. “I’ll be there every step of the way.”

His words washed over me, filling some hollow place I hadn’t realized was empty. In that moment, his presence felt like a lifeline, pulling me out of my fears, giving me a glimpse of something that felt almost like hope. The future was terrifying, yes, but it felt a little less daunting with him by my side.

I looked up at him, my voice steadying as I replied, “I’m glad it’s you.” And as I said the words, I realized just how much I meant them.

He offered me a small, crooked smile, a warmth in his eyes that I hadn’t seen before. “We’re gonna figure this out together,” he promised. “One step at a time.”

I nodded, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly. And in that moment, held in his arms, I felt a little less afraid.

Suddenly, as if on cue, the rest of the group appeared, each carrying an assortment of food and drinks. It was almost comical, watching them return all at once, each of them holding something different, John B with a handful of pita bread, Cleo balancing a bowl of yogurt, JJ carrying bottled water, and Sarah clutching a small bag of fruit, including a shiny red apple that she immediately extended toward me.

“Here,” Sarah said softly, her face easing with relief as she offered the apple. I took it gratefully, feeling the cool skin of the fruit in my hand, and took a tentative bite. The crisp, sweet flavor flooded my senses, soothing the nausea that had been twisting in my stomach. They watched with eager anticipation, and as they saw me begin to nibble, their worried expressions started to relax.

“Feeling better now?” Pope asked, his voice gentle but laced with concern as he studied my face.

I swallowed another bite and nodded, a smile creeping onto my face. “Yeah, yeah… thank you,” I replied, glancing at each of them.

They exchanged glances, visibly relieved, and a sense of warmth spread through me as I looked around at their familiar faces, each one showing their own brand of care. I realized then just how much I’d come to rely on them, not just as friends, but as family. I felt a comforting wave of gratitude for each of them, knowing they’d been there for me without question, supporting me in ways I hadn’t even thought possible.

As I took another sip of water, Rafe moved a little closer to me, his hand resting gently on my thigh. His touch was subtle, but the gesture was enough to let me know he was still there, holding his promise to stay by my side. There was something calming in his presence now, something steadying that I hadn’t noticed before.

The others began chatting among themselves, sharing their own stories of haggling with the vendors, laughing about who’d paid the most for what they’d brought. They were giving Rafe and me a moment, I realized, a chance to talk without the pogues’ attention fixed on us.

Rafe leaned down slightly, his face level with mine, his voice low and steady. “You really okay?” he asked, his hand still warm on my thigh.

I took a deep breath, the initial dizziness and nausea fading, leaving behind a feeling of clarity I hadn’t expected. “Yeah, I think so." I paused, looking up into his eyes.

He smiled, a soft, almost vulnerable expression, and for a moment, he seemed like a different Rafe—one who wasn’t weighed down by pride or bravado. “That's good” His voice was filled with a sincerity that softened something inside me. "Don't want our little one and her mommy to starve, do we?" He smiled making me let out a low chuckle.

In this quiet moment, I knew, deep down, that I wouldn’t want anyone else to be the father of my child. Everything just felt right. Despite all the chaos, the ups and downs, there was a steady comfort in knowing me and Rafe would face it together.

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>゜))彡 taglist — @rafecamerons-national-anthem @ts1mp0ne @vheavxly @enjoymyloves @tv-girllover07 @husherstan @smthabsolutelyunhinged @multisection @onlyrealjoy @hoelesslyt @nina357

[luveline]

𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐥𝐮𝐜𝐤 | 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝

You and Spencer finally find time for your first time. 6k

fem, afab!reader, mostly confident!reader, foreplay, oral sex, p in v sex, lovey dovey tender loser sex, established relationship, pet names, aftercare, requested here <3

cw for smut, minors do not read or interact, 18+ content

˗ˋˏ ʚ♡ɞ ˎˊ˗

“Can you stay still?”

“No,” you answer honestly.

Spencer climbs further toward you on the bed. “I’m trying to help. You’re no good at buttons.”

You’re no good at buttons because your fingers shake whenever you and Spencer get close like this, and with these intentions. You’d always thought he’d be the shy one —sometimes you take his hand in the back of the work car to watch his cheeks go a rosy, unignorable pink. He’s the more introverted of the two of you and he always has been, so why does his touch have you trembling already?

Excitement, you decide, heart in your mouth as his fingers begin to pop your buttons through each matching slit. This is exactly what happened last time you and Spencer tried (and were sorely interrupted). You’d been out of breath and in his lap, too excited to see to his buttons, too busy kissing him to take much notice as he’d taken care of them himself. And then work called, your plans were cancelled, and he’d promised you that you’d get to do this soon.

“I’m good at buttons,” you deny, leaning back on the palms of your hands as his pinky’s brush up, the sides of your shirt falling open.

“Oh, you’re back,” he says. He’s teasing in bed. You aren’t expecting it. “You went somewhere else for a few seconds, you okay?” That’s less teasing, more sweet.

His hands pause just under where your bra begins.

You take a breath. “I’m okay, I’m thinking about last time.”

He leans in for a kiss, a quick but steady catching that has your face following him as he pulls away again, and undoes your next button. “Which part?”

The part where he’d insisted you’d be laying down for this. The memory alone inspires heat, pleasure and wanting from the depth of your chest, your stomach, ever lower.

“Did you lock your door?” you ask.

Your phones are off. The door is locked. Spencer promises as much in your ear as leans in closer to you, crawls that last few inches of space to have your legs tangled atop his white sheets, his hand disappearing under the open sides of your shirt. The other hand works the last few buttons, but you don’t get to watch him do it, distracted by his fingers hot on the small of your back and his lips as he pulls you in tight for another kiss.

This one’s slow. He holds you like he’s worried you’re gonna slip out of his arm where it curls behind you, cool air kissing your chest as he gets the last button by your neck and encourages either side away from you. You lean into him and shake your shirt down the lengths of your arms, finally shirtless in front of him again after days of trying. You try to keep up with his kissing, he’s intense, he’s everywhere, but you run out of breath.

“Oh,” you say uselessly, your cheek against his as he kisses your jaw.

“What, angel?” he asks, breath warm to your skin, “What’s up?”

“Nothing… I wore my nice bra for you.”

“You did?” He promptly pulls away. His face is pinking, but it’s so warm you can’t blame him for it. You’re sure he’d feel a furnace under your skin if he touched your forehead. Spencer’s gaze falls down to your chest, where it stays, his own rising and falling with a noticeable sharpness. “That’s pretty. You’re pretty.” He swallows as he looks up. “Your nice bra? Just one?”

You cover a breast with your hand and push it up ever so slightly. “This is the one I thought you’d like most. You like blue.”

“I love blue. I love you, I love you,” he says, leaning around you to move your discarded shirt to the floor. “Can I take it off?”

You nod with a stupid smile. Fond and too eager. “Please.”

“How many tries do I get?” he asks, grabbing your sides in two gentle hands, pulling you forward into a hug as he reaches behind you for the clasp.

“You can do it one,” you promise, voice a murmur now he’s close to you.

You let your hands rest on his hips as he pinches the clasp and pushes it together. Like magic, it comes apart. Spencer holds the unclasped sides to your naked back for a few seconds, his breath loud in your ear, before he sits back to look at you.

You push the straps of your bra down, let the support of your bra fall away. You ball it up in your lap, sitting there bare-chested and smiling, waiting, hoping you’re as beautiful to him as he’s always made you feel.

His hand climbs your arm. “You’re beautiful,” he says, “can I–”

“Yeah, please. Please.”

His thumb rubs a short line from your navel to the skin just below your breast. Your chest feels suddenly heavy, the half-lidded set of his eyes on you like a weight, but it’s one you realise you like as he rubs the indent of your bra. “You’re so pretty,” he says, his thumb pressing into the underside of your breast, kind but undeniably there, and your body reacts to his touch, which is another thing. He doesn’t coo, but it’s close. “How does that feel?” he asks quietly, drawing under your nipple with his thumb.

“Can you kiss me some more?” you ask, breathless in a way that’s almost painful.

Spencer clutches you by your sides, unafraid to play with you, pressing you down into the bed as his hands traverse up. You shuffle back into the pillows and let your eyes shutter closed, his nose pressing hard into yours as your lips meet again. He kisses hungrily. He’s treated you to a few heavy kisses in the past, nothing compares now to the open crescent of his lips and the feeling of his hands. His tongue is hot where it touches your lips, wading in. You sigh into his mouth and feel his own sigh in return as he breaks it.

“Fuck,” he says, his breath coloured by pleasure. He’s practically moaning in your ear as a big hand squeezes your chest.

You can’t take this. You lift your hips and graze against him, rushing to reach down and slip your skirt over the curve of your ass and over stocking clad thighs. You try to push them along at the same time, breathing hard.

Spencer notices what you’re doing and reaches to help.

“Your shirt,” you argue, faces close, his confusion an inch away, as are his pinked lips, “take your shirt off, Spencer, I can do this myself.”

“But why should you have to?” he says, though he listens, making quick work of his button up.

You kick your stockings off of your feet and lay there, warm, overwhelmed but desperate at once, watching him on his knees as he manages his last button and peels out of his shirt. You cross your legs tightly against the achy heat blooming in your cunt, uncharacteristically shy.

His chest is pale, without a freckle nor beauty mark, but he’s shapely. You've kissed him so much these last few months, traced the hills and rigid muscle of his front with an adoring hand under his clothes, but the two of you being similarly bared is different.

It’s worse when he reaches for the button of his slacks.

You bite your lip. “Spencer, can I do it?”

“Yeah.” He swallows again. “Of course you can. Don’t ask me.”

He’s getting warm, curls of his hair falling into his eyes, his breath a constant huff. The bulge of him through his slacks draws your attention. You crawl toward him where he’s kneeling, checking his face. When he nods, you rub the very pad of your thumb against the line of his cock, feel it jump at your touch. Your heart jumps in a similar place.

“This okay?” you whisper, your touch light enough that you’re surprised he can feel it.

“Please.” He says your name like you’ve hurt him. “Please. Take them off.”

“I can’t believe you’re like that just from kissing me,” you say sincerely, a mumble as you pop the button and dig your fingertip under the zipper, which you pull down in one smooth line. There’s an immediate release of pressure against his cock. You blink. It’s so warm in here. “Spence, can I–”

“Please.”

You nod to yourself and shift onto one elbow, shocked and even warmer when Spencer plumps a pillow behind you. Your anticipation is an ache that won’t ebb, hands trembling again as you pull the band of his pants down his hips and expose a pair of white and blue boxer briefs. A darkened patch of material rests against the tip of his cock, the curve of him ever harder as you touch him.

He sucks in air through his teeth.

“Aw, Spence,” you say, pressing the length of your thumb to his cock and breathing out as you ride the curve of him up to that wet spot. “Sweetheart… Does that feel good?”

He closes his hand on top of yours and holds you there. “Can I kiss you?” he asks.

“I think I gotta kiss you first,” you say, eyes on his straining boxers. “Think you might need one.”

He shakes his head. “I can’t. I’ll ruin everything before we’ve even started, you can’t kiss me like that.”

“Are you sure? I can make sure you’re ready.”

You’d never force him into anything. You’re letting him know it’s alright. You’re not gonna push him over the edge before he’s done, you just wanna do all the stuff with him that you’ve been dreaming about for a while now. You have a feeling he might enjoy it.

“You can tell me to stop whenever you need me to,” you say softly, feeling his cock twitch in your hand at the mere sound of your voice. “I wanna see you.”

He laughs infectiously, almost drunkenly, the two of you giggling as he shifts your hands. He doesn’t say anything more, only moves your hands down over the softer base of his cock to encourage his pants out of the way, and then his boxers.

His cock is pretty like he is as he pulls it out. You knew it would be. A little taller than your hand, he tugs it toward his stomach and you watch in delight as a string of precum catches the light, wetting his palm.

You’re patient. He lets it stand without help and you curl your hand where his had been at the base, his cock shining in lines, that welling of precum spread messily around and worse when you give a soft pump. “Oh my god,” he mumbles, shuffling closer to you on his knees, his hand leaping to your shoulder. “Oh, god.”

You tilt your head. “How’s that, baby?”

“Please, angel.”

You lean in for a kiss.

Just a kiss, but your lips part, your spit ready on your tongue and slick in a heavy line up the side of his cock. All you can think of in that moment is how much you want him, how gentle his hand is on your shoulder despite the wounded little breath he lets out, and the stickying feeling of wetness that grows between your thighs, your underwear damp at the very centre and clinging to you as you crawl as close to his front as you can get. You kiss and kiss up the side of him, not silly enough to love on his most sensitive skin at the head, not after his warning, though the idea of his cock shuddering against your lips and tongue makes you squeeze your eyes closed.

You kiss shy of his tip and tilt your head back to look at him. He’s already watching you, squinting with a palpable agony.

“Are you okay? Is that alright?” you ask, loosening your grip on his cock to draw a loving, sweet line down, and down.

He catches your wrist. “You can’t do that again,” he warns gently, hint of a smile in his eyes. You beam at him adoringly. “Lay back? There’s something in my way.”

“In your way,” you murmur through a smile, laying back in the pillows as he’s asked you.

Spencer sheds his slacks and boxers. You pull your legs up to give him room to kneel on the bed by your legs, pulse like a constant humming ache against your cunt as he takes your calves into his hands and presses your knees together. “You’re not gonna say please like I did, are you?” he asks.

“Do you need me to?” you ask, teasing him with your own hand, letting it travel from the base of your throat and over a tightened breast to your stomach, then your underwear. You flick the waistband. His eyelashes flare. “I can say please, Spence, I’d love to say please for you. Is that what you want me to do?”

“I don’t ever want you to say please, you know that.” He encourages one leg flat to the bed. The other, he pushes up, fabric of your underwear tight to your warm cunt and heartbeat surely taking up station in your throat. “Maybe I can say please.” His hand coasts down your thigh. “Would you like that?”

“Don’t.”

“Don’t say please, or don’t touch you?” he asks, stopping his squeezing.

“Spencer!” you laugh, moving your hips ever so slightly, raising them in hopes of his understanding. “This is cruel, I didn’t tease you.”

“You’re nice,” he says, again pressing your leg up toward your stomach, eyes on the bump of your cunt as he begins to lean down. “You’re perfect,” he murmurs, pressing a surprising kiss to your soft inner thigh. “So perfect.” Closer now, nose skirting toward the elastic of your underwear. “Please, can I?”

You press your shaky hand to your lips, palm out. “Please,” you say into your skin. “Yeah. Yes, you can. Can you?”

A kiss to the skin beside your cunt, his free hand riding up to squeeze the bump of it, his thumb pressing against wet heat, your breath caught. He rubs a line up from the wet to your clit, and he smiles when he finds it, though that smile is swiftly overtaken by parting lips as he kisses a mixture of skin and fabric and starts to suck. You hiccup at the feeling.

“You sound cute when you’re happy,” he says into your thigh. He turns his head slowly, looking up at you, his thumb rubbing almost absentmindedly at the sensitive little hood of your clit, your nerves all over the place. He’s giving you the puppy eyes, big and brown and in sickly love with you.

“Happy’s not the right word,” you breathe out.

“I should fix that, right?”

Your stomach does a hard flip. “Yeah.”

Spencer isn’t as timid about it as you’d imagined he’d be, his reality better than any fantasy, his hands kind but quick where twists his fingers into the waistband of your underwear as he begins pulling them down.

He lets out a long breath as the air kisses your cunt, his eyes trained obviously on one spot in particular as he takes your panties all the way to your feet. He rolls one leg off, leaves the other hanging at your ankle as he grabs the soft underside of your knee and encourages your leg up.

You can feel your cunt spread, feel the wetness that had been growing dribble from you. “Ah,” you say, more breath than word while he holds your leg in place. “Spencer–”

“Am I hurting you?”

“No, no, I just need you to touch me, please, I–”

He says your name, says, “Hey, don’t talk like that, I’ve got you, I’m gonna touch you, just needed to know you’re okay–”

“Spencer–” you squirm with wanting.

“I know,” he says, the tip of his cock turned impossibly red where it’s resting against the heaving of his abs, “trust me.”

He reaches for your abdomen, his palm resting lovingly on the pudge of your tummy. You squirm for it lower. “If you think I’m not gonna give you everything you want, you're crazy. When don’t you get your way?” He leans down, and to your relief, your little gasp of breath, he kisses your naked cunt. “When don’t I want to give it to you?” he asks into your skin.

Every word he says is heat and movement against the nerves that make up your clit. You practically shiver as he lets his lips part against you and kisses all over, unafraid to feel every little bit of you, his tongue pressed wet and flat your softest parts. You spread your legs in anticipation of him, his thank you a kiss that lights up every nerve ending you have that stems from your hips, the breath racing out of you and moans not far behind. He rubs the length of your leg, his fingers trailing towards his kissing. The hand that isn’t up to something just loves on your skin. The hand that is pauses shy of your cunt’s wet hole —you can’t help letting out a choked moan as he sucks on your clit and the skin around it, sudden, the feeling of hot slick dripping from you worse as he pulls away with a quiet pop.

His lips shine in the lamplight. “I’m gonna start getting you ready, okay?” he asks, a small smile somewhere in the midst of a gaze that’s otherwise laden with lust. His fingertips tease your entrance. “What do you think, angel, can I do that?”

You might need a kiss to get through it. You can’t decide whether you want him to keep eating you out like that, like you’re water to the famished, like he’s worried he’s not quick enough to get every bit of you where he wants it, but you’re so desperate to be fucked by him that you can feel it in the pit of your stomach. “Spencer, you need to kiss me,” you decide.

“I am–”

“No, come here. Need you on top of me. You can get me ready,” you agree, eyes peculiarly damp, “but I really wanna kiss you right now, baby, please, please–”

He’s on top of you by your second please. You gasp at the rigidity of his cock pressing to your cunt and find it lost in his mouth, his fingertips wet with sex pressed to the side of your face. He remembers himself, kisses all the same but hand moving down again, turning his weight onto the bed and off of you as he feels at your cunt. His fingers slide through hair and wetness alike to tease at your cunt. You can feel wet on his fingers as he pushes in just a centimetre, again on his thumb when he circles your heat carefully, and all the while he’s kissing you like he’s been starved of you. He’s saying angel and so pretty against your stinging mouth.

It’s strange when he pushes two fingers in, but not bad. You’ve never done this with one another, and it takes him a few careful thrusts of his fingers to figure out where he should be directing his motion, and what to do to make you happy. You nod into his mouth as he finds a sweet spot and presses into it, quirked fingers quick to the very last knuckle, his pinky and index fingers sliding without resistance against the wet mess on either side of your cunt. “There?” he asks.

“Yes,” you say, pulling his face closer to yours, your hands twined deep in his hair.

He digs around against your walls, to your abject joy and something else, some emotion you can’t name, the want to be touched everywhere by him, to be the kind of full of him where you can’t breathe.

He presses his fingers inside you, undulating against the gum of your walls, and groans into your lips as you pull in a shivery breath. His hips jerk hard, his cock sliding against your stomach hot as a brand.

Spencer pulls up. You’re in the throes of one another, but his eyes are clear. “How do you want it?” he asks tenderly. “Can I stay here, or should I move back?”

“Just to start, it’s always tight–” You catch your breath now he’s paused, stroking curls away from his flushed cheeks. “I’ll sit up a little and you can still hold my hand,” —he doesn’t question this even for a second— “just so you can see what you’re doing, and then–”

“It’s okay, we can work it out,” he interrupts. “I’m not gonna rush and hurt you.”

“I didn’t think you would,” you whisper, cupping his face in your hand.

He ducks in for a slow, chaste kiss.

“I know you didn’t,” Spencer says. He takes another kiss, pressing one to the top of your chin.

Then he’s shuffling backwards and off of you, and he’s grabbing your hips, lifting you up as he positions himself at your cunt. You shuffle back in the opposite direction to wedge yourself firmly in his pillows, knees up and heels either side of his lap as he moves in. His cock rubs against your cunt by accident, then quickly again with a deliberateness, like he’d felt you and couldn’t help himself.

“God, you’re so pretty,” he says. His eyebrows pinch together in a glare, his thumb pressing to your clit. There’s no purchase there anymore, your wetness having made its way up, but he rubs it nonetheless. “You’re the most beautiful girl in the world.”

You grab his hand. Twine your fingers into his. “I love you, Spence,” you say easily. “Don’t be shy.”

He’s giving you that Can’t believe I’m with you look that he often does. It reminds you of the first time you met when you’d called him beautiful without knowing he’d mean this much to you one day, because he really was gorgeous, everything you’d ever want in a guy and lovelier after. You flirted your way into being his friend, and one day your hand-holding was hugging, your friendly cheek kissing turned to lazy hickeys, and he’s still giving you that look. Like he doesn’t deserve you. Like you’re gonna disappear.

