#cricket sofas

[splendoursofasuk]

Cricket Sofas: The Ideal Choice for Small Living Spaces

If you're living in a small apartment or house, finding furniture that fits can be a challenge. This is especially true when it comes to sofas, which often take up a lot of space. Fortunately, cricket sofas from Splendour Sofas are an ideal choice for small living spaces.

One of the biggest advantages of cricket sofas is their compact size. Unlike traditional sofas, cricket sofas have a shorter depth and are narrower, making them perfect for small rooms. They also come in various sizes, including 2-seaters, 3-seaters, 4-seaters, and even corner sofas, so you can find one that fits your space perfectly.

In addition to their space-saving design, cricket sofas are also versatile in terms of styling. Whether you prefer a classic, modern, or eclectic look, cricket sofas are available in a variety of materials, including leather, fabric, and velvet. At Splendour Sofas, you can find cricket sofas in 8 different colors, as well as new collections of velvet cricket sofas with contrast white piping.

When it comes to decorating small living spaces, it's important to choose furniture that not only fits but also complements your decor. Cricket sofas come in a range of colors and textures, making them easy to style. For example, a velvet cricket sofa in a bold color can add a pop of color to a neutral space, while a leather cricket sofa in a classic color can complement a more traditional decor.

If you're worried about comfort, don't be. Despite their compact size, cricket sofas are designed to be comfortable. They have generously cushioned backs and deep boxy seats, and their arms are gracefully tapered to accommodate side cushions, ensuring end-to-end comfort each time.

In conclusion, cricket sofas from Splendour Sofas are the ideal choice for small living spaces. They're compact, versatile, stylish, and comfortable, making them the perfect addition to any small apartment or house. So why wait? Browse our collection of cricket sofas today and find the perfect one for your home. Order now and enjoy free shipping within the UK.

[unwillingadventurer]

[rebelfell]

made for lovin’ you

older!Eddie Munson x fem!reader

A bad Tinder date gets a whole lot better…

18+ MDNI┃9k

cw: age difference (30s/40s), alcohol, smoking, light choking, softdom!Eddie, face fucking, light hair pulling, fingering, piv sex, finishing inside, and aftercare ‘cos we deserve it ♥️

I’ve been in a Mood and now you all have to suffer.

eddie edit by @eddiemunsons-missingnipple

Holy shit, was this guy boring.

Not terribly surprising, unfortunately. Your expectations weren’t all that high to begin with. Most of your recent forays into online dating had been yielding overwhelmingly middling results and this one was no exception.

He had seemed perfectly nice on the app, when he was nothing but a handful of generic pictures and a smattering of inoffensive text bubbles. But any appeal he held had been in steady decline the moment he took his seat next to you at the bar.

He looked more scared of you than anything—fumbling his words and constantly having to push up his glasses as they slid down the bridge of his sweaty nose. You did what you could to help him relax, coaxing him into the conversation, asking all of those tedious first date questions.

And every single one, he answered with nothing but curt, clipped responses. Making no attempt whatsoever to follow up or ask you literally one single thing about yourself.

Then you made the fatal mistake of asking about work, and suddenly longed for the wall of silence. As soon as he got the chance, he launched into a long and droning explanation of his research on the behavior of crickets.

Acheta Domesticus, not that you asked. And he didn’t so much as smirk at your gesundheit joke.

You might have called it quits entirely by now…if it wasn’t for the guy at the end of the bar.

He had arrived not fifteen minutes after your date did, and slid smoothly onto a stool directly in your eyeline. Which was good, considering you would have snapped your neck trying to get a look at him otherwise.

In a word, he was beautiful. 

Slightly older, with long dark hair that was wavy and ruffled. A short and scruffy beard that only further accentuated the hard line of his jaw where it met the thick, muscular column of his neck.

He was quite literally littered with accessories—a silver hoop that glinted in his nose, leather cuff and chains on his wrists, chunky rings on his fingers that rapped rhythmically on the bar.

Then there were the more permanent accessories in the form of black ink tattoos that covered both his arms and scrawled upwards to peek out from underneath the collar of his t-shirt. A mix of all different styles and designs, ranging in quality from the kitchen scratcher bats on his elbow to the larger and more artful pieces clearly woven in later to complete the tapestry.

You’d certainly never seen him here before, and that was sort of a feat for this place.

West End was one of your favorite places for this sort of date. It was close enough to your place to be convenient, yet far enough that there was no chance of a guy trying to invite himself over to “use the bathroom” or “wait for an Uber” or whatever other excuses they dredged up.

It was actually two businesses in one, sharing the same name, running out of opposite sides of the same building. Causing only mild confusion.

To one side was a wine bar with cozy seating nooks furnished with plush loveseats, sofas and overstuffed armchairs, all a mishmash of vintage styles from thrift shops and flea markets.

But the other side was all modern and industrial—a billiards hall with high ceilings, exposed brick walls, and a large, glossy horseshoe bar that surveyed the tables from the center.

You tended to frequent the wine bar with your roommate Robin whenever you found yourselves in need of a moody atmosphere and some low, soft lighting, your evening scored by the crackle of some great vinyl record. But the other side was better for dates because it automatically gave you the out of an activity in case you found the conversation lacking.

And boy was it lacking tonight.

He regarded the pool tables more like they were live alligators and quickly dismissed your offer to play before launching right back into his overly-detailed explanation of the differences in the eating habits of crickets and grasshoppers. You sighed, no longer attempting to disguise your boredom as you propped your elbow on the bar and rested your chin on your hand.

It wasn’t just that his research was boring—though it was. Really, the problem was all of his technical explanations were so dry and devoid of any emotion that it made you wonder if he even enjoyed it. You had more stimulating interactions with the bartender, for crying out loud.

He was new to you too, but he moved behind the bar with such ease it seemed like he’d worked there for years. He’d introduced himself as Steve, a row of pearly white teeth winking at you as he flashed a smile you were sure had won him his fair share of superlatives in high-school. 

His look read more upscale mixologist, sporting a dark gray vest over a crisp white button down. Sleeves rolled up to show off his forearms that flexed with the pour of every drink, and the collar left open to reveal the glint of a gold chain resting on the soft down of his plentiful chest hair.

The hair on his head was shorter and lighter than the other man’s, but it was long enough to curl slightly around his ears and along the nape of his neck. The ends of it were kissed with caramel highlights that shone in the light when he flipped his head back or ran his large hands through the feathered locks whenever a piece fell forward into his bright hazel eyes.

Most importantly, he also seemed to be friends with your current fixation.

They had greeted each other jovially, hands meeting in a tight clasp over the bar before Steve grabbed a bottle of whiskey and started to pour without the other man even having to order. You watched with morbid fascination as those plush lips wrapped around the rim of his glass and his eyes fluttered closed as he took his first sip, the tattoo on his neck bobbing with the swallow. 

Jesus Christ on a cracker…

Suddenly, as though he could sense you watching, his eyes popped open and immediately locked on yours. You started at the sight of the deep brown, almost black, vortexes in the middle of his face, nearly choking on the sip you were taking of your own drink—an excellent Malbec Steve had recommended when you first arrived.

A rush of warmth exploded on your face and you looked away, doing your best to pretend like he hadn’t just caught you blatantly staring at him.

Or that you hadn’t felt that egregious burst of excitement when he did. Did he care that you were looking? Was he looking at you now?

Doesn’t matter, you reminded yourself, trying to return your attention to the man in front of you.

The one you had made an actual plan to come here and meet; the one who was…still talking.

The next bit of your date felt like it took an entire year. You mostly phoned it in, reluctant to admit defeat too quickly. But over and over again, you found your focus drifting either to the stranger at the end of the bar, or to the bartender. And often, those two went hand in hand.

Again, they were either very old friends or both of them were extremely friendly. They talked and joked back and forth in between Steve helping other customers, bouncing from end to end of the bar with ease, charming smile never faltering as he enchanted every person he served.

As for the other man, you’d caught his eye enough times by now that there was no mistaking he was watching you. Though, you suppose that meant he knew you were staring at him as well…

At the end of your first glass of wine, you excused yourself from the bar—needing a break from this guy’s droning voice more than anything.

He nodded, finally taking a sip of his beer he’d barely made any progress on he’d been so entrenched in his recent soliloquy.

The bathrooms at West End were towards the back, down a long hall that obscured them from view of the rest of the bar. It gave the impression of being in an alleyway with black beadboard paneling that came a little over halfway up the wall and an eclectic gallery of pictures.

There were two bathrooms side by side, just single-room stalls adorned with brass apartment numbers rather than gendered signs, and you slipped into the one with no light coming out from underneath the door. And maybe you took a little longer than you probably needed, milking your break for all it was worth. Not stalling, just…taking care of some things.

Things like touching up your lip gloss that needed no touching up since you hadn’t said more than two words in the past half hour. Or like pulling up Tinder on your phone and setting your location to the absolute minimum distance. You know…just on the off-chance someone in the immediate vicinity happened to also have the dating app installed.

No such luck, you found.

A bit more deflated than you had any right to be, you tucked your phone back into your bag and rolled your eyes at yourself as you reached for the doorknob. You didn’t look up until you were almost at the end of the hall and when you did, you found brown eyes looking back at you.

He was headed for the bathroom as you were coming back and he caught you at the start of the long, narrow hallway leading to them. Your eyes met his as you approached and you paused, already anticipating that awkward shuffle of both of you trying to get out of the other’s way.

There was no awkwardness, though. 

Heat pooled low in your belly as he held your gaze, and rather than breezing right by when you came to a stop, he stopped as well and leaned against the wall to let you pass. He was close enough now that you could see his hair was streaked with slivers of silver and more grays tinged the edges of his beard, particularly under his ears behind the hinge of his jaw.

Your shoulder just barely brushed his chest as you passed, eye contact holding until you were looking back at him over your shoulder as you returned to the bar.

He stood there, watching until you’d rounded the corner and were out of sight before he moved. Pulse thrumming, you slid into your seat with his cologne still in your nose, tickling your brain.

By the end of your second glass of wine, you were more than ready to go. Frowning as you took your last sip, you gave Steve a regretful shake of your head when he asked if you wanted another.

And beside you, Dale just requested your checks as he pushed away his beer.

You didn’t bother with feeling annoyed he hadn’t offered to get even one of your drinks. To be fair, you had not been remotely good company as it was, and especially not once the guy at the far end of the bar decided to call it a night.

Your heart sank just a little as you watched him stand and pull on a creased and faded leather jacket. He then headed for the door, his eyes locking with yours one last time as he went.

Beside you, your date cleared his throat loudly to get your attention and your head jerked up as you realized Steve had placed your receipt in front of you to sign. If Dale—wait, was it Dale or Dave?—noticed your fixation, he was too polite (or too chicken) to mention anything about it.

Tabs closed and coats thrown back on, you followed Dale (Drew? Dirk?) outside. The wintry air cut through your tights and you hugged your coat a little tighter around you.

“So, which way are you headed?” you asked, rushing out the words before he could ask the same thing and float the idea of sharing a ride.

“Uptown?” he replied.

“Ahh, I’m the other way.”

A derisive snort made your head whip sideways and your eyes darted to the source, landing first on the glowing orange dot of a cigarette and then on the plush pink lips wrapped around the filter at the other end. The snide comment locked and loaded on your tongue abruptly stalled.

It was him.

He leaned against the brick facade, foot kicked up behind him, watching your whole interaction. It made your cheeks burn with indignation, but the hungry look in his dark eyes made your entire lower half throb. His lips curved like the blade of a knife into a smirk as he stubbed his cigarette out on the wall and dropped it in a planter filled with sand next to him. You stared at him, your mind sort of blank, and his eyes remained fixed on yours as he strode back inside the bar.

“Okay, well…I guess I’m gonna go,” Dale sighed, a little petulantly.

You brought your eyes back to him and plastered on your most professional smile, shaking his hand formally like this was the end of an interview for a job he was never gonna get.

“Sounds good,” you said. “Nice to meet you.”

He frowned as he turned away, but you felt relatively certain you’d navigated that fine.

Surely he hadn’t felt the date warranted any other sort of follow-up or lie about doing it again—you certainly hadn’t been on your A-game. And you shuddered to think that was his.

Once he’d gotten in his Uber, alone, and you had assured him the one you had yet to call was on its way, you tugged your phone out of your coat pocket and checked the time.

Right now, you had two choices. It was still early enough that Robin could probably come pick you up with minimal begging required.

Maybe you two could get fries and milkshakes and watch some garbage reality tv before falling asleep in a little cuddle pile on the couch.

It was the reasonable option.

The logical, safe choice.

But all your dates lately had been so painfully reasonable and logical and safe. There had been no horror stories to regale Robin with at Sunday brunch, nor any explosive sexual exploit the two of you could squeal and giggle over while curled up on your overstuffed sofa.

It was downright boring. And you were growing pretty weary of it.

You glanced down one more time at your phone, still thinking. Your thumb hovered over Robin’s contact info, needing only a single tap to dial, while your index rested on the lock button.

With a subtle flex of your hand, you clicked the screen off and headed back into the bar.

One more drink couldn’t hurt…right?

“Back so soon?”

Steve was already smiling smugly at you as you approached, his eyebrow cocked as you slid back into your original seat and returned his smile with one of your own.

“I decided I couldn’t live without another glass of that Malbec,” you sighed dreamily. 

He nodded, amusement still tugging at his lips as he uncorked the bottle you’d been steadily draining all night and took down a clean glass from one of the wire racks suspended overhead. You pulled your card from your bag and held it out for him to reopen your tab, but Steve waved it off as he placed down the newly filled glass in front of you and slid it smoothly across the bar.

“It’s taken care of, honey,” he said.

“Oh, really?” you chuckled. “By who?”

Steve smirked at your incredulous tone, his muscled forearms flexing as he leaned on them.

You leaned forward as well, crossing your arms under your chest, knowing how nicely it propped up your cleavage. It made the bartender’s eyes flash as he lowered his voice to a leading hum.

“The dirtbag at the end of the bar.”

He nodded his head backwards, making those caramel-kissed locks of his flop across his brow. Your gaze followed Steve’s nod, landing on the wild head of hair and all-consuming brown eyes you’d been distracted by all night. The “dirtbag” in question was staring straight back at you, the corner of his mouth curled as he raised his rocks glass of brown liquor and tipped it to you.

“Is he really a dirtbag?” you asked him, your eyes never dropping the stranger’s gaze.

“Nah,” Steve shook his head. “Just looks like one.”

“Good to know.” 

You hummed to yourself, feeling almost a little cocky as you brought your glass to your lips and took an excruciatingly slow sip. The eyes of the man across the bar watched you intently, a fire burning in them that ignited your very being.

As Steve moved on to another customer, you pulled your eyes from those of the handsome stranger and let them fall briefly to the empty stool beside you. It was about as bold as you were willing to be at the time, but it did the trick. He promptly swiveled in his seat to slide off it and you smirked to yourself as you looked down, pretending to be fascinated by the garnet liquid swirling in your glass as he came around the bar.

“That’s a great Malbec,” he said.

God, his voice.

It made your cheeks (among other things) tingle, smooth and smoky as the whiskey in his glass you could smell as he placed it down beside your wine. The scent of it mixed with his cologne that was dangerously close to becoming your new favorite aroma—something woodsy and heady with a tinge of lightness like a salty sea breeze.

“It is,” you agreed, brow arching as he took the seat beside you. “You’ve had it before?”

“Nah,” he smirked. “You made it look so good, I had Stevie give me a taste. I told him to put your next one on me.”

Both of your brows raised at that. “And how’d you know I was coming back?”

“I didn’t,” he said, taking a cheeky sip of his drink. “I just hoped.”

You felt a smile burgeoning on your lips and pulled your bottom one back with your teeth trying, unsuccessfully, to fight it. He watched it spreading, the tip of his tongue running over the edges of his teeth as he offered you his hand.

You slid your own into his, feeling the exquisite pressure of chunky silver rings pressing on your fingers as he gave them a gentle squeeze.

“Hi,” he said. “I’m Eddie.”

“Nice to meet you, Eddie,” you purred right back, offering him your name after a beat.

He repeated it once, all low and rumbly, taking his time with the sound of it in his mouth like it was a piece of chocolate melting on his tongue. Holding your hand a bit longer than necessary.

“So I’m assuming Desperate Dan out there wasn’t your boyfriend?” Eddie asked, chuckling into his next sip. The sound of it spiraled down your back, electrifying your spine.

“Nope,” you sighed heavily. “Just another drop in the Tinder bucket.”

Eddie’s dark eyes gleamed with something like mischief and he made a tsking sound with his tongue. “Well, if that’s the case, I sincerely apologize, sweetheart.”

“Oh, yeah?” You smiled at him. “What for?”

His eyes flickered again, this time taking a long moment to do a sweep up and down your body. Landing on your knees in your tights, flitting back up to your face as she shook his head.

“If someone like you has had to resort to dating apps…we’ve clearly failed as a gender.”

You actually shivered at the words, forcing your shoulders still not to show it as you propped your elbow on the bar and swiped the tips of your nails across your chin and along your jaw to play with your earring. Deepening your voice to a sultry murmur he had to lean in close to hear.

“No argument there.”

You rushed into the bathroom, flapping both your hands back and forth to fan your face and then under your arms. Safely hidden behind the door, your air of detachment could fall away and you could finally let out all the patently un-cool reactions you had been fighting the last hour.

With trembling hands, you pulled your phone out of your bag and fired off a text to Robin.

hey, I’m gonna share my location with you the rest of the night.

wait WHAT? Losera Annoyingus is getting a bang pass?

no he left…

…about an hour ago.

A blue bubble with three blinking dots immediately popped up on the thread and you imagined Robin’s thumbs actually smoking she was typing so furiously fast. But she must decide to abandon her message, because within a split second, a picture of you and her with your faces smushed together came up on the screen as she called you instead.

“Hey,” you whispered, praying your voice didn’t echo too much off the tiled walls.

“Explain,” she demanded. “Now.”

The excitement in her voice only increases your own, your cheeks still impossibly hot as you stand over the sink and fan yourself some more before another layer of sweat can form on your face.

“It’s this guy I met at the bar. He was like, making eyes at me while I was on my date and we started talking after and I just—I don’t know for sure, but it feels like he’s gonna take me home.”

“Is he hot?”

“Yes,” you breathed out a heavy, lustful sigh. “He’s so hot I wanna rip his appendix out.”

“Holy shit,” Robin whistled. “What’s he look like?”

“He’s…I don’t know,” you laughed. “He kind of looks like a Harley that came to life.”

“Alright then, you better go ride him.”

Robin’s snorted laugh makes you cover your own face with your palm. It’s searing hot now, your blood pumping furiously beneath the surface of your skin.

“Well, I have to get back out there to make that happen.”

“Go, go, go—have fun, use protection! Wait, hang on, not in that order!”

You laughed at her warning coming through faintly over the receiver as you mashed the button to end your call. With one last steadying breath, you leaned on the sink and nodded decisively.

“Okay,” you exhaled. “Let’s do this.”