You reach between your centre and his to nudge his hand down, guiding him into place. “Say you love me,” you request in a murmur.

“I love you,” he says, head of his cock against your opening. He abandons your clit, to your disappointment, but he’s grabbing the rump of your ass and hip to hold you in place.

He is achingly, achingly slow. He’s so gentle with his thrusts that you feel like you could love him twice as much as when you started, his wrinkled brow, his eyes flitting between your face and the stretch of your cunt to check on you as he goes. He reaches a natural resistance, nothing he couldn’t push past if he didn’t want to, but he doesn’t have to —he’s not fully sheathed and yet you’re aflame with pleasure. He’s at just the right angle. All he needs to do is move.

“There?” he asks softly,

“Please, right there.”

He pushes forward and a breath leaves his lips like you stole it. “You’re tight,” he says, “I knew you would be at first, but I didn’t expect– do I need to stop?”

“No, no, that’s the best part…” You close your eyes. If he weren’t holding your hand you’d cover your face. “Spence, it’s supposed to feel like this, baby. You just find the way you like it and I’ll tell you if it’s not right.”

“Promise?”

“Promise– oh.”

The fronts of his thighs press to yours, his cock flush to your walls and digging into something sweet and sensitive enough to make your thighs shake. Good luck, you think, for the two of you to fit together like this, for his cock to fill you without hurting or leaving you wanting, even though he’s just a little over half inside. He goes slow, almost repetitive, his thumb drawing dedicated half circles into the back of your hand where he’s securing it to your hip. Breathe, you think, I have to breathe. There’s nobody here but Spencer. You can show him exactly how this is making you feel.

“Fuck,” you say, letting out a little moan, worried it won’t be something he likes.

“Fuck,” he echoes emphatically, “does that feel good, angel?”

“Uh-huh,” you say. His chest shines with sweat, his cock driving in, all his touching and adoring drawing a litany of your most vulnerable sounds, hiccups and whimpers, beggy breaths that plead for him to do exactly what he’s doing until he can’t.

“Can you keep your leg up?” he asks.

“What?”

“Can you lift your leg, angel? I need my hand.”

You nod hurriedly and hold your leg aloft as he’d been, not pretzeled but giving him the room he needs to drive forward. He’s swift in his intention, pressing his free hand to your cunt, unabashed, marriage and middle finger slippery against the head of your clit and drawing precise circles. After a few timid thrusts of his hips, he matches speed. Every thrust met with a circle of your clit, his face dipping down to kiss your leg.

“There,” he says to your knee, “I got you, I’ll get you there.”

“I don’t wanna cum yet,” you confess.

“No, I know, but you have to feel good, I need to touch my girl.”

You don’t want to argue with that. He’s never said something like that.

He goes on. “You’re so pretty, I don’t know– I don’t–” He gives a tight smile, “don’t think you know how beautiful you are, you feel–” He moans, then, like he’s pleading.

You don’t expect to be close this soon. It had to be the way he’s talking to you, or his lazy mouthing at your cunt before you’d started. “Wait! Wait, Spence, don’t,” —you grab his hand to stop him from drawing anymore circles— “I have to do it, or I’m gonna cum already.”

He says fuck, thrusts in just a little deeper than he had been, head of his cock kissing just the right place, “Show me how to do it the way you need it.”

You play on the edge of your orgasm for long, long minutes, your hand over Spencer’s drawing the smallest of circles, your nerves aching, the pressure of it like his hands pressed to your tummy. Spencer fucks you, fucks into you, ruts into you when you give him a flirty smile, angling his hips a touch to the side.

You usher him down to you, craning your head up to his. “Can I have a kiss?” you ask with a voice stretched to gossamer. You’re in love with him and you could cry for it as he fucks you, but you try not to. Not yet.

Spencer licks his lips. “You can have everything.”

He slows his thrusts to a drag. Slow drag out, full push in. His hips press to yours and you squeak as he fills you with every inch he has, his hands vying for your clammy face.

He can only thrust slowly from there, though it feels like it’s hitting somewhere new, if not deeper. Shifts of his hips against yours, a mess of slick between you and the friction of his skin. You kiss and pant into each others mouths, spit stretching like a string from his lip to yours that he promptly kisses away. It’s everything you needed it to be, and you can’t hold off much longer. “Wanna cum,” you tell him, stroking the skin under his eye, his gaze aligned with yours.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Can you– like before–”

Spencer understands. He sits back, drags you by the hips onto his cock, and set about fucking that dedicated pace, three fingers pressed to your clit. He goes as slowly as you showed him at first, and that in time with his thrusts sends a pleasure through you that makes you gasp. He speeds his hips at the same time as his fingers, your skin so wet that it requires dedication to wind the coil, but he does wind it, over and over and over again until your walls are rigid tight and your hips are working desperately to chase the feeling. He’s pushing you to the edge.

You cum, and your breath gets caught. You force out a breath and you keen in the feeling, covering your face with both hands as Spencer pushes you through it with a few last teasing circles and a couple of quick thrusts.

Spencer knows without asking to slow as you come down. You laugh into your hands.

He doesn’t quibble when you let your legs fall flat around him, only strokes your thigh, paused half inside of you to offer you one of his shy smiles. “You even sound pretty,” he says.

“You think so?”

“Of course I do.”

He takes a measured thrust. He’s not not confident these days, but you can see the man you adore now between your legs, in love with you but not sure what to do. “You can keep going, baby.”

“You sure?” he asks.

It’s gonna be intense, but you want that. “Come back,” you say, angling your tired legs around him. “Come lay on top of me… Please.”

It’ll be nice to hug him now. You whine as his cock slips out of you and again as he lays atop you and slides it back in, your cunt waiting for him and slick as anything as he settles.

“Is this too much?” he asks, cupping your cheek.

He rolls his hips demonstratively. You didn’t know there was anything left there to give him, but he can have it.

You wrap your arms around him, your forearms to the line of sweat on his back, and give him a hard hug. “You can have everything,” you utter, repeating his earlier promise to him with the same encapsulating love as you cling. “Fuck me however you want.”

When it starts again, chills ride up your spine. Spencer finds a place you didn’t know you had and fucks against it with love, so deep you feel like you can’t breathe, his nose rubbing harshly into your cheek. He squeezes your shoulders tight in his arms and you’re sure you’ll never catch your breath again, and you don’t want him to stop. You’ve never felt this close to him.

Your naked chest rises uselessly beneath him as you fall into the whining, pleading bit of sex, your moans half gasp and lost in his hair as he burrows his face into the pillow by your head to hide his same desperation.

“There you are,” he mumbles, hips grinding into yours. He must say your name ten times in a row, each one more frayed than the last, until he’s lost it completely.

“Go faster, sweetheart,” you suggest, squeezing his hips between your thighs.

Spencer begins again in earnest, nipping crescent moons into the curve of your neck, thrusting fast until he can’t. You hear him trip into cumming like it’s an accident, his thighs go all tense and his cock throbs as he presses you flat, flat to the bed.

He gives a last few greedy thrusts before he calms, though he doesn’t stop moving. Spencer rolls his hips for a slow, languishing minute.

His hand finds your shoulder. His face turns to yours as you turn yours to his, two halves of a good kiss.

“I love you,” you whisper.

He’s panting, but his reciprocation is immediate. “I love you more.”

“No, you don’t.”

Spencer lifts himself up enough to wrap his arms behind your head, almost framing your head where you’re laid underneath him. “Trust me, I do.” His eyes shutter. You close your own in wait of another kiss, but he’s sliding the tip of his nose down the bridge of your own. He draws a circle, draws soft lines over your cheek in zigzags.

“Tell me what to do now,” he murmurs.

You scratch his back lightly. “Aw, Spencer, just keep doing this.”

—

Spencer cleans you up and you finally cry, a couple of tears you’re hoping he won’t notice as he drops the towel on your leg. He holds you with his hand behind your back and murmurs words too nice for such silly tears into your cheek, before asking, scared, if he’d hurt you.

“No, no, it’s like the most intense relief in the world!” you tell him, selfishly basking in the muscle of arms where they’re wrapped around you, and his silky hair whispering over your ear. “I feel amazing.”

“I didn’t think you’d be one of the women who cry afterward,” he says. He’s not judging you, simply sharing an observation. It makes sense. You’re not usually emotional in such an unconstrained way.

“I’m really happy.” You pinch his chin mildly.

“Your legs are hurting.”

You let him go. “Yeah, a bit. It’s a nice hurting. Like we went for a really long walk.”

He takes your face into both hands and tips your head back. You’re slouched forward, he’s straight-backed, and he’s taller where he’s grinning at you. His hand comes to rest against one of your breasts, giving it a little cup before he presses it flat over your heart. “I thought you were never gonna calm down.”

“You have that effect on people.”

“Maybe that’s true for you,” he says, tapping your nose with his, encouraging you to lift your chin. “But only one person’s ever made me lose my breath like that,” he adds, your lips touching, not kissing.

You could keep him forever. “Think we should turn our phones back on?” you ask.

“When I’ve made you something to drink, sure. And found you something to wear, right? It’s too cold.”

You’re still hot enough to cook an egg, but you let him take care of you. It’s as good as being fucked, being adored when it’s done. He gives you underwear first, a soft tank top and a pair of panties you’d left here before and he’d washed and pressed, your sweetheart. You’re surprised he doesn’t help you into them, but you notice with fond bemusement that he’s cringing as he steps into a fresh pair of boxers.

“You okay, handsome? Did you tweak something?”

He’s in pants before you realise, standing shirtless with sex-tousled hair. You could ask him back to bed if you weren’t exhausted. “I’m not in shape.”

“I could say otherwise.”

Spencer’s on top of you again in an instant. He sits on your naked leg and pulls down your rising tank top before twinging your hands in his. He’s practically in your lap as he kisses your chin. It’s that earnest you end up giggling, lovestruck, two idiots holding hands. He steals a couple of lazy kisses. You can’t remember how many you’ve had anymore.

“You’re contrary,” he says as he pulls away.

“Can’t you be nice to me? You were acting so nice.”

He slides off of your leg. “You’re my best friend. I hope we’re this happy for the rest of our lives.”

You fist your hand in the rumpled sheets behind you. He’s apparently unaware he’s said the most special thing he could’ve, opening his closet door to retrieve your pyjamas from the shelf he dedicated to you the first time you slept over. You are best friends, is the best part. He’s not exaggerating.

Before he’d ever kissed you, you were in love. You’ve been in love for years.

Spencer drops your pyjamas next to you on the bed. “You want me to help you put them on?”

You have no reason to need help tonight, but you want it. “Yes, please. Can you rub my back after?”

“Yesss. I’d love to rub your back. If we maintain our physical connection after sex, it enhances the relaxing factor but it also prolongs the effect of the oxytocin and dopamine your brain would’ve released when we were–” He picks up your sleep shirt and shakes it out. “Well, you know.”

“Any more sex facts for me?”

Spencer has the nerve to blush, considering the way he’d spoken to you only ten minutes ago. “An orgasm as a woman can lower your risk of heart disease, breast cancer, and depression.”

You smile at him sweetly. “No kidding. How much to get that risk down to zero?”

He kisses your cheek. “You know that’s not how it works.”

“We can still try.”

“Um. Can I have a banana first?”

“I’m kidding!”

“Oh.” He gestures for you to put your arms into the sleep shirt. “Well, maybe you can have a banana too and we’ll see how we feel.”

˗ˋˏ ʚ♡ɞ ˎˊ˗

Thank you for reading!!!!! I hope you enjoyed it! please reblog or let me know what you thought if you have the time, but I hope you enjoyed regardless!

[moonstruckme]

hello mae! I had a request I’d like to give you. I was wondering if you could write a poly!marauders x reader where reader has never slept beside anybody before bc intimacy isn’t something she’s used to therefore she’s not used to being that close to anybody. everytime she shifts she’s afraid to wake up the boys, or she just doesn’t know what to do.

I know you have “first night with marauders” so if this is too similar I totally get it. 🖤

Hello sweetheart, thank you for your request!

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 990 words

You’re terrible at this. 

Each of the boys is sound asleep. Sirius has his leg hooked over yours and one of his arms tossed over James’ chest, Remus’ hand has to be halfway numb underneath your pillow, and James is snoring softly on the far side of the bed from you. They’re all so obviously comfortable, practiced in resting like this, whereas you started to get stiff a half hour ago and you’ve been unable to make yourself relax since. 

Every movement takes a year, you’re trying so hard not to wake them. You feel like the girl in a movie who’s trying to sneak out of the bed of a one-night stand, all taut muscles and bated breath, except you only want to roll over. Slow, microscopic movements have to be the key. 

Your back crackles softly when you shift your weight onto your other hip, and a sigh escapes you before you can stop it. 

A low, croaky hum comes from just in front of your face. Your brain is a tempest of expletives. 

“Hey.” You can nearly feel the gravel of Remus’ voice buzzing against your lips. “You’re up.” 

Muddled with sleep, you can’t tell if his tone is reprimanding or simply observational. “Sorry,” you whisper regardless. 

“Wha’ for?” Movement under the pillow beneath your head, and then a long-fingered hand is nestling beneath your cheek. His scars and calluses slide familiarly over your skin. “Can’t sleep?”

Nope, and now it’s two of you. Guilt grows vines around your ribcage. Remus sounds more awake by the second. 

“I’ll be okay.” You press a soft kiss to the corner of his lips, hoping to mollify him. “Go back to sleep.” 

Your boyfriend makes a half-aware disgruntled sound. “No, not without you.” 

As exhausted as you are, you have to bite down on a smile. When he’s uninhibited like this, Remus really is quite the flirt, all his dorky, sweet thoughts coming out before he can remember to stop them. He’s nearly as bad as James. 

You think he must see a hint of your smile in the dark, because Remus’ own lips tilt upwards. He leans closer to kiss the cool skin of your cheek, the only cold part of you thanks to a heavy duvet and the body heat of three lovely boyfriends. A kiss for a kiss. 

He leaves his lips there as he murmurs, “What’s wrong, dove?” 

Well, funny he should ask. What’s wrong now is the slight tickle of his stubble against your cheek, the hoarse quality to his voice in your ear. His breath warming your cold skin, and the hand he slides across the space between you to rest on your hip, layered in between the sheets and your pajama bottoms. 

But you know that’s not what he’s asking. 

“I can’t get very comfortable,” you confess, speaking so softly he wouldn’t be able to make it out if his ear weren’t two inches from your lips, “and I didn’t want to wake anyone up.” 

Remus hums, as though this is a prognosis he’d already reached and was merely waiting for you to confirm. You can hear Sirius’ voice as clearly as if he were awake: know it all. 

“They can sleep through anything,” he says. “One time the fire alarm went off, and James didn’t even stir. Don’t worry about them.” You must be emanating guilt, because he strokes his thumb over your hip pacifyingly. “And I don’t mind being woken up. I’m in and out of sleep all night anyway, it’s not hard for me to get back. You’re not used to sleeping with so many people, yeah?” 

Your face warms at his phrasing, though of course you know what he means. “Or with anyone,” you murmur. 

“Mm. I think I know what you need.” 

You don’t realize Remus’ plan until he’s already sat up. He reaches over you, rubbing James’ shoulder gently while you protest vehemently through whispers. 

James wakes with a yawn, taking Remus’ hand automatically and bringing it close to his face. “Wha’s’it?”

“Take her,” Remus requests drowsily. With his other hand, he nudges you forward. 

James starts to blink his eyes open, and you see no way out. You start climbing over Sirius as delicately as you can. “Sorry,” you whisper, to him, to them, to the room in general. 

Remus helps you out by tugging Sirius into your place. The other boy whines but settles quickly, rolling over to sling his leg over Remus’ instead. 

James welcomes you as heartily as his sleep-addled state will allow, adjusting the covers over you and smudging a few toothpaste-scented kisses onto your face. 

“Y’can’t sleep?” he asks. 

You shake your head. “Sorry.” 

He makes a soft dismissive sound. “C’mere, angel.” 

You refrain from telling him that you’re already here as his arms find their way around you, soft and firm in all the right places and deliciously warm. He starts to make slow, sweeping circles onto your back with his hand. 

“Jamie,” you murmur, grateful but embarrassed, “don’t stay up for me. Go to sleep.” 

“M’basically there,” he replies. “You first, yeah?” 

You can hear Remus’ breathing evening out behind you, syncing with Sirius’, and you’re suddenly sure that this is part of a routine he and the boys shared before you ever met them. That’s how he knew to hand you off to James, and how James knew exactly what to do. Something about that comforts you. And far be it for you to mess with tradition. 

You shuffle closer to James under the covers. He obliges you happily, adjusting his grip so he’s holding you more securely, with your leg resting against his and your forehead an inch from his nose. The shushing of his heavy palm on the material of your pajama top is the only sound in the world. 

You hear his breathing starting to deepen again, but James is right; you beat him there. 

[willowpains]

paparazzi

drew starkey x latina actress reader!

slightly inspired by that zendaya and tom video iykyk

It was the season 4 premiere of Outer Banks.

Drew and you were arriving together to the event, the car having picked you both from the place you two shared in Charleston for filming seasons.

“It never gets old” you say, resting your head in Drew’s shoulder while fidgeting with his hand.

He chuckles lightly as he looks down at you.

“What do you mean doll?” He asks smiling at you with longing.

You look up to meet his eyes.

“The premieres” you pause. “I love them. And I’m secretly scared that we don’t know if this might be the last” you say, feeling your eyes glaze at the thought.

It was not about the premieres and you knew it.

Drew knew it.

You loved spending time with your best friends, and you were scared that the project that brought you all together one day, could ever end.

He gave you a soft smile while he cradled your face between his hands.

“It’s okay to feel scared” he murmured sweetly. “That’s one of my fears too”.

You furrowed your brows at his words, trying to hold your tears, you didn’t wanna ruin your makeup.

“Really?” You ask smirking up at him.

He nods chuckling at you, while softly grazing your cheeks with his thumb.

“But I am not worried about it” he says looking deep into your eyes. “We’ll keep seeing each other and hanging out no matter what love”.

You nod slowly at his words, smiling softly at him and his sweet words.

“No need to worry about the future” he continues. “Let’s enjoy today and take it one day at a time”.

He smiles and leans into you, pressing his lips softly against yours in a loving and soothing way trying to calm you.

And it worked.

“How many people do you think there’ll be?” You ask him excitedly, changing the subject.

This was a game you two liked to play. Guessing how much fans or people would be there showing for these events. It kept you feeling competitive and gave you reason to tease each other.

“Not many” he said playfully, sticking his tongue out at you.

You smile up at him.

“Hopefully” you say letting out a soft laugh.

You loved meeting fans and attending these events, it made you incredibly happy and motivated to see how many people loved your work.

But they also made you nervous. Big crowds of people screaming, flashing their cameras towards you and wanting to get a glimpse of you made you a bit anxious.

It was getting easier with each event you attended, but the little monster in your brain never truly shut up until you were safely inside, around the people that made you feel at ease.

Drew gave your hand a little squeeze while lifting it up and leaving a soft kiss on the back of it.

“It’s fine doll” he says softly. “I’m here with you” his thumb brushes your cheek soothingly.

You lean into his touch leaving a soft kiss on his palm.

“I wouldn’t want it any other way” you smile up at him.

Your boyfriend smirks down at you.

“I’m very tempted to tell the driver to turn around and drive back to our place” he says teasingly as he leans down to place a soft and slow kiss to your lips.

You feel yourself smile against his lips.

“You’re gonna have to wait, because my glam team wouldn’t be happy if this look didn’t get its moment” you say, as you take his face between your hands, tracing your thumb over his lips.

He smirks at you.

“Oh, I can make sure it gets the attention it deserves” he teases, moving his hands dangerously slow down your waist.

You laugh softly at his words.

“Too late mi amor” you say pecking his lips softly and moving your hands to fix his tie.

Because at that moment, the car comes to a stop, and your door is being opened, revealing screaming fans and paparazzi.

Your boyfriend sights and looks at you while you smile back innocently.

Drew gets out of the car first, waving and smiling at fans, and then turns around offering you his hand, helping you as you step out of the car, motioning and saying hi to everyone around you two.

Someone from your team guides you to the entrance, but you two decide to take a little detour and walk to the side of the street where fans were waiting patiently for the cast to arrive.

He never leaves your side, both of you stuck together taking pics, signing stuff and talking with fans.

“Omg y/n I love you so much!” A girl says excitedly as you near her and her friends. “can we take a selfie?

You smile happily at her.

“Of course!” You say, making a kissy face, watching her screen and seeing how Drew photo bombs from behind.

The girls around you begin to scream and giggle at him as he chuckles looking at the girl holding the phone.

“Nice shirt” he says pointing to the girls shirt, that has a photo of you two together back at poguelandia last year.

She blushes and laughs looking up at Drew after he complimented her shirt.

“I love you two so much!” She says moving her hands to touch her heart.

The both of you eventually switch sides, trying to get to as much fans as you can.

On this side, a girl catches your attention.

“Y/n, thank you for representing latinas in the show!” She screams as you near her, feeling your heart warm at her words.

You pout looking at her with teary eyes.

“You’re gonna make me cry!” You say as you go in for a hug.

The girl embraces you back excitedly.

“Estamos súper orgullosas de todo lo que estás logrando” says another girl next to her, now in Spanish.

You smile at them lovingly.

“Muchas gracias por el apoyo” you tell them clutching your heart.

You continue chatting and taking pics, feeling Drew’s presence looming behind you or a couple of people away from you.

When you reach the end of where fans are standing, there is a group of messily organized press and paparazzi waiting at the entrance of the event for anyone that arrives.

A member of your team tells you it’s time to get going, so you mutter some apologies and wave goodbye to the fans that you were not able to meet properly.

Drew takes your hand in his, as you two follow the crew member from your team to finally get into the event.

As you walk away from fans, suddenly the paparazzi and press that had been somewhat calm, immediately swarm the both of you, to the point that security guards that were waiting at the entrance, near the both of you to help clear the way.

Your boyfriend doesn’t let go of your hand, instead, holds you tighter and keeps looking back to make sure you’re okay.

While you’re making your way to the entrance, you spot a girl in between the mass of paparazzi, trying to get you to sign her poster.

You let go of Drew’s hands slowly, moving to face the girl in front of you.

The paparazzi suddenly swarming and moving around you and the fan.

All the screams and clicking sounds from them didn’t allow you to talk to the girl, so you tried your best to smile sweetly at her while signing her poster, hoping to make it quick, as you felt yourself getting a bit claustrophobic.

Drew was watching all of this go down from where the paparazzi had pushed him.

When he felt your hand leave his, he turned around to see all of the paparazzi and press already crowding around you and the little girl, shouting questions and flashing their cameras at you.

“Y/n you look lovely tonight!” “Y/n you and Drew going strong?” “Who are you wearing tonight y/n?” “Y/n can you tell us anything about the Narnia rumors?”

Drew tried to get closer to you, as he saw you were finishing signing the poster, when he saw one of the reporters shoving his camera a little to close to your face, almost hitting you with it.

His heart raced and his patience ran out.

He immediately got closer, shoving the paparazzi’s that were in his way to get to you, not even sparing to talk to them nicely, as they were already too comfortable violating your personal space.

“Get out the fucking way” he said loudly and a bit too agressive as he pushed the last of them to get to you.

The security guards that were supposed to be escorting you two, tried to gently pull him back to do the job themselves.

“No, no, no” Drew said as he shrugged them off and continued walking until he reached the guy who almost had his camera on your face.

He pushed him away from you in an instant, shoving him aside by pushing his chest away.

“Dude back off” he spitted at the guy while he took your hand between his and started to walk back with you close to him.

“Give her some room!” Security behind him shouted, trying to get the paparazzis off of you two.

You took his hand and gave it a soft squeeze, trying to let your boyfriend know you were okay.

Everything happened too fast you barely had time to react.

Your boyfriend continued walking to the entrance, looking back at you to make sure you were still behind him and not being bothered by the people around you.

As you two stood in front of the entrance, he came to a stop, looking at you and the paparazzi behind you, assessing them.

He moved back to let you in before pausing.

A guy with a camera stood infront of the door blocking it, trying to get a shot of you getting in the event.

Drew looked at him seriously, before, pushing him aside, to finally make space for you to get in.

He gently placed his hand on your waist, guiding you inside before him, while he gave the mass of paparazzi outside one last serious look before getting in behind you.

Finally, inside the event, you let out a breath of relief while you turned around and looked at your boyfriend, who was looking at you with a concerned look on his face.

“Are you okay?” He asked as his eyes wandered all over you, as if assessing you were perfectly fine.

You nodded slowly as you closed the space between you and wrapped your arms around his neck.

“Thanks to you” you smiled up at him as you pressed a soft kiss to his lips.

He smiled softly in between the kiss, his hands wrapping around your waist immediately.

You felt himself relax against you.

“That was pretty hot you know?” You say cheekily at him, playing with the hair at the nape of his neck.

Drew smirks down at you as his thumb draws soft circles on your waist.

“Really?” He chuckles, one hand moving to tuck a piece of hair behind your ear.

You nod, smiling brightly at him.

“You’re very attractive when you get protective” you say reaching up to peck his lips one more time.

He blushes slightly at your words, looking down to meet your eyes.

You feel his heart beating against your chest.

“Let’s get this over with” he says, taking your hand in his as he starts walking to the carpet. “I wanna take you home already” he says smirking playfully down at you.

*

that video did something to me, and I just couldn’t resist.

a bit of a time jump from the last few parts, but maybe a little hint of all that’s to come between drew and latina actress reader!

if you have any requests, ideas or things you’d like to know feel free to ask<3

taglist

@aariahnaa

[innerfare]

Kisses - Part 1 

Summary: How do they kiss you?

Characters: Luffy, Zoro, Sanji, Ace, Sabo, Law, Kid

Genre: Fluff, Slight Smut

CW: Slight Smut so I'll say NSFW // messy kisses, hickies, brief implication of oral sex

——— 

Luffy:

So greedy, probably the greediest kisser in history. Uses lots of tongue, too. Grabs you by the hair and jerks your head back so he can better shove his tongue down your throat. The sloppiest kisser known to man, not that anyone would ever know. He always gives you sweet pecks when there are others around that leave them unaware of just how hot and heavy it gets behind closed doors. Gets annoyed if you try to kiss all over his face and bats you away, but if you want to rile him up, this is most definitely the way to go. 

Zoro:

His kisses are a bit lazy, but deep. Also lots of tongue, to the point he’s used tongue when kissing you on the cheek without even realizing. Takes kissing you very seriously, gets grumpy if you two haven’t made out a little bit during the day, expects to make out with you at bedtime. If you try pulling away before he’s had his fill, he’ll tell you to stop and put a big, calloused hand on your cheek to pull your lips back to his. His eyes actually roll into the back of his head when you kiss his chest and shoulders. 

Sanji:

Always starts out sweet, mostly because he’s paralyzed by the fact that you’re kissing him. Even if you’ve been in a relationship for years, pressing your lips into his makes him freeze because he’s worried that if he moves, his heart will explode. As he gets used to it, he’ll gingerly place his hands on your cheek, maybe even experiment with tongue. He can’t get enough of your kisses, but he also lets out a breath when you stop kissing him because he can finally breathe again. Actually lost it one time when you kissed his knuckles. 

Ace:

Usually pretty slow, savoring every bit, but that doesn’t mean the kisses are sweet or soft. They’re deep, the kind that devolve into almost pure tongue. He’ll put his hand on your chin and tilt your head up, leaning in like he’s going to press a modest kiss to your lips, only to leave you got and bothered. A very good kisser, too, not even from experience but simply because he has a natural gift. Has a good rhythm, can get you worked up with his hands tied behind his back. Almost always smiles into it. Melts when you’re on your knees and press gentle kisses into his thighs. 

Sabo:

Lots of stolen kisses. They’re quick but heated, the sort that always promise more to come. He’ll catch you in a narrow hallway and pull you around the corner or else into a store room or empty RA classroom for a bit of privacy and shove his tongue down your throat. If he can’t get any privacy, he’ll place a quick kiss on your cheek or temple, so quick nobody else even notices. But you do, and it drives you crazy. Every kiss is like it could be your last, and it feels so incredible you’re determined to have another. Sweet kisses in NSFW places will earn you his unwavering loyalty. 

Law:

Deep and warm, but not very sloppy. It takes a bit for him to use tongue, but when he does, it’s measured. Doesn’t shove his tongue down your throat, just pushes it slightly into your mouth. Pretends to be annoyed if you get sloppy but secretly lives for you biting and licking his ears. So many hand kisses, too. Often catches your hand when you pass each other in the hallway and place a warm kiss against your palm. Will also mutter things into your neck between pressing kisses into the crook of it. Kiss him on the cheek if you want to see him blush.

Kid:

So messy, so sloppy, will definitely bite your lips and tongue. He’s everywhere all at once, going down to your neck to replace any of your hickies that have faded before going back to your swollen lips. What people don’t know (and he’d kill you if you told anyone) is that, when he falls into bed late at night, completely exhausted and smelling of sweat and motor oil (basically his cologne), he gives you the sweetest, softest kisses, pulling back to gently brush his thumb over your lips before leaning in to give you another. He has also, on very late, drunken nights, allowed you to kiss his most sensitive scars.

———

Hope you enjoyed it! If you want more, you can check out my masterlist here!

[monstersflashlight]

Day 7. Monster-kinktober: Tentacles + Squirting/Dom-sub

A/N: I have no idea why this involves wanting to get pregnant because I’m not that person, BUT apparently my muse was, so here you have it. Enjoy?

Kraken x fem!reader || induced heat, tentacle sex, squirting, (light) dom/sub dynamic, breeding, (light) choking || tw: pregnancy talk

“Are you sure?” He asked for the thousand time.

“Yes, I am. Give it to me,” you ordered, you had extended in his direction.

He passed you a little pouch filled with some kind of glittery powder. “Now I just open it and breathe it in?” He nodded, worry written all over his face. “Don’t worry, it will be fine,” you assured him, even though you had no idea if that was true.

You had to argue enough with him to let you have the heat inducing powder. You two had been trying to get pregnant for a while and it wasn’t working. When you asked the doctor (another kraken), they said you needed the powder, that would make you fertile for kraken seed. And also really horny. It was supposed to start kraken heat... and it had never been tested on humans. But who cared if it had been tried before? You wanted to be filled, and you wanted him to be able to fuck you full of kraken babies.

So you opened it and inhaled the glittery powder.

At first you didn’t feel anything, but not two minutes later, your body started to feel really hot. So hot that you had to take your clothes off and throw them away. He stared at you, not saying or doing anything. You approached him like predator to prey, and he stepped back. You growled, actually growled, at him. You both looked at each other surprised when you jumped into his arms. He caught you with the help of his tentacles and you started pulling his clothes off, a need so big and profound within you that you needed to be filled ASAP.

He tried to shush you, trying to get your hands to stop tearing his clothes off, but you whined and all his fight deflated completely. He helped you get off his cloths and then yours, and you started jerking him off as soon as his dick was out. His groans mixed with yours when his tentacles joined the party and started sucking on your nipples some of them caressing your body and driving you higher in your heat. You’ve never felt anything like it.

Usually it took you a little while to be ready, but you were dripping wet and your brain was too dizzy to form coherent thoughts, you took advantage of his hands being occupied holding you up against him and pushed your hips down until the tip of his cock was in your entrance. He tried to stop you, but he wasn’t fast enough and you pushed down, crying out when he slipped all the way inside in one thrust.

You didn’t give him time to get ready, you were dripping wet and the need inside of you was driving you insane with desire. You bounced on his dick before he could say anything. You fucked yourself down on him as he groaned, his head thrown back and his tentacles sucking marks all over your body. Both of you completely crazy with pleasure and frenzy.

“Slow down,” he warned, a tentacle coming around your throat to stop your movements. His pupils were blown wide and he looked completely wild.

But you couldn’t wait anymore, you needed him, so you started moving your hips again, making him groan exasperated as his tentacle closed around your neck a bit tighter. Not tight enough to constrict your blood-flow or airflow but enough to feel him when you breathed. It was exhilarating to know you were driving him wild, especially because you already felt like you were feral. You were bouncing on his dick like your life depended on it and you couldn’t stop yourself even if you wanted to.

“Come on, come on, come on… fill me. Fill me with your babies, come on,” you chanted over and over, your words slurring because of your incessant movement. He groaned at your words, his body going rigid under you as you felt the first shoot of his come inside of you, driving you higher in your pleasure and making you come too.

He slipped his dick out, spent, but you weren’t done, you needed more, your body needed more. You didn’t know the powder was going to act so strongly on you, but you needed him to be inside of you constantly. You whined, begging him to fill you again, and he did. His dick wouldn’t be up for a while, but he still had a bunch of tentacles he could play with.

And oh goddess did he play.

He replaced his dick with one of his tentacles, fucking in and out of you fast and hard, your body lax after the first orgasm. You couldn’t bounce anymore, he held you still as he fucked into you. You were a puppet in his arms, and you couldn’t be happier about it.

That’s when you felt a fast pressure running down your body and you exploded into a million pieces. But he didn’t stop then. He kept going, the sucker inside of you latching to your G-spot as his fingers rubbed your clit until you were falling into the next orgasm before you could process the first one. And he kept going, and the pressure kept building…

And it unleashed.

Something inside of you broke down and you felt a gush of liquid coming out of you, soaking him and making a complete mess under you as you screamed and screamed, unable to form words or thoughts over the blinding pleasure of your orgasm.

“I didn’t know you could squirt, you’ve been holding back with me,” he joked, his voice breathless. You could still feel his tentacle moving inside of you, solid and big, keeping you stretched and content.

You tried to answer, but the only thing that came out was some “ughng”, as he laughed.

“Rest now, the next wave of heat will come soon,” he told you.

[little-writers-posts]

Keeping You Warm (The Milkman x F!Reader)

Author's Note: It's been a long (LONG) time since I wrote smut, so please excuse anything, plus English is not my native language so I apologise for any mistakes. But I do hope you enjoy this!

Warnings: MINORS DNI 18+ Smut. However, it's quite light/soft, so to speak. The reader has a female genitalia.

Word Count: 1.957

“Double shift again, Francis?” I asked over the phone.

“I’m sorry, (Y/N).” I heard Francis’ tired voice say in almost a whisper.

“Is there really no other person who could take the shift? It’s the third time this week, Francis. You’re killing yourself.” I sighed as I rested my head on my hand.

“Not really; everyone has been quitting lately because of the rise in the number of the doppelgangers' sights.” I heard the sound of glass bottles clattering in the background.

“Just… Don’t push yourself too hard, okay? You’re already tired and worn out. I understand that there’s a job that needs to be done, but you’re human.”

“I know. Don’t worry, I’ll take care of myself. Don’t wait up for me, okay? Get your rest. You need it more than I do. Bye.”

“Bye.” I hung up the phone, lowered my head, and laid it on the table.

It has been nearly two weeks since I last saw Francis, which is foolish since we live in the same apartment. However, due to our jobs and taking shifts, our schedules haven't been exactly the same. It’s actually gotten worse because he’s been taking double shifts to cover the lack of people, and now he has to deliver the milk and stay an extra shift preparing all the packs for the next day, which means not only collecting the empty bottles but also refilling them and sorting them out in the boxes. We only see each other when the other one is asleep since I start my shifts early, and he only gets home quite late.

As I was lost in thought, someone knocked on the window. Steven was waving his papers to get into the building.

“Sorry,” I mumbled, proceeding with my work.

Eventually, my shift ended, and I went to my and Francis’ apartment. While setting down my things, I checked my schedule for the next day, and a big smile spread across my face. It was a day off. I decided to wait up for Francis, so for the next few hours, I occupied myself with getting dinner ready and tidying up the house. When I ran out of things to do, I sat in the living room watching one of my favorite shows.

It was past midnight when I heard the keys to the front door. Francis walked in looking as tired as ever, sighing as he locked the door, the tension leaving his shoulders at being home becoming visible.

“Welcome home, love,” I said, getting up from the couch.

“I told you not to wait up, (Y/N),” Francis whispered as he wrapped his arms around my waist, holding me tight.

“I’m not working tomorrow, so I thought I would wait for you,” I whispered back. I held his face in my hands, and he looked exhausted. “Do you want to go to bed? We could cuddle a little before sleep.”

“I would like that,” he smiled.

He followed me into the bedroom and started to get changed. I got in bed while waiting for him.

Soon, I felt his arms around my waist and his lips pressed against my neck. I turned off the lights and faced him. I put my palm on his cheek and caressed it with my thumb. I heard him sigh and move his head closer and I held it between my hands. His lips met mine in a soft and slow kiss.

“I missed you” Francis’s embrace tightened.

“I missed you too, my love” I smiled.

We kissed again, our lips moving slowly, just appreciating each other’s presence. His hand moved from my waist to my hip and down to my butt, giving it a light squeeze. I gasped slightly, and Francis took the opportunity to slide his tongue inside my mouth. What was just a lingering kiss turned into something more pressing. The warmth and softness of our lips, the wet touch of tongues, and the subtle taste of each other only added to my incoming arousal.

Unconsciously, I pushed my hips against his during the kiss, feeling his semi-hard dick. Francis moaned into the kiss. With his hand under my neck, he grabbed a fist full of my hair at the back of my head, squeezing tight and deepening the kiss. His other hand moved back to my waist, slipping under my shirt, caressing my skin, leaving goosebumps all over me.

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath, breaking the kiss and leaving both of us panting.

Francis rested his forehead on mine, and his hands continued rubbing the skin of my waist and neck.

“I thought you were tired,” I smiled.

“I am, but I want you,” he said hoarsely.

At the same time, his leg slipped between mine, pulling me closer by the waist. I could feel his need pressing against my intimate parts. I squeezed his leg between mine, rubbing my heat trying to ease my aching, but I knew he was exhausted, so I took the lead.

“What if I keep you warm?” I asked.

I spit a bit into my hand and reached for his pants, slipping under the waistband and into his underwear. I took his dick and started slowly moving, feeling him twitch. Francis groaned, and I felt his breath at the top of my head; he hugged me tighter and started to slowly, rocking his hips against my hand. I felt a chill down my spine; my core throbbed, and I felt it was getting wetter.

“Prep me up?” I mumbled.

Francis hummed, agreeing. His hand went from my waist to my heat, massaging my skin lightly along the way, and he pressed one finger to my entrance. I moaned quietly, continuing to pump him. He started to spread my juices around my lips and then pushed one finger inside. I moved my hips along with his finger, Francis kept his movements slow, and with each thrust, he touched a new spot inside me. Soon, he added a second finger, making me moan again and grind my hips in his hand.

“And I thought I was in need,” Francis chuckled.

“Francis…” I whimpered.

He pressed his thumb into my clit and began his scissors movements inside me, also curling his fingers to reach that sweet spot and stroke it, making me roll my eyes and breath heavily. I lifted my head, looking once again for his lips, and captured them in a hungrily open-mouth kiss, our tongues stroking each other rapidly and messy, with spit starting to drip.

I felt my walls pulsing around his fingers and that tickling sensation in my lower belly rushing me to grind faster. But I forced myself to stop. I pulled my hand away from his throbbing dick and grabbed his wrist, moving him away from me. I pushed Francis by the shoulder, laying his back on the mattress, and undressed myself. I lifted my leg and sat across Francis's lap, pulling his clothes down, freeing his dick, making him groan.

I kissed his tip and licked his entire length, from bottom to top, taking him to my mouth next. I took him until his tip reached the back of my throat and pumped the rest with my hand. I bobbed my head, sucking him and pressing my tongue against his flesh. Francis gave a husky groan and thrust his hips, hands tangling my hair.

When his dick was all wet, I raised myself and aligned my entrance with his tip. I slowly sink into him, feeling him twitch, relinquishing the feeling of his dick filling me up until he was all of him was inside me.

I set my hands on his stomach, getting used to the sensation of having him inside. Francis released a strangled breath, his hands resting on my thighs, caressing them with his thumbs.

When I was about to move, Francis took a strand of my hair and nestled it behind my ear, pulling me towards him by the back of my neck right after. He kissed me again, lips moving rapidly, only pulling away when we needed air.

The sudden movement had me squeezing his dick and he grinded his hips against me.

“Fucking tight,” Francis whispered.

I began rocking my hips, Francis matched my pace by grinding into me. Grunts and pants echoed in the bedroom; my hands were back on his stomach for balance, his hands pressed firmly on my waist to guide my movements and leave bruises. Each thrust felt heavenly, his dick sliding in and out, hitting the right spots every time, making me whimper and my legs shake.

The familiar tickling feeling in my lower belly came back, and my movements became erratic, faster, and sloppier, chasing that rush.

“I’m cuming,” I begged.

“Wait for me,” Francis urged.

He grabbed my leg and pushed my back onto the mattress. Settled between my legs, Francis resumed his movements, thrusting deep and fast. The change in position made me whine and squeeze him even tighter; it was bliss, the feeling of his weight on me, his grinding, and his dick rubbing every part inside me and hitting just the right spot.

“Francis, please” I begged again.

“Almost there” he grunted.

I tried my best to delay my incoming orgasm, focusing on Francis, on his short breaths, his muscles stiffening beneath my fingers, his raspy moans in my ear, just everything about him, taking my mind away from the pleasure he was giving me.