Sage and sea salt filled your nose as you yanked the door open and nearly ran straight into the source of the scent. Eddie leaned against the wall across from the bathroom doors, shoulders shifting subtly as he twisted one of the large rings on his fingers. 

You stood face to face now, hands hovering at your sides as you edged into the hallway.

“Sorry,” he said sheepishly, tucking his chin to his chest as he looked up at you from under long lashes. “Someone’s in the other one.”

You glanced suspiciously at the second bathroom door, seeing no light coming from underneath it. Eddie winced, still smirking adorably as you turned the knob and pushed it open to reveal it was empty on the other side. He chuckled, holding up his hands in a mock surrender.

“Fine,” he sighed. “You caught me.”

“Thought I was making a break for it?” you asked, pulling the door shut. Eddie’s tongue pushed against the inside of his cheek, his eyes roving over you slowly.

“I’d hate to think I scared you off,” he said as he kicked off the wall to stand up straight.

You crossed your arms under your chest, giving him a smile. “I don’t scare so easy.”

He nodded at that, his eyes still taking you in, scanning you like he was reading invisible stats. They lingered a few places you expected, like the curve of your hips and the swell of your chest. But then they landed on other things too, things you weren’t used to people noticing. 

Things like your shoulders, or your calves in your boots, even your fucking ears.

“So…everything alright?” he asked, his voice lowering as he took a step closer.

“Yeah, I was just letting my roommate know I might be gone a while.” You held up your phone and tucked it back inside your bag with another coy smile. He chuckled.

“A while, huh?” Step.

“Yeah, you know...it’s pretty late.” Step. “Might be tough to get an Uber.”

“I wouldn’t know,” Eddie shrugged. “I live close.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.”

You were nose to nose now, barely a whisper of space between you, the air thick with the heat radiating off your bodies in the narrow space.

The well worn leather of his jacket sleeve creaked softly as his hand came up to rest on the wall, caging you in with his arm.

“How close?” you asked, breath shuddering as you leaned on the door for support.

“Up the street,” he sighed. “But it’s still too far.”

His warm breath ghosted over your lips as they parted, the smell of the liquor coating his tongue making you feel woozy. Or maybe that was just the effect he was having on you.

He was so close now you could hear the bristly sound his beard made as he scratched at it with blunt fingertips. He’d barely inhaled to ask if he could kiss you when you surged forward to press your lips to his—the roughness of his beard on your chin a welcome abrasion.

Scratching the itch that’s plagued you all night.

It’s a hungry, lawless sort of kiss. Quick and clashing and difficult to tell if it’s actually mean or not—like two dogs play-fighting, both trying to see how much they can get away with before light snarls and soft snaps of their jaws turn to whimpers and whines.

Eddie parried with you for control, his tongue darting in and out of your mouth as he plied you with teasing, playful kisses you fought to deepen, tugging at his shirt. He pushed off the wall and reached down to grab your wrists, pinning them over your head to keep them in place.

The thrill of him trying to restrain you only made you unravel further, straining impatiently against his grasp. Breathless, you stretched out your neck and pushed your face past all his hair to place your lips beside his ear and pant into it.

“Can we go back to—”

“You wanna come back to—”

The both of you chuckled and exhaled with relief as your words and his overlapped, and you felt a sudden rush between your legs from the way Eddie’s eyes blazed with intention.

He released his hold on your wrists and your arms fell limp at your sides. In an instant, he had your hand wrapped tightly in his and was pulling you along as he angled towards the exit.

As you hurried after him out of the hallway and across the bar, you distantly registered music playing, picking out the chugging guitar and bass riffs of some 80s dance song. From behind the bar, Steve caught Eddie’s eye and you saw him offer his friend a two finger salute as the two of you burst through the door, your departure narrated by Paul Stanley’s deep, silky croon.

And tonight, I want to lay at your feet. Cause girl, I was made for you, And girl, you were made for me…

Eddie wasn’t kidding about living close.

Your boots clacked on the sidewalk as he ushered you along under his arm, the quick pace of your walk driven both by the chill in the air and the desire to resume what you started at the bar.

“This is me,” he said, indicating a four-story brick building just a block away from West End.

His place was on the top floor. It was a large studio with high ceilings and many features similar to the bar you’d just left. Half of the space was raised like a platform with a steel wire railing running along the edge. He had his bed up there and what looked like an office, but he’d created a divider of sorts with cube shelves filled with sweats, hoodies and t-shirts.

Promptly, you recalled him telling you he owned a company that designed and distributed merch for independent artists, and how he was constantly receiving samples from suppliers.

The kitchen was simple, sleek cabinetry and stainless steel appliances without a single smudge. A massive butcher’s block with a wooden top and wire racks underneath serving as an island. And a steel rack hanging down from overhead laden with cast iron cookware.

You took a few more careful steps inside, chest heaving as you tried to catch your breath from being kissed stupid in the elevator while Eddie flipped some switches that illuminated the space with recessed lighting. Large black-paned windows revealed a view of the city and the night sky outside, some amber light from the street filtering in and casting across the oak floors.

In his living area was a massive brown leather sectional with extra-deep cushions and a chaise at both ends. It faced a plain wall with a screen you assumed went with the projector hanging down from one of the exposed beams overhead.

Every inch of your skin crackled with excitement as he came up behind you and reached around to grip the lapels of your coat and help you out of it, letting his fingertips skim your bare arms as he did. It made you shiver in spite of the warm air you could feel pumping out of the vents.

He hung up your coat next to his on a hook by the front door and you turned to face him as he sauntered back over. His gait was relaxed and casual, like he had all the time in the world. 

Like he wasn’t driving you up the wall with every second you went without his mouth on yours.

“Did you want another drink?”

He gestured in the direction of a liquor cabinet, glass shelves lined with a modest array of wines and spirits, but you shook your head at the offer.

“Not particularly,” you said with a coy grin.

Reaching out and hooking a finger in his belt loop, you whirled yourself into him and slotted your mouth against his, licking into it to taste the smoky remnants of whisky there. He breathed into it deeply, his broad chest expanding with it and chuckling when he felt your hands on his belt.

“Easy there, tiger,” he teased, your lips breaking apart and taking hold of your wrists to still their efforts. “What kind of girl do you think I am?”

“Hopefully the kind that knows how to fuck.”

You smirked, the tip of your tongue flicking out between your teeth as your face veered in again. Your hips pressed with his and you began to sway back and forth, gently grinding them on him, resuming the dance you’d begun. His face came close, his hands settling on your waist.

“C’mon, honey,” he drawled. “Haven’t you heard good things come to those who wait?”

His lips trailed along the column of your neck, sending a riot of shivers down your spine causing you to release a breathy sigh.

“Sorry, what? All I heard was come.”

Eddie chuckled at that and his breath rushed across your neck as he smiled into your jugular.

“You’re funny,” he sighed. “We’ll see how funny you are when I get done with you.”

It was a miracle your knees didn’t buckle on the spot. Your eyes rolled back in your head, almost seeing the inside of your skull as his hand came up and he placed it around your throat.

“You want this?” he asked, his tone cool and precise, his eyes wandering across your face.

“Yes,” you gasped, all desperate and panting now you were so eager for him to start.

His thumb and middle finger pressed the sides of your throat, slowing the flow of blood just enough to make your head go fuzzy and your body to go just barely limp in his arms. 

“Yes, what?” he growled. You drew a shuddering breath, unrestricted by his expert hold.

“Yes, I want this,” you answered. “I want you.”

Eddie took his time undressing you, softly kissing the new expanse of skin he unveiled with the removal of each piece of clothing.

He nipped lightly at your collar bones as he shed your blouse, canines catching briefly on the chain around your neck. He dragged his lips torturously slow over your stomach as he undid your skirt and it fell to the floor with a soft plop. His breath rush across your thigh as he kneeled to drag down the zippers of your boots, kissing your inseam though your tights all the way down to your ankles.

Every second was a kind of exquisite torture. Your heart hammered behind your ribs, the bones almost rattling with the force of it. And as much as you were dying to grab him by the back of the head and take over, you let yourself slip steadily under the spell of his affections.

You believed what he seemed to be whispering with his eyes in between every indelible kiss he dropped to your buzzing skin. He had you. He would take care of you. You could trust him.

And once you were totally bare in front of him, he held out his hand for you to take and he spun you in a slow circle like a ballerina in a music box, his eyes feasting on every inch of you.

If it was anyone else, you might have shied away. You might have felt some level of shame or concern about being stark naked in front of him while he was still fully clothed. You might have worried he would see something he didn’t like, some flaw or defect you preferred hidden. But the look on his face was nothing short of rapturous.

He walked you over to the couch and kissed you deeply as he removed his clothes. Showing not an ounce of the kind of care and consideration for his own as he did for yours, he stripped them off hastily and discarded them, tossing them away like they were garbage.

Your naked bodies came together in a full press, his arms curling around your form and his hands stroking your skin like he was trying to make sure not a single part of it went untouched.

At last, he sank down onto the sofa and his knees spread apart, his hard cock standing stiff and ready for you. He took your hands in his like he was going to pull you forward onto his lap, but you dropped to your knees instead, tucking your feet under your ass.

You looked up at him expectantly, your eyes darting between his face and his cock, the corners of your mouth curling upwards in a smile as your brows raised with a silent question.

“You sure?” he asked, circling his base with his thumb and forefinger to give a gentle squeeze. “I can take care of you, you know? Fuckin’ love to.”

“Don’t worry,” you said cooly, lashes fluttering as you scooted closer. “You will.”

You placed your hands on his knees and pushed them further apart so you could lean forward to kiss up the inside of his leg. Trying to give him a taste of his own slow, teasing medicine, you worked your way all the way up to the crease of his thigh and turned your head inward.

Eddie’s breath stuttered as your lips met his shaft, poking your tongue out to run it up the length. His head tipped to the side, his ear touching his shoulder to get a better view of you licking at him, halting grunts and gasps tumbling past his lips as yours puckered to kiss it more.

When you were satisfied you’d gotten him sufficiently worked up, you reached out and wrapped your hands around him fully, your fists stacked and twisting gently.

You stroked him off slow and even, your hands squeezing tight around his shaft, mixing your spit and the beginning of his spend that leaked from his tip. He watched you reverently, eyes hooded as he enjoyed your show. And looking up at him, a gooey sort of warmth filled your entire body.

You felt yourself slipping further into that sort of headspace you craved—all pliant and willing, your knees digging into his plush area rug as your legs tingled with numbness.

Your heart raced as you imagined giving yourself up to him completely. 

Letting him take whatever he wanted from you.

As though he sensed it, as though he could read the desperation in your eyes, he cradled your jaw in his large hand and dotingly stroked the side of your face as he tilted his head at you.

“What is it, baby?” he cooed encouragingly. “What do you want? You can tell me.”

“Want you to use me,” you pleaded, fingers still sliding around him. “Use my mouth.”

Eddie gazed at you where you kneeled in front of him, your eyes having gone all big and round and glassy, shining with the tears you were dying for him to make spill down your cheeks.

Begging for it.

“Of course, baby, of course,” he sighed, gripping your chin and swooping in to kiss you deeply.

His firm hold gave you permission to go limp and you let your hands fall from his cock to rest on his muscled thighs, palms coasting over his tattoos and sparse leg hair. He pulled back, keeping your chin grasped in his fingers, holding your face still as he instructed you.

“You slap me three times in a row if you want to stop, okay?” he ordered in a husky rasp. “Do it for me now, so I know you can.”

You obeyed instantly, delivering three strikes to his thigh. His lips curled in a devilish grin. 

“That’s it, just like that,” he hummed in approval. “What a smart girl you are, huh?”

The praise rippled down your back, his words making you tingle all over, much like your calves that were starting to go numb from sitting back on them. He reached around the back of your neck, gently guiding you into position so his cock was pointed directly at your lips. 

His large hands nearly covered your entire head, holding it in his firm grasp, his fingertips digging into your scalp and causing even more shivers. Eyes locked with his, you let your mouth hang open and your tongue loll out fully, reaching almost all the way to your chin. 

Eddie moaned loudly, mesmerized by the pool of spit you’d let collect in your mouth and the way it dribbled past your lips, running down your tongue and dripping onto your chest.

“Fuuuuck,” he chuckled low and rough, touching just the tip of his dick to your wet tongue. “You really want me dead, huh?”

Your eyes danced as you nodded, the motion causing your tongue to brush against his sensitive slit and spread his precum across the flat of it. A sharp gasp punched from his chest, not ready for the sensation, and his whole body shuddered with need. His eyes blazed and his nostrils flared as he gripped tighter around the back of your head and thrust fully into your mouth.

Lewd sounds filled the room as he pushed his cock past your lips, your mouth flooded with spit that poured out of you and pooled in the wiry thatch of hair at the base of his cock. You felt your body going lax and floppy as you gave yourself over to him, letting him hold your head up as you melted into little more than a puddle.

“That’s it, baby. Just let go, let me take what I need,” he drawled in that smoky voice, beginning a gentle thrust of his hips that pushed him deeper still into your mouth. “You’re doing so well…”

The salty tang of him covered your tongue as your jaw slackened to accommodate more of him, the sounds you were making coming out garbled.

“Christ, you sound so fucking sweet choking on my cock” he groaned. “What a good slut you are, huh? Giving me this mouth, letting me ruin it?”

You gagged loudly as his cock pushed in further until his tip met the back of your throat. He held the back of your head and your nose was nuzzling against the hair at his base, breathing in his thick and heady musk. Far earthier than his cologne, this was a smell that could only be him.

His eyes flitted to your hand clutching at him, your nails digging into the meat of his thigh.

But you made no move to tap out. Another tight spasm of your throat had him throwing his head back, his eyes pinching shut and his lips falling open in a desperate gasp.

“Shit, that feels so good,” he whined softly, his domineering mask slipping ever so slightly—the broken sound only making you go more feral.

Bracing yourself on his thighs, you began to push your head down to meet his thrusts, fucking your own face with his cock so hard that his grip on the back of your head was extraneous.

“Okay, okay—okay,” he grunted, chest heaving as he pulled you off him before he could blow.

His fingers held fast in your hair, squeezing it at the roots. You drew in air in great heaving breaths, panting from the effort, your tongue still hanging out of your mouth and head bobbing as you tried to chase the cock he had to drag you off of.

“You’re a greedy fucking girl, aren’t you, baby?” he chuckled, yanking your head back sharply so you were staring at the ceiling, eyes straining to look at him over the curves of your cheeks.

“Yes, sir,” you gasped back, chest still heaving.

“You want my cum that bad?” he teased lowly, pushing his face against yours and smearing the wetness of your tears across your cheeks.

“Yes, please,” you whined pitifully. “I need it.”

“Oh, you’ll get it,” he assured you, reaching down with his free hand to rub between your legs. “But only if it goes in this needy little pussy.”

Your entire body writhed as his fingers toyed with your swollen clit and dripping folds, scalp stinging where he gripped your hair with his other hand.

A pleasurable wail burst out of you as his thick fingers thrust inside your warm, wet hole and started to scissor relentlessly.

“YES, fuck—come in me. Please, please…”

More tears spilled freely down your cheeks as you begged him, drip, drip, dripping off your chin and onto your heaving chest, rolling down your naked body, leaving wet trails in their wake.

Eddie had to fight the urge to lick your clavicle. 

He hauled you up onto his lap, scooting down so he could plant his feet properly on the floor. Your knees sank into the worn leather of his cushions on either side of his hips and you used all what little strength you had left to reach down and align yourself with him.

“Don’t you hold back—haah—alright?” he said, hissing softly as you sank down on his length. “I want that fucking loser from Tinder to be able to hear you from here. Understand?”

You nodded, hips beginning to slide back and forth, relishing the way his thick cock prodded at your insides and stoked your desire. Eddie let you keep control for a moment, his hands squeezing at the softness of your stomach, molding it with them. He watched you raptly, mesmerized by the undulations of your body, the way you let it writhe and rock and squirm on him until he thought you might come solely from your own movements.

A loud, exhilirated moan burst out of you as he suddenly thrust his hips upwards, eyes rolling to the back of your head as he slammed into your g-spot on the first fucking stroke—as if he could see straight through your flesh to aim for it.

The room filled with sounds even more lewd than before—the wet clap of his thighs with your ass cheeks, his balls slapping your soaking pussy, your mound squishing into his pelvis.

Eddie threw his head back, overwhelmed by the sight of every part of you bouncing so prettily on him. And as he exposed his neck, everything in the room went hazy except that thick, taught, muscled column. Sending you feeling.

You clawed at it desperately and drew hot, red streaks down it with your nails that trailed all the way to the middle of his tattooed chest.

“That’s it, baby,” he groaned. “Mark me up. Show everybody who owns me—”

He slid his hands back to grip your ass, spreading the fleshy globes wide and stretching your holes further open as he continued to slam his length inside you. He let one side go and delivered a single stinging slap that reverberated throughout your whole body. 

The burn made you keen, arching your back until your chest was flush with his. He reached up to grip the back of your neck, taking your earlobe between his teeth and raking them over it.

“Now that that mouth is free, I wanna hear how good you feel,” he growled.

And if you thought you were loud before, it was nothing compared to now. The combination of his words and the perfect pace being set by his cock sent you instantly toppling over the edge, with Eddie’s own release following right behind.

In that moment, you vowed to send a fruit basket to every single one of his neighbors—an apology for making them think that a woman was getting murdered in the middle of the night two or three stories above their heads. The orgasm he brings you to makes you scream, practically sobbing as you cry out in immeasurable relief while searing hot pleasure ravages your entire body. 

It’s an ascent you’ve never dreamed of reaching the peak of, the feeling spreading to the tips of every extremity, filling you with fire. It feels so good, it almost makes you sad to know you might never feel like this again. And if your brain hadn’t already turned to mush, you might have cared.

As you dwindled down from your high, you slumped forward limp and spent—your body still rippling with the effects, Eddie’s arms coming up to hold you against him as he peppered your shoulder with soft, sweet kisses.

“That’s it,” he breathed out in your ear. “That’s it, baby, just feel it…such a good girl f’me…”

He ran his fingers slowly up and down the column of your spine, creating waves of shivers waiting for your trembling to subside.

His length grew soft inside of you, but he made no move to slide you from his lap or to rush you in the slightest. He let you cling on to him, your face buried in his sweaty neck, his long hair tickling your face, losing yourself in his touch.

Slowly, your breathing grew deep and even, your racing heart slowing in your chest. Eddie turned his head and spoke to you quietly with his warm breath fanning across your cheek.

“You ready to move?” he asked.

You gave a weak nod.

Wobbling on unsteady legs, you stood and his hands quickly moved to the curve of your waist to keep you steady. He took you to the bathroom which looked more like it belonged in a spa than someone’s house, sitting you on the toilet.

From a hook hanging on the back of the door, he produced two bright white waffle weave robes, offering one to you. And as you wrapped the soft material around your shoulders, he turned on one of the faucets and held his fingers underneath it to test the temperature.

Once he’d deemed it warm enough, he took a fluffy washcloth from a little pyramid of them that were rolled up next to the sink basin. He held it under the stream, saturating the cloth and then giving it a gentle twist. You watched his hands every step of the way, mesmerized by the way his veins bulged under his skin and the muscles in his arms flexed as he wrung out the excess water.

He rubbed the warm cloth gently across your face, wiping off the residue of tears and spit and cum and what little was left of your make-up until your bare face shone in the soft lighting. 

Once he had finished, he dropped the cloth into a hamper and cradled your face in his hands, his thumbs gliding easily over your slippery skin.

“So pretty,” he hummed, the words so soft you wondered if you were even meant to hear them.

From one of the drawers in the vanity, he brought out a pot of moisturizer and offered it to you with a smile. You frowned up at him, jutting out your bottom lip in a comical pout, not ready for him to stop taking care of you. It made him chuckle and a bemused smile spread across his lips as he tapped the tips of his fingers in the gel and started to smooth it over your cheeks.

“Come lay down with me?” he asked when he’d finished, head tilting back in the direction of the short set of stairs leading up to where his bed sat.

You nodded and he held out his hand to lead you out of the bathroom. You curled up on top of his dark duvet, your head sinking into the softness of his down pillow that held the faint scent of what you guessed was his tea tree oil shampoo.

The thick mattress dipped as he climbed onto it with you and draped a beige knit blanket over the both of you before he sidled up against your body.

It was…nice. More than nice. Shit, it was as close to perfect as you had felt in a long time.

The feel of his chest expanding and contracting against your back; his steady breath on the nape of your neck; the soft robe wrapped around your body and the comforting weight of the blanket on top of you. Not to mention Eddie’s arm curled securely around your waist. 

Your eyes felt heavy, like your eyelashes suddenly weighed a thousand pounds, and you drifted fully into sleep, succumbing to the relief that had washed over you not twenty feet away.

When you woke, it was still dark out. 

The street noise had lessened significantly and if you had to hazard a guess, it might have been close to one or two in the morning. Eddie’s place was darkened, lit only by orange street light that filtered through his windows and a half-dimmed reading light in the corner.

It was an arc lamp, suspended over a leather Eames chair where you could see that your coat and all of your previously discarded clothes were arranged in a neat little pile. But laid out at the foot of the bed right next to your feet were a pair of black fleece pants and hoodie, both about your size and emblazoned with the names of bands you didn’t recognize.

You sat up slowly, fingers hovering over the thick material as you debated. Were they for you? They looked a little big for Eddie, but maybe he had laid them out for himself? Was it a sign he was about to go to bed and you needed to get moving?

In the end, you slid out from underneath the blanket still draped over you and redressed in your clothes. After pulling your tights and skirt back on, stepping into your boots and zipping them up your calves, pulling your coat back on, you looked around the loft searching for Eddie.

From up here, you could see the bathroom door was open and the light was off…eliminating the only place he could actually be. And then your eyes fell on one of the windows that was cracked open with a short step-ladder built into the wall that had been pulled down in front of it.

You pulled your coat around you tighter the closer you got to the window and tentatively climbed the steps leading up to it. You pushed the large glass pane the rest of the way open and poked your head outside to find Eddie sitting on his terrace, resting with his back to the brick, head tipped back as he exhaled a cloud of smoke from his lips that drifted up towards the stars.

“Hey,” you said softly. His head turned at the sound and a wide smile spread across his lips.

“There she is,” he said in a gentle cheer.

You climbed through the window and a breeze carried the scent of the joint he was holding. You took a seat across from him, leaning back against the metal railing and letting your legs stretch out alongside his. He dropped his hand to rub your calf and he frowned at the realization you had redressed in your tights and boots. His brow furrowed adorably.

“Something wrong?” you asked.

He shook his head and took another drag of the joint before passing it into your waiting fingers.

“The clothes were for you,” he said. “Y’know, if you wanted something to sleep in.”

You paused, the joint just shy of touching your lips. “Like…if I was staying?”

“Would you stay?” he asked, a ribbon of smoke curling in the air as he exhaled.

Your mouth hung open, clouds of your hot breath escaping. “Oh, um…I mean, only if you—”

He cut you off with his lips, slipping his hand around the back of your neck and pulling you into a long kiss. Tiny embers scattered from the joint, being taken by the wind that blew and made the ends of Eddie’s long hair tickle the sides of your face. You pulled apart and he answered solidly.

“I want you to,” he said.

wasn't expecting this to be so long (that's what she said), but I hoped you liked it if you made it this far 🩷 love you, mean it!

[sunr1seblvd]

- you are in love.

you are in love.

summary: the three times jj fell in love with you, and the one time you fell in love with him. warnings: lowk lovesick!jj, swearing (duh), somewhat canon violence, small reference to luke (gross), underage drinking, not proofread, the scenarios aren't in timeline order but who cares a/n: loved writing this! i'm also taking requests or people that just wanna talk in my inbox, so hit me up :) feel free to send me some feedback, i'm always trying to improve. wc: 567

you can hear it in the silence.

10:20 AM - the chateau

it was uncharacteristically quiet for a morning at john b's place. he and sarah were out in charleston looking for clues, kie was stuck working at the wreck (jj wasn't sure how that was a bad thing because of the free food), and pope and cleo were out helping heyward with orders.

so here jj was with you, girl of his dreams since the 3rd grade. you and him sat in the living room on the pull out sofa, half asleep and in your own thoughts.

he wondered what was going through that pretty little head of yours. was it him? was it someone else?

he felt comfortable in the silence. he shifted towards you, looking into your e/c eyes. you looked back into his steel baby blues, feeling blush creeping up on him slowly.

you giggled to yourself, turned around, and went back to sleep.

you can feel it on the way home.

11 PM - somewhere in the obx...

jj and the pogues just found the gold. like...the gold.

everyone was screaming about going "full kook! full kook!" and so were you!

but if you ignored the gold bar in your hand, and the mud, rain, and general dirt on your skin and clothes, you were so much more than that.

"jj, you good?" you asked and nudged him playfully, bringing him out of his romantic stupor.

"y-yeah! of fucking course, baby! you helped john b over here find the gold!" he yelled as the van errupted in cheers.

"yeah, and almost died in the process," you joked, cheesing hard.

if jj wasn't surrounded by all his friends or you didn't smell like actual cow shit, he would've kissed you on the spot.

you can see it with the lights out.

jj knew this was stupid, but he wouldn't be jj if he didn't do this.

it was pouring down, the rain slamming onto your house. he knocked slightly on your bedroom window. he saw a faint light turn on and saw you pull your curtains apart.

"jj?! what the hell- it's pouring down, get in here!" you hissed.

he climbed into your room, knocking down a book on your shelf. both of your head whipped towards your bedroom door, knowing your parents were right down the hall. you turned off the lamp, the only light in the room being the moon.

"what are you doing her- is it your dad?" you whispered.

"yeah, it was..." jj trailed off.

"c'mere," you motioned for him to give you a hug, and you felt his tears blotch onto your tee.

"you're okay..you're okay, shhhh," you murmured, not wanting to alert your parents.

he had never felt more love in that moment than in his entire life.

you are in love.

10 PM - the chateau's dock

maybe you were going insane, or maybe the bottle of beer you and jj were sharing together finally kicked in, but you think jj maybank just kissed you.

sure, you had feelings for jj, but it never really occured to you that he might like love you back.

you both sat at the edge of the docks of the chateau, looking out to the starry night sky. you were crisscrossed towards him, still in shock about what had happened.

"i'm sorry! that was sudden, i'm not mad if you didn't wanna talk to me again-" he rambled and got ready to get up when you pulled him down and kissed him back.

you kissed each other, the only noises around were the crickets and the occasional frog.

you are in love. true love.

[scealaiscoite]

.☽༊˚ three hundred one-word prompts

¹⁾ balcony

²⁾ sunlight

³⁾ voicemail

⁴⁾ hillside

⁵⁾ tent

⁶⁾ lavender

⁷⁾ candle

⁸⁾ hipbone

⁹⁾ bandaid

¹⁰⁾ wrinkle

¹¹⁾ scar

¹²⁾ curtains

¹³⁾ armory

¹⁴⁾ shell

¹⁵⁾ bouquet

¹⁶⁾ necklace

¹⁷⁾ shotgun

¹⁸⁾ apricot

¹⁹⁾ cheek

²⁰⁾ floorboards

²¹⁾ jacket

²²⁾ bruise

²³⁾ flight

²⁴⁾ streetlight

²⁵⁾ carafe

²⁶⁾ lipstick

²⁷⁾ scars

²⁸⁾ poolside

²⁹⁾ cockpit

³⁰⁾ petals

³¹⁾ mirror

³²⁾ lawyer

³³⁾ cloudy

³⁴⁾ butcher

³⁶⁾ bleach

³⁷⁾ sawdust

³⁸⁾ crib

³⁹⁾ ribbon

⁴⁰⁾ wallet

⁴¹⁾ pearls

⁴²⁾ steam

⁴³⁾ chain

⁴⁴⁾ deckhand

⁴⁵⁾ whiskey

⁴⁶⁾ frost

⁴⁷⁾ lace

⁴⁸⁾ camping

⁴⁹⁾ bakery

⁵⁰⁾ traitor

⁵¹⁾ cherries

⁵²⁾ lightning

⁵³⁾ hide

⁵⁴⁾ tattoo

⁵⁵⁾ bonfire

⁵⁶⁾ reverse

⁵⁷⁾ passenger

⁵⁸⁾ speedboat

⁵⁹⁾ bare

⁶⁰⁾ concrete

⁶¹⁾ lieutenant

⁶²⁾ chili

⁶³⁾ tiptoe

⁶⁴⁾ office

⁶⁵⁾ skull

⁶⁶⁾ bikini

⁶⁷⁾ cabinet

⁶⁸⁾ lumber

⁶⁹⁾ laboratory

⁷⁰⁾ paint

⁷¹⁾ arch

⁷²⁾ bitter

⁷³⁾ staircase

⁷⁴⁾ priority

⁷⁵⁾ cell

⁷⁶⁾ subordinate

⁷⁷⁾ tapes

⁷⁸⁾ mangoss

⁷⁹⁾ bralette

⁸⁰⁾ whiplash

⁸¹⁾ syringe

⁸²⁾ cinnamon

⁸³⁾ tequila

⁸⁴⁾ garden

⁸⁵⁾ cigarette

⁸⁶⁾ sofa

⁸⁷⁾ rain

⁸⁸⁾ teammate

⁸⁹⁾ oleander

⁹⁰⁾ boss

⁹¹⁾ pillar

⁹²⁾ amethyst

⁹³⁾ footpath

⁹⁴⁾ driver

⁹⁵⁾ massage

⁹⁶⁾ stitches

⁹⁷⁾ jeans

⁹⁸⁾ brand

⁹⁹⁾ blackout

¹⁰⁰⁾ sunglasses

¹⁰¹⁾ lunar

¹⁰²⁾ velvet

¹⁰³⁾ captain

¹⁰⁴⁾ afternoon

¹⁰⁵⁾ ivy

¹⁰⁶⁾ salty

¹⁰⁷⁾ portrait

¹⁰⁸⁾ strawberries

¹⁰⁹⁾ torn

¹¹⁰⁾ cocktails

¹¹¹⁾ roommate

¹¹²⁾ bridge

¹¹³⁾ table

¹¹⁴⁾ hotel

¹¹⁵⁾ jasmine

¹¹⁶⁾ armchair

¹¹⁷⁾ satin

¹¹⁸⁾ bedsheet

¹¹⁹⁾ hedgerow

¹²⁰⁾ thigh

¹²¹⁾ cliff

¹²²⁾ gravel

¹²³⁾ apartment

¹²⁴⁾ keycard

¹²⁵⁾ coffee

¹²⁶⁾ babysitter

¹²⁷⁾ fire

¹²⁸⁾ chalk

¹²⁹⁾ hurricane

¹³⁰⁾ crickets

¹³¹⁾ amber

¹³²⁾ sherriff

¹³³⁾ lamplight

¹³⁴⁾ flag

¹³⁵⁾ airport

¹³⁶⁾ gasoline

¹³⁷⁾ cherub

¹³⁸⁾ clementine

¹³⁹⁾ scalpel

¹⁴⁰⁾ motel

¹⁴¹⁾ parish

¹⁴²⁾ lighter

¹⁴³⁾ highrise

¹⁴⁴⁾ crowbar

¹⁴⁵⁾ sundress

¹⁴⁶⁾ newspaper

¹⁴⁷⁾ screws

¹⁴⁸⁾ uniform

¹⁴⁹⁾ gold

¹⁵⁰⁾ buckshots

¹⁵¹⁾ coast

¹⁵²⁾ handcuffs

¹⁵³⁾ gunpowder

¹⁵⁴⁾ badge

¹⁵⁵⁾ orchids

¹⁵⁶⁾ chef

¹⁵⁷⁾ levee

¹⁵⁸⁾ tea

¹⁵⁹⁾ helicopter

¹⁶⁰⁾ cemetery

¹⁶¹⁾ ice

¹⁶²⁾ heirloom

¹⁶³⁾ tarpaulin

¹⁶⁴⁾ rural

¹⁶⁵⁾ sergeant

¹⁶⁶⁾ tsunami

¹⁶⁷⁾ lemon

¹⁶⁸⁾ debt

¹⁶⁹⁾ skyscraper

¹⁷⁰⁾ caramel

¹⁷¹⁾ hottub

¹⁷²⁾ rum

¹⁷³⁾ pet

¹⁷⁴⁾ tradition

¹⁷⁵⁾ perfume

¹⁷⁶⁾ bracelet

¹⁷⁷⁾ secretary

¹⁷⁸⁾ degree

¹⁷⁹⁾ braids

¹⁸⁰⁾ prescription

¹⁸¹⁾ invitation

¹⁸²⁾ cocoa

¹⁸³⁾ ransom

¹⁸⁴⁾ boxers

¹⁸⁵⁾ theatre

¹⁸⁶⁾ mascara

¹⁸⁷⁾ sand

¹⁸⁸⁾ collar

¹⁸⁹⁾ shoulder

¹⁹⁰⁾ lipgloss

¹⁹¹⁾ membership

¹⁹²⁾ heatwave

¹⁹³⁾ disco

¹⁹⁴⁾ cabin

¹⁹⁵⁾ popcorn

¹⁹⁶⁾ altar

¹⁹⁷⁾ radio

¹⁹⁸⁾ bayou

¹⁹⁹⁾ bodyguard

²⁰⁰⁾ glitter

²⁰¹⁾ mustache

²⁰²⁾ protector

²⁰³⁾ contacts

²⁰⁴⁾ bullets

²⁰⁵⁾ groceries

²⁰⁶⁾ raspberry

²⁰⁷⁾ microphone

²⁰⁸⁾ coconut

²⁰⁹⁾ villain

²¹⁰⁾ earlobe

²¹¹⁾ purse

²¹²⁾ flood

²¹³⁾ shot

²¹⁴⁾ windbreaker

²¹⁵⁾ granite

²¹⁶⁾ highway

²¹⁷⁾ eggshells

²¹⁸⁾ hoarse

²¹⁹⁾ chocolates

²²⁰⁾ trembling

²²¹⁾ buttercream

²²²⁾ rings

²²³⁾ holster

²²⁴⁾ briefcase

²²⁵⁾ wrist

²²⁶⁾ piercings

²²⁷⁾ cowboy

²²⁸⁾ ashes

²²⁹⁾ ankle

²³⁰⁾ neroli

²³¹⁾ orchard

²³²⁾ tires

²³³⁾ salmon

²³⁴⁾ peaches

²³⁵⁾ rooftop

²³⁶⁾ toast

²³⁷⁾ gala

²³⁸⁾ sage

²³⁹⁾ graduation

²⁴⁰⁾ reporter

²⁴¹⁾ belt

²⁴²⁾ antidote

²⁴³⁾ ship

²⁴⁴⁾ officer

²⁴⁵⁾ wine

²⁴⁶⁾ corridor

²⁴⁷⁾ cold

²⁴⁸⁾ hangover

²⁴⁹⁾ fingertip

²⁵⁰⁾ vintage

²⁵¹⁾ cupcake

²⁵²⁾ saviour

²⁵³⁾ gentleman

²⁵⁴⁾ loan

²⁵⁵⁾ hostage

²⁵⁶⁾ evergreen

²⁵⁷⁾ denial

²⁵⁸⁾ housewife

²⁵⁹⁾ riverbank

²⁶⁰⁾ marshmallows

²⁶¹⁾ books

²⁶²⁾ hockey

²⁶³⁾ lizard

²⁶⁴⁾ silver

²⁶⁵⁾ dinner

²⁶⁶⁾ pear

²⁶⁷⁾ bound

²⁶⁸⁾ waiter

²⁶⁹⁾ tender

²⁷⁰⁾ fallen

²⁷¹⁾ banquet

²⁷²⁾ announcement

²⁷³⁾ roast

²⁷⁴⁾ sneer

²⁷⁵⁾ exes

²⁷⁶⁾ stovetop

²⁷⁷⁾ brass

²⁷⁸⁾ clay

²⁷⁹⁾ valet

²⁸⁰⁾ schoolbus

²⁸¹⁾ exhausted

²⁸²⁾ field

²⁸³⁾ hoodie

²⁸⁴⁾ sugar

²⁸⁵⁾ palmtree

²⁸⁶⁾ burnt

²⁸⁷⁾ diner

²⁸⁸⁾ snake

²⁸⁹⁾ fever

²⁹⁰⁾ domestic

²⁹¹⁾ plaid

²⁹²⁾ wreck

²⁹³⁾ courtyard

²⁹⁴⁾ dozen

²⁹⁵⁾ earphones

²⁹⁶⁾ blueberry

²⁹⁷⁾ anklet

²⁹⁸⁾ shower

²⁹⁹⁾ venom

³⁰⁰⁾ lover

[sophrosynesworld]

With all my love, pt 6

Our car drives out of Tokyo, the once vibrant neon lights dimming in the rearview mirror. Inside the vehicle, a heavy silence hangs like a storm cloud. 

Bakugou sits rigid beside me, jaw clenched, staring straight ahead. Izuku, in the driver’s seat, occasionally glances at us through the rearview mirror, his knuckles white from gripping the steering wheel.

The bustling cityscape fades into the countryside, the stars now twinkling brightly against the night sky, freed from the city's light pollution. It’s been so long since I left the city, the last time was for our training camp at UA. What happened to us?

"Can someone please tell me what happened back there?" Izuku’s voice cuts through the silence, his eyes darting between us in the mirror.

Bakugou's grip tightens on his knees. I take a deep breath. "It’s complicated, Izuku. Katsuki and I... we’ve been going through some things." I sound like a mother breaking bad news to her child.

Izuku’s gaze shifts to Bakugou. "You two need to talk. This silence isn't helping anyone."

Bakugou scoffs. "Talk? She thinks I’ve been cheating on her."

Izuku's eyebrows shoot up, but he stays silent. For once, I’m grateful.