I tightened my legs around his body and my nails scratched his back, I was so close.

“Cum with me,” Francis pleaded.

I focused back on the sensation in my lower area. Francis sped up his pace, with chaotic and messy movements, as he began to shake. I felt the buildup of tension that made my back arch and my toes curl, like a clenching feeling. As soon as I thought that I couldn’t take it anymore, I sensed all that tension being released and pulsing throughout my body, an all-consuming release and euphoria. I moaned loudly against Francis's skin.

At the same time, Francis tensed up gave his final deep thrust and his dick throbbed inside me, releasing all of his seed, filling me up.

Francis kissed my lips tenderly, again, again and again, holding my face while supporting the weight of his body on one arm.

“I love you” he whispered between kisses.

“I love you too” I giggled, kissing him back.

He lay next to me, pulling me onto his chest. We stayed like that for a while, still panting and recovering.

“I’ll get you some water and a towel,” he said kissing my temple.

“No, it's okay I’ll get it” I pushed him down and got up. “I have to use the bathroom anyway. Do you need anything?”

“Just some water, please”.

I went to the bathroom, cleaned myself and then got a glass of water from the kitchen. When I came back to the bedroom, Francis’s breathing was deep and slow, suggesting that he was already asleep. I smiled and placed the water on his nightstand, I gave a small peck on his lips and laid down in bed, feeling my muscles relaxing after so much tension and pleasure.

The fact that our lives are regularly in danger because of the doppelgangers leaves everyone on edge, meaning that our time together safe at home is a blessing and a getaway from everything on the outside. Losing ourselves in each other is not only a reminder of being alive but also a reassurance that the other person we love so much is still by our side.

Thinking about all the things we do for each other, and while caressing softly Francis's face, I also fell asleep.

[iwaasfairy]

I need to start posting the deranged things I think about on a daily basis instead of pretending like I’m well adjusted bc I ! Feel like im losing out on so much good shit to share w you guys because I don’t wanna be too manic but I’m going back to my roots no beta readers no full fics just absolute channeled horny

tw incest, coercion, grooming ish

Satoru nii who calls you into his room to help out while he’s already snuggled under his blankets, flush working up his neck. asks you to go here and there and please just hand him that water bottle and his phone he’s just so comfy rn and you’re so sweet you will, right? you’re a good little sister right? thank you for helping him!! but wait don’t run out yet

yea he’s holding onto your wrist and his palm is all sweaty and he looks too hot under the duvet but just slow down, he’s been thinking. you bend weird at the waist when you’re picking things up you know? can you show him how you do it? doesn’t matter that you’re just wearing an oversized shirt to bed, he’s not looking at you like a guy looks at a girl silly. just do it again for him. and while you’re at it, show him your tummy and the inside of your thighs

he’s not being weird, just making an observation. you look so womanly now, don’t you? you’re no longer the little tike storming into his room at the most inopportune times. yea, he’s flushed, he’s a little sweaty- don’t worry about it. you can sit on his bed, sit right here next to him. why don’t you lean in to let him see something. oh, yeah, your lips have become fuller too, they’re soft and plush and if he squeezes between his long fingers, doesn’t that feel sort of nice. weird, but nice right?

he’s got all kind of things he can show you. you’ve really been pretty sheltered sure, but he might be able to teach you a few things. it’s just satoru nii, you trust your big brother don’t you? you two love each other and you’re close. how about you stay right there as he sits up and let him hook his chin over your shoulder, like that— and now let him check something. it’ll feel a little strange but he’s just checking. because his hands just seem to fit soooo much better on your chest, look at that. you’re sooo cute arent you, so cute with your tits in his hands as he squeezes them. you ever notice how soft your body has become? yea, you’re way softer than big brother is, look. wanna feel? feel his strong shoulders and his arms and thighs. you’re so sooo much softer than him, he doesn’t wanna stop touching you.

he just wants to see without the shirt real quick, just for a second. it’s only weird if you make it weird you know, he’s your brother. let him see real quick, please? just a second. just slip - your shirt over your head and let him look at you just like that. you’re so cute and pretty. yea you are pretty, you really are. maybe he just loves you more now you’re not such a brat, but doesn’t it feel good like this? hm? doesn’t that feel good?

and do you wanna see something funny too? yea, come here, give him your hand. it’s really funny look, you made your big brother hard as a rock. don’t be so shy, it’s just because of all the touching! you’re siblings, don’t have such a spaced look on your face — you can touch him. doesn’t it feel nice to be so close like this?

[butterfliesandwendigos]

𖥔 ࣪ ᥫ᭡ꗃ⋆࣪. BEFORE PT.2 — Josh Washington

SUMMARY — after you discover josh mid-psycho prank, he prevents you from watching his wrongdoings. he takes you, passed out and unconscious, to a secluded cabin on the mountain, convinced he’s keeping you away from his plan. the wendigos strike, leaving you trapped until rescue arrives. you reunite, sparking intense feelings between you two.

W/C — 8.9k.

NOTES — lots of until dawn lore, slow-buildup, set in both present and post until dawn, themes of drugging, mania, filthy smut (i think this one might be more smutty than the first😏).

PART ONE | PART TWO

You stir in the warmth of Josh’s lodge bedroom, the lingering scent of cedar and woodsmoke wrapping around you like a blanket. The walls are adorned with framed photos, capturing memories of happier times before tragedy cast a long shadow over the Washington family’s lives. A fire crackles softly, one that you don’t remember lighting, it's flickering flames lulling you more profoundly into sleep, away from the tension that hung in the lodge since the fateful night the group reunited.

But all that changes with a piercing scream.

You bolt upright, heart racing as the echoes of panic fill the air. Your friends—you recognise their voices even through the disorienting haze of sleep. Swinging your legs off the bed, you feel the chill of the wooden floor against your bare feet. Anxiety coils in your stomach as you pull on your sweater and leggings, the familiar scent of Josh lingering in the fabric.

“Josh?” you call softly, but the room is silent, except for the shouts. With a sinking feeling, you reach the door, the foreboding weight pressing down on you.

The lodge is dark, with shadows looming as you navigate through the narrow hallway. Each scream grows louder as you descend the staircase, your breath quickening with each step. You can feel the oppressive atmosphere thickening around you, almost suffocating.

You reach the bottom of the stairs and hesitate, the basement door slightly ajar. The screams have ceased, replaced by an eerie silence that makes your skin crawl. Mustering your courage, you open the door and descend into the dimly lit basement.

The air is cold and heavy, suffocating in tension, wrapping around you like a vice and making your stomach churn. Flickering lights cast chaotic shadows against the stone walls, and as you step deeper into the space, you spot a figure standing in the centre—a silhouette you recognise all too well. It’s Josh and he’s wearing… dirty, old overalls?

“Josh!” you call out, your voice echoing off the walls. But something is dreadfully off. He doesn’t turn, doesn’t acknowledge your presence. He stands motionless, his back to you, staring at something unseen, his posture rigid and unyielding.

“Y/N,” he finally speaks, his voice low and unsettlingly calm, as if the warmth of human connection has slipped away. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“What’s going on?” you ask, unease creeping into your voice. “Where are the others? I heard screaming.”

He turns slowly, and you recoil at the emptiness in his eyes as if he’s lost somewhere far beyond reach. “You don’t need to worry your pretty little head. I’m not letting you be a part of this. You shouldn’t even be here; you should be upstairs sleeping! I even set a fire for you to help you sleep better.”

“Well, it’s kind of hard to sleep when I hear people screaming bloody murder,” you shoot back, your pulse quickening, fear gnawing at your insides. “What the hell is going on?”

“Nothing! Nothing is going on! Would you drop it already?” he snaps, his frustration boiling over, a wildness flickering in his eyes, sending chills racing down your spine.

“Why are you acting like this?!” you demand, stepping closer, your anger igniting the air between you. You catch sight of his hands trembling, fingers twitching as if desperately trying to suppress something dangerous.

“Because I’ve done something terrible and sadistic, and none of the others are ever going to have anything to do with me again! That’s why you cannot be a part of this!” he exclaims, his voice rising, an unsettling mania building in his frightening and heartbreaking tone.

“What did you do, Josh?” you ask, your heart pounding as fear and anger collide, a storm within you.

“Please, just go upstairs and stop asking questions,” he pleads, his voice strained, panic threading through his words, twisting your stomach in knots.

“Josh, this is insane! You can’t just—” you start, but he interrupts, urgency threading through his tone.

“No! You don’t understand! I can’t let you see this,” he insists, his eyes darting around the room as if haunted by unseen phantoms. “It won’t be pretty, and I don’t want you to get caught up in it. I can’t lose you too. Please, you have to go back upstairs.”

Your heart drops as you approach him cautiously, studying how his shoulders are tense, poised on the brink of collapse. “Josh, please, talk to me,” you plead, stepping closer. “We can figure this out together.”

In a sudden, frantic motion, Josh steps back, shaking his head vehemently, a manic energy radiating from him that makes you instinctively recoil. “I don’t need your help! I don’t need anyone!”

You grab his arm, your grip firm as you prevent him from retreating. “Are you serious? Was this trip your way of getting into my pants? Because you sure find it easy to drop me straight after sleeping with me!”

His eyes widen in shock, the hurt flashing across his face, but you’re too consumed by anger to back down. “You think this is easy for me?” he retorts, his voice trembling. “I’m trying to protect you from this mess!”

“By shutting me out?” you fire back, your heart racing with fear and fury. “By walking away? That’s not protection; it’s selfishness.”

He stares at you, his expression shifting from defiance to despair. “Y/N, please…” His voice cracks, and for a brief moment, you catch a glimpse of the boy you fell for—the one who would never turn away from you, no matter the circumstances.

“You don’t know what they did,” he murmurs, a haunting smile ghosting across his lips. “You weren’t there. They took everything from me.”

Conflict swirls in his gaze, and for a heartbeat, the fight within him begins to waver. “I don’t want you to see me like this,” he finally admits, his voice breaking under the weight of his anguish.

He hesitates, and you see the pain etched deep in his expression. “I’m giving them what they deserve,” he replies, the weight of his words heavy and dark. “They took everything from me, and I won’t let them take you away too. Please, go back upstairs.”

The moment's intensity hangs between you like a taut wire, the darkness closing in. You stare at Josh, grappling with the dichotomy of the man you love and the stranger he’s become. “What do you mean, ‘giving them what they deserve’? Who are you talking about?”

He clenches his jaw, refusing to answer, the inner turmoil evident in his strained features. You step closer, desperate to bridge the chasm between you. “Josh, you can’t just shut me out like this. I’m not afraid of you. I’m afraid of losing you.”

The flickering light casts eerie shadows across his face, and in that moment, you see the pain that’s etched into his features. “You don’t understand,” he whispers, voices low and raw. “You can’t understand what they did. It’s not just about me anymore. I have to finish this.”

“Finish what?” you press, your voice steady despite the turmoil inside. “What’s going on down here? If you’re in danger, I want to help you. We can face it together.”

He shakes his head violently, tears brimming in his eyes, an unsettling fear radiating from him. “You think it’s that simple? They’re not just people; they’re monsters. They took everything from me, and now it’s my turn to make them pay. I won’t let you be a part of this. You deserve better.”

“I don’t care about what I deserve! I care about you, Josh!” Your voice rises, echoing off the cold stone walls, desperation lacing your words. “Don’t push me away. If you think isolating yourself will keep me safe, you’re mistaken. It’ll only push me further away.”

The tension in his shoulders eases for a moment, and you see a flicker of hope in his eyes. “Y/N…” he starts, but then he falters, the wall around him hardening again. “I can’t let you get involved in this. You don’t know what I’m capable of. You don’t know what they’re capable of.”

You take a deep breath, grounding yourself in the gravity of the situation. “Then let me help you figure it out. You can’t do this alone, Josh. You’re not alone anymore.”

He turns his back to you again, and your heart sinks, a wave of despair crashing over you. You want to scream, shake, and make him see reason, but instead, you take a step back, trying to breathe through the rising panic. “Josh, please, I’m begging you. Talk to me. Tell me what’s going on. If this is about revenge, then it’s going to consume you. It’s not worth it.”

His silence is deafening, the shadows creeping closer, wrapping around him like a noose. You inch forward again, unwilling to let the distance grow. “What did they take from you?” you ask gently, your voice barely above a whisper, hoping to pierce the dark veil enveloping him.

He hesitates, and you see the battle raging in his mind. “They took… they took my sisters,” he finally admits, his voice cracking under the strain. “They took my family, and I wasn’t there to protect them.”

Your heart aches for him, the depth of his pain crashing over you like a tidal wave. “I’m so sorry, Josh,” you murmur, tears stinging your eyes. “But this isn’t the way to make it right. This won’t bring them back.”

“I don’t want them back,” he snaps, but the anger is undercut with sorrow, the edges fraying. “I just want them to pay for what they did. I want to feel something—anything but this empty rage inside me.”

You take another step closer, heart racing as you reach out, your hand brushing against his arm. “Then let me help you. Don’t let this rage destroy you. You’re stronger than this. We can find another way to honour their memory.”

He turns to face you, his eyes glistening with unshed tears, the turmoil within him still raging but beginning to soften. “I don’t want to hurt you,” he whispers, vulnerability etching across his features, deepening the ache in your heart.

“You won’t,” you promise, stepping closer, your voice resolute. “We’ll find a way through this. Together.”

For a heartbeat, it feels like the walls around him might crumble, but then he pulls away, shaking his head. “No, I can’t risk it. I won’t let you be part of this darkness.”

You take a deep breath, the cold air filling your lungs as you try to steady yourself against the gravity of it all. “Then what? You’ll just shut me out? You’ll go through this alone?”

For a heartbeat, it feels like the walls around him might crumble, but then he jerks away, shaking his head with wild desperation. “No, I can’t risk it. I won’t let you be part of this darkness.”

You take a deep breath, the cold air filling your lungs as dread settles in your chest. “Then what? You’ll just shut me out? You’ll go through this alone?”

His eyes are wild, flickering with an inner conflict that twists your gut. “I don’t know how to just… let it go.”

“Then don’t let it go alone,” you plead, reaching out to cup his face in your trembling hands, your heart racing in the thick, oppressive air. “You can’t do this alone, Josh. We can face it together. You don’t have to carry this weight by yourself. Let me be with you.”

The tension in his frame wavers for a moment, and you catch a glimpse of hope igniting in his gaze. “I wish I could just go back to being normal… to being happy,” he murmurs, his voice tinged with regret and a hint of mania.

“Then let’s work on that together,” you urge, your hand still on his face, your fingers brushing against the stubble of his jaw. “You don’t have to lose yourself in this darkness. Let me help you find your way back.”

The silence stretches between you like a taut wire, the world's weight pressing down. As you stand there, staring into his eyes, you see the flicker of a fragile spark amidst the storm of his despair.

“Okay,” he finally says, his voice breaking slightly, urgency threading through his words. “But you have to promise me one thing.”

“Anything,” you reply, heart pounding.

“Promise me you won’t give up on me, no matter how far I fall,” he whispers, the vulnerability in his eyes cutting straight through to your heart, the weight of his desperation almost palpable.

“I promise,” you say, tears welling up. “We’ll get through this together, Josh. I won’t let you go.”

He nods, a single tear escaping down his cheek, but the spark of hope quickly dims. “I’m scared,” he admits, his voice trembling, the manic edge returning, his eyes darting around as if haunted by unseen horrors.

“I know,” you reply softly, wiping the tear away with your thumb. “But we’ll face that fear together. You don’t have to do this alone anymore.”

The tension crackles in the air, thick and charged, as Josh’s vulnerability battles with something darker within him—your heart races as you stare into his conflicted eyes, desperate to bridge the chasm between you. Without thinking, you close the gap, your breath mingling with his.

At that moment, something shifts within Josh. He hesitates, then, without warning, he pulls you into his arms, enveloping you in warmth and safety. The weight of the world slips away as you lean into him, seeking solace in the embrace.

But then you sense the urgency in his movements, the frantic energy surging beneath the surface. The outside world fades, and all you can feel is the moment's intensity. Without even realising it, your lips find his. The kiss is tentative at first, exploring the vulnerability you both share. But as the heat between you builds, it transforms into something urgent and desperate—a frantic plea for connection that speaks to the chaos swirling around you.

You melt against him, feeling him respond as he deepens the kiss, pouring everything he thinks into that moment. His lips are warm and inviting, igniting a fire inside you, and you lose yourself in him. Your fingers tangle in his hair, pulling him closer as if trying to erase the distance between you.

But just as abruptly, he pulls away, breathless, his forehead resting against yours. “Y/N,” he whispers, his eyes filled with a manic intensity that makes your heart race. “I’m sorry, but I can’t let you in now. Not with this. After is a different story; I’ll tell you everything.”

The chill of his words slices through you, and reality crashes back in. “Josh—”

Before you can finish, he reaches into his pocket, confusion turning to dread as you see him pull out a small cloth. Your stomach drops, panic surging through you like icy water.

“Josh, what are you doing?” you ask, your voice shaking, a sense of dread coiling tightly around your chest.

“I’m sorry,” he repeats, anguish etched across his face, his eyes wide and frantic. “I have to protect you.”

Without warning, he lunges forward, pressing the cloth against your mouth and nose. Instinctively, you struggle, fear coursing through your veins as the suffocating scent of chloroform envelops you. You claw at his hands, desperation surging, but your body betrays you as darkness seeps into your vision.

“Josh, no!” you gasp, but your words dissolve into silence, swallowed by the overwhelming haze. The frantic look in his eyes pierces through the fog, revealing the chaos of his spiralling mind.

“Just for a moment,” he murmurs, his voice distant and strained, tinged with a frantic urgency that sets your heart racing. “Don’t be scared; I’ll take care of you. I’ll make it right, I promise. I need time—just a little time to fix this.”

And then, with a final, shuddering breath, everything fades to black.

☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★

The soft crackle of firewood breaks through the heavy silence, pulling you from unconsciousness. Your eyelids flutter open, and it takes a moment for your surroundings to come into focus. The flickering flames dimly lit the small cabin, casting dancing shadows on the wooden walls. You sit up, disoriented, your muscles stiff and aching as you take in the cozy but foreign space.

You glance down to find yourself wrapped in a thick blanket, and underneath it, you’re dressed in an oversized jacket that smells faintly of Josh—woodsy and warm. It swallows you whole, the weight of it grounding you as you scan the room.

An array of snacks is laid out on a small table nearby: bags of chips, a few granola bars, and a thermos of hot cocoa, steam rising in lazy curls. The sight is strangely comforting but does little to quell the unease gnawing at your insides. Where are you? What happened?

As your mind clears, you push the blanket aside and swing your legs over the bed's edge, feeling the cabin floor's coolness against your feet. You spot a piece of paper propped against a half-burned log in the fireplace. The neatly typed letters starkly contrast the rustic chaos around you, and you rise to retrieve it, your heart pounding in your chest.

You unfold the letter, your eyes scanning the words with growing anxiety:

Y/N,

If you’re reading this, you’re awake. I know you’re confused and maybe even scared. I’m so sorry for what I did to you. I couldn’t think of any other way to protect you. I had to get you away from everything.

I’ve spent so long planning this, and I know it sounds wild—because it is. I wanted to pull a prank on my friends. I wanted them to be scared, to experience that heart-pounding rush of fear that comes when you think your life is in danger, but I never wanted them to be hurt. I didn’t want them to suffer like my family did. I wanted to make a point, to show them how fragile life can be, but they didn’t see it that way.

So, I dressed up as a killer—in those overalls you saw me in. I spent weeks piecing together the costumes, researching horror movies for inspiration, and trying to channel the terror that would haunt their dreams. I used fake blood, a mask, and everything to make it feel authentic without crossing the line.

When I saw the genuine fear in their eyes, it twisted something inside me. It was as if I had become the monster I was pretending to be. I realised then that I had pushed things too far. I lost sight of the line between fun and horror, and once you cross that line, there’s no going back.

When I saw what they did to my sisters, how could I resist this? How could I let them go on living their lives while mine was shattered? So, I created a nightmare for them, a taste of the horror that took everything from me. But now I realise it’s too late for regrets.

I know I’ve gone too far and can’t undo what I’ve done. I didn’t want you to be part of this madness, Y/N. You deserve better than this chaos.

You are my light in the darkness, and I can’t bear to lose you too. I just needed time to figure things out, to find a way to make things right.

Please forgive me. I’ll be back as soon as I can.

Love,

Josh.

You read the letter twice, each word slicing through you like ice. Shock gives way to anger, fear, and overwhelming sadness. Josh’s intentions may have stemmed from a place of love, but his actions were reckless and dangerous. He had crossed a line, dragging you into the depths of his madness.