"You’ve been distant, Katsuki. Coming home late, missing our dates, disappearing for days. What else was I supposed to think?" My arms cross over my chest, frustration bubbling.

Bakugou sighs, running a hand through his hair. "You really think I'd do that to you? I’ve been hiding something, but it’s not what you think."

"What is it, then?" I question him, but he averts his gaze, staring out the window instead.

The landscape outside changes subtly, flat fields giving way to gentle hills and clusters of trees. Moonlight casts an eerie glow, illuminating our path.The car falls silent again, the tension thick as Izuku navigates through the dark roads. Finally, after what feels like an eternity, Izuku turns down a dirt road, leading us to a modest house. Bakugou lets out a deep breath, his grip on the door handle tightening.

"Come on," he says gruffly, stepping out of the car and gesturing for me to follow. ‘

I follow Bakugou up the path to the house, my heart pounding in my chest. He stops at the door, fumbling with the keys before pushing it open. 

As we step inside, I take in the surroundings. The entrance hall is warmly lit by a small chandelier, casting a soft glow on the polished wooden floor. A plush rug lies beneath our feet, muffling our steps. The walls are adorned with tasteful art pieces, and a small table by the door holds a neatly arranged stack of mail and a decorative bowl for keys. I slip my shoes off next to him. 

Bakugou leads me into the living room, and I can't help but marvel at the space. It’s furnished and beautiful. The room is spacious yet cozy, with large windows that offer a view of a well-kept garden outside. A comfortable-looking sectional sofa dominates the room, adorned with an array of throw pillows in various shades of blue and gray. A coffee table sits in front of it, holding a few magazines and an empty vase. The walls are painted a soothing shade of light gray, complemented by dark wooden bookshelves filled with an assortment of books and knick-knacks.

A large flat-screen TV is mounted on the wall, and below it, a sleek entertainment center holds various electronics and neatly arranged DVDs. The soft hum of an air purifier is the only sound in the otherwise silent room. Everything is meticulously arranged, reflecting a sense of order and calm.

“I don’t understand what we’re doing here.” I tug on Bakugou's sleeve to get his attention, my frustration clear. The room is shrouded in dim light, with the moon casting its soft glow through the windows, painting the walls in a subtle hue of silver. “Why did you bring me into the middle of nowhere?”

He doesn’t answer for a moment, his back towards me as he walks towards the large glass window overlooking the garden. The soft rustle of leaves and distant chirping of crickets create a serene backdrop to our conversation.

“Whose house is this?” I ask, my voice rising with a mix of confusion and anger.

"It's ours," he admits, turning around slowly, his voice low and strained. The moonlight catches the edges of his face, highlighting the contours and curves. "It was going to be the home we raised our children in."

My heart skips a beat as I process his words. "What are you talking about?" I press, confusion consuming me. "This isn’t our home."

He sighs, running a hand through his disheveled hair. "When you got hurt, it was one of the few times I’ve been afraid." His voice cracks, and I can see his shoulders tremble. "The doctors didn’t know if you’d ever wake up."

I want to reach out, to comfort him, but I stay silent. He needs to get this out.

"When you opened your eyes and called my name," his voice wavers, tears spilling from his eyes, "I knew I wanted to spend eternity with you."

I’m stunned. "You’ve been planning this since then?"

"Six months ago, I bought the land. I picked up extra shifts to build this. Every detail, every corner, designed with you in mind. I wanted to build this home for us, to show you that I’m serious about our future.”

I look around the room with new eyes. Everything reflects my tastes. My heart aches with the realization of his efforts. The soft gray walls, the comfortable sectional sofa adorned with an array of throw pillows, the sleek coffee table—every detail reflects my preferences, my style. The thought of him working tirelessly to create this place tugs at my heart.

"You’ve been working on this for six months?" My voice softens as I slowly begin to understand..

"Yeah," he murmurs, regret mingling in his eyes. "I wanted to surprise you. To make up for all the times I’ve been absent. But I couldn’t tell you. I didn’t want to ruin it."

I know I should be ecstatic, but anger ignites within me. "You kept this from me while I worried we were falling apart? Do you know how that feels?"

His expression hardens. "I was doing it for us! To prove I could give you everything you ever wanted!"

"But I never asked for this!" I shout. "I just wanted you, Katsuki!"

"I was trying to make things better!" he yells back. "I thought if I finished this place, you’d see how much I care!"

"What do you want from me?" I scream, tears spilling over.

"I want you to be my wife!" His voice cracks, the raw emotion behind his words slicing through the tension in the air.

I stare at him, shock consuming all of my words.

"What?"

Without another word, he storms to a drawer, yanking it open with a force that rattles the whole dresser. He pulls out a small velvet box, his hands trembling. "I wanted to propose to you here, in the house I built with you in mind." he says, his voice barely above a whisper, yet charged with desperation. "I love you more than anything and if I don’t ask you now, I might not be able to later. 

Katsuki drops to one knee before me, holding out an engagement ring that catches the light with a mesmerizing sparkle. The band is a delicate, platinum twist, leading up to a stunning solitaire diamond, flawlessly cut and glistening like a fragment of a star. Smaller diamonds are embedded along the band, adding an extra layer of brilliance. It’s breathtakingly beautiful. 

“Will you marry me?"

Tears blur my vision. "Katsuki..."

The weight of Bakugou's words hangs in the air, his raw admission still echoing in my ears. As he kneels before me, holding out the ring, time seems to stand still. My heart races, a whirlwind of emotions threatening to overwhelm me. Shock, confusion, anger, and a glimmer of hope—all tangled together.

"No more secrets, no more running away. Just you and me, building our life together. Please, say you’ll be my wife."

I look down at him, the moonlight casting a soft glow on his face. His eyes are filled with a mixture of desperation and vulnerability that I’ve rarely seen. This strong, fierce man is baring his soul to me, and it breaks something inside me.

My hands tremble as I touch his face. "Yes, I’ll marry you."

Relief and joy light up his face as he slips the ring onto my finger. He pulls me into a tight embrace, the tension finally dissolving.

He takes a deep breath, his gaze never wavering from mine. “I know I messed up. I thought I was doing the right thing, building this place for us. But I see now that I was wrong to keep it from you. I was afraid, afraid that I wasn’t enough, that I couldn’t give you what you needed.”

Tears blur my vision as I kneel down to be level with him, our faces inches apart. “All I ever wanted was you, Katsuki. Not some perfect house, not grand gestures. Just you.”

He reaches out, his fingers gently brushing away my tears. “I’m sorry,” he whispers, his voice breaking. “I’m so sorry.”

For a moment, we just sit there, on the floor of this beautiful house, holding each other. The anger and hurt begin to melt away, replaced by a deep, aching love. The road ahead is still uncertain, but I can see a glimmer of the future we could have together.

[bloodykora]

Orange Tainted Fingers

MDNI! THIS IS 18 PLUSSS

This was very much influenced by @ilovemycatkafir comment on my Scrapped Knees. So big thanks to her!

I would recommend reading Just a Little Gift which sets up this premise which you can read here. If you decide not to then its basically stalker mc with stalker Sol. Hope yall enjoy!!!

TW: end of day 2 spoilers, aka B+E, attempted drugging, stalking/yandere behaviours

There was always a craving of fresh orange juice, one of the best parts of being raised on a farm. A nice cold cup of OJ in the morning instead of the over sugared and weirdly pulped store stuff.

It was a habit that followed you to school, first getting the jugs of OJ before you went back to buying oranges to juice on the weekends. Weekly routine which somewhat soothed you on the days you were most stressed. And on the worst days it was right under desperately wanting to crawl into bed.

It had been a hectic day, studies on top of going out with Hyugo and Sol after classes. Hyugo not wanting to run errands by himself and Sol agreeing after you had decided to go. All you could fantasize now was stripping off your socks and having a seat.

Your door lock clicks as you take your keys out of it, opening and stepping in your apartment. Closing and locking it behind you, dropping your bag, chucking off your shoes and flopping on the sofa. Taking a deep breath in as you adjust to the now quietness of the house.

You slide into your usual routine, already had eaten so you didn't need to do dishes however there was laundry to pick up off the floor of your room. Tidying and sweeping the kitchen and bathroom, general cleaning. You glance at the clock on the stove, its vibrant green light reading to be past 9. Deciding its time to head to bed.

You open the fridge and pull out a spoon, setting the jug on the counter while you grab a small glass. Ready to stir and have a cup before going to bed. You take the wrap off the top before pausing, there was no separation. There was nothing to stir, which was off considering it had been probably 12 hours since you last touched it.

You pause and think, what or who did it and why? No sign of forced entry, no broken front lock or kicked in door and nothing stolen. So how? You pour it into the cup, your back out to the rest of the apartment and lifting the cup to your face. Then reaching down and pouring it in the sink quietly, rinsing out the cup and the juice.

Making sure if there was someone watching, they thought you had taken a sip of it at least. You calm your breath, not wanting to panic. You continue your routine, turning off the lights and going to burst your teeth. Heart pounding into your ears, adrenaline now overtaking any fear you may have had.

Snuggling into bed, having your phone under the pillow in case anything happened and your hand clutched around the pink frog plush for comfort.

You close your eyes and listen, tossing and turning for what felt like an eternity. Laying still as you could be, crickets and the wind would be almost lullabyic if it wasn't for the situation. Finally, a click from the window makes your face scrunch. Thankful but nervous your back was to it.

Your eyes open slightly as a pair of shoes hit the floor, your eyes adjusted to the darkness so you could see perfectly. You still your breathing again, shutting your eyes and tensing every muscle to not shake. Your arms clutch each other, the frog still in between them.

The stranger's feet carry themselves around the bed, a hand going to reach out to graze your legs. A hummed breath coming out as they admire your sleeping beauty.

Sol recognizes the small trembling in your body, a small frown appearing on his face as he squats down to look at your face. Your face slightly twitching as his hand touches your temple.

"Oh are you having a nightmare?" He pauses, his voice finally pierces your ears. "I'll chase all your monsters away pumpkin." Realization creeps up your ears and face, along with his hand. The man you had been obsessed with was now in your room, staring while you 'slept' and caressing you.

Your heart quickens but not out of fear anymore, in adoration. Planning in your head to now accept all the attention Sol wanted to give you but was just too nervous to while you were awake.

"Hmm, that seemed to have work. You've calmed right down just from me touching you. That's so cute." His voice was so delicate, not wanting to stir you from your slumber at all. You bit your tongue, yearning to just clamp your hand around his.

He takes your right arm, closing his eyes and putting your palm to his face. Relaxing in your touch, rubbing your hand with his thumb. You decided to peek open your eyes, taking the risk in benefit of seeing his peaceful face in your hand.

His hair felt so soft, it being out of his normal half up half down style. A black face mask pull down over his chin, very about break and enter kind of outfit. You closed your eyes again, a smile resting on your face.

Sol makes a comment about how soft your skin is, and how he should paint your nails to match his. You feel like you're being baked in the most pleasant ray of sun, his attention fuelling you for the whole next day ahead. You can his muttering, his usual small comments he thought you couldn't hear.

"I could just wrap in your scent til the end of time, staying in your arms so no one else ma-" He stops in the middle of his sentence, a thing he had never done since you'd known him. His hands withdraw from you, your concerns now growing.

"Frog, the frog. No, no it can't be." You barely make out his words, immediately realizing he's talking about the stuffie in your grasp. It now being more easily to see after he had taken your arm. The same frog that had matched his.

The one you had left on his bed.

Your bedroom stays quiet again, you could almost hear his mind running. Anxiety and dread filling the space between belly and chest again as you wondered if he'd run.

'He can't run, no. Don't want to scare him, but he can't run.' Your mind now running along with his, planning what would happen if he did book it. It didn't take much time for the both of you to make up your mind.

Sol's feet leaning back on the wood of the floor, a creaking escaping into the room. Arguably the loudest thing you've heard all night, all your life. Your right arm moves on instinct, reaching out and gripping the sweater he had on.

His crimson eyes shoot to yours, a look now lingering on your face that he had never seen before. Yet seemed so familiar.

Your eyes wide open in a dead stare, very clearly not sleeping and staring into his soul.

[albertdabuttler]

Masked Adversary | D.L.

Pt. II

MASTERLIST

this fics masterlist

fandom: Kick-Ass

pairings: Dave Lizewski/Kick-Ass x F!Reader

WARNINGS: language! patching up an open wound, mentions of blood, wound descriptions, fluff OOOO, also angst because he knows you don’t like HIM, kinda proofread but idk..

summary: You and Dave have lost a childhood friendship. The circumstances have made you grow to despise one another, until Kick-Ass has no one else to turn to but you, causing him to develop a small crush. The only problem being that you don't know it's him.

WC: 3.1K

gif not mine!!!

A/N: Low key insane this is the first fic I write that isn’t smut ☠️ also sorry for posting this a day late mb…

———————

“Dammit,” You spoke as you quickly lifted your water bottle up from your desk. It had spilled all over your research papers and ruined some of the fresh ink.

“Fuck.”

You had already spent a little over an hour trying to get your information together and you needed a break. Grabbing your headphones, you made your way to the little sofa you had sitting by your window and took out a comic.

It was rare, but it didn’t take long for you to get bored, you had read this specific issue many times. The music made it that much more boring and you were getting restless. Cracking your window open just a bit, you heard the soft chirps of the birds and crickets outside, feeling some of the cool breeze enter into your room. The sun was set and there was still some twilight left over the New York skyline. You lived a few blocks from Dave, getting a decent view of the city although it was blocked by a tree near your window.

Soon after you had opened your window, you felt yourself getting drowsy, that breeze and the sounds of the night settling in almost made you doze off.

The state you were in wasn’t fully conscious, but you weren’t quite asleep either. You heard a faint sound outside your window, like some big bird just fell onto your roof. You tried to ignore it and relax, but soon you began hearing faint taps at your window.

How odd.

Your eyes slowly opened, allowing your pupils to adjust to the soft fluorescent light.

“Please,” You heard someone whisper, in that moment your eyes shot open and you jumped out of your chair, turning to your window.

“What the fuck are you doing here?!” You almost yelled, keeping it quiet enough not to alarm your parents. Kick-Ass.

“You said I could—“ he groaned quietly, wincing.

“You said I could stop by if I needed something,” he sighed.

“What?” You questioned, confused at first until you noticed one of his gloves covered in blood, clutching his side.

“Please, you said…” He paused to take a breath, “Your mom’s a nurse, right? I—I can’t go to the cops or the hospital.”

“Well—I mean yeah, she’s a nurse, but… If she helps you she’s gonna end up telling someone.”

He only stood there and waited.

“I can patch you up myself,” You swiftly moved forward to open the window, allowing the boy into your room.

“Agh, fuck—” He groaned, you helped him walk over to your bed.

“Hold on,”

Setting a towel on your bed, you motioned for him to sit down, grabbing his batons from his back and setting them to the side. You ran to your closet to grab a cloth or anything similar.

“Here, put this on there with pressure, okay? I’ll be right back.” You gave him an old shirt and left your room to find a med kit your mom had somewhere downstairs.

He noticed the shirt you gave him and smiled softly. It was an old shirt you had matched with him, well, Dave, in middle school. It was really oversized when you got it, so it still fit. He was surprised you hadn’t thrown it away. It was a Robin shirt, himself owning the Batman one. He remembered how much you loved Robin.

Kick-Ass sighed as he waited for you, holding the shirt to his wound with as much pressure as he could to stop the bleeding.

“Okay,” you spoke out of breath, closing your door and locking it.

“Um…” You looked at him awkwardly, and he waited for you to continue. Clearly in pain.

“I’m gonna need you to take your suit off.” You informed, it was only necessary.

“Okay…” he hesitated, “I can’t really take the suit off...by myself,” he breathed. You could tell that speaking was quite the chore.

You moved towards him, helping him take his gloves off one at a time as either of his hands held the cloth to his wound. Sitting behind him, you unzipped his suit, pushing it off each one of his shoulders.

Woah.

His back was very well defined and it took everything in you not to graze your fingers along his muscles. He felt this, trying to hold in a smile.

“You’re gonna have to let go for a second, okay?” You warned him. Kick-Ass let go of the cloth on his cut, clenching his teeth as you pulled his suit down to his hips. The blood caused it to stick to the wound, it seemed to burn as you peeled it off.

“Shit,” He sighed in pain, taking a deep breath as you soaked a small towel in a little bowl of soap water. He frowned as you brought it up to the gash on his side.

“This is really gonna sting, so you should use something to bite on.” You handed him the cleaner glove and as soon as he bit down onto it, you began dabbing the cloth onto his injury.

He let out a significantly loud groan through the glove and tears welled up in his eyes, his breathing quickened due to the sharp, stinging pain of the soap seeping into his wound. He was seeing stars.

“Okay, we’re done.” You spoke, turning back to the med kit to take out a gauze pad. “This cut is too big to heal on its own, I’m gonna have to stitch it up…” You looked at him to make sure he was okay with it. He only nodded. You continued to dab at his skin to remove all the blood around the slash to see it clearly. It was a cut right above the chiseled area of his iliac furrow, a few inches to the left of an already healed scar that seemed to appear like another stab wound.

“You okay?” You asked him, just to make sure. He nodded once more, removing the glove from his mouth and smiling weakly as you grabbed a needle and suture. You noticed he had a pretty nasty cut on his lip, and his eye was starting to bruise.

“This one’s gonna hurt even more, right?” He joked.

“Yeah,” you chuckled. “Are you ready?”

Kick-Ass clenched his jaw, locking eyes with you for a moment, “Yeah,” he grunted, keeping his eyes glued to yours.

You pierced through his skin and his back straightened. Choking out an agony-filled moan, he threw his head back, his hand flying to cover his mouth. Your eyes widened looking up at him.

“If my parents hear you, it’s over.” You whispered and he nodded, chewing on his lip.

Continuing the process of piecing him together, he kept whining about how much it stung even with his fucked up nerve endings.

“Of course it’s gonna hurt, dipshit! How the fuck did this happen to you anyway?” You questioned.

“Oh y’know, some muggers with a knife. Guess they were serious about taking that lady’s bag.” He chuckled.

As you drove the needle through him one last time, he inhaled a sharp breath, gripping into your sheets for his life.

It was quiet for the moment in which you cleaned up, putting everything away and leaving out some bandages to put on him.

You could feel his gaze on you, but goodness, were you scared to look him in the eyes. You knew that if you looked, you’d wanna lean in and kiss him.

“Thank you,” He said, watching you intently as you got up to take the med kit back.

“No problem, Kick-Ass,” you smiled at him, and he couldn’t help but smile back. Your smile was super pretty and holy hell was this mask giving him confidence.

“I’m gonna go put this back, the bathroom’s right outside my door to the left, incase you wanna wash your face or something.” You made your way to your door and left it slightly ajar, so that no one would hear it open while you were downstairs.

Kick-Ass slowly limped into your bathroom, finally taking off his mask after closing the door. His face was covered in blood, so much more happened than some muggers with a knife. Frank D’Amico’s men had tried beating him senseless, but he oh so fortunately got away due to a patrol car nearing the area. Yes, he had made sure no one followed him to your home. He wouldn’t know what to do if he was the reason some fucked up kingpin tried to hurt you.

He washed his face as best he could without getting any blood anywhere, his left eye beginning to grow a soft red color.

You knocked softly on the door, “Hey, just come back to my room when you’re done. My parents are watching TV so you should be good.”

“Thanks.” He answered, staring at the door.

Guilt began to overcome him. He was lying to you, not only in keeping his identity from you, but in making up some bullshit about getting jumped by some "muggers."

He wanted to tell you it was him, but he found the thought embarrassing, maybe you would call him pathetic for this whole Kick-Ass thing, even the thought of coming to you when he had no one else was enough to make him cringe. He would rather get stitched up without anesthesia again than have you react badly and get angry at him for lying to you.

Sitting at your desk waiting for him, you finally heard the bathroom light shut off, the door just then clicking open. He limped into your room and you quickly ran to help him sit on the edge of your bed.

You grabbed the gauze, pausing and taking a look at him for a second. Goodness gracious, he was an Adonis of a man. He had really well toned arms, his abdominal muscles very defined as well. He was quite the specimen. And his eyes. The way he looked up at you, like some lost puppy, it made you melt.

“Um, just lift your arms up a bit,” You cleared your throat, embarrassed of the way you were thinking in such a moment.

He lifted his arms and you put the gauze over his now closed wound, grabbing a roll of bandages to wrap around his waist.

“Hold this here,” you told him as you knelt in front of him. Pulling the white fabric around his side, you had to move closer to him in order to reach for it with your other hand behind his back.

You tried focusing on what you were doing, but he kept staring holes into your head. His hand twitched, wanting to brush a stray hair from your face to see it clearly but he held back.

After wrapping the bandage around his waist a few times, you used some medical tape to keep it in place.

“Alright, I’m almost done.” you spoke, finishing up.

Kick-Ass spoke your name with a light tone. This startled you and you looked up at him to see what he was going to say. He only looked at you, glancing at your lips before looking away and it caused your heart to beat a million miles a minute.

“Thank you...” He finally moved his eyes to meet yours, a look of guilt upon whatever you could see of his face.

“I’m really sorry…” He frowned, looking at the ground next to you.

“It’s not your fault, Kick-Ass,” you reassured him without even knowing what he was talking about.

He shook his head as if he was about to speak but the two of you could only watch each other those following moments, your faces moving closer together like magnets. You didn't know why it felt so right in the moment, but you quickly leaned up and kissed him.

He slightly jumped but immediately kissed back. His lips were so plush and smooth, they felt like clouds. And he kissed you like no other boy had ever kissed you before. He kissed you with emotion, he didn’t just kiss you for the sake of kissing. Even if he wasn't the best at it.

The fabric of his mask brushed against your chin as he tilted his head to the side, moving himself closer to you. You felt like he was going to pull away because you were already starting to feel the need to breathe, but he kept kissing you.

Resting your hand on his chest, you felt his heart beating rapidly under your palm. You stood up, causing him to have to lean upwards in order to keep his lips attached to yours, but the movement caused him pain, making him release a grunt and quickly pull away.

“Sorry,” you apologized, referring to the kiss and the wound. He stared at you in utter surprise.

From now on, Dave knew he would look at you in a different light. Why’d you even kiss him? And what gave him such a desperate urge to keep his own lips connected to yours?

He chewed on his bottom lip, "It's okay..." He replied softly.

“I shouldn't have done that, right...? I—It won't happen again—“ You rambled, suddenly cutting yourself off and picking up the empty packaging of the bandages to throw them away and keep yourself busy.

Kick-Ass watched you pick things up with his jaw hanging, still trying to process the kiss and why he... Enjoyed it?

“You can do it again, if you want.” He mentally screamed at himself, why the fuck would he say that!?

You whipped your head around and stared at him from across the room, your face heating up like the Titanic's boiler room.

"I haven’t kissed anyone since like… sixth grade, so…" He chuckled.

Hiding a smile, "Yeah…that was kind of obvious." you spoke, scrunching your nose.

"Sorry." He looked away while giggling at how pathetic it was.

“It’s okay…” you smiled.

You sat next to him. "Everyone needs practice…” You said suggestively.

Turning to look at him, you saw that he was already gaping at you.

"Yeah..." He kept his eyes on yours this time. The reason he was so afraid to do so before was because he felt vulnerable, like you’d know it was him just by his eyes or something.

“So…” you began, “can I kiss you..?”

“Yes—“ he replied a little too quick for his own comfort. “I mean…Yeah.”

You placed your hand on the side of his neck and moved your head closer to his. You noticed him watching your mouth as it neared his, the palm of his hand coming to press against your lower back as you finally connected your lips.

He kissed you softly, innocently, almost like he was afraid you’d pull away if he kissed you any differently.

Moving one of your hands to rest on the back of his neck, you slipped your fingers under his mask, feeling a bit of his soft curls.

You just wanted to kiss him, missing the feeling of someone's mouth on your own. He felt the same, he didn’t feel judged on the fact he was kind of a shitty kisser.

The two of you sat there for a minute, his calloused hands moving from your waist to the sides of your face, the tips of his fingers playing with the shorter hairs on the nape of your neck.

“I hope you don’t hate me,” he breathed, mumbling against your mouth.

“Mm-“ You made a sound of confusion.

You began to realize why he had said it as he brought his hand up to the hem of his mask and began tugging it upward. Quickly pulling away, you reached for his wrist to stop him.

“Don’t do that…” You watched him, slightly alarmed.

His heart dropped, “Why not…?” he spoke, uneasy.

He couldn’t lie to you. Yeah sometimes he hated your guts and wanted you to just shut the fuck up, but today was a completely different story. He changed in the way he saw you. With everything that had just happened in the past ten minutes, he couldn’t lie to you.

“What if I tell someone? How can you trust me if you barely even know me…?”

But he did know you. He knew you enough to trust you, and that there was no way in hell you would ever tell anyone a secret entrusted to you. But he didn’t want to argue with you. Not as Kick-Ass.

“Fine. Sorry...” He apologized.

"You should probably get home... It's kind of late." You suggested looking at your hands as you fidgeted.

“Yeah,” He stood up, grunting as he pulled his arms through his suit to put it back on. “Could you…” He was nodding at you, referring to the back of his suit where the zipper was.

You pulled the slider along the teeth of the zipper, enclosing him completely in his suit.

He turned around to face you “Thanks…” He watched you for a moment. “For patching me up… And stuff…”

You chuckled, “No problem.”

He smiled awkwardly. “I’ll see you tomor—or uhh, whenever I need you again—or whenever you need me,” He stammered, realizing what position he’d almost put himself in. “I’ll just see you.” He chuckled, swallowing hard as he grabbed his gloves and batons and turned to your window.

“Will you be okay to get home?” You watched as he limped by your window. “I could walk with you… Until we get to your neighborhood or whatever.”

“Uh—No, it's like a 10 minute walk. I’ll be fine. Thanks though.” He smiled softly, beginning to climb through your window as he held his side.

You thought about that. There were no other neighborhoods within ten minutes of walking, so he had to live here. That means he had to go to your school. And that means you have to know him if he said he was your age. Holy shit.

“Kick-Ass?” You rested your palms on your windowsill as he crouched down to look at you from your roof.

“Do you go to Fillmore?”

He paused, staring at you like he’d just been caught.

You felt your hands getting clammy.

After a few more moments of silence, you spoke again.

“Do I know you…?”

He stayed silent. All you could do was take it as a yes.

“Weren’t you just getting mad at me for wanting to take my mask off?” He shot back.

“Fuck, you’re right. I’m sorry.” You looked down. “I’ll… I’ll see you around.” You pursed your lips.

He smiled back softly and made his way off your roof and out of your view.

You sat back down to finish your homework, somehow taking three times as long because the only thing on your mind was those beautiful blue eyes of his. And who else in your school had them.

———————

Thank you for reading!! x

[haikyu-mp4]

Hi :) I know it was your example so I'm so sorry if you wanted something more creative, but I'd really love to listen to Back For You with Oikawa please. As soon as I heard the song it made me think about reuniting with him after he's been away, I'm sorry if you don't want to write it. Thank you and have a nice day <3

Now playing... Back For You

word count; 570 – gn!reader, for my 1D x Haikyu event

“I’m not scared,” Oikawa said, in a defensive tone that suggested you claimed he was. You hadn’t said that, but perhaps he heard the voice at the back of your head pondering how to make him feel better about moving away tomorrow.

“You’re very brave then,” you answered softly, running your fingers through the side of his hair. At first, he leaned away so you wouldn’t mess up his hair, but then he returned so you’d caress his cheek instead. As he leaned into your touch, you stroked his cheek with your thumb. “I would be scared.”

His eyes slowly moved up until they met yours, and you pulled your hand back to intertwine your fingers with his instead. The crickets played their song outside the open door that led out into the garden, the sound carried inside by the cold evening air. You sat on the sofa, legs resting over his lap as his free hand drew patterns on your skin.

“Argentina is so far away,” you whispered wistfully as if he wasn’t still in your grasp for another 20 hours. You glanced at the clock, only 19 now.

He lifted your hands to kiss the back of yours, then the top of your bare ring finger. You’re young, foolishly in love and silently begging for him to promise you something he probably shouldn’t.

You want him to promise he’ll be back. Not just because his family and friends are here, but because he wants to come back for you.

“You’ll be busy with university, probably won’t even remember me in a few months,” he said, mixing in a chuckle as if that could deceive you.

“It’s been a long time since I had a day that wasn’t plagued with thoughts of you. Sounds peaceful,” you tease him, happy to see him break into his dramatics with an offended look.

“That was almost so romantic, and then you just had to ruin it.” And yet he drew invisible hearts above your knee while he pouted.

“Do you know when you’ll be back?” you asked, eyes following Tooru’s finger on your skin.

Tooru’s heart begged him to tell you about all the great universities in Argentina, but his brain knew asking you to give up your life here was absurd, just for a high school sweetheart. So then his heart beat louder, asking you instead. Asking you to suggest it yourself. To say you could both make a new life for yourselves as long as you were together.

“Not exactly.” His mouth didn’t listen to his heart, even with the strain it put on his throat. “Will you visit me?”

“Hopefully!” you said, straightening up your back to lean your face closer to his. “But you will come back?”

“Of course.” He leaned in too, lips pressing against yours like a feathery touch. “Maybe not long term, but… as long as the people I love are here.” His hand squeezed yours.

“Maybe there’s a chance of taking a year abroad with my degree,” you suggested slowly, jumping slightly at how his eyes widened.

When your Tooru looked at you, you could swear there were stars in his eyes.

Perhaps it was a reckless thing to indulge in, this love plagued by an uncertain future, but that’s what you do when you’re young. You grow and you learn and you love, and you come back for those who mean the most.

a/n: I love it when someone requests my example!! although, I went a bit of a different route than reuniting, hope that's okay<3

masterlist

[sv5hive]

sleepyhead | sv5

pairing: sebastian vettel x fem!reader, very, very brief charles mention. like just his name.

content warning(s): none!

word count: 386

notes: you know my first drabble had to be about my favourite old man!!! anyways this got way longer than i intended it to be but let me know if you like it and wanna see more :)

(masterlist!)

you had been waiting up for sebastian for quite some time now. he always told you that it wasn't necessary and you usually fell asleep after about an hour of watching whatever was on the tv. but one day you would be awake to greet him at the door with a kiss. today was not that day.

faint muffles of keys dropping onto the floor and some muttering in german was the first sign of your husband's arrival. gentle footsteps tip toed around you until the bright flashes from the tv ceased and silence filled the room. slowly, you stirred from your slumber.

"seb?"

"sorry, i didn't mean to wake you."

"it's ok. i was awake anyways."

both of you knew you were lying but he found it sweet of you to make sure he never felt guilty for anything he did. you knew ferrari was enough of a headache for him. he came over and kissed your forehead.

"how was the meeting?"

"same as always. i think charles hates me for keeping him in there so late."

"that boy could never hate you."

only the distant chirps of crickets could be heard as sebastian gazed at you falling in and out of sleep.

"come on, i'll take you to bed. you can't keep falling asleep here, schatz. you know it hurts your back."

you were only able to give some incoherent mumbling about how you wanted to see him before you went to sleep.

sebastian softly picked you up from the sofa, being careful not to jostle you too much and wake you up again. the whole way to the bedroom he couldn't stop staring at you. he told you that staying up was bad for you but he would never admit that he loved coming home to you trying so hard to stay awake for him and carrying you up to bed as if it was your wedding again.

he laid you down in bed as gently as possible and headed off to the shower.

a few minutes later, you felt the bed dip as sebastian slid in beside you and wrapped his arms around you. tangling your legs with his, you simply nuzzled into his neck and dozed off for the final time that night. you two were definitely sleeping past noon tomorrow.

[sugdenlovesdingle]

imagine ranger Soup overhearing Carlos talking to TK on the phone one day, and Carlos is all "I'm sorry baby, this case is taking longer than we thought, I'm not going to make it home." *pause,listening* "Yeah, i love you too. I'll make it up to you, i promise." *pause, listening* *laughs a little* "Yeah and Lou too. I'll make it up to you both."

and ranger Soup assumes he's talking about his kid and he makes these "kids amirite?" comments when they're working on cases, and Carlos is just "sure. i wouldn't know, but sure" - which confuses ranger soup because he clearly heard Carlos mention a Lou, and he's married because he wears a wedding ring.

And he starts coming up with these insane theories that Carlos' wife has a kid called Lou that is not his, or that he's having an affair with someone with a kid called Lou - "But why would he be so close to his mistress' kid???"

And eventually Carlos tells him he's gay and married to the best paramedic in Texas (because why stop at Austin - surely TK's talents have a wider reach than that) and maybe invites him over for dinner sometime

(TK: are we having soup for dinner then? Carlos: 🙄😍)

And it's a nice evening, dinner is nice, TK keeps the soup puns to a minimum, but there's no sign of a kid. No toys, no kid sized clothes or shoes - nothing. And he's really curious but also doesn't want to intrude or maybe bring up something painful, so he says nothing and waits for Carlos or TK to explain. But they don't.

Until TK gets up after dinner and says he has to feed Lou.

And ranger soup is all 👀 Lou you say??? but gets even more confused when TK takes this little bowl of cut up veggies from the fridge... and walks over to this big terrarium... and takes out a lizard and sits down on the sofa with it.

"I know you don't want veggies Lou, but your dad forgot to buy mealworms last time we were at the store. And you had a cricket yesterday."

and Carlos just watches them like 😍 (he's grown to love his lizard son ok) and ranger soup is all "THAT is Lou??"

TK: Yes. Louis the second. Lou for short. Lou the lizard. Though he's technically a bearded dragon. It was Carlos' present for me when we got engaged. 😍

And ranger soup goes home that night and tells his family about his night and his weird ass new coworker and his husband.

[sunflowersteves]

when you're gone || j.m.

pairing || joel miller x f!reader

summary || Jackson, Wyoming was supposed to be a calm and quiet town. Joel wasn't so sure when he wakes up alone after another unbearable nightmare.

author's note || without @themarcusmoreno, this fic would not have been made so I thank ash a thousand times for enabling me into writing soft joel comfort with some filth!! and tbh, i think i have an addition to soft!joel so i hope you all enjoy (especially after that episode). also yes, i may have gotten the title from the cranberries song!!

warnings || nightmares, ptsd, apocalypse ptsd, pure disgusting fluff, hurt/comfort, joel needs a break so i'm giving him one, soft!joel, SMUT, oral sex, blowjob, praise kink, [18+ only!!]

masterlist

In Wyoming, it was a quiet and peaceful night. The crickets chirped, and the cold icy wind blew against the logged cabins. Everyone in Jackson was under the cloudy haze of a tranquil slumber, and so were the trees as they gently swayed underneath the stars. 

In a quaint cabin, Joel was mumbling in his sleep. A dark shadow cast over him from the troubles of his active mind. His eyebrows furrowed in despair, and his cheeks were hot from the pain that shot through his chest. He could picture her. He could picture you. He could picture Ellie. A sharp cry and scream thwarted against his eardrums, and he panicked. 

His eyes snapped open in an instant, and his chest heaved at the alarm that spread across his chest and down to the pits of his stomach. He looked around the room—his eyes frantic. An old chair, a bookshelf, and a pile of clothes. 

A nightmare. Just a nightmare. 

He turned to look over at the silhouette of your form under the covers, but his heart froze once more as you weren’t even there. 

You were gone. 

It struck deep inside him—empty and sullen—as the questions started to roll over one another. Where are you? Are you okay? Are you hurt? Are you alive?

He didn’t waste any time by putting some pants over his boxers or taking his flannel. He just needed to run. The strong pads of his feet hit the floorboards, and he sauntered down the stairs. He had to find you. 

He needed to find you. 

The pure, hard feeling of desperation rose in his throat. His hands were shaking by his sides as he whipped around the archway that leads into the living room. His eyes scanned every crevice of the room—starting from the tall bookshelves and guitar stand that sat in the back corner. Then, he saw it. He saw the movement of a hand flipping over a page in a book. 

You.

He let out a big puff of air, the relief washing him over like a cold splash of water to his face. You were safe. You were okay. He could feel the panic rush out of his chest, and pure adoration sunk in between his heart and his lungs. Just you.

He watched, quietly, at the soft rise and fall of your chest. The hand that wasn’t holding the book in your lap was tapping gently on the edge of the sofa.

A lukewarm cup of tea, the one you most likely forgot from the riveting pages, sat on the coffee table in front of you. Your eyes rapidly scanned each individual page, and your lips pursed into a small smile. 

He could tell you were reading a Jane Austen novel. You always had the same expression when you were reading Pride & Prejudice, Emma, or Persuasion. Your left brow would always twitch when you got to a familiar scene that you had read a million times before. 

He suddenly could feel the warm breath of a calm mind take over his body. He felt like he could relax now. You’re here. You’re safe. You’re alive. 

As if you feel his soft stare, your eyes turn to his—your smile even larger than before. “Aren’t you supposed to be in bed, handsome?”

He doesn’t say anything. His mouth doesn’t even form a smile. He wasn’t sure he could. While his body relished in the feeling of relief, the whiplash of feelings that swirled around in his head was starting to get to him. 

“Joel?”

Your eyes turned cloudy with concern, and now his heart sank just a little. He didn’t want to make you feel worried. The last thing he wanted to do was open a deep wound in your chest like the one that settled in his. 

He quietly sat down next to you, arms pulling in your shoulders, so your back lay rested against his chest. You sat the book down on the coffee table right before making home into his arms.

He breathed in deep, familiar senses of your own musk and the spices you had been picking earlier that day. Rosemary, bay leaves, and parsley were your favorite plants in the garden that Ellie had asked you to build. 

You sat there for just a moment, knowing that he needed to take his time. Joel was never a man of words. He was silent and calculating, watching everyone and anything around him.