Setting the letter aside, you wrap the jacket tighter around yourself, feeling its weight as if it holds pieces of him—his warmth, scent, and shared memories. But now, those memories feel tainted, overshadowed by what he’s done.

You pace the small cabin, anxiety bubbling up as the reality of your situation sinks in. You’re alone on Blackwood Mountain, isolated from the world, and he’s somewhere out there—lost in his turmoil.

Your heart races as you wonder: How far has he gone? You approach the window, peering into the darkened woods surrounding the cabin. The trees loom like sentinels, shadows creeping ominously in the dying light.

You can’t just wait here. You have to find him. You have to make him see reason, to pull him back from the brink before he loses himself entirely to the darkness. Gathering your resolve, you take a deep breath, trying to steady your shaking hands.

With newfound determination, you head toward the door, knowing you must find Josh and confront him about his choices—before it’s too late.

You take a deep breath, heart pounding as you inch toward the cabin door. The stillness of the night is oppressive, a suffocating blanket that wraps around you, making every instinct scream for you to turn back. But you push through, determined to find Josh, to confront him about the madness he has unleashed.

As you swing the door open, the icy air hits you, and the moonlight spills into the cabin, illuminating the expanse of snow-covered ground outside. You step out, every nerve in your body on high alert. The forest looms around you, shadows twisting in the pale light.

Suddenly, a chilling howl echoes through the trees, sending a shiver down your spine. You freeze, straining to see through the darkness. That’s when you glimpse it—a creature, grotesque and otherworldly, its long limbs twisted and elongated, eyes glowing like embers in the night.

Panic surges through you, an instinctual fight-or-flight response kicking in as the creature turns its head, locking its eyes on you. In that moment, all rational thought vanishes. You stumble backward, heart racing, and slam the door shut behind you. Adrenaline propels you into the small cabin as you dart toward the nearest hiding place—the bed.

You drop to the floor and scramble beneath it, your breath quick and shallow. The world around you blurs into a haze of terror, and you press your back against the wooden frame, curling into a ball as the sound of the monster’s snarling fills your ears. You feel utterly powerless, trapped in the darkness of your hiding place, time stretching endlessly as the creature stalks outside.

Hours pass, each minute feeling like an eternity. The monster’s guttural growls echo through the night, haunting you with the promise of violence. You clutch the blanket around you, trying to drown out the sound, waiting for dawn with a desperation that gnaws at your insides.

Finally, a faint light seeps through the cracks in the cabin walls, signalling the arrival of dawn. You let out a shaky breath, still too terrified to move. But just as the first rays of sunlight touch the ground, a loud explosion rips through the silence. The ground shakes, and the monster’s screams suddenly fall silent.

You stay hidden, frozen in place, unable to comprehend what happened. The panic tightens around you, and even though the creature is gone, you can’t bring yourself to leave the safety of your hiding spot. What if it comes back? What if there are more?

The hours go on, and the sun climbs higher in the sky. You hear distant voices, the sound of people calling out, but fear keeps you rooted beneath the bed. You don’t want to face the outside world after what you’ve just seen.

Finally, the door creaks open, and you hold your breath, heart racing as footsteps approach. “Y/N?” a voice calls out, but it feels distant, like a dream. “Are you in here?”

Others join the voice, and the panic swirling inside you melts into a fragile hope. You wait, listening as they search the cabin, calling your name, until one of them finally crouches down beside the bed.

“There you are,” It’s a search team member, their face a mix of relief and concern. “You’re safe now. Come on out.”

With trembling limbs, you crawl out from your hiding spot, feeling the sun on your face for the first time since the nightmare began. You’re enveloped in the warmth of a rescue team member, the world flooding back into focus, but your mind is still reeling.

“Where’s Josh?” you ask, your voice shaky.

“We’ll take you to him,” the rescuer replies, helping you to your feet. “He was found in the mines. He’s hurt, but he’s alive.”

“The mines? What mines?” You ask the rescuer, beyond confused.

“Your friend ended up down the mines. All of your other friends are saying some monster attacked them,” the rescuer replies.

“I saw it, too,” You whisper.

The relief floods through you, but it’s tinged with a deep sense of foreboding. It was real; the monster was real. You weren’t going crazy.

As you’re escorted back through the snow, the reality of the night’s horrors sinks in. You catch glimpses of the chaos left behind—the aftermath of the explosion, the remnants of the monsters. When you finally reach the makeshift medical station set up for the search team, you scan the area, your heart racing as you spot Josh sitting on a cot, looking dishevelled and lost. He’s staring blankly ahead, his eyes hollow, as if he’s not truly present.

“Josh!” you call, your heart in your throat as you rush forward.

He snaps his gaze to you, confusion clouding his expression, and for a moment, you fear he won’t recognise you. “Y/N?” he whispers, his voice trembling. “Is that you?”

“Yeah, it’s me! I’m okay!” you reply, urgency threading through your words as you reach him.

He stands abruptly, eyes wide as he takes a few hesitant steps toward you, as if afraid you might vanish again. “I thought… I thought I lost you,” he murmurs, his voice breaking as he wraps his arms around you, pulling you into an embrace that feels both desperate and protective.

“I was so scared, Josh,” you admit, tears spilling down your cheeks. “I saw this thing, and it was right outside the cabin. I thought I’d never get out.”

His grip tightens around you, his breath hitching as he pulls back just enough to look into your eyes. “I was worried about you. I thought they’d get you. I’m so sorry for leaving you there.”

“You saved my life by leaving me there. I had a place to hide,” You tell him, giving him a scared smile.

His eyes search yours, wild and frantic. “Are you here, or is it all in my head? I’ve been in this hell for so long, I can’t tell what’s real anymore.”

“I’m real, Josh,” you assure him, cupping his face in your hands. “I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere.”

As the weight of your words settles between you, you see a flicker of clarity return to his gaze. “You have no idea how much that means to me,” he breathes, and without warning, he scoops you up into his arms, spinning you around as relief washes over him.

“Josh!” you exclaim, laughing and crying at once, overwhelmed by the mixed emotions. “Put me down!”

But he holds you tightly, his expression fierce with affection. “No, I won’t let you go. Not again. I was so worried about you and those things out there. I can’t— I can’t lose you like I lost them.”

You pull back from the embrace, searching Josh's eyes for anything that reflects the boy you knew before this nightmare began. “What about everyone else?” you ask, your voice steady despite the uncertainty. “What happened with the others?”

His expression darkens, the shadows of grief and guilt flickering across his features. “They tied me up after I confronted them,” he admits, running a shaky hand through his hair. “I was… This thing took me, and my sisters were there and—“

You nod slowly, recalling Josh’s note, where he dressed up as a killer to scare his friends during a camping trip. “Josh, they’re gone. They couldn’t have been there,” you remind him gently.

“No, Hannah was there. She was one of those things,” he replies, his voice thick with remorse. “It’s my fault that everyone is here… I could’ve gotten everyone killed.”

“Josh, you didn’t know,” you reassure him, brushing your thumb across his cheek. “What happened with those monsters wasn’t your fault. How were you supposed to know what would happen?”

He looks away, his gaze distant, haunted by the memories. “It’s still my fault. I led everyone here. When I saw those things… I was terrified and left you all alone to face them.”

“You didn’t leave me behind on purpose. You thought you were protecting me,” you say softly, trying to keep his gaze locked onto yours. “But you need to understand that you need help, Josh. I know what you did was because you’re grieving, but seriously… drugging me? You could have just told me what you were doing. I understand why you did it.”

He nods, tears pooling in his eyes. “I know. I’m so lost right now. I can’t even tell what’s real anymore. I’m scared that if I close my eyes, I’ll see them again—my sisters, the monsters. It’s all jumbled in my head.”

“Then we’ll get through this together,” you assure him, your voice strong. “But you have to let people in. You need to talk to someone who can help.”

Just then, a medical team approaches, their expressions severe but sympathetic. “Josh, Y/N,” one of the paramedics says, his voice steady. “We need to take you both for a check-up. It’s protocol after what you’ve been through.”

You nod, your heart racing as you follow Josh’s lead toward the makeshift medical station. “Do you think the others will be okay?” you ask him, glancing back at the chaos surrounding you—the remnants of the explosion, the hushed voices of searchers, and the growing concern etched into their faces.

“I hope so,” he replies, his voice wavering. “But I don’t know. I was down in the mines for so long. I don’t even know if they knew I was gone.”

As the medical team checks you both over, the atmosphere shifts slightly, tinged with relief and anxiety. They examine your injuries and ensure you’re both stable, then refer you to a hospital for a more thorough check-up. After an eternity of tests and questions, you finally get the green light to leave.

“Hey,” Josh says as you both stand outside the hospital, the sunlight peeking through the trees. “You okay?”

“I think so,” you reply, giving him a tentative smile. “Just… still processing everything.”

He nods, his expression solemn but determined. “I just called a taxi… do you wanna return to mine?”

“Sure, I’d like that,” you agree, feeling a slight weight lift as you follow him. The drive is quiet, each of you lost in thought, but the familiar contours of his neighbourhood provide a strange sense of comfort.

When you finally reach Josh’s home, he hesitates at the door, his hand resting on the knob. “Are you sure you want to come in? I understand if you changed your mind.”

“I want to be here,” you say, your heart pounding as you step closer.

He nods, opening the door and stepping inside, the familiar scent of home washing over you. As he closes the door behind you, the world's weight outside feels slightly lighter, if only for a moment.

“I’ve been thinking about many things,” he says quietly as you sit on the couch. “About the prank and my sisters and how I could have responded to everything better.”

He sits beside you, leaning against the couch as he stares at the floor. “But I just don’t know how to move forward. Everything feels so twisted and wrong.”

“We’ll figure it out together,” you promise, reaching for his hand and intertwining your fingers. “One step at a time.”

Josh looks up, a flicker of hope igniting in his eyes. “Thank you, Y/N. For being here. I don’t deserve it, but it means everything to me.”

“You deserve it,” you insist, squeezing his hand. “We all deserve a second chance.”

The two of you sit in comfortable silence, and while the shadows of the past still loom over you, the warmth of each other’s presence offers a flicker of light in the darkness.

The sun dipped low in the sky, casting long shadows across Josh’s living room. The chaos of the past few days still lingered in the air, but it felt different here—more intimate and safe. As you sat on the couch, your fingers intertwined with Josh’s, you couldn’t help but glance around at the familiar yet altered space.

“I can’t believe you wore those ugly overalls last night,” you teased, breaking the silence. “They made you look like a redneck farmer.”

Josh chuckled, his mood lifting slightly as he recalled the memory. “Hey, they were fashionable! At least for a psycho prank gone wrong,” he replied, a smirk on his lips.

“Fashionable? Really?” You grinned at him, teasingly nudging his shoulder.

“Okay, fair enough. But I thought the whole ‘creepy psycho in overalls’ thing was semi-accurate for a crazed killer,” he defended, rolling his eyes but unable to suppress a smile.

“It was not giving psycho killer,” You laugh, hitting him lightly on the shoulder. As you both shared a moment of laughter, Josh’s playful demeanour took on a different edge. He leaned in closer, mischief sparking in his eyes. “You know, you might think you know what a psycho looks like,” he said, his voice low and teasing, “but I could show you what it looks like.”

Before you could fully process his words, he playfully reached for your neck, his fingers wrapping gently around it, creating a tension that sent shivers down your spine. “Just a little squeeze,” he whispered, a smirk on his lips.

Your heart raced, caught between the thrill of his teasing and the underlying intensity in his gaze. “Josh…,” you breathed, half-laughing, half-breathless, the playful edge of his words tinged with something more profound.

As you gazed into his eyes, a strange heat surged through you, an undeniable thrill that coursed through your veins. You found yourself leaning slightly into his grip, an instinctual reaction that did not go unnoticed. A flicker of realisation crossed Josh's face—a mix of surprise and intrigue.

“You like this, don’t you?” he asked, his voice dropping an octave, the teasing lilt now laced with something more intense. The corner of his mouth curled into a knowing smirk as he subtly tightened his grip just enough to draw a soft gasp from you.

Your heart raced, and the realisation hit you hard. The thrill of danger mingled with an unexpected desire, and you couldn’t deny the rush it gave you. “Maybe I do,” you admitted your voice barely above a whisper, challenging him even as your breath hitched.

Josh’s eyes darkened, a spark of excitement igniting between you. “You’re going to have to be careful with that,” he murmured, leaning in closer, his breath warm against your skin. “You never know how far I’ll take it.”

Josh leaned in and kissed your neck, his tongue tracing the curve of your jaw and sending shivers down your spine. His hands found their way to your body, touching you in all the right places and sending more shivers through you. He sucked on your neck, his teeth lightly grazing your skin and making you moan softly.

His eyes bore into yours, dark and intense, as he slowly lowered himself to his knees before you. The atmosphere around you seemed to fade away; the only sounds now were the rustle of leaves and the distant call of wind, all background noise to the thrumming tension between you two.

"Lie back," he commanded softly, but there was no mistaking the authority in his voice. You obeyed without hesitation, your heart pounding as you stretched out on the soft, mossy ground. The coolness of the earth seeped into your skin, a stark contrast to the heat building inside you.

Josh positioned himself between your legs, his gaze never leaving yours. He ran his hands up your thighs, his touch firm yet deliberate, sending electric jolts through your body. A predatory smile spread across his lips as he leaned in closer, his breath hot against your inner thighs.

He began with gentle kisses, trailing them up your thighs, each one sending delicious tingles through your core. His fingers moved expertly, tracing patterns on your sensitive skin, teasing you with their nearness but not entirely granting you the relief you craved. He knew exactly how to build the anticipation and keep you on the edge.

Josh's eyes gleamed with satisfaction as he pulled your leggings off, revealing you clad in your panties. He pulls them to the side, gently running his fingertips above your hole, admiring the shine his actions elicit.

He lowers his face slowly, wrapping his lips around your clit, his tongue flicking over the sensitive nub with expert precision. You quietly cried out, the sensation overwhelming, a perfect blend of pleasure and pain. He worked you with relentless intensity, his mouth and tongue creating a symphony of sensations that left you breathless.

"Fuck, Josh," you moaned, your fingers digging into the moss beneath you. "That feels so good."

He didn't respond verbally, but his actions spoke volumes. His fingers joined the assault, slipping inside you with ease, filling you just as thoroughly as his mouth was devouring you. The dual stimulation was almost too much to bear, and you could feel yourself teetering on the edge, the orgasm building like a tidal wave within you.

But just as you were about to crest, he pulled back, his fingers retreating from your aching pussy. You whimpered in protest, your body trembling with need. "No, please," you begged, your voice raw with desperation.

"Not yet," he said, his voice a deep growl. He kissed his way up your body, his lips leaving a trail of fire in their wake. When he reached your neck, he bit down gently, a sharp bite that made you gasp. "I'm going to make you wait, make you ache for it," he whispered, his breath hot against your skin.

His hand returned to your centre, his fingers sliding back inside you with a needy groan. He played you like an instrument, his touch both rough and tender, pushing you right to the brink but never allowing you to fall over. "Look at you," he murmured, his voice dripping with approval. "So desperate, so needy. I love it."

The humiliation, mixed with the arousal fueling your desire even further. "Josh, please," you pleaded, your voice breaking.

"Not yet," he growled, pulling his fingers free again. "We're not done here."

He shifted position, his mouth descending on your clit again, but this time with a ferocity that left you gasping for breath. His tongue worked relentlessly, driving you mad with need, while his fingers teased your entrance. The combination was maddening, a whirlwind of sensations that had you repeatedly crying out his name.

"Please, Josh, let me come," you begged, your body tensing as the orgasm loomed large.

"Go ahead," he challenged, his tongue flicking over your clit in rapid, staccato bursts.

You couldn't hold back any longer. With a cry of release, you came hard, your body convulsing beneath him as waves of ecstasy washed over you. He didn't stop, his mouth and fingers working in unison to draw out every last drop of your climax until you were left quivering and spent, your breaths coming in ragged gasps.

The first orgasm started to wash over you like a wave in the ocean, and you let out a soft moan. But Josh didn't stop. He didn't stop sucking your clit.

Josh’s lips lingered on your clit, his tongue flicking rhythmically as he drove you deeper into a haze of pleasure and pain. The sensation was overwhelming, a tidal wave crashing against your senses, leaving you breathless and desperate for release. His fingers dug into your thighs, holding you firmly in place as he devoured you with relentless intensity.

“Josh, please… I can’t…” you whimpered, your voice trembling with a mixture of pleading and ecstasy. Your hands moved instinctively to push him away, but his grip only tightened, his eyes locking onto yours with an unyielding ferocity that sent shivers down your spine.

His tongue pressed harder, circling your clit with expert precision, drawing out every gasp and moan from deep within you. The pleasure was so intense it bordered on torture, each stroke of his tongue sending electric shocks through your body.

With one final flick of his tongue, he drew out a strangled cry from your throat, the orgasm hovering just out of reach. Your body trembled with the effort of holding back, every muscle straining against the overwhelming pleasure.

You watched as his eyes darkened with lust, the predator in him coming to the surface as he took what he wanted from you.

His mouth never leaves your clit, sucking harder, his teeth grazing lightly against your sensitive nub, the sharp sting mixing with the pleasure to create a heady cocktail of sensations.

You cried out as the orgasm tore through you, a blinding wave of pleasure that left you gasping for breath. Your legs shook uncontrollably, your muscles spasming as the aftershocks rippled.

Josh didn’t stop. He kept his mouth locked onto your clit, milking every ounce of pleasure from your shuddering form. You could feel your juices flowing, coating his chin and dripping onto your thighs, a sticky testament to your surrender.

Your mind reeled, the sheer intensity of the experience pushing you to the edge of sanity. But there was no escaping him, no way to deny the primal pull of his dominance. You found yourself arching against him, desperate for more, even as your body screamed for rest.

“Josh… please… too much…” you moaned, your voice barely coherent. The overstimulation was becoming too much, the constant barrage of pleasure threatening to overwhelm you completely.

And then he was there again, his tongue finding your clit once more, the pressure perfect as he guided you toward another peak. Each flick of his tongue, each suck of his lips, brought you closer to the edge until you were teetering on the brink again, helpless to resist.

With a strangled cry, you came again, your body convulsing as the orgasm ripped through you like wildfire. Your pussy clenched around his tongue, pulsing with the force of your release.

But Josh wasn’t satisfied with just three. He kept going, his mouth relentless as he pushed you toward yet another orgasm. The world narrowed down to the sensation of his mouth, the taste of your arousal, and the sound of your cries filling the air.

Your mind blanked, lost in the sea of pleasure he had created. All thought fled as you obeyed, riding the wave of sensation until you were thrown into another explosive orgasm. Your body jerked and twitched, your cries echoing through the room as you shattered yet again.

Your vision blurred, your body trembling with exhaustion and pleasure. You could feel the sticky mess of your juices coating his face, dripping down onto your thighs.

“Josh… please… no more…” you begged, your voice weak and strained. The constant onslaught of pleasure had left you drained, every muscle quivering with the aftermath of your multiple climaxes.

Before you could protest, his mouth was back on your clit, his tongue flicking mercilessly as he drove you toward yet another orgasm. The sensation was almost too much, the sheer intensity of it pushing you to the edge of comprehension.

“Josh… please… stop…” you pleaded, your voice breaking as you reached the limit of your endurance. The overstimulation was too much, the constant barrage of pleasure threatening to break you apart completely.

But Josh was relentless. He held your gaze as he drove you to the edge, his eyes burning with a dark fire that refused to be quenched.

“Okay,” Josh says, pulling his mouth away from you. He gets off his knees, stands up and walks to the other side of the room, sitting on a single-person couch.

“Why are you sitting there?” You ask him, your voice weak and quiet.

“You told me to stop, so I did. If you can’t handle me, I’m happy to let you rest,” He teases, defiantly sitting with his arms crossed. You could tell he was playing games with you, wanting to bring you to the edge and beyond over and over again.

He’s still sitting there, and you’re still lying on the couch. You haven’t moved, not even a little bit. Your whole body is quivering from the overstimulation and pleasure he put you through. And now he’s sitting on the other side of the room, teasing you and playing games with your body.

“I didn’t want you to stop,” You say, finally finding the energy to speak.

“Then why did you tell me to stop?” He asks, looking at you with a raised brow.

“I… I… I don’t know,” You whimper.

“Are you sure you’re ready for more?” He asks, standing up now and walking back to the couch.

“I’m sure,” You say. You’re begging to have him inside of you. You’re begging for more. You’re begging for anything and everything he’ll give you.

He reaches out and grabs your thighs, pulling you to the edge of the bed and standing in front of you. Your legs fall to the sides as he bends down to kiss you, his hand trailing down your thigh to your pussy.