You were one of his soft spots over the years—you and Ellie—but his hardened heart still prevented him from allowing his deepest affections to shine through. So, when his thoughts came barrelling down on top of him, he needed the time to articulate them. You would always patiently wait for him, each and every time. 

“Had another nightmare.” He paused, noticing the small intake of your breath. He could tell that you felt bad for waking up in the middle of the night and not being there for him. “Woke up alone.” 

He chose his words carefully. He didn’t want to say, “woke up, and you weren’t there.” In truth, you weren’t, but he knew you had insomnia. He knew that he wasn’t the only one suffering under this roof from the dangerous, violent, and pure aching pain that the world had caused. 

“Joel—Baby—” God, you were too good for him. You were a badass throughout all of the years of fighting and violence, yet your heart shined brighter than ever, just for him and Ellie. 

He whispered just under his breath, “I had the same nightmare. I know you’re there. I know Ellie’s there. I know Sarah’s there—” He shakes his head. “—But I can never find you. Any of you.”

He can picture the frown that forms on your pretty, plump lips. It wasn’t your fault. You know that. You couldn’t have known, but the burning guilt in your chest wants to say otherwise. Your hand grabs onto his own, which is splayed across your abdomen, and you squeeze—making sure that he knew you were here. 

“I’ll never go anywhere, Joel. Not without you.”

A deep, crackling affection sprouted in his chest at your affirmation. He could almost smile—bright and pearly white. His worn heart thumped loudly against his chest, surely pumping loudly against your shoulder blade. 

“I know, darlin’. My brain is just funny sometimes.” His lips crack just a little at the snort he was able to pull from your nose. 

“Hell of a way to put it, Miller.”

After a couple of beats of silence, you bite your lip—contemplating whether you should act on what your brain was currently concocting. You knew that Joel wouldn’t be able to sleep for the rest of the night, and by default, you wouldn’t, either.

You could tell he was still lost in the faraway lands of his mind. His eyes were glossy and dazed. You knew he was, in no doubt, trying to unsee the darkest parts of his nightmares.

You decide to say fuck it, and you attempt to untangle Joel’s arms from yours. You hear a disapproving grunt from the man behind you, followed by another confused sound when you started to leave the couch.

“Darlin’, where are you—” His question dies on his tongue, though, all while you sink down onto your knees. His eyes are blown wide—dark pupils dilating under the soft glow of the eucalyptus candle you started to burn earlier. 

You give your best innocent smile. By the way his lips open just a smidge, you knew your idea was a good one. “Wanna take care of you, Joel.”

You bite your lip, sinking your teeth into the plump skin, and he curses under his breath. “Will you let me take care of you, handsome?” Your palms flatten across his splayed-out thighs, and you rub back and forth. He could feel his boxers become tighter as you wait for his answer. “Hmm?”

His body involuntarily leans back so he could sink further and further into the couch. His body acts, once again, before his mind can even comprehend the pure lust and desire he has for you. His hips jump forward to allow your soft hands to shuffle his boxers down and pool around his legs. 

Finally, he says, “please.”

You didn’t need to be told twice.

You grab a hold of his half-hard member, and he groans at the sight of you practically drooling for his cock. Your eyes are glistening with such lust, and he sees that speckled look of love that fills them.

His own eyes are dark and heavy-lidded as you press a couple of sweet kisses on his inner thigh—causing him to jerk. You pump his cock a few times, jaw slacking at the pre-cum that is already dribbling against his tip.

“Darlin’.” He gasps.

He watches as you wrap your soft lips around his head. He can feel his cock twitch and become harder—pleasure throbbing against his bulging veins. “F-Fuck, just like that. Yes.”

You flatten your tongue along his ruddy tip and then swirl in between his crying slit. “Fuckin’ mouth on you, I—” He lets out small puffs of air, teeth biting his lower lip in pleasurable agony. If it weren't for his fat cock in your mouth, you definitely would have smiled at the praise. He moans, almost as if he could feel it. 

"Joel—baby—so needy."

Joel was pretty sure he could die happy, right with your lips on his cock because when you rasp that out, there was a bead of your saliva and his pre-cum connected to your lips.

His knees twitch in between you, not being able to help it. He drags his hand to the nape of your neck and squeezes the base of it. “Takin’ care of me so fuckin’ well. My pretty girl—suckin’ my cock.” His words slur together with each syllable of his honeyed Texas accent.

The soft cries and whimpers that leave his mouth are really addicting—your hand squeezes against the base of his thigh from wanting more. 

"You taste so good, Joel. 'm—I love you. I love your cock."

You bop your head even lower—esophagus spasming at the pure thickness of Joel. No matter how many times your sweet cunt or stretched mouth took him, you were never used to his swollen size. 

You hum against him as you feel the sticky substance of pre-cum leak from his tip and onto your tongue—salty and earthy. His hips sputter slightly upward, lips cursing up a storm. “Oh-fuck-fuck. C-Can’t–ugh–can’t take much longer, sweet girl.” 

His body almost shutters from the drool he feels slowly drip down to his balls. Your mouth is warm and balmy, slick tongue working excellently against his hardened shaft. He gasps out your name, mixed in with one of his pet names for you. 

He lets himself become lost between the soft pillows of you and your expert tongue that brings him to the brink of pleasure. He lets the stiff trauma that makes his shoulders and muscle tense slowly wash off of him. “Love when you suck my cock, yeah, f-fuck—my pretty girl takin’ care of my fuckin’ cock.”

His mouth hangs open as you hollow your cheeks and suck on his ruddy tip before shoving your throat back down to the base of his cock. He wasn’t sure how he was sane at this moment—watching the saliva drop from his cock down to his balls—as he was throbbing with pleasure. 

His head drops back onto the couch, and he moans and whimpers out your name. It stays on his tongue—repeating over and over as if it was the only thing that ever mattered in the world. He feels his tummy squeeze, thighs tensing and pulsating as he feels that familiar coil tighten. “Oh, baby—darlin’—my girl—”

You suck in, swirling your tongue just over his slit once more, and he gruffs out a gasp. "Fuck, I love you, I love you, I love you—" Thick beads of cum spew to the back of your throat—causing you to gag. His cum rolls over as his cock twitches and spurts in your mouth. 

You swallow every drop that Joel gives you—gulping it down on his shaft. He was already sensitive, cock already softening, but the whimper that left his mouth seemed one of ecstasy.

You relent, though. Your jaw was a little sore, and you had a feeling Joel was going to want to return the favor. You unhinge your mouth from him with a small ‘pop’ and pat his knee in affection. 

“Feel better, handsome?”

“Loads.” He snorts. “Literally.”

You roll your eyes, getting up from the floor and taking your usual seat on his thighs. “Hilarious, Miller. Real funny.” You were happy, though. You were able to give him the distraction he deserves.

His smile never settles as he pulls you into him. A weight had lifted onto his chest at the true realization that you’re here.

You’re with him.

You’ve alive.

You’re here. 

Joel knew that the nightmare would haunt him for a long time, but for now, you are all he needs.

[shycoconutt]

A Future With You (Gojo x Reader)

Summary: It's been a long time since Satoru and you talked, and there are some feelings that are threatening to come to light. Can you both move on from your tragic past?

Content Warning: MDNI (18+) smut, penetration (unprotected sex, finishing inside, oral fem receiving), fem reader, some angst, porn with some plot, praise, past betrayl. Takes place post night parade, pre season one.

WC: 5.8k

Notes: I did it! First semi-long fic for JJK! Requests are open, fyi :)

“Why do you do that?”

Saturo Gojo's voice pierced through the room, interrupting your focus on your paperwork. Ignoring him, you continued ticking off points on your mission checklist, frustrated by the tedious task mandated by the higher-ups.

Ugh, it’s so annoying that they make us fill these out every time. It’s pointless, they never even read them. 

 “Hellllllloooooooooooooooo,” Satoru sings in your direction. 

Glancing up, you find Satoru leaning forward in his chair, his white hair gleaming under the fluorescent lights of his office in one of the main buildings of Jujutsu High. His eyes are covered in thin, black material. To his right, Nanami is sprawled out on the sofa with his head resting on the armrest, one leg hanging off the side and his foot on the ground. He’s passed out, finished paperwork resting on his slowly rising and falling chest, oblivious to the world.

"My bad, I thought you were talking to Ken," you apologize, turning your attention to Satoru.

“Oh yeah, suuuuuuuure,” he pouts, “You always ignore me.”

“Not always, but most of the time,” you smile teasingly.

You were so used to Satoru’s presence, that ignoring him was one of the only ways to keep you sane. 80% of what he babbles on about is nonsense, and he knows it. He lives to tease you. The truth is, you’ve grown up together, faced death, lived and loved together. You don’t technically ignore him, you couldn’t if you tried, you just tune him down a little, like the radio.

After a brief pause, you relented, "Why do I always do what?"

Satoru smiles and leans back into his chair, pressing his fingers together. 

“That thing with your feet,” he smiles, pointing towards them. 

You draw your attention to your feet crossed on the coffee table in front of you. You only had your socks on, for comfort. Your brows furrowed in confusion, not exactly sure what he was getting at. 

Satoru scoffs, reading your face. “That thing!”

“What thing?!” you ask, bemused.

Satoru sighs and tilts his head back in frustration. Bringing his hands together again, he begins to rub them into each other in a haphazard manner. 

“This whole thing you do,” he continues to demonstrate, “It’s like your feet are making out!”

You begin to giggle as he becomes more aggressive with his hands. Your joy comes in waves throughout your body, thoroughly amused. Satoru knows how much you love his physical comedy, so he really hams it up for you.

Suddenly, he springs up from his chair and explodes like a firework, “You’re doing it again!”

“Argh, why are you yelling?” Kento grumbles from the couch, papers crumpling under his grasp as he sat up from his sprawled-out position. 

“Oh, sorry Kenny,” Satoru puts a hand up to his mouth and grins. Giggles are still escaping from you as Kento grunts in frustration, gathering his papers and brushing himself off from his slumber.

“I was just over here trying so hard to complete my important work,” Gojo continues, "but we have a little cricket in the room," he quipped, looking over at you with a playful glint in his eye. It’s a look you are all too familiar with. It’s a look that gets you out of bed in the morning.

God, he’s so pretty.

Satoru is the type of pretty that transcends human – part of you swears he is extraterrestrial. His skin was born without imperfection. His white hair, although sometimes wild, is shiny and smooth. His teeth look like they are made of pearls. His body is sturdy, yet aerodynamic. Then, of course, there are his eyes. 

His eyes are like mirrors facing a partly cloudy sky. Often you wondered if they would suck you in, spit you out, and watch you freefall.

Terrified of hitting the ground, you never fully give yourself over to him. You never released all of what was inside of you. If he was the sky, you were a single raindrop resting in a storm cloud, waiting to fall if the pressure of it all became too heavy.

But with him, at least on the surface, it rarely got heavy these days, so you were always able to float around in the bliss of ignorance. Maybe one day, the cloud would pass by, or evaporate altogether. Part of you hoped it would, part of you didn’t want to experience the pain that it could cause. A life without him seemed empty – a desert void of life.

But what came next threatened a downpour.

“Well, I’m out of here,” Kento huffs, “I don’t know why either of you let me fall asleep. You both know I hate staying here past five.”

“Sorry,” you start, “you just look so peaceful when you sleep. It’s a nice change of pace.” You smile, throwing him his jacket that rests next to you. 

Kento let out a small hum in thanks, putting on his jacket in one quick move, swiftly exiting the room without a goodbye. 

“Bye, my love! I’ll miss you every second you’re not in my arms!” Satoru cries out, running to the doorframe to wave Kento off. You scoff at his antics, turning back to your work, you finish off the rest of your checklist with disregard. Feeling the couch dip, you feel a familiar warmth on your side as Satoru makes himself comfortable. 

“You know what’s funny?” he starts, “I’ve always noticed they way you mush your feet together. You do it constantly, you know that?” Taking his blindfold off, he loops it around his pointer finger, pulling the fabric back with his other hand. With pinpoint accuracy, he slingshots the band around your crossed feet. “They release a tiny amount of cursed energy when you do, it’s almost like you have a pilot light.” Obviously pleased with himself, his lips spread in a tight smirk, making your face feel warm.

God, you loath Satoru Gojo. The way his single observation makes your stomach do flips. Knowing that he perceives you. That he recognizes your patterns.

Suddenly, your hair is being pushed behind your ear by Satoru’s long fingers, his arm stretched across the length of the back of the couch. 

“So soft,” you hear him mumble, barely audible. His fingers linger on the back of your ear, slowly gliding down to lightly pinch your earlobe. You watch him intently out of the corner of your eye, at a loss for words. Although his touches were light, they feel like they burn. 

“Satoru…” the noise that leaves your mouth is barely a whisper.

“Hm?” he muses, fingers leaving your ear to grip your shoulder. His grip is firm, almost uncomfortable as he turns you to look him in the eyes fully.

This is one of those moments – he is sucking you in and you don’t know where you are going to fall.

-

That is how you two always seem to navigate, pushing the limits of what defines your relationship with moments like this. You were friends, colleagues even. You work tremendously well together, which both you and the higher-ups discovered after the death of Haibara, then the following departures of both Geto and Nanami. With just you, him and Shoko left of your former teams, and Shoko staying behind on campus to further advance her reversed curse technique, both of you were usually sent out together on missions.

At first, your missions were always done in silence, both of you trying to heal your traumas internally. In both of your defenses, navigating without verbal communication went on without a hitch. You danced around each other, synchronizing your attacks and defending the other’s back. You didn’t mind him taking the lead in most cases, because you were always exactly where you needed to be when the moment struck. You hate to admit that his looks of approval are what kept you going during that dark period of your life.

It wasn’t until you were at death’s door when feelings bubbled up to the surface. What seemed like a routine mission turned for the worse when a gaggle of special grade curses were congregated in your area. You were cornered, and with no way out, Satoru was forced to use his domain expansion. You knew it well, understanding the rules of the infinite domain. As long as you were touching, you were safe. 

But Satoru cracked. In the fight leading up to the point of his release of the technique, he became high off of the feeling of exorcizing strong curses. He hates to admit it now, but his vision tunneled, and he forgot about you. 

At that moment, you were not observed. You were not perceived. You were not recognized. You were an afterthought – a casualty.

As quickly as the domain exploded around you, it released. Satoru realized his mistake in a quarter of a second, but at the time, he thought that was all it took. Barely escaping the area, he raced back to Tokyo with you in his arms, your body breathing but lifeless. You couldn't respond to his cries, his profuse apologies, his pleads to the gods to let you live. Satoru Gojo thought he killed you, and he swore to you that he couldn’t, and wouldn't, move on without you.

Turns out that over the course of your time together, your roots were intertwining – hope for a new life manifesting in each other's strength to continue forward, despite everything.

You were out of it for weeks in a bed tended by Shoko. She cared for you, studied you. She took note that you were conscious, but unresponsive. It wasn’t until after where you told her that you were, in fact, conscious – all your senses worked, but you couldn't get your body to move. It was like you were frozen, much like how it was inside Satoru’s domain.

Satoru was banned from seeing you, although he often broke that rule. Every night you could sense his presence at your bedside, his delicate fingers tracing softly over your exposed skin. Those fingers always happened to make their way to your earlobe, pinching you softly there – a small plea for you to come to life. For you to sit up and slap him across the face for being so damn stupid.

And he would let you. He wanted you to leave him bloody and bruised. He wanted to experience pain by your hand. It was what he thought he deserved. That over you not talking to him ever again. Undoubtedly, that would kill him.

He received punishment from the higher-ups for being careless, to which he bore with no complaint. To this day he states that he is unsure what he would've done if you hadn't made a full recovery. Maybe it would have all been too much. 

But you recovered, and you forgave. 

You understood completely, knowing it was an accident. Yes, it hurt a little bit to know that he forgot about you, even for less than a second. Truth is, you forever want to hold a permanent residence in Satoru Gojo’s mind. Quite selfish of you frankly.

After your recovery, time went on and your plates began to fill. Satoru gained students. Nanami came back. New roles were filled. Expectations changed. Your relationship with Satoru continued strong, but it plateaued.

You were stuck in romantic purgatory.

Or so you thought.

 -

“What are you doing?” you finally ask. You struggle to find the emotion hidden in his eyes. They seem excited, playful, yet serious. His brows are furrowed together, hair now fallen in front of them due to the absence of his headband. 

Satoru’s lips pursed for a moment before speaking, “I-” he pauses, seemingly going over the words in his head, “I’ve been meaning to talk to you for a while.”

His hand has yet to leave your shoulder, his thumb slowly rubbing circles in the small divot located in the muscle there. It feels heavenly. Something about his energy seems so calming to you in this moment, and you acknowledge how respectful it is that he waited for a natural minute where you two would be alone. It was very rare these days. Whatever he wants to talk about, you know it’s important to him.

“Satoru, whatever it is, you know you can talk to me about anything,” you say with sincerity, placing your hand over his own.

Satoru gives you a soft smile, “I know,” his eyes travel and find their way to your hand on his, “but rarely does anything we talk about revolve around us.”

Us?

You can’t help the fluttering feeling that gathers in your lower stomach. Satoru was right, you barely had any moments to talk about anything other than work. Nanami and you were always away on missions, and he was always preoccupied with his students and Megumi. You had a moment together after the trials of the night parade and the aftermath of Suguru Geto’s death. You consoled him, took care of him for a short while. But, again, he was quiet. He was in mourning.

After that, when things turned back to normal, you asked Nanami if you could do your mission paperwork together in Satoru’s office from then on out. Any chance you had to check in on him was one you wanted to take. Nanami, being the angel that he is, agreed to this, knowing your intentions without even having to ask.

You have feelings for Satoru Gojo. You care about his well being more than you care for your own. The man labeled famously as God’s Favorite is simply just a man to you. No matter what he or anyone else thinks, you know Satoru is not invincible. He deserves to be protected too.

After a few beats, your stomach settles, and you continue on with more confidence than even he expected.

“Yes,” you begin, “we should talk about us.”

Satoru’s eyes widen by a millimeter, just enough for you to catch.

“Okay,” clearing his throat for a moment, Satoru continues, “I’ve been meaning to talk to you because I’m tired of just letting precious time pass by. You know I care about you deeply, right?”

You nod in reassurance. 

Satoru's eyes darken slightly. Taking his hand off you, he slumps forward in his spot, placing his hands under his chin, propping his head up. You watch as he looks forward out the school’s window, watching the pink skies as the sun begins to set.

He continues.

“You say so, but I don’t think you truly understand. When I thought that I took your life that day, like a dumb fucking idiot, I was prepared to rid this world of my presence completely. I know I’ve screwed up in the past, but I couldn’t screw up this.” Satoru gestures his hand back and forth between your space on the couch. “If I did, and I almost, I wouldn’t forgive myself. Things would have turned dangerous quickly.” The frown he bares hurts your soul completely.

“But we’re okay, Satoru,” trying your best to reassure him, now it was your turn to place your hand on him. Without much thought, your hand found its way to his thigh, gently rubbing the area with your palm. You felt his quad flex slightly at the touch.

Your hand is soon taken away to be held by both of his own, bringing them to his chin as well. His lower lip grazes the skin of your knuckles, sending a rosy flush to your cheeks. He pauses again, obviously finding it difficult to communicate his thoughts.

“Satoru, please,” your tone is soft, encouraging, “tell me what’s on your mind.”

What happens next feels like a whirlwind. One moment, you're sitting across the couch from Satoru, hand against his chin. Next, you are pinned underneath him with your head on the armrest, both his hands planted on either side of your face to hold himself up. Your legs are spread, the cold air touching the warmth of your panties under your skirt. His knee is in between them, pressing against the flesh of your inner thighs. Looking up, obvious shock sketched on your face, you meet his eyes.

Even in the shadow underneath his white hair, they shine with intensity. In the pools of blue, you can see that he is yearning.

You don’t try to move, you don’t protest his advancements. The closer he is to you, the more content you feel. Slowly, he brings his head down to yours, his forehead resting against your own. His breath is warm, smelling of sweet mint. With a lick of his lips, he continues again.

“I thought that you being alive was enough for me. That I could watch you go on, and just merely being in your presence, able to help when you needed me, would satiate my feelings for you.” You can feel the intensity vibrating off of his form. Satoru looks like a man who has starved for days finding his first meal. Is it terrifying? Yes. Do you love it? Yes. You can’t help the playful smirk that dances on your lips.

You don't know if you are going to regret the angle you are about to take.

“Then what happened, baby,” you purr, eyes challenging his own with a flash of pure lust. His eyes widen in what you can imagine is excitement.

“What happened?” Satoru chuckles, darkly, “What happened is I realized that I cannot go on if you are not mine.” 

Satoru’s lips crash into yours with ferocity. Although somewhat aggressive in his movements, his actual contact with you is soft and sensual. His kisses are unleashing his secrets, one’s that seem hard to keep. Parting your mouth slightly, you push your tongue forward to invite him in. Your tongues begin to dance slowly, mixing each other's spit to create a lustful potion. 

One of his hands comes down from the couch to under your shirt, tightly gripping your ribcage. Your hands come up to wrap around the back of his neck, your fingers playing with the short, velvety hair of his undercut. Satoru allows himself to come down slightly, resting his hips over your own. The corners of your lips turn up slightly at the feeling of the hard bulge in his pants against your core. A small moan escapes his lips at the contact. His body was reacting this way because of you.

How fun. 

You take it upon yourself to start undressing Satoru. You start by unpinning his uniform jacket, opening it and pushing it off his shoulders. Bringing your hands down under his white cotton shirt, you take a moment to press your fingers into his hip bones, then you slowly lift up the fabric. Satoru, in compliance, sits up and lets you lift his shirt over his head and up his arms. Shirtless in front of you, you can’t help but admire his long torso. He is lean, but strong. You notice one long scar that starts where his shoulder meets his neck and ends around his belly button.

Around his neck, there is a thin silver chain with a small pendant at the end. Instinctively, you take it between your fingers and notice that it is a small raw amethyst crystal. Hm, the crystal for the sign of Aquarius, I wonder- 

Oh. 

Your eyes move up to meet Satoru’s, and you give him a knowing look. The small smile he gives to you hurts your heart, as you can sense the obvious pain behind his eyes. He removes your hand from his necklace and lays it on his chest where his heart is. You know that this is his way of telling you that he is okay. 

Your breathing hitches in your throat as his hands come down to the top of your blue work vest. He quickly unbuttons the three buttons holding it together, opening it up, then grabs the bottom hem of your shirt and lifts it over your head, exposing your bra to him. 

Satoru comes down to gently nip at the squishy flesh of your upper breast spilling over. You hear him deeply inhale your scent, a small hum in satisfaction leaving his mouth. He quickly grabs the lace of your bra, tugging it down so your nipple is exposed to him. Trailing his warm tongue down the side of your breast, he latches on to your bud, giving it a small suck. 

The first gasp of the night leaves you, your legs tightening around his midsection in response to the stimulation. Satoru grabs both of your breasts in his hands, kneading them together while continuing his ministrations. You let your hand trail down his abs, passing under his waistband to find what you’re so desperately looking for. 

You make contact with the hard tip of Satoru’s cock, a bit of pre smearing across your fingers. You let your hand trail down further, wrapping your hand around the base of his length, giving it a small squeeze. Satoru lets go of your nipple with a pop, letting out a strained hiss at your touch. His hips instinctively buckle forward, causing your hand to stroke towards him. 

“Fuuuuck, baby,” he swears, tightening his grip around your chest. Not without protest, he shifts off of you, your grip coming back out of his pants. You give him a small pout, one he finds adorably sexy.

“I know, sweetheart, I know, but not yet,” he coos, cradling one hand in your hair, “I want to taste you first.”

Without hesitation, he quickly finds the zipper of your skirt, hidden in a fold on the side. In one quick swoop, your skirt and panties are off your body, down your legs and discarded to the floor. You are completely exposed to Satoru, now wearing nothing but your bra pulled off your breasts and your stockings. Kneeling on the couch in between your legs, you watch as he stares at your dripping cunt, a blush quickly forming on his cheeks. Now, you know Satoru is not the type to be bashful.

“What is it, Satoru?” you ask, shaky concern in your voice. Was something wrong?

“That’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen,” he stares at your pussy in awe, his tongue slowly coming out to lick his lips.

You look down at yourself and your eyes go wide. Oh my god, I forgot.

Your hands come up to cover your face, your cheeks now burning hot. Of course this would be the case, of fucking course.

“I forgot,” you confess, barely a whisper, “my wax girl was always encouraging me to try something new. So when I went last week, I decided to go for it,” you gulp, “she told me all the different designs she could do for a landing strip, and I thought the heart one was the cutest.” You slowly begin closing your legs in sheer embarrassment, but Satoru quickly stops you, grabbing you by your knees and spreading you apart like a book.

If it was possible to Olympic-dive into a pussy, that was what Satoru just did. 

Satoru Gojo is sloppy. He is messy. Going straight for your hole, he snakes his tongue in as far as it can go, lapping out your juices and spreading them all over yourself. Wrapping his arm underneath your thigh, he brings it around to the top of your pussy to grab your mound, lightly pulling it back so that your clit is jetting out of your folds. Once satisfied with your wetness, he wraps his lips around your bundle of nerves, sucking rhythmically and flicking it smoothly with his tongue. Satoru’s other hand makes its way underneath him, coming out from under his chin to insert two digits into your heat. Once he finds the rough patch at the top, he makes a ‘come hither’ motion with his fingers. Your loud moans escape from you relentlessly. If this was a video game, Satoru Gojo knows all the lethal combos. 

You can feel the coil in your stomach tighten. Oh my god, you had no idea someone could make you cum this fast. Of course, Satoru Gojo is good at eating pussy, of course he is.

Hands coming down to grip his soft, white locks, you tilt your head back in pleasure. Satoru in between your legs feels natural – it feels right.

“Satoru! Oh-” you cry.

“Yes, baby, yes,” he says into your folds, not stopping the work he's doing to make you snap, “you going to cum, princess?”

“Yes! Satoru-” words escape you as you reach your limit. Cunt pulsing around his fingers, you fully give yourself to your release, crying out in pleasure as your juices spill over. Satoru grinds his hips into the cushions as your cum drips out of you, moaning himself, he makes sure to savor every last drop, scooping some out with his fingers and sucking them clean. His cock is throbbing in the confines of his slacks, begging to be inserted into your pretty folds.

You watch with half-lidded eyes as Satoru comes up from in between you, mouth and chin glistening with your juices. His face is flushed, hair in disarray from your grasp, chest heaving as he breathes in air after suffocating himself inside you. You feel yourself pulse again at the sight of him. He looks like an animal, and it sets off something primal inside you.

Sitting up from your position, not knowing exactly what is coming over you, you grab Satoru by his neck and guide him to a sitting position on the couch. Once he’s seated, eyes wide in shock, you swing your leg over his lap and straddle him, hand still remaining around his throat. His hands come up instinctively to wrap around your waist. His mouth is slightly agape, looking up at you with lust and, maybe, a little bit of fear.

At this moment, you don't give a damn if you look crazy. You need him.

“Satoru Gojo,” you begin, your voice laced with arousal, “I am going to fuck you so well, you’re going to go blind.”

All he can do in response is nod. Dipping your head, you bring your mouth to the crook of his neck, sucking and nibbling at his skin there. He moans, tilting his head away to let you explore further. Taking your hand off his neck, you work to open and unzip his slacks. Tugging at the waistbands of his slacks and boxer briefs, he lifts up his hips so you can pull them down to his thighs. You look down to watch as his cock slides downwards, caught in the band until you bring them down far enough for it to snap upward and smack his abdomen, Satoru letting out a pained hiss as it does. His member is long and thick with a pretty-pink tip. It’s quite beautiful, really.

You look up again to meet Satoru’s eyes with a devilish grin. You can’t fucking wait to feel his member inside you. With a couple of long, drawn-out pumps down his length, he tilts his head back over the couch to let out a long moan. It’s music to your ears. Bringing your hand to your cunt, you gather some of your juices and coat your fingers. Wrapping your hand around him again, you pump harder and faster this time, gliding with ease when adding your slick. Satoru can only grip harder into your sides.

“Oh, you’re going to kill me, baby,” he gasps, “please, sit down on my cock. I don’t know how much more I can take.” He brings his head forward again to rest on your chest, and you take the opportunity to kiss the back of his neck.

“Okay, okay, baby,” you comply, taking the fat tip of his cock and positioning your entrance on top of it. Satoru quickly looks up again, wanting to watch your expression as you take him in. Slowly, you lower yourself onto him, letting his tip enter the first ring of muscle. You can't help but let out a moan, bring your hands to Satoru’s shoulders for support.

“That’s it, that’s it,” Satoru coos, “take as much time as you need baby,” rubbing his hands in circles across your hips, he brings his mouth up to yours and slips his tongue in, to which you suck sensually. You can taste yourself on him, and it turns you on.

You lower yourself a bit further now that you have adjusted, and it feels euphoric. Although you know it’s probably best to wait a bit more, you can’t help but push yourself to the limit to fully feel all of him. You need him. Gradually, in one continuous movement, you take him to the hilt. Not breaking away from his kiss, you wrap your arms around his head and completely relax yourself. Satoru’s tip was resting on your cervix, and you decided to start off with a couple pulses for good measure.

Once he realized what was happening, he broke free from your lips and gasped, “Oh, you naughty girl. You could just do that and you would milk me for all that I have.”

“Another time,” you smirk and lift yourself about halfway up his shaft to then quickly slam yourself back down again. Satoru cries out, thighs flexing in response. “I want all of you.”

“Yes,” he cries out, “you have me, baby. You have me now. Forever.” Bringing his hand down to your heat, his fingers swirl around your clit. You let out a gasp as he takes your juices and brings it to your nipple, covering it with your slick. Satoru then leans down and sucks on it ferociously.

“Oooo, yes, baby, yes, I love that,” you moan out, allowing yourself to start riding him fully. “You have all of me too, baby. Forever.” You quickly find a good pace, the sounds of your bodies slapping together sends you into overdrive. You can hear your pussy squelching over his cock, making you more aroused at the lewd noise. Satoru’s hands have found their way to the plush underside of your ass, helping support your weight as you move up and down on him.

With his member pounding your cervix, his mouth working wonders on your breast, and his hands spreading you apart, you can't help but feel yourself starting to tense up, coil threatening to snap. Satoru recognizes this, feeling the familiar sensation of your pussy clenching much like it did around his fingers. He can feel himself starting to let go, but forces himself to hold it together long enough for you to explode. 

And that's exactly what you do. Holding him closely and shutting your eyes, your movements turn sloppy as you ride him to your release. 

“Satoru, Satoru, Satoru, yes, Satoru…” Crying out his name, you let go completely, giving yourself over to him.

Satoru moans out as well, and you swear you feel him twitch inside you, but nothing spills over. Opening your eyes and looking down towards him, you can see that he’s fighting to keep it together.

“Satoru-” you begin to question, but let out a yelp as he lifts you off of him effortlessly. The world spins, and you find yourself thrown over the armrest of the couch, head dipping towards the floor with your ass up in the air. Not more than two seconds pass before he’s grabbed you by the waist and is slamming into you from behind. 

“Ah!” you scream, tone somewhere between shock and pleasure, “Satoru!”

“Sorry baby,” he apologizes, but you can tell he's grinning from ear to ear, “but it’s my turn to fuck you.”

Satoru begins to pound into you without restraint. You can tell that he has one goal: to cum hard and fast. You’re obsessed with the way he lets his inhibitions go, knowing he can only be this vulnerable with you.

“Fuck, I-” he chokes out, “I- I love your smile. I love your eyes. I love your body. I love the way that you feel around me. I love your voice when you cry out my name. I love how-” his voice breaks again. You can tell that he’s reached his peak.

“I love you, god, I love you,” Satoru grabs you by your shoulders, lifting you up to him so your back is now to his chest. His arms wrap around you, engulfing you in a tight embrace and burying his face into your neck. His thrusts were not letting up, but they were getting sloppier. 

“I love you too, Satoru,” your heart swells, “You know I’ve loved you for a long time, baby.” You can feel tears brimming in your eyes and you quickly grab onto his forearms, craving more of his touch. You feel him nod into your neck. He knew, he always knew.

“You wanna cum baby? You wanna cum inside my pussy?” you coo at him. “Give it all to me, I want to feel you fill me up so good.” 

You felt Satoru tense for one last time. Slowing down slightly, he pauses every time he hits your wall. Bringing one of his hands down to your lower stomach, he presses into you to feel the sensation of him inside you. With one last thrust, he’s spilling over, and you can feel thick ropes of his seed coat your insides. If you felt full before, you were even fuller now.

Satoru came, but he didn't want to leave just yet. Very carefully, with him still inside you, he picks you up to bring you to spoon him on the couch. 

You laid there for a while, just enjoying the feeling of each other while you drifted in and out of sleep. While watching you intently and grazing the outside of your arm with his fingertips, Satoru decided then and there that he would formally ask you to be his girlfriend tomorrow, although he already wanted to call you his wife. He never thought he would allow himself to see a future with you, never thought he could forgive himself for putting you in danger. But now that he has made that step, there’s so many possibilities. All he knows is that he never wants to do anything without your support and love, and he will do anything to protect you. No one was going to take him away from you. He loves you, in every sense of the way. 

“Satoru?” you call out to him, still in a sleepy state.

“Yes, my love?” 

“You wanna sleep over at my place tonight?” You ask, a little shyly.

Satoru chuckles softly, “Of course, baby.” You feel him smile, hand coming up to pinch your earlobe.

The sensation sent you back in time. A time where you witnessed Satoru Gojo pleading for your future everyday at your bedside. You know now that he was pleading for something more – a  future with you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/n: Aye! Let me know what you think! <3

[inkdrinkerworld]

Another one he’s over yours bc maybe u needed help with your fireplace or something that required boyfriend duties to be fulfilled and then u guys are cuddling and his legs are much longer than yours and yours are just kind of sort of wrapped around one of his, your feet rubbing his shins and he thinks it’s cute and is also used to it from every other night idk if this is just a me thing but I think it’s so cute

laying in spencer’s lap after the fire is going is more comforting than you’d anticipated.

you’re fluffy and soft where he’s lean and slim but he feels good and smells like home - cinnamon, clove and other warm spices- when he wraps his arms around you.

his legs pass yours easily, stretched out and over the arm of your sofa from where you’re laying. the bottom of your foot hits his shin as you cuddle into him and spencer loves it.

he loves it even more when as he flicks through the tv stations, looking for something to watch, your foot nudges his shin.

it’s a soothing back and forth motion, your toes grazing his shin. spencer thinks it’s akin to a cricket rubbing their legs together for heat and smiles.

“you alright spence?” you ask when he sighs. your eyes are toasty with sleep, and spencer nods, his fingers scratching between your eyebrows before running down the length of your nose.

“mhm, is this the kinda winding down you wanted to do?” he asks, knowing how tired you’d become with school and working being back in full swing.

on the tv is the hazy and crackly view of dvd recordings of ‘the berenstain bears.’ spencer had done some research into low stimulation shows that wouldn’t make you feel anxious or add to your feelings after work or school.

while spencer waits for your response, his fingers continue the up and down motion on the bridge of your nose and the longer he goes on the slower the drag of your foot against his shin gets.

“yeah,” it’s already slurred with fatigue and spencer feels immense pride at being able to take care of you. “s’okay if i sleep for an hour?”

you’d already showered and did your nighttime skin care before spencer came over.

spencer withholds a comment about how thirty minute naps are better to fight fatigue. “if you need to sleep bug, i want you to sleep.”

you hum, eyes shutting at brother bear and sister bear start cooking something up. spencer almost chuckles at how your foot knocks his shin till your breathing evens out.

[lou-struck]

Up All Night

Belphegor x reader

~Belphie gets splashed with Night Cricket essence and is cursed to hear their calling all through the night.

W.C: 3.5k

Warnings: Brief mention of Obey Me Chapter 16, slight angst, Belphie being crabby and kinda mean since he is tired.

Poor Belphegor can hardly keep his eyes open. It may be the early afternoon, but the Avatar of Sloth just arrived back at the House of Lamination after taking a make-up test at RAD. The reason he had to retake the test was not because he got a poor grade or anything; he just was too tired the day off and chose to sleep through all three of his alarms and, subsequently, the exam.

But now that that's over with, he can finally take his afternoon nap,

His head hangs low as he sluggishly trudges through his home. Searching for the perfect place to rest his head. His favorite cow-printed pillow secure in his arms as he pokes his head into your room.

Much to his disappointment, he sees that you are still out running errands or doing something equally as exhausting. Normally, he would have no problem falling asleep in your bed, but today, he is feeling a bit adventurous.

Today, for some reason. He is home alone which means he is presented with with rare opportunity to fall asleep anywhere. 

But where should he go?

Lucifer's office?

Leviathan's Bathtub?

That really comfy carpeted spot in Asmodeus' closet?

All this thinking only tires him out more as he wanders into the quiet living room. And when his violet eyes come to rest on the long plush sofa, he knows what he must do.

'I haven't slept there in a while," he says to himself. His legs feel like they are made of lead as they carry him toward the rose-scented cushions. He doesn't even bother to pay attention to the Akuzon package that rests on the little side table that he passes.

His pillow bumps the table and sends the little package tumbling to the ground. The box rolls a bit, and the sound of breaking glass reaches his ears.

'I hope that wasn't important,' he yawns, shrugging off any concerns he had and plopping down onto the couch and falling into a deep sleep.

Unaware of the nightmare he has created for himself.

~ 

The front door had just shut behind you when you heard a shrill screech of horror coming from the living room. Your breath hitches as you drop your floral printed tote bag to the ground and rush towards the sound, magic brimming at your fingers, ready for anything.