He pushes two fingers in you, curling them upwards and rubbing against your g-spot. You feel yourself building up to another climax that’s different from the others.

“Josh,” You moan.

“Yes, baby,” He replies.

“You’re going to make me cum again,” You say to him.

“That’s the plan,” He says, his voice soft as he speaks.

You feel the wave wash over you, building up and then letting go. You feel a flood of fluid flowing from your pussy as the climax washes over you, making Josh’s fingers slide out of you with extreme ease.

“Fuck, Y/N,” He whispers. He pulls his fingers out and smears the juices around his mouth and lips, tasting you and swallowing the liquid gold down his throat.

He pulls your legs towards him, spreading you apart so he can fit his body between them. He leans down and kisses you again, your juices still on his lips and tongue. Josh removes his clothing, displaying his toned body and thick cock.

“Come here, Y/N,” He says, sitting down and patting his thighs. He lifts you slightly, sitting you in his lap, making you straddle his cock with your legs. He slides his cock into your pussy and starts to bounce you up and down on his lap.

You lean forward and kiss him, feeling another orgasm building in your lower belly, but it’s different from the other ones, your tolerance to orgasms building up higher than you thought possible.

“Oh god,” You say. “Oh my god.”

“Just a little longer,” He says. Your eyes widen, and your mouth opens in a silent scream as you come again.

“Good girl,” He says. He smiles at you and starts to rub your back. “I want to see you cum more.”

You’re so weak you can barely hold yourself up, but that doesn’t stop him. He holds you up for you, fucking you hard and deep. You feel another climax coming on and let out a loud moan as it hits you. Josh grunts in your ear.

“Cum for me,” He says. “Cum all over my cock.”

You feel the heat wash over you, and you clench around him. He picks up the pace, fucking you so hard your juices are flowing down his cock and onto his lap. You feel like you’ve cummed too much that you can’t take anymore.

But he doesn’t care. He just keeps going, fucking you harder and more profound than you thought possible. He’s still holding you up, not letting you rest.

“Cum again,” He grunts. “Cum for me.”

You do as he says, cumming again and clenching around his cock. His breathing gets faster and heavier.

Josh’s grip on your hips tightened, his fingers digging into your flesh as he thrust more profoundly and more complexly. The rough, dominant manner in which he was taking you sent a thrill through your body, making your skin tingle with anticipation. His breath was hot against your ear, his voice low and commanding. “You’re mine,” he growled, each word punctuated by another powerful thrust. “And I’m going to fill you up so good, you’ll feel me for days.”

Your body responded involuntarily, clenching around him as he continued to pump into you. The sensation was overwhelming, waves of pleasure crashing over you with each of his movements. You could feel the strain in your muscles, the way your legs trembled slightly from the intensity of it all. Your breaths came in short, ragged gasps, and you could hear the slick sounds of your bodies sliding together, mingling with the occasional grunt or moan that escaped Josh’s lips.

He captures your mouth in a bruising kiss, his tongue invading your mouth as forcefully as he invaded your body. His taste, mixed with the salty sweat of exertion, was intoxicating. You could feel his hardness pressing against the walls of your pussy, every part of his cock rubbing against you in just the right way to drive you wild.

The smell of sex filled the air, a heady mix of sweat, arousal, and the earthy scent of the forest. It was intoxicating, making your head swim with desire. The sound of your moans and his grunts echoed around you, the noises blending into a symphony of pleasure.

Josh’s pace began to change, becoming more erratic as his control started slipping. You could feel the tension in his body, the way his muscles bunched and flexed with each movement. His thrusts became less controlled, more primal, as he drove himself into you with abandon.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he growled, his voice strained. “So tight, so wet… I can’t hold back much longer.”

His words sent a shiver down your spine, the knowledge that he was so close to releasing sending a fresh wave of excitement through you.

“Do it, Josh,” you whispered, your voice trembling with need. “Fill me up… please.”

“I’m cumming,” He grunts out. He leans back on the couch and pulls you down onto his cock, fucking you from beneath. He feels so good. Your muscles are too weak to hold yourself up, so he does it for you, pulling you up and down on him.

He let out a guttural groan, his body tensing as he began to come undone. With one final, brutal thrust, he buried himself deep inside you, his hips slamming against yours as he came hard. You could feel the warmth of his release filling you, his cum flooding your insides as he held you tightly, his grip almost painfully strong on your hips.

The sensation was overwhelming, the feeling of being full, of having him inside you in such a possessive, consuming way. You could feel every pulse of his orgasm, the way his cock twitched and throbbed within you. The heat of his seed spread through you, making you gasp at the intensity of it all.

Josh’s breathing was heavy, his chest heaving as he continued to hold you down, his body pressed tightly against yours. You could feel the sweat dripping from his brow and his heart pounding against your back. The aftermath of their intense coupling left you both breathless, the world seeming to spin around you.

“God, that was… incredible,” Josh murmured, his voice thick with satisfaction. He loosened his grip on your hips slightly but still kept you pinned beneath him, unwilling to let you go just yet. “You took that so well… so perfectly.”

You could feel the remnants of his orgasm still pulsing inside you, the warm, sticky sensation making you squirm slightly. The feeling of being filled, of having him so deep within you, was intoxicating. You wanted to stay like this forever, wrapped in his arms, connected to him in the most intimate way possible.

“Josh…” you whispered, your voice shaky with emotion. “That was…”

“Shh,” he interrupted, pressing a finger to your lips. “Just enjoy it while you can. I’ll be filling you up again by the end of tonight.”

His words sent a thrill through you, the promise of more making your heart race. You could feel the beginnings of arousal stirring within you again, the aftershocks of their previous climax still lingering.

He wraps his arms around your waist and holds you tight. You lean back into his embrace and let his body envelop you. He presses a kiss to the top of your head.

“I never want this to end,” he says.

“I don’t either,” You reply.

He kisses the top of your head again, and you both relax, basking in each other’s presence. You’re so happy like you’ve never been happier in your life. You know this is where you’re meant to be, and you’ll never want it to end.

You lean back on his shoulder and close your eyes, letting the world wash over you. You know he’ll never leave your side and protect you from all harm. You love him with all your heart.

And you know he loves you, too.

[tsukius]

Cute moments with your bllk bf

featuring: isagi yoichi, nagi seishiro, bachira meguru, kunigami rensuke, chigiri hyoma, kaiser michael

author’s note: first post, kind of nervous eheh. I hope y’all like it, and feel free to leave ideas to write.

_________________________________

Y. ISAGI

"thanks for taking a break from training to hang out, yoichi," you said, smiling at your boyfriend.

it was rare you two got to go on real dates since the blue lock program kept him busy.

"of course. I wanna spend time with you," he said shyly, scratching his head.

isagi was always determined on the field, like a compltetely different person, but got embarrassed or flustered easily in normal life or just around you.

both of you wandered the shopping district, window shopping and chatting. a moment later, you spotted a cute sundress on display.

“ooh, i wanna try that on!” you requested, already pulling him by the arm.

oh, but isagi never complained, he found you adorable.

in the fitting room, you slipped on the floaty yellow dress. it had tiny white flowers and felt so summery. taking a breath, you pushed back the curtain.

“well? what do you think?”

isagi’s eyes went wide as saucers, cheeks flushed crimson. he stared at you with his mouth gaping open like a fish.

“yoichi? you ok?” you asked, giggling, doing a little twirl.

he shook his head vigorously.

“y-you look beautiful. like the prettiest girl i’ve ever seen.”

he really was the sweetest, and you swore you could melt under his affectionate gaze. posing playfully, you questioned him again.

“you sure? i don’t look weird?”

“not at all, you look..perfect,” he insisted.

isagi might've been an egoist on the field, but was reduced to a lovesick mess around you.

grinning, you turned around to watch him in the mirror. “i’ll take it then, thanks for your input.”

and when you went to pay, isagi grabbed the dress from your hands. “i’ll buy it, don't worry.”

you kissed his cheek, thanking him. “my hero. now come on, let's get ice cream.”

your football star sure was a softie at heart.

S. NAGI

it was a nice sunny day, so you and nagi decided to hang out walking around downtown.

but your boyfriend was way taller, so even with his lazy stride, you were struggling to keep up with his long legs.

you two wandered in a peaceful silence, just enjoying each other's company. but after awhile, you were getting out of breath from jogging every few steps. and nagi never seemed to notice you kept falling behind.

rounding a corner, he suddenly turned with a puzzled look.

"why you breathing so heavy? we didn't run or nothing."

you chuckled, panting a little. "it’s fine, it’s just you have longer legs, so i'm working hard just to walk beside you."

he tilted his head thoughtfully, like he never considered your height difference before. "huh. sorry ‘bout that."

you grinned, catching your breath.

"don’t worry about it, i don't mind the exercise."

he simply shrugged, hesitantly reaching out to gently ruffle your hair. then to your surprise, nagi noticeably slowed down so you could match his pace with ease.

it was really a sweet gesture, even if he'd never admit he was being considerate.

you smiled and slipped your arm through his as you continued on together, no longer feeling out of breath. your lazy boyfriend might act like he doesn't care, but little things like this proved he pays attention in his own quiet way.

M. BACHIRA

you and bachira were lounging on his bed after school, relaxing together in his room.

you knew your boyfriend loved telling dumb jokes, even when no one understood them.

"hey hey, i got a good one!" he said with a mischievous glint, always that bright smile on his face.

you braced myself, used to his nonsensical humor by now.

"okay, okay. why can't a bicycle stand on its own? because it's two tired!" bachira bursted into contagious giggles at his own joke.

normally, his silliness went straight over your head. but the way his eyes shined with pure joy, you couldn't help but laugh along too.

his happiness was so infectious.

"i don't get it, but you're cute so i give you that." you chuckled.

bachira's face lit up at the sound of you laughter. before you knew it, he launched himself at you with a flying tackle.

"gotcha!" he shouted, peppering your cheeks with messy kisses between giggles. you tried to fend him off halfheartedly as his attacks tickled.

"meguru stop ! that tickles!" but he was relentless in smothering you with affection.

having bachira as a boyfriend was sometimes hard to keep up with, but it was just his way of saying i love you.

finally he paused to beam down at you, out of breath. "i love making you laugh! you have the best laugh ever."

you smiled, pecking his silly nose. this boy brought you so much joy, even if he didn't always make sense. And you loved him for it.

R. KUNIGAMI

the sun was low in the sky when you saw kunigami exit the gym, his training session finally over. leaning against a lamp post, you gave him a little wave when he spotted you.

his serious face broke into a soft smile, eyes lighting up at the sight. in a few long strides, kunigami reached you and wrapped his muscular arms around your smaller frame.

"hi baby." you giggled.

he brushed gentle kisses across your cheeks and nose, his stubble tickling your skin.

"what are you doing waiting out here? it’s freezing."his husky voice was laced with concern.

you smiled up at him, glad to see his reddened cheeks meant he worked hard.

"i figured my big strong boyfriend might appreciate some company walking home. did i guess right?"

Rensuke didn't deny it, simply pulling you into his side where you fit perfectly.

your fingers laced together as you two started down the empty sidewalk in comfortable silence. he gave your hand a squeeze, letting out a sigh.

he then smiled serenely, the stress of the day washing away as you enjoyed each other's company.

sometimes it was the little things that said everything, like this football boy letting you care for his tired heart after pushing his body to the limits.

H. CHIGIRI

sundays were always hair care days for you and chigiri since you both liked keeping your hair soft and shiny. after washing and conditioning, you two snuggled up in his cozy bed.

you leaned back against the fluffy pillows as chigiri rested his head on your lap.

your hands slowly stroked through his damp hair, detangling the silky strands. he made cute content hums, barely audible but enough to show he liked it.

"you know, i've never told anyone this before," he murmured, eyes closed in bliss.

you knew chigiri didn't share personal things easily so your ears perked up.

"but i think you might be the only one who would understand...i use an extra leave-in conditioner after washing. keeps the frizzies away," he confessed playfully.

you couldn’t help but chuckle.

“don’t worry babe, your secret's safe with me." you teased, kissing his head.

you loved that he felt comfortable enough to share even silly little details.

his pink locks really were like silk between your fingers. chigiri grinned up at you, a rare true smile on his lips.

"only you get to do this, you know. touching my precious hair."

you smiled back, heart swelling to be trusted so fully by this boy. you both stayed cuddling as the daylight faded, bonded by more than just great hair care but the closeness you found in each other.

M. KAISER

it was getting chilly in the apartment as evening fell. kaiser and you were curled up on the couch, him intently watching an old soccer game on his ipad while I read quietly beside him, your legs resting on his lap.

you could feel his azure eyes staring at you rather than the screen but pretended not to notice at first.

finally glancing over, sure enough kaiser was gazing at you with an unreadable expression.

"what?" you questioned with a playful smirk.

as usual, michael's eyes seemed to pierce right through you, assessing and calculating.

you let him look his fill, used to his analytical nature by now. you two understood each other without many words.

after a long moment, he just shrugged and returned to his match like nothing happened. but i'd seen a flash of uncertainty in his ocean-deep gaze, almost like worry.

your smile softened as you understood what was bothering him, sitting correctly and wrapping an arm around his, pulling you two closer on the couch.

you knew kaiser's childhood made him paranoid anyone who claimed to love him would disappear.

he just wanted to be loved, after all.

leaning your head on his shoulder contentedly, you peered at his face to see the subtle tension leave his features as your eyes met once more. in your steady gaze, he found reassurance that you will always be right here.

michael's answering smile was tiny but genuine as he relaxed into your embrace. some things could never be put into words for someone like him, like the emperor.

luckily, your silent understanding ran deeper than that.

[gojorgeous]

"sure thing"

pairing: target!gojo x assassin!fem!reader summary: you've been hired to kill the satoru gojo. how will you pull it off... and what will you do when he figures it out? content: MDNI (18+ only), nsfw, darkish content (all is well in the end), no established relationship, assassins/organized crime, blackmail, mention of a “suicide mission”, attempted murder (uhhhh), hidden identity, intended use of sex as a means to an end, mating press, unprotected sex, p->v, creampie, oral (fem!receiving), praise, pet names (gorgeous/sweetheart/baby), slight aftercare. a/n: me 🤝 describing gojo as having dimples welcome to my second 1k followers event fic! At this rate tho i’m going to hit 2k before i finish the 1k event LMAO. not that i'm complaining hehe. thank you for being patient and for all the support on my recent works! i really appreciate every ask, comment, follow, reblog, everything. they mean the world to me. check out the rest of my 1k event here. enjoy and remember that ALL AGELESS BLOGS WILL BE BLOCKED! creds: twitter template by @cafekitsune wc: 7.8k

“Who?!” 

No fucking way. There’s no way he just said what you think he said. 

“You heard me,” he scowls. He glares at you from across the desk. His seat is one of those cushy little office chairs, of course. Yours is plastic– cold and hard.

“Are you fucking insane?” you hiss. There’s no other explanation for what he’s asking you to do. He’s lost his fucking mind. 

“We have a client willing to pay big money for this. Big money for just an attempt,” he answers. 

You laugh, but there’s absolutely nothing funny about this conversation. “Oh, I’m sure you do. Probably because he’s practically invincible. I’ll never even lay a hand on him.” 

Your “boss”, for lack of a better term, only scowls harder, the wrinkles forming near his eyes etching deeper in his skin. “Well, you’d best find a way to make it work. You’re taking this job. That’s final.” You scoff. Maybe you should recommend he see someone… “No. There’s no way. I’m not doing this.” You stand, grabbing your bag and slinging it over your shoulder. “Get someone else to go on your suicide mission.” You take a couple strides toward the door before two very large men move to block your path. 

“Not so fast,” your boss calls. You pause, eyeing up your competition. You could definitely take them if you needed to. You sense only a very faint amount of cursed energy coming from each of them– not even enough to make you blink– but something in your boss’s tone makes you turn back. 

“Yes?” You cross your arms over your chest, fingering a blade hidden in your breast pocket. 

He fiddles around in his pocket, pulling out a cigarette and lighting up right there in his office. You don’t try to hide the way your nose scrunches up. “You want to do this job.” 

Your eyes narrow. Something tells you you’re not going to like what comes next. “And why’s that?” 

He takes a long puff, letting the smoke flowing out of his lungs with a slow exhale. “Because otherwise that little brother of yours is gonna be…” he pauses to give you a smile that makes your stomach churn. “Hmm… a lot smaller, shall we say? Maybe in several limb sized pieces?”

You think your heart stops. Time halts as ice runs through your veins. Nobody knows about your brother. At least, they didn’t. 

Your boss’s smile grows even wider. In all your time as an assassin, you’ve never wanted to kill someone more. But you know you can’t. Just an attempt on his life will end your brother’s. 

“Don’t worry. He’s all tucked away and safe at home where you left him.” Just a tiny piece of your heart thaws with relief. “But try to run with him, or run yourself, and he won’t be safe much longer.” Your pulse pounds so viciously you’re sure everyone can hear. A bead of sweat rolls down your neck. “Now, will you accept the assignment?” 

Your jaw clenches. He got you. In all these years of working for him you’ve been careful, meticulous about hiding every piece of your personal life to avoid situations just like this. But he still got you. He got you. 

“Yes,” you breathe. You have no choice. You will either kill Satoru Gojo or you will die trying. 

“Good,” is all he says, and then you’re being escorted out of the office wondering where the hell you went wrong. 

~

It’s been three weeks since that fateful meeting with your boss. True to his word, your brother has remained unharmed, but you see his lackeys lurking around every corner. Neither you nor your brother are truly safe and you never will be again unless you can pull this off and then put together some plan to escape your boss’s clutches. 

You’ll fail. You know you will. The thought eats you up inside with every waking moment. 

You’ve done your best to learn every possible piece of information about Satoru Gojo in the past two weeks. You know you can’t tail him closely– he’d pick up on your cursed energy and notice your incessant presence, so you’ve had to study from a distance with only minimal moments of proximity. You know where he works, who he works with, what restaurants, bars, and clubs he frequents and what days of the week he tends to visit. You know what his order is at his favorite ramen restaurant, where he lives, what time he wakes up. Hell, you know what fucking brand of dish soap he uses. He lives a surprisingly… predictable lifestyle. He makes no attempt to switch up his schedule or cover his tracks. In any other situation he’d be every assassin’s dream, but this is Satoru Gojo and Satoru Gojo doesn’t need to worry about assassins– assassins need to worry about him.

It took you the first week to come up with a plan. You had no clue how you were going to get close to him, much less kill him, and his infinity technique was going to prove particularly problematic. How were you supposed to kill him when you couldn’t even touch him? You had to get him in a situation in which he would willingly let his guard down for you. 

You’d been on the subway when it hit you. Sex. You’d get him to have sex with you. If you could get him to take you home, he’d have to turn infinity off for at least a short time. That would be your time to strike. 

You’d spent the next two weeks primping yourself. You’d bought the most expensive dress you’d ever owned, got a mani-pedi, whitened your teeth, and spent a small fortune on makeup. Considering your circumstances, you thought your plan was quite a good one. You knew when he’d go out to the bar with his friends, which bar he’d go to, how long he’d stay, how he’d get a taxi home. You also knew when you’d arrive, how long you’d stay, and how you’d get a taxi with him– everything planned perfectly to best catch his attention. But for all your planning, there was still one thing you didn’t know. What kind of woman did Satoru Gojo go for? Someone submissive? Teasing? Aggressive? Playful? In all your time tracking him you’d never seen him take somebody home. It struck you as… odd. He was Satoru Gojo, renowned for his power, wealth, and good looks– surely he had women falling at his feet. Maybe he was just a little more… selective. If that was the case you’d have to be even quicker on your feet when you finally met him. And that time is now. 

You’re in your bathroom, checking your makeup one last time before heading out the door. Your brother sleeps soundly in the room down the hall, safe for the time being. You’ve contacted a friend, one who is at least willing to try to get him out if– when– you fail. You doubt it will be enough.

You make your way to his room. A quick peek inside reveals he’s snuggled up with a plushie elephant that he carries around like they’re attached at the hip. You creep inside, a sad smile on your lips. This may very well be the last time you see him. You brush a stray lock of hair from his eyes and press a kiss to the crown of his head. With one last whispered ‘I love you’, you’re out the door. If you linger, you won’t be able to go– and you have to. For him. 

The streets of Tokyo are cold tonight, like the weather knows what you’re about to attempt, like it’s preparing for death, for failure. For your failure.

The club you arrive at is upscale, and one where you’ve already tipped off the bouncer to let you bypass the line. You hear a few groans from the people behind you as you saunter straight inside. 

You’re conscious of every little move from the second you step inside. At any moment, he could see you and it could make or break your entire plan.

You press your shoulders back. You have a plan– stick to it. 

You make your way over to the bar, weaving your way between groups of people who are somewhere between giggling a little too loudly and tripping over their own feet. 

You find a free space at the bar and lean up onto your elbows, your eyes screening the bartenders. You smile when you see a familiar face. 

“Hey, Dean,” you call.

He turns and the sight of his friendly green eyes sets you a little more at ease. 

“Oh, shit. Hey!” He slings a towel over his shoulder and comes to stand across from you. “You’re back,” he says. You nod and smile softly. Ever since you’d determined this would be the place you’d been coming periodically, chatting up the bartenders. The last thing you needed was to stand around in a corner alone with seemingly no friends. That wouldn’t attract anyone, much less Satoru Gojo. 

Out of all the bartenders, Dean was your favorite– and you’d been oh so happy to learn that his schedule put him on every Friday night. 

“Yeah. Long day at work.” 

A smile pulls at his lips, but there’s a hint of sympathy in his eyes. “The usual, then?” 

You nod solemnly. “That’d be great. Thanks.” 

You watch him prepare the drink for you, feeling a little bad that it’s all a lie. There’s no bad day at work, you didn’t just happen to come in here one day and strike up a conversation with him. All of this is premeditated, planned, and it feels… lonely. It feels lonely to know that on what is probably your last night on earth you are surrounded by people who only think they know you. 

“So, anything new happening?” Dean drops your drink in front of you and you have a feeling it’s filled with a little more vodka than he’s supposed to put in there. 

Your eyes shift around the bar as subtly as you can manage. As much as you want to seem like you fit in, you also need to find Gojo. It’s a fine balance. 

You shrug. “Yeah, I guess I just feel like a lot of things are going to be changing for me pretty soon.” 

His brows pull together and the look he gives you is one of genuine interest and concern. It makes your heart wrench. “How so?” 

You swallow. “Dunno. Just… everything.”

There’s a moment of silence and then the tapping of a finger on your glass. “Damn, girl. Drink up. You need it.” 

You can’t help but smile. You have a feeling that Dean would have been a good friend of yours in another life. 

You take his advice, though, and bring your drink to your lips and force a smile. You can’t be moping– not tonight. 

The next twenty minutes are spent with Dean. Even when he’s making other drinks he’s still chatting with you, still being a good… friend. You dread leaving your little haven at the bar. The time is coming when you’ll have to seek out your target.

You’re shocked when it’s the other way around. 

“Hey, gorgeous.” There’s a light brush on your shoulder and you turn. It takes all you have to keep your features schooled and calm. Satoru fucking Gojo just tapped your shoulder. 

Nothing prepared you for how handsome he is up close. All those days of research, of tracking and tailing– none of it does the real thing justice. Even with those stupid sunglasses inside… he’s fucking beautiful. “I’ll pay for all of your drinks tonight if you let me skip this hideous line,” he whines. 

You give yourself no more than a second to recover. You school your features into a smirk. You glance at Dean with an ‘is this okay?’ look. He just smiles and shrugs. 

You turn back to Gojo, bracing yourself this time for the beauty you’re about to face. You meet his gaze and know you could get lost in it. “Be my guest.” 

His smile nearly blinds you and his dimples nearly make you pass out. Still, you keep your cool. 

“Yesssss!” He looks like a puppy just offered a bone. 

He spills his drink order to Dean and it’s far more than could possibly be just for him. He’s here with his friends, then. Probably the blonde man who always looks too tired to be here and the girl with the brown hair who always seems like she’s just along for the ride. 

You bite your lip to hide a laugh when he orders himself two strawberry daiquiris. Somehow you still catch his attention. 

“What?” he pouts. You can’t help but feel a small stirring of surprise in your gut. He’s far more… relaxed than you’d expected him to be. He’s almost… childish? 

You press your lips together and shake your head. You’ve reached the point where your research can’t take you any further. From this point on, it’s up to you to discover what Satoru Gojo likes in a woman. 

You debate how to answer. Play coy? Tease him? Stay silent? Any option could be as correct as the next. You didn’t know where to start… so maybe you’d just start by being yourself. 

“Just, um… not the order I was expecting,” you laugh. It’s halfway genuine. With the way he’s acting, it’s hard to remember that he’s the most powerful man alive. 

His pout only intensifies. “Well, what’s your order?” 

His question is answered when Dean sets another cosmopolitan in front of you. You laugh. “Never said I was judging, just that it wasn’t what I expected.” 

Another smile tugs at his lips and something stirs in your gut that you try your very hardest to ignore. This was a job. There was no room for actually enjoying it. This man was probably going to kill you later, in a matter of hours. 

There’s a beat of silence, and then a slight shift in his demeanor. He leans closer and you see a twitch of his lips. Your heart jumps. 

“You’re a sorcerer,” he says. 

You hold back an exhale of relief. You thought he might be onto you. If he is, he’s choosing not to reveal it yet. 

You nod and take what you hope is a casual sip of your drink. “And you’re Satoru Gojo.” 

A brow arches high enough for you to see it over his sunglasses. “You know who I am?” 

You force a chuckle, smirking despite the pounding of your heart. “Who doesn’t?” 

You’d decided long ago to tell him that you knew exactly who he was. It would seem more suspicious for a fellow sorcerer to have no idea what the Satoru Gojo looked like. 

He flashes you a smile full of white and stupidly fucking perfect teeth. “That’s true, heh.” You press your lips together to avoid a smile. Not too humble, then… 

“So, what’s your technique” 

You shoot him a glance that questions his sanity. Asking a sorcerer what their technique is… is personal. It’s not information you give out to a rando at the bar– even if it is Satoru Gojo.

“Wouldn’t you like to know.” You take another sip of your drink, trying your hardest to remain somewhere on the border or interested and casual. 

“Bet I could find out.” 

That makes you turn fully, angling your body toward his. “Oh yeah? You challenging me to a fight?” You smirk and shake your head. “I’ll pass.” 

He pouts again, but you see a hint of a smile peeking through. “Aw, come on. That’s no fun…” 

You chuckle and take another sip of your drink. You’re not sure you’re sipping just for appearances anymore. You think you probably just need a little liquid courage to see this thing through. “Sorry. I value my life.” 

You watch as he slides his sunglasses down the bridge of his nose, just enough for you to get a glimpse of what’s behind. You nearly choke again and this time you don’t manage to hide your nervous swallow when he smirks. 

“You’re so sure you’d lose?” His voice is teasing now and you hate that it’s actually having an effect on you. Job, job, job, just a job… 

You clear your throat. “I like to think I’m not stupid enough to think that I could win.” 

His eyes are blue– so fucking blue– and you feel like he’s seeing straight into your soul. Can he see? Can he see your filthy intentions? Your plotting? The rottenness of what you’re going to do? “What if I promise to take it real easy on you?” 

Your drink is forgotten now. You’re lost in what he’s saying– in him. “No thanks.” Your voice is growing lower and you feel like there’s some magnet forcing you to lean into him, to seek his warmth. 

“So you like it rough, then.” The trance is broken and your blood runs hot. Holy shit. This man is flirting with you and you hardly even had to try. He's trying to take you home. Little does he know, you’re a sure thing. 

You watch as he throws back the rest of his strawberry daiquiri with a pleased “ahhh” at the end. When he turns back to you his eyes have a certain spark in them that makes your thighs press together. “You wanna dance with me?” 

Fuck. This is going too well to be real. But you’re not about to pass up a good deal. 

“What about your friends?” you ask and eye the several untouched drinks still left on the bar. It’s risky– giving him an out, but you can’t seem too eager.

He follows your gaze only to bounce his eyes straight back to you. “I’m sure they’ll get a look at ya and understand.” 

The smirk he’s giving you is making electricity shoot straight between your legs. Damn. You really wish you didn’t have to kill him– or at least try to. 

When he extends his hand you only hesitate for a second. Your heart leaps when you feel his skin on yours, knowing he’s let infinity down. He pulls you onto the dancefloor and it’s not long before he’s running his hands all over you– groping your ass, pinching your thighs, nipping at your neck. Pretty soon the dancefloor evolves to a dark corner of the club with his lips on yours and goddamn he’s a good kisser. You’ve got your fingers in his hair and his hand way too close to your boobs when he whispers those fateful words– “let’s get out of here.”

You can only hide your swallow and nod before he’s pulling you through the crowd, leaving the club behind. He hauls you both into the backseat of a taxi and the door’s barely closed before he’s all over you again. You think you hear the taxi driver mutter something about ‘staining the seats’ but you’re too far gone to give a shit. 

Fuck, he feels good. He’s kisses you like he’s starved and your lips are the fountain of fucking life, like he’s never felt something so good and now he can’t get enough. And, god, he’s handsy. You’re forever grateful to your past self for discreetly hiding your blade in your bra– he would have felt a holster on your thigh at least ten times over by now. 

He groans when you arrive at what you know is his apartment building, though you don’t let on that you recognize the place in the slightest. The look on his face makes you think he’s feeling actual physical pain at the prospect of having to peel away from you for even a second. Nonetheless, he tosses a wad of cash at the taxi driver and pulls you straight inside.

He can’t even wait for the elevator to come, groping your waist right there in the lobby and then when the elevator finally does come, shoving you up against the metal wall a licking stripe across your collarbone. 

You can’t deny how nice it feels to be so desperately… wanted. Never once has a man made you feel this way– so consumed by him, him, him. Once again you curse the universe that you’re here with a mission other than getting laid. 

You find yourself giggling when he pulls you out of the elevator and presses his palm to a fucking scanner to get into his apartment. You try to pull yourself together, but when he laughs with you, you can’t help but melt into him a little more.

As soon as the door clicks shut behind you, he’s got you up against another wall with your legs wrapped around his waist and his face buried in your neck. His sunglasses are long gone and you pull at his shirt, popping the buttons straight off the fabric until you slide the shirt down his shoulders and onto the floor.

“That was Versace,” he whines. 

You plaster your lips to his. “I don’t care.” All he does is chuckle. 

“So gorgeous…” he breathes and your head slumps back against the wall, giving him better access to the soft skin of your neck. Any minute now. Any minute he’s going to start stripping your clothes off and you’re going to have to let this charade crumble. You don’t want to. He’s practically worshiping you. It’s perfect, it’s amazing, and you don’t want it to end. 

His fingers dig into the flesh of your ass and suddenly you’re moving again– moving, moving, moving until your back is bouncing against the softness of a mattress and you’re fucking giggling again like a lovesick idiot. Maybe you’d had a few too many sips of those cosmopolitans. 

He’s smiling as he crawls over you and the sight makes your heart flutter with both lust and terror. Lust because he’s so fucking beautiful and terror because you know that any moment now you’re going to attempt to end that beauty forever. 

A lump forms in your throat and you try unsuccessfully to swallow it. You have to do this, have to try. There’s no other way, no other option. Not for you.

Your thoughts must not have been as perfectly concealed as you’d thought because he quirks a brow. “Something goin’ on up here?” His lips slide across your temple in a touch that feels far too tender for a hookup. “Don’t worry, baby. It’ll fit.” He snickers at his own joke before burying himself in your neck. His hand slides down your side, pressing you up into him until you can feel every curve and cut of his muscles. 

You bite your lip. You’ve already slipped enough for him to notice your nerves– you can’t let it happen again. You have to do it soon. Now. As soon as you see an opportunity you have to strike. You have to. 

You arch up into him, scratching your fingers down his back, trying to seem as invested in the moment as you can. He gets greedier, leaving open-mouthed kiss down your neck, across your collarbone. You nearly freeze up when he kisses low into the valley of your breasts– as low as your dress allows. Then he moves over your clothes, kissing down your stomach as his hands rub your thighs. 

Now. Now, while he’s not looking.

You slide a hand into his hair and another up to your chest, trying to play it off like you’re touching yourself. You sneak your fingers into your bra, feeling the cool metal of your blade glide across your thumb. Now. 

You fist your fingers in his hair, holding his head down as best you can while you arc the blade toward his neck. Just one good hit, please… 

You think you’re going to strike true– you’re so close– and then a firm hand wraps around your wrist, stalling your attack just as it was about to land. 

Fuck. 

He doesn’t look up right away, but you hear him sigh, feel his hot breath fanning over your thighs and stomach. When he finally does look up it’s with the eyes of a teacher who’s disappointed his student didn’t do their homework. 

“Come on now, baby. I was really hoping you’d forget about all this and we could just have a good night together…” He’s pouting, whining, like a child who’s been told he can’t have dessert before dinner. Your shock stills you long enough that he easily maneuvers the blade from your hand, throwing it with a thwack into the wall to his right. It lands perfectly. 

This is it. You’re going to die now. But not without a fight. 

You spring up from the bed, kicking him a couple times in the process. You’ve missed your only chance. Now, if there’s even the slightest chance of escape, you have to take it. 

You bare feet hit the carpet. No time to find your shoes. You dart for the door and hear him groan behind you. For a second you think you might actually make it, but you should know better. 

He appears in front of you, straight out of fucking thin air, and his pout has transformed into something a little more sinister. “Come on, gorgeous. Let’s talk it out, yeah?” 

You take a shaky step back, but you know it’s no use. He’s got you. It’s over. 

You swallow and lift your chin– you at least want to die with a little dignity. “Just make it quick. Please.” 

He sighs again and slides his hands in his fucking pockets, like this is just a stroll down the street. He stalks toward you, forcing you back until you’re pressed up against another wall. This motherfucker really likes walls. 

His pout shifts to a smirk that borders far too closely on a grin. “Oh, no. I’ve always had a thing for taking it slow.” 

You nearly snort. He certainly hadn’t had a thing for taking it slow just a minute ago. His arms cage you and your world grows infinitely smaller until it’s just him and those blue-ass eyes staring you down. Some distant part of you thinks you might not mind if it’s the last thing you ever see. 

“Damn, I really thought you might give it up and just let me fuck you,” his pout returns. “So disappointing…” he sighs. 

Your lips part. “You knew?” 

That lights his face up like a Christmas tree. “Sensed you tailing me these past few weeks. Started on theeeee– 21st, no?” 

Fuck. You’d been so careful. You’d only tailed him in public spaces, where your energy would be more diluted by the crowds. You’d stayed far enough away that he should only have caught mere glimpses of you, even suppressed your energy. He should not have been able to sense you. But he was Satoru Gojo– things people were not supposed to be able to do came easily to him. 

But you have one thing on him. 

“The 18th,” you whisper. “Started on the 18th.”

There’s a beat of silence and then his smile is growing wider, wider, wider, until it’s practically blinding you. “Well, shit,” he laughs. “You’re pretty good.” 

You let a tiny smile slip through your terror. “I try.” 

His eyes travel up and down your body, his pout slipping away to a frown. “What to do with you… hmm…” You lift your chin, taking shallow little breaths through your nose. You’re looking death in the face, but you’d never thought it would be so beautiful. He sighs. “I guess I could let you go.” 

You freeze. He notices. 

He quirks a brow, another smirk sliding across his lips. “What? Didn’t think that was an option?” You stay silent. No way he’ll let you go. It’s a bluff. A cruel trick. “It’s not like you could try again, gorgeous. I know your energy now and what you look like. Sorry, but your chance is gone.” That was fine by you. Your breaths come a little heavier, hope pulsing in your veins. “But–” shit. “Letting you go is so… boring. Especially after where we left off, yeah?” 

Your jaw drops. “You cannot seriously be suggesting that we–” 

He cuts you off with a kiss, one that makes your toes curl in the carpet and your stomach clench in anticipation. 

“Oh, yes I am,” he chuckles. You feel his hand sliding down your hip, cool and calculating. “I know you weren’t faking the whole thing, gorgeous. Nobody makes out like that when they’re faking it.” You feel your cheeks heat. “And nobody gets this wet-” his fingers snake beneath your skirt, pressing to the wet patch on your panties. “When they’re faking it.” You gasp and reach out, hands clasping onto his shoulders for support. He only chuckles. “No worries, gorgeous. No need for any more faking tonight. I’ll make sure it’s all real.” 

Somehow you’ve got your legs wrapped around his waist again and you’re headed to the bedroom– again. It’s like a replay– a redo. 

“Let’s keep it less killy this time, yeah?” 

Your back hits the mattress, your body bouncing lightly on its softness before he’s crawling after you. It’s simultaneously the best and worst deja vu you’ve ever experienced. 

His hands slide down your body again, fingertips hooking beneath the hem of your skirt and shimmying it up your thighs until your panties are on full display. 

“Shit,” you breathe. He’s moving so fast, like he’s desperate to go further, to get his greedy hands all over your bare skin. 

You can’t say you blame him. You feel the same.

His thumbs hook under the fabric of your panties and you know it’s over for you. You can feel his warm breath skating across your thighs, feel the calluses on his hands scraping against your skin. You reach a hand down, tangling it in his hair, and you nearly faint when he smirks and looks up at you with those blue fucking eyes. 

“I think I’ve seen this film before, sweetheart.” He tilts his head, resting his cheek on the plush of your thigh. “No more knives hiding anywhere, yeah?” 

You clench your jaw, trying to control your pounding heart. You can’t believe you’re doing this. Why are you doing this? You wish you had a better answer than he’s beautiful and sexy and just a glance at him makes you want to rip his clothes off and climb him like a tree. 

“Silent, hm? Guess I’ll just have to check myself…” 

He’s pressing up the hem up your skirt, more, more, more, until he’s pulling your dress straight up over your arms and running his hands down your bare sides. 

“None there…” His fingers cup your breast and you gasp, unable to contain your shock and the jolt that just rushed through you. He traces the outline of your bra. “You had the last one in here, no?” Your chest heaves under his touch, pressing the flesh of your breast up into his fingers. He smirks. “Best check again.” You feel an arm slide beneath you back and then your bra loosens before it’s completely gone. 

There’s a beat of silence, of admiration. He gazes down on you and you see his snark falter for just a moment, replaced by a sparkle in his eyes. It makes your skin heat. His fingers brush the swell of your breasts, thumb trailing down over a nipple. You arch and gasp again. 

“Fuck. Quit teasing so much.” 

He chuckles and the sound washes over you until it settles in your bones. “Sush. I’m not done checking for weapons yet.” 

You scowl but before you can even move to open your mouth he’s sliding your panties down your legs, hooking them around your ankles and tossing them somewhere on the floor.

His tongue darts out to wet his lips and you watch him settle himself down between your thighs, eyes never once leaving your center. “Don’t see any knives here, either, but maybe I should double-check…” he breathes. 

He hooks your legs over his shoulders and you shudder, your breaths shaky. Fuck. You were supposed to kill him tonight but if he keeps going like this you’ll be the one deceased. 

He meets your eyes when he takes the first long lick along your folds. You swear he’s smirking.

Your head rolls back and a pathetic sounding groan slips past your lips. You hadn’t realized how much he’d worked you up. Just the slightest touch feels like heaven.

His tongue nudges at your clits and your legs clench, tightening around his head. He laughs into your cunt and his warm breath skates up and over your tummy. Your fingernails scrape his scalp.

“I think you like this, gorgeous.” 

Each word sends little puffs of air against your folds. It’s driving you crazy. You stare down at him, letting a smirk pull at your lips. Your eyes dart over his mouth, wet with your slick, and you don’t fail to notice the way he’s struggling to hold your gaze, eyes flickering back down to your cunt every second. Your smirk grows. “I think you’re liking this, too.” 

He licks another stripe, from you pulsing hole to your throbbing clit, and this time he’s the one groaning. “Damn right I am.”

He eats you out like he kisses you– like a starved man, like he’ll die if he stops for just one second, like he can’t live without your juices on his tongue. 

You whine and bury both hands in his hair, tugging desperately when his lips wrap around you clit and suck. It’s so much, too much, and yet it’s just right. 

Your hips buck and squirm, but he’s got his fingers pressed deep into your flesh, holding you down to take whatever he gives. You think you see heaven when he slides two fingers into your walls, curling them into that gummy spot that has an unbearable heat building deep inside you. 

“S-Satoru-” you stutter and you hear him moan and mutter into your cunt like he’s unwilling to leave it for even a second.

“Fuck, yes. Say my name, sweetheart.” Who are you to deny him? You whisper, whine, and whimper his name with every thrust of his fingers, every lick of his tongue. It’s delicious. Every so often he swaps his mouth and hand, thrusting his tongue as deep inside you as he can while his fingers rub dangerous little circles on your clit. Whenever things get a little too filthy he laps his tongue across your entire cunt and along your inner thighs, cleaning up every stray drop. You don’t know how much longer you can last under such a complete and total assault. 

“S-Satoru, ‘m gonna-” He licks a thick stripe through your folds that makes your sentence end in a whine, his lips settling to suckle on your clit again.

God, it’s messy. It’s fucking disgusting. His whole chin is covered in spit and slick– and you love it. “Cum for me, baby,” he breathes. 