But as you rush through the doorway, you see the purple-haired Avatar of Envy on his knees, hunched over a fallen Akuzon package. The magic at your fingers fizzles away, and you sigh, seeing that Belphegor still sleeps comfortably on the couch despite his older brother's meltdown.

"Belphie, what did you do to my package?" Levi screeches, reaching over the couch and shaking his youngest brother roughly from his slumber.

He stretches out like a cat and smacks his lips sleepily as he sits up. "Oh, hey Levi. What's in the box?"

Levi sighs and looks down at the open box. Pulling out what looks to be the neck of a broken bottle. "It was the night cricket essence I ordered, but you broke it."

The Avatar of Sloth looks lazily between the box and his brothers. "Oh? I guess I did. I'm sorry, Levi."

"What's night cricket essence?" You ask, stepping into the room and sitting on the edge of the sofa where Belphie's legs are.

"Night crickets are a special kind of bug known to keep demons up at night; I wanted to put a few drops of their magic into my energy drinks so I can stay up all night to play games."

Your eyes widen at Levi's explanation; the Otaku hardly gets enough sleep as it is; he doesn't need some hardcore magical caffeine supplement to keep him wired. "No, you definitely should not do that, ever."

He crossed his arms and huffs, "It's not like I can anymore. He broke the bottle, and the shop I got it from just got shut down."

"I wonder why?" Belphie chimes in, sitting up just a bit more to grab your hand. Even though you are seated on the same couch as him, he feels like you are too far away.

Levi's face is a deep crimson color and he looks like he is ready to burst. "That's not the point. You broke my package and now I won't be able to play through my new game all in one sitting. Everyone is going to find all the hidden items before me, and I'll look like a complete loser on my server."

"Yeah, that is what will make you look lame." The avatar of sloth quips back with youngest sibling-level sass. You bite the inside of your cheek as you try to keep a straight face and not damage Levi's already fragile ego. 

"Anyways," you clear your throat, trying your best to desolate this situation. "Levi, you really shouldn't buy things like that. It could really mess you up. And I hate to see you uncomfortable."

Levi looks at you with a grateful smile. "Oh, Mc, you really do care. Even if I am just a pathetic little shut-in. I'm going to make my avatar in the game look just like you as extra motivation to stay alive." he grins, rushing down the hallway, ready to play his game.

Now alone, you look to Belphie, who looks like he is about to fall back asleep holding on to your hand. "Don't you dare," you scold, taking your hand out of his. "You are on dinner tonight, and you are not sleeping through it again and buying takeout."

"But everyone loves Hell's Kitchen." he yawns, looking at you with a pleading expression. 

Standing strong you ignore his puppy dog eyes and give him a knowing look. 

"Fine, you win Mc." He sighs, taking your hand. "But you have to help me since it's too tiring for me to do it all on my own." You fight the chuckles as he leads you into the kitchen to be his sous chef for the evening."

~

Hours later, Belphie finds himself in his bedroom. His stomach is full, his teeth are brushed, and he slips on a cool pair of pajamas. 

He may be able to fall asleep anywhere, at any time, in any condition, but it always feels better to slip into something cool and soft against his skin at the end of the day. 

Beel emerges from the bathroom, a tired smile on his face as he wipes a bit of toothpaste from his lips with the back of his hand. "The Roasted Cockatrice you made tonight was delicious; you should make it more often, Belphie."

He smiles at the taller demon as he slides under his lavender-scented covers. The softness of his quilted down, embracing him like an old friend. "Thank you, Beel; if you like it so much, I can make it again for you sometime, and you can eat as much as you want."

Beel gives him a big, happy smile as he gets into his bed on the other side of the room. "I think I am going to dream about it tonight."

Belphie laughs as he sets his DDD down on its bedside charging port. "Careful Beel, the last time you dreamt about dinner you ended up eating your pillow in your sleep."

He frowns and looks at his mattress, "I really liked that pillow too," recalling the memory foam pillow you got him from the human world. He sighs and slips into his sheets. "Goodnight Belphie."

"Good night, Beel." With a flick of his wrist, he turns the bedroom light on and lets his head rest against the pillow, ready to head off into dreamland.

Minutes turn to hours as his cool sheets heat up uncomfortably, and the enviable sound of Beel's soft snoring can be heard from the other side of the room.

This feeling of restlessness is unknown to the Avatar of Sloth as he tosses and turns, waiting for sleep to take him, but it never comes…

~

The next morning, you find yourself at the breakfast table sipping on a chilled glass of freshly pressed blushberry juice and basking in the early morning shenanigans of the Avatars of Sin. 

Next to you, Beel is devouring a mountain of protein waffles after what you can assume to be an intense early morning workout.  

Out of the corner of your eye, you notice Mammon sneakily trying to pluck all the blood strawberries out of the communal fruit bowl without anyone catching him. And so far, no one has. Especially since Asmo's flash keeps going off as he takes and retakes pictures of the adorable latte art Satan made for him. 

At the table head, Lucifer reads the newspaper, the ghost of a smile on his face as he tries to hide his contentment with this family time.

All of a sudden, Asmo drops his phone and lets out a gasp. "Oh Belphie, what happened to you? You look horrible hon."

Your head snaps to the doorway, and your gut fills with concern as you take in Belphie's appearance. His skin is sickly pale, his hair is ruffled beyond what one would call bedhead, and his usually bright violet eyes are framed by deep dark circles.

Had he slept at all last night?

"Shut up, Asmo," he grumbles, dragging himself to his seat and grabbing the pot of coffee from the center of the table.

You could hear a pin drop in the room as everyone watches him pours an impossibly tall mug for himself. He completely ignores the thick wisps of steam that dance on the lip of the mug and inhales the entirety of the dark roast-like air.

Beel swallows the waffle that had been caught in his throat and gently places a hand on his twin's shoulder "Belphie, are you okay?"

"Does it look like I am okay?" he snaps, jerking his shoulder out of his grasp "I heard you stomping all over the place this morning. It's impossible to get any sleep when I have to listen to you all night long."

Your eyes widen. Did Belphie really just say that to his twin? His favorite being in the three realms? Beel's face falls, and he is about to utter a small apology, but he is interrupted by a firm cough from Lucifer, who sets his newspaper down on the polished table.

"Clearly someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed," he says, staring down his youngest brother with a gaze of fiery crimson. "You should think about what you are about to say next, Belphegor, or you will deeply regret it."

"Whatever, you guys aren't worth my energy." he gets up and walks out of the room, leaving the room in uncomfortable silence. You glance over to Lucifer and meet his gaze. His jaw is clenched, but he gives you a nod of encouragement that has you exiting the room to try and find Belphie and figure out what has gotten him so upset.

You don't have to go very far. Belphegor's steps are unenergized and painstakingly slow, allowing you to easily catch up to him in the hallway. Gently, you reach for his hand to stop him.

"Belphie, what is wrong with you?" you ask, "You never get mad at Beel like that."

His gaze narrows, and he rips his hand out of your grasp way harder than he usually would. "Well, maybe if he learned how to function without sounding like a stampede of elephants is marching through the room when I'm trying to sleep, I wouldn't have to get mad at him."

"Belphie…"

"And why did you follow me?" He says, his features twist into a cruel smirk that has you taking a hesitant step backward. "Is the nosy little human trying to make themselves feel all important by getting involved in our business? Why don't you get out of my face and get back to the human world where you belong."

Ouch…

Pain flashes in your gaze and he finally realizes that he went way too far. "Mc, I-i didn't mean it~" he tries to come closer to you, to apologize, but it's too late."

Your reply to him is cold and dismissive. "Just go get some rest Belphegor. You obviously need it." You glare at him and turn to walk back towards the dining room.

"Mc, wait." He tries to call after you, but you're gone. And when you sit back at your seat at the table you notice that your breakfast tastes far less sweet than it did a moment ago.

~

You have avoided Belphie for the better part of the day, and you have tried not to think of his cruel words. You want to give him time to fix his cranky attitude, but honestly, you don't know if you want to talk to him right now.

It is now way too late in the evening you are hunched over at your desk working on something for RAD when you hear a weak knock on your door. You glance at your little clock. It's 3:45 in the morning. 

Who would be knocking on your door at this hour?

You pad across the carpet and open the door slowly to reveal the disheveled (and honestly pathetic-looking) Belpheghor. 

"What do you want?" you say, tightening your grip on the door, ready to shut it in his face if he says anything rude, but you freeze when you take in his appearance. He looks worse for wear than he did earlier. Clearly, he did not take your advice and rest earlier.

"Please," he murmurs out. "Please let me in"

He looks so pitiful, your cave; opening the door wider to allow him inside. His head hangs low as he drags his feet across your carpet in a zombie-like fashion.

He slowly sits himself down on the edge of your mattress and stares down at his hands as if there is some kind of apology tattooed on his fingers.

"M'sorry." he mumbles at last, his voice raw from frustration. "After what happened last time… I told myself I would never do anything to hurt you ever again. I just wasn't thinking, and it slipped out."

"Clearly," you huff sourly, still licking your wounds from yesterday morning. "If that's really what you think of me, then that's fine, but Beel doesn't deserve to be snapped at either."

He opens his mouth in protest, "It's not like that; you know how much you mean to me, Mc. I'm just not acting like myself." He looks like he is about to cry, and it tugs at your heartstrings. "It's no excuse, but I'm tired."

"Then how about you just go to fucking sleep already then?" you respond. You may just be a human, but the demons aren't the only ones capable of inflicting hurt.

"Because I can't." he raises his voice, and you flinch under the sharp edge to his voice. 

Immediately, he steps back for your comfort. This small act of consideration, even in the heat of the moment, makes you see him not as the monster in your mind but as a piece of your heart.

You think about what he is trying to say.

He can't sleep.

How is that possible?

 He is literally the Avatar of Sloth.

 One time he fell asleep on a rollercoaster because it took too long of a pause at the top before zooming downward.

"What do you mean you can't sleep?" you ask softly. Your feet move on their own, gently closing the distance between your bodies as you sit down next to him on the edge of your firm mattress. "What's going on Belphie?"

Your proximity is like a weighted blanket to him, and he leans in closer to your touch. "I haven't slept at all since that nap I took two days ago by the fire."

"Two days?"

You may not know the ins and outs of the effects that each brother's sin has on them, but you know that Belphie doesn't just sleep all the time because he wants to; he has to. Two days for him must be agonizing. 

Thinking back to the other day you try to think of any little details that may lead you to why the poor demon next to you is unable to catch a wink of sleep. 

You remember sitting next to Belphie on the couch…

And Levi was screaming about a package…

The Night Cricket Essence!

"I think I know why you haven't been able to sleep," you say, reaching for your DDD and pulling up your browser. Searching for anything you can about the demonic caffeine supplement thingamabob. 

The effects pop up instantly, along with several warnings about the consumption of the product. You make a mental note to talk to Levi about his purchase history later, but you continue to scroll about the product. 

"What are you looking at?" Belphie asks, leaning over your shoulder. He is so exhausted he slumps into your side, but you don't mind in the slightest. 

"The effects of Night Cricket Essence," you reply. "It says here that you should only add a few drops into a drink to keep you awake, but it must've vaporized when you broke the bottle.

"So I inhaled the whole bottle?" he blinks.

"I think so," you muse; it seems to be the only way to explain how someone as powerful as him could be affected.

"When will it wear off?" he groans, leaning back onto the mattress. 

"No clue, sorry. I'll keep looking," you murmur, trying to find some kind of a cure. 

You scroll and scroll and scroll until you stumble across something that sounds promising. 

If consumed in excess, the effects of Night Cricket Essence may be counteracted with a cup of chamomile tea.

Is that all it takes? A cup of tea?

It's worth a shot

"Come with me, Belphie, I want to try something to help you." Despite his restless exhaustion, your soft voice and kinder eyes are able to coax him onto his feet. He follows you out your bedroom door and into the kitchen.

He sits down at the counter as you scamper about the room, grabbing everything you need to make the both of you a nice cup of tea. 

For demons, getting ahold of human world tea is next to impossible, but you had just come back from a trip with Barbatos to stock up on some hard-to-find blends. Chamomile included. 

It doesn't take long for the tea kettle to whistle as you pour him a cup. You hand it to him carefully before pouring your own. 

"Let's hope this works," you mumble, blowing on your own glass, but he wastes no time. He drinks it desperately, and a few droplets strip down his chin and onto the tabletop.

By the time he comes up for air, the cup is empty, and you know this is an immediate difference in his appearance. His eyes droop, and he looks at you with a sleepy smile. 

"Thash goose" he stumbles out. You may not have the same twin telepathy that he and Beel have, but you know what he means as he sets the cup down clumsily. 

"How are you feeling?" you ask, sliding around the counter and pressing a gentle kiss to the crown of his head.

"Tired," he mumbles, tilting his head up so you would kiss his lips. His movements are sluggish, but the sensation of your lips on his is enough to keep him going a bit longer. “Can I has slee in yer ruum?” 

"You want to sleep in my room?" you ask, watching as his lids get heavier and heavier.

"Yesh, wanna cuddle."

You smile as he clings onto wakefulness, waiting to hear your answer. "You can stay with me." Your acceptance brings a smile to his face as he sinks onto the tabletop; his head hits the wood with a thud as he finally dips into his well-deserved rest. His soft breathing fills the room as you finish your tea. Once your little tea break is over, you will have to put him on your back and carry him to your room.

~

Three days later, you are once again at the breakfast table. When Belphie finally emerges from your bedroom looking extremely well rested. The others, having been made aware of the situation, breathe a sigh of relief when he takes a seat next to Beelzebub. 

"Good morning Belphie." Beel smiles hesitantly at his twin through his breakfast sandwich.

"I'm sorry for how I acted earlier; I hope you're not too upset with me to go out for lunch."

The smile that appears on Beel's face makes your heart melt as he nods eagerly. "Can Mc come with us too? Food always tastes better when I eat with both of you."

Belphie glances over to you as you nod and directs his attention back to his brother. "I think that can be arranged."

Tagging: @enchantedforest-network

[freakingholland]

"Sofa chronicles" - Jason Todd x gn!injured!reader

A/N: Hi babes, ummm hurt/comfort/fluff time am I right? *cricket sounds* I’ve been really struggling with inspo to write about my fav boys to be very very honest so please, show some love in my comments/asks, I wanna fangirl/boy/they with you all cutie pies

:(

Headcanons? Memes? Let’s talk! My asks are here.

Warnings: injuries, mentions of surgery, physical discomfort, negative remarks, use of pain killers, mentions of diabetes devices/supplies, suggestive implied dialogue (in a joking/pun form, NSFW) - (hurt/comfort + fluff)

Summary: After a patrol went south you are left with one working knee and a caring boyfriend at your side.

Word count: 820+

If you enjoyed my work: Ko-fi.com/freakingholland

questions/requests/ideas here! - rules here

masterlist

my wattpad archive is here

my AO3 archive is here

„Do you need anything else sweetheart?” Jay said squatting next to the sofa, his face plastered with genuine worry.

“Oww… Can I—can I take my meds now? Did you check the time?” You grimaced, trying to shift to a more comfortable position.

Jay quickly glanced at his watch, brows knitting together.

“Yup- you can. I’ll  go grab them.” He stood up and headed towards the kitchen.

“JUST DON’T GO ANYWHERE!” he shouted once he left the living room.

“Oh, you’re sooo funny Todd.” You responded, as your upper torso sank back into the warm pillow.

He walked back in with your pills in one hand and a tall glass of water in the other.

“Here.”

“Thanks babe.”

Jay placed his hand on the small of your back and started rubbing your back to try and comfort you.

You closed your eyes for a moment, appreciating the comfort of his touch.

“Jay…” you said, your voice a little hesitant.

 “I’m sorry, but can I ask you for one more thing?”

“’Course.” He straightened up, immediately attentive, his face softening.

“Ice bag?” you asked with pleading eyes.

“On it.”

“You’re the best,” you sighed, feeling both grateful and guilty for needing so much help.

Thanks to an unfortunate patrol the other week you were now stuck to your sofa with just half of working knees. One point for a hard landing, zero points for Y/N. Thankfully Jay was there to help you out after an ACL surgery.

“Here you go hun.”

You sighed in relief as the cold began to seep through, taking the edge off the ache in your knee. You finished your glass of water and handed it back to him. Jay placed it on the coffee table.

“Move your cute butt a bit.” He requested with a grin. You blink at him, too tired to figure out what he’s getting at.

“You can’t be serious…”

Jay snickered, shaking his head.

“Naah I’m kidding, don’t move.” Jay bent a little to plant a kiss on top of your head before he sat beside you. He chuckled slightly as he noticed the way you rolled your eyes at his remark.

With him sitting next to you, he gently tuged the blanket up to make sure you're cozy. Jay glanced at your exposed leg, his fingers lightly tapping on your hand. That was his usual way of asking to be held.

Your fingers intertwined with his, his rough palm grazing against yours. Your head fell to the side, leaning on Jay’s shoulder. His hair was still damp after a shower. The scent of his cosmetics mixed with his natural smell brought you much needed comfort.

Suddenly you straightened up, when you noticed your sleeve getting wet.

You glanced down at your arm and moved your gaze toowards Jay's. His dexcom sticker got wet and started leaking drops of water.

“You’re making me- wet babe.”  you murmured, nudging him slightly.

Jay blinked all puzzled, then looked down at his arm and snorted.

“Oh—am I?”

“-- my bad pumpkin.” He apologized with a grin.

“Guess I didn’t dry it off.” Jay continued.

He playfully wiped your arm, not making it any less wet, earning a chuckle from you.

“No need to apologize, it’s not like I can be mad at my personal nurse.”

“Yeeaah you’re kinda right. What would you do without me, huh?” He leaned back, crossing his muscular arms.

“Not much, that’s for sure.”

Jay’s phone buzzed.

“Bruce?” you asked.

“Mr. Richard.”

“He’s asking if you’re still alive.”

“Sadly… wait what?”

“Wait what?” He furrowed his brow at your negative comment.

He placed his free hand on your uninjured thigh as he was responding to the message.

“Feelin’ any better?” His warm hand was sliding up and down your leg, as he was trying to comfort you.

“Yeah, a little.”

“Good.” He tossed his phone to the side.

“Do you need anything else?” he asked moving to the edge of your sofa. You grabbed him by his t-shirt, tugging him back towards you.

“No, no thank you. Please sit down for a bit. Do you feel like watching a movie or something?”

“Would love to, any ideas?” He took the remote and started looking through the channels.

“What about this?” he asked, motioning towards the TV.

“Perfect.” You sighed contentedly, leaning into him, your head resting against his chest. He wrapped his arm around you. His fingers started tracing gentle circles on your arm.

“Thanks for taking care of me-- I know I’m not the easiest patient.” You whispered weakly, looking up at him.

“You’re not so bad.” he said teasingly. You playfully punched his side.

“I might have to start charging you for my nursing services,” Jay chuckled, his arm tightening around your shoulders, carefully pulling you even closer to him.

“I know you love taking care of me, you’re a bad liar Jay.”

“I do, I do… now gimme a kiss.”

You happily complied.