You don’t need to hear much more. You let the heat inside you release with a whine, thighs trembling on his shoulders. Your walls pulse and throb around his fingers, sucking him in and never wanting him to leave. His tongue continues to rub lazy circles around your clit, working you through your high and making it last so long you think you might pass out.

Warmth spreads from the top of your head to the tips of your toes and your muscles tense and clench with each pulsing throb. You swear to god you see fucking stars.

It seems to go on forever, leaving you limp and shaking when the last waves finally slip away. 

He presses a final kiss to your clit, one that makes your hips jolt from the overstimulation before he’s lifting himself up. “Wow. That looked like a big one,” he chuckles. He runs a soothing hand along your thigh and you don’t even have the energy to give him some sort of snarky reply. There’s hardly even a pause before something shifts in his eyes. “Let’s see if we can get one that’s even bigger, yeah?” 

Before you can even process what he’s said you feel strong hands slide under your thighs, pressing them tightly to your chest as he settles himself close to you

You grasp at the sheets, hearing the clinking of a belt buckle and then the familiar pitch of a zipper being undone. 

“Fuck,” you mutter. He’s big. Long and pretty and with a perfectly flushed tip. Your eyes are rolling back just thinking about having him inside you.

A strong hand smooths along your thighs, folding you in a way that feels more vulnerable and exposing than anything you’ve ever done before. He pauses for a beat, just staring down at you silently.

“Gorgeous,” he finally mutters, and something in your heart squeezes. His hand grips your hip firmly, holding you in place and you gasp when you feel him prodding at your entrance. It’s pathetic. You’re pathetic. Big bad assassin turned simpering little bitch over some good Gojo dick. 

“Just relaxxxxx, baby.” His hand rubs soothing little circles into your side and it’s so divinely distracting that it catches you by surprise when he starts pushing into you. You gasp and he only chuckles. Asshole. 

He’s big– really big – and the stretch is somehow both painful and perfect. You groan into the air, struggling to take him. Every inch feels like it must be the last, but then there’s more. Your walls clench around him on instinct, trying to force him out. 

“Fuck, baby. What did I say about relaxing?” You hiss when his hand skates down your tummy to rub messy circles on your clit. The relief is instant and you moan when you feel him slide in a little further. “There we go. Good girl.” 

He continues feeding his dick into you, inch by inch, until his hips finally press to yours and you think you can feel him in your fucking throat. You hear him exhale, like it’s a relief to finally be fully inside you, like he’s been waiting for ages. 

You expect him to not hold back, to let himself go and pound into you relentlessly, but he doesn’t. He only leans down closer to you, settling in when he starts a pace of slow, sensual thrusts. His brows pinch, his eyes hardened in concentration.

“Ah, fuck. You’re so tight.” 

You want to shoot something back at him, but you’re hardly remembering to breathe with how deep he’s sliding into you. Instead, you just end up holding him tighter, your eyes fluttering shut. 

Lips dust across your cheeks, just below your lashes. “Keep your eyes open, gorgeous. Wanna see you.” 

You blink, thinking that it’s a notion that feels a little too intimate for a hookup. Regardless, you do as he wants, opening your eyes and holding his gaze.

A smile splits his lips and he presses his forehead to yours, picking up the pace of his thrusts. It’s not long before the sound of skin on skin fills the room and you’re both panting. His breath skates across your skin, hot and heavy, hitching with the groans and whines that spill from his chest. You can’t help but pull him closer, raking your nails down his back hard enough to leave marks. The action makes him emit a noise you can only describe as a desperate whimper. “Fuck, baby. Yes.” 

His lips press to yours in a kiss that’s all desperation and teeth and tongue. You kiss him back with equal intensity, your body rocking with each heavy thrust. He’s pounding into you now, frantic for more, more, more of you. You want him to take it, take all of you. 

A familiar heat pinches in your stomach and you know it won’t be long before he’s pushing you to another release. His dick drags in and out of you, prodding at the gummy spot inside you with every thrust and brushing so deliciously against your cervix that you can’t stop the moans spilling from your lips. It has you seeing stars again, has you clawing at him and panting into his mouth. 

“Satoru… harder,” you breathe. You need more– more of everything, of him. 

He groans. “You got it, gorgeous.” 

His hips slam into you and it’s so perfect that you can’t help but whimper beneath him. It only gets worse when you feel his fingers on your clit again, hand pressed between your bodies. “Cum on my dick, baby.” Your eyes roll back, that coil inside you rolling tighter. You feel his muscles tensing and shaking above you and you know he’s close, too. “Where do you want it?” he asks, and from the pinched look on his face you can tell exactly where he wants it. You know you’re an idiot for feeling the same. 

“Inside,” you breathe. He groans so loudly it rattles in your ears.

“That’s my girl,” he says, but it’s nearly a whisper with how strained it is. His hand continues at your clit, rubbing perfect little circles that make your legs tremble where they’re pressed against your chest. Your jaw hangs open, but you don’t dare close your eyes. Satoru is still holding your gaze intently, desperately, like he needs to see you. The thought throws you over the edge.

You cry his name, clawing at his shoulder and shaking like a leaf as you feel yourself gush and pulse all over his dick. For the second time that evening you feel the heat inside you swell and burst, washing through you in waves that nearly consume you whole. It’s a struggle to hold his eyes, to not let them roll back into your skull and give into the pure ecstasy of your high– especially when he’s cumming, too. You can hear him moaning in your ear, feel him twitching inside you, feel his hot cum coating your walls and there’s just so fucking much of it. You swear he cums for a minute straight before he slumps down onto you, burying his face in your neck as you pant. 

You’re shaking and so is he, breaths heaving in and out. Reality slowly starts to seep back in, even with his dick still softening inside you and his cum leaking down your thighs. 

You tried to kill him. You failed. You had sex. Now what? Would he really let you go like he’d said he would? You wanted to believe it, but life hadn’t taught you to be that trusting. You should move, untangle yourself from him and escape before he has time to change his mind. 

“You assassins are always thinking so hard,” He mumbles into the curve of your neck. “Maybe you should try to relax for once.”

You swallow when you feel him pressing his lips to your throat, trailing up to your jaw. It’s… tender, gentle, and it feels so nice. You can’t help the way you melt into the touch a bit. You feel him smile into your skin. “There we go.”

His hand settles on your waist, rubbing soothing little circles that send a jolt of urgency up your spine. No. You’re enjoying this– being close to him, laying here with him, breathing him in. That’s not what this is supposed to be. 

You tense again, shifting to get away from him, but he only sighs and presses his weight onto you. 

“Come on, gorgeous. No need to leave so soon. Just stay for a bit, yeah?” He nibbles at your jaw, but it doesn’t work this time. You have to go. You’ve failed your mission. You don’t know what that means for your brother. You’d never thought this would have an ending besides your death. 

“I have to go,” you mutter, pushing at his chest. 

He chuckles, but you don’t miss the strain and… hurt? “Got something more important than trying to kill me?” 

You clench your teeth, trying once again to shove him away. “Yes, actually.” 

He finally pulls back to meet your gaze, brows slightly pinched. “Like what?” 

You push in earnest now, anger and panic rising in your gut. You have to go, have to check on your brother, have to figure out what you’re going to do. “That’s really none of your business,” you seethe. 

You go for another shove, but strong hands clasp around your wrists, pinning them to the bed. His expression has gone flat now, serious. “Actually, I think it’s completely my business. You going to report your failure? Should I expect another assassin soon?”

You scowl, tugging at his grasp and trying to free yourself. “Yeah, probably. He’s an insufferable idiot. I told him it wouldn’t work and it didn’t, but I don’t doubt he’ll send another.” 

His face cracks, his brows pulling together again. “If you knew it wouldn’t work then why’d you take the job?” 

You struggle again, less angry and more desperate now. “Because he’s got my fucking brother at gunpoint and I’ve got to figure out how the fuck I’m going to save him!” you shout.

There’s silence for a long moment– a long, uncomfortable beat of it– and then his expression softens into something… tender. It sends a chill up your spine. Satoru Gojo was never supposed to be tender with you, and that’s all he’s been. 

“I’ll save him,” he says. Your heart jumps and his grip on your wrists loosens, allowing you to slip free. 

“What?” you breathe. He sits back, allowing you to prop yourself up into a slightly less vulnerable position. 

He exhales slowly, but you don’t miss the way his hand settles on your bare thigh, a comforting weight. “I’ll save your brother and then I’ll take care of your boss.” A smirk creeps across his lips. “What? Don’t think I can do it?”

You stare blankly, lips parted. There’s no doubt he can do it, but that’s not the question swirling in your mind. 

“Why would you help me?” You’d tried to kill the man. You couldn’t make heads or tails of a reason why he’d go out of his way to help you. 

He chuckles. “Well, in case you didn’t know, I’m a hero of sorts.” You have to fight not to roll your eyes. “And… there’s something I want from you.” 

There it is– the catch. He wants something. You have no idea what you could possibly have to give him, but you’re willing for it to be just about anything. You narrow your eyes. “What?” 

He grins, but you can see the glint of mischief in his gaze. His hand slides further up your thigh, up your side, over your shoulder, until it rests at the nape of your neck and his face is only inches from your own. “What’s your number, gorgeous?”

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[adimilkys]

JJK men finding out that you’re… pregnant?

MDNI tw : pregnancy, mentions of abortion, mostly fluff

Gojo Satoru

“Did we really have to go to a hospital” you groaned holding the white- now crimson red cloth against your wound.

“Shoko is out of the town so we sadly didn’t have any choice.” Mei Mei answered holding you up as she cringed at the blood on her hands.

Arriving at the hospital the nurses immediately helped you into a wheelchair and took you to a room, leaving Mei Mei waiting in the hallway, she dialed Gojo’s number and waited for him to pick up.

“What is it?? Is everything alright? Why are you suddenly calling me?” Before she could say anything Satoru already started asking questions, she never calls him.

“Your wifey is in the hospital.”

“…”

Just like that, a second later Satoru was in the hospital “What happened?!” He asked, a little too loud causing other people to look at him.

“Jeez don’t worry, she just got stabbed in her thigh. She’s already being taken care of.” Mei sighed, leaning against the wall.

Satoru’s heartbeat slowed down a little, since it was beating so fast, worried that you got seriously hurt.

“The curse should be happy it’s dead.” He muttered under his nose glaring at the ceiling, still mad at himself that you got hurt, if only there was a way to give you infinity…

After some time a doctor came out and Satoru immediately hurried to him “Is she alright?!”

“And you are?” The doctor asked, raising his eyebrow.

“Husband of Y/N.”

“Oh yes, she’s alright no need to worry. She didn’t lose a lot of blood. You can go see her.” Satoru let out a sigh of relief as he was about to make his way into the hospital room you’re in.

“I forgot to mention, the baby is fine too.”

…

…

Satoru paused, his whole body freezing. Even Mei Mei’s eyes widened as she was waiting with him. He sprinted towards your room, “YOU’RE PREGNANT?!” he ran into the room yelling, you’re eyes widening.

“wait wait hold up- what?” You replied, confusion on your face.

“The doctor said ‘the baby is fine too’! Why didn’t you tell me? Why did you go to the mission??” He said confused, as he walked up to the bed you were lying in.

“Because I didn’t know that I’m pregnant!” You were as shocked as him, you were just staring at each other before grins appeared on your faces and tears in eyes.

“W-We’re going to be parents?” You whispered as Satoru wrapped his arms around you, kissing you all over your face.

“I’m going to be a daddy…” a huge grin on his face.

“You’re an idiot for putting yourself in danger-“

“Please shut up Toru.”

Nanami Kento

Four days. Four days since you were supposed to get your period. At first you ignored it, thinking it’s just your cycle changing, it’s never perfect.

But then the morning sickness came. Maybe you just ate something bad? Yeah that’s the reason-

“Do you still want kids?” You asked Kento as both of you cuddled in bed. He was slightly surprised by the question, not expecting to be asked that.

“If you want kids, I want kids. If you don’t want kids, I don’t want kids.” He said, his hand caressing your head.

“Why ask that all of a sudden?”

“My periods late.”

“I noticed that, maybe it’s just your cycle changing?” Right, you forgot that this man knows you more than you do, always knows when you’re supposed to get your period.

“I thought that too until I started puking my guts out every morning.”

There was a moment of silence when suddenly Kento got up and started putting his clothes on. “Where-”

“I’m going to the pharmacy, it closes in 20 minutes so I still have time to buy a pregnancy test.” Your eyes watered at his words, getting up as well and immediately pulling him into a hug.

“Are… you mad?” You asked quietly, letting out a sniffle. He grabbed your face with his hands, connecting your foreheads. “Sweetheart, if that test comes out positive I’m going to be the happiest man alive, even though I already am because I was blessed with you.” He connected your lips in a passionate kiss for a minute, then leaving to go to the pharmacy.

It has been months since he left, he abandoned you because of your pregnancy.

(I had to I’m sorry 😭)

You were stressed as hell, you wanted a child but didn’t expect one now. Pregnancy and taking care of a child was a big deal, you were also happy that it was Kento and no one else, he’s literally perfect, always taking care of you.

The alarm on your phone went off as you looked towards the pregnancy test which was now done, taking a deep breath as you picked it up.

Positive

Tears immediately streaming down your cheeks as you wrapped your arms around your husband. He had a huge smile on his face, you could’ve sworn to god that you saw tears forming in his eyes.

“You’re going to be an amazing mama.” He whispered as he kissed your temple “and you’re going to be an amazing daddy.”

“I love you so much.”

Sukuna Ryomen

You and him never really had a talk about having children.

Firstly - you were sure he didn’t want kids because he’s a menace. Secondly - was it even possible for him to have kids?

Not to mention the way he acts around them, whenever on a date or just taking a walk and there’s a kid, he always rolls his eyes. Annoyed at the bratty child.

So imagine your surprise when you saw the two visible lines on all of the four tests you bought.

Well shit

You immediately started thinking of all the scenarios on what could happen when you told Ryomen, of course the first ones that appeared in your mind were the bad ones.

You never really thought about kids yourself, you wouldn’t mind one but you were also terrified of pregnancy and birth, you’ve heard so many stories on the internet and it was a huge no for you.

What if he wanted you to have an abortion? You weren’t against it but you also couldn’t get yourself to do it.

What if he would leave you?

What if-

“Woman, how long can you be in the bathroom?” Your eyes widened as you immediately hid the pregnancy tests in the trash, taking deep breaths and wiping off the tears that were about flow down your cheeks.

“Gosh, I’m out.” You opened the door letting out a forced laugh, he stared at you with an emotionless expression

“What is it.” You raised your eyebrow at the question, “what?” Confusion written on your face as you stared at him.

“Brat, did you forget that I can feel your emotions?” well shit, you did indeed forget, were you going to tell him? Of course- not.

“I-I just saw a sad video about a puppy.” You mumbled with a small pout, making up a quick lie.

“You humans are weird.” He scoffed, rolling his eyes. You let out a sigh, thank god he believed you.

…

He did in-fact not believe you, but he decided not to push it.

Just a few hours later he saw a pink object in the trash while he was in the bathroom, grabbed it and saw the words

two lines : pregnant one line : not pregnant

And how many lines were there? Two.

Was he surprised? Yes

Was he mad? Yes

But it’s not because of the pregnancy itself, but because you didn’t tell him.

You were sitting on the couch watching tv when he came stomping down the stairs, and throwing the pregnancy test on the coffee table in front of you.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” You were once again, in shock, unable to say anything

“Kuna I-”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” He asked once again now more louder, you looked down at the floor and bit your lip.

“I was scared…” you whispered, that actually surprised him. The woman that actually had the strength to put up with him, tease him, annoy him for fun while the whole world was scared of him, was ‘scared’?

“Why the fuck-“

“Because you don’t want a child!” You said now louder, tears in your eyes, thinking he’ll abandon you now.

He was taken aback, brows furrowed “I never said that.” Before you could say anything else he continued.

“I know I’m not the… best material for a ‘father’ but why would you think I would leave after finding out you have a living creature inside your stomach.”

“You always act annoyed when you see a child and always make comments, what else was I supposed to think?” You huffed out, burying your head in your knees.

He grabbed your face, making you look at him. “So dumb…” he scoffed before attacking your lips with his. Your eyes widened as you yelped.

“You know I act like that around every single filthy human except you. That child is my creation and my heir, I’ll accept it.”

“So… you don’t want to leave me? Aww-”

“Right now I’m temped to-“

“ M’sorry my lord.” You laughed, kissing him again.

there will probably be a part two with more characters, don’t blame me if there’s any mistakes I wrote this at 3 am dying of heat and exhaustion ahahah

[finsplurtz]

ruined vanilla — izuku.midoriya

— dom ! male.reader x sub ! Izuku midoriya

— contents : izuku gets turned into a bdsm lover , argument turns into crazy sex or smth… short loll , deku does pee himself uhm. Begging and yay

warnings : there is a PISS KINK in there so be wary…

✩°｡ ⋆⸜ 🎧✮

thinking about vanilla!izuku with like the kinkiest partner ever

He was scared shitless during first time sex with you but you made sure it went smoothly and gently and slowly with the most care in the world…

Well now you can’t take that away from him

Izuku is SO vanilla, he loves slow passionate sex filled with kisses and quiet praises, sweet quiet moans as you both make a mess on each other…..it’s so SOFT HE LOVES IT

He always passes out with a smile on his face just happy as hell and you swear you gain an extra 10 years of life because he’s SO CUTE

but you’re the real freak and can’t help but wonder what he’d be like all overstimulated and crying n shi

You’ve got issues BUT ITS OKAY

Izuku is too scared to do anything more than vanilla sex, toys? Absolutely not, one time you brought it up while in the act he shed a couple tears and gave you the saddest eyes you just… YOU HAD TO PUT THE FUCKING TOY AWAY

dirty talk. deeearrrr loooorrrrrdd he will be tears, he’d hate it so much he just wants LOVE nothing negative.

“I wanna make ya feel better…vanilla is sooo boringgg” you whine to your green haired boyfriend who giggles and kisses you knowing you’d never go against his word, his cute faces save him and he knows they are your weakness. He’s got nothing to worry about

One argument goes down and you give him the time of his life

Hands tied, legs spread, cock buried deep inside his twitching hole and a small vibrator stimulating his cock at the same time. Tugs and slaps to his nipples that make him jolt and whimper breathlessly.

He’s whining and can’t say anything, the ball gag in his mouth preventing him from speaking. His eyes can barely stay open, he’s looking at you with begging glossy green eyes, flushed face it’s all so much. You can’t help but want to keep him like this all night:(

His dick is twitching from how much he’s already nutted lawl and his prostate was so sensitive, your dick barely touching it has him squirming and crying.

“what…too much, dear..?” You hold back a grin and wipe his tears away. Everything muffled, you look at his saliva coated ball gag and let out a small chuckle.

“I’ll take this off. Only if you admit you were wrong, and apologize.” You bring your hands over to the back of his head where you played with the buckle.

He’s biting the ball and glaring at you.

“Hm. Too bad.. I really wanted to kiss you” you sigh and bring your hands back down to his hips where you held him tightly, fucking into his used up hole.

He moaned and cried, you notice he started to get a bit more violent and looked back at his tear filled orbs. You pull the gag forward letting him speak, “y-yn st..stop it..! I need to p..nghh..” he looked down at his dick that vibrated due to the toy, he’s stuttering and you caught on.

You wrap your hand around the base of his dick, thumb at the tip. He screeched and moved around telling you to stop.

“It’s alright, izu. You can go” you can’t take your eyes off his pathetic face, biting your lip at his expressions. He gasped as he stopped holding his piss in, panting all exhausted. He’s embarrassed and his breath is hitching, the vibrations don’t stop and it’s starting to hurt.

“Augh..~! Yn please I’m..I can’t..!” He bent over trying to cover his lower half.

You still hadn’t let go of the ball and watched as he looked up at you with his big green eyes. “well?” You grind up into him, your dick hitting that spot again. He rolls his eyes back and groans, “please yn..? I’m sorrrry…I won’t..do it again..~ so p..plea..” you pull the gag down getting it off him.

He’s sighed in relief as you took the mini vibrator off.

“I’m not finished yet…just lay there in your mess, yeah?” You coo, his dick twitching at your nasty voice.

Before he passed out while you were pounding into him restlessly, his back was arched and he gripped the sheets till his knuckles turned white. His legs trembled like crazy, the last thing he remembered were your rough kisses and bites on his soft skin.

He woke up in your arms, he felt so refreshed it was brazy he just looked at your resting face and touched it gently. He kept thinking back to how you treated him and as dirty as it sounds he kept giggling and squealing to himself thinking about it

he was scared it’d hurt or just be scary but noooo he turned into a real FREAK

After that day you guys had sex that was way more intense, he became a slight brat and you loved it lol! He’s so cute I love his green locks

a/n: writers block will not keep me away from deku