#dig n rigs

[cherry-vennom]

Tonka Trucks Dig n Rigs, 1999 PC Game

[tonycries]

We Neva Play!

Synopsis. Turns out, the “r” in rivals stands for “really good séx” when a mission becomes a little too hot to handle.

Pairing. Gojo Satoru x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, rivals-to-lovers, séx pollen, innappropríate use of jujutsu (like a LOT), pússydrunk Gojo, limitless, both are teachers, creampíes, oraI (fem), síxty-nine, banter, breaking the bed, FÉRAL Gojo, pússy-slappíng, BRÉEDING, spítting, reader’s CT mentioned, Yaga’s had enough, pet names, swearing.

Word count. 6.3k (cries)

A/N. Lacked Gojo in the manga so I present to you more Gojo <3

“Gojo, I will kill you before that curse can-”

“Aw, man!‘ Yuji whines over Nobara’s cackles, reluctantly slapping a few thousand yen onto her outstretched palm. He thuds his head frustratedly against the cool vending machine they were crouched behind, “That was rigged!”

The girl scoffs, counting her hard-earned winnings victoriously, “I told you they wouldn’t even make it until the school gates before fighting. It’s not rigged, it’s common sense - not that you’d know anything about it.” Satisfied, she sneaks a look over the side of the machine at the shrinking backs of you and a too-happy Gojo Satoru. “Besides, we’ll get a rematch soon enough. My money’s on her, double or nothin’.” 

“You really think they’ll kill each other before the mission is over?” Yuji muses, eyes locked on Gojo’s infamous smirk - only widening the closer he drives you dangerously towards an aneurysm. “I bet-”

“No.” Megumi’s deadpan interruption startles them both. And as much as he’d like to pretend he wasn’t cramped with the two idiots stalking their squabbling teachers, he unfortunately, very much, was. “I bet ten thousand yen they kill each other before the mission is over. Or worse - end up dating.”

---

“A love hotel.”

“A love hotel~” Gojo echoes, with a hand clutching faintly at his chest. Swooning over you with each word, “Now, usually you’d have to take me out to dinner first, but for you I will make an except- mmpf-”

Now, Gojo knew he could’ve easily blocked your attack - hell, he didn’t even have to bat an eye to activate limitless. But where was the fun in that? Giving into your elbow digging sharply into his side, he’s only cackling at your venomous words, “I could take down both you and those special grades, y’know?”

“Oh yeah?” he hooks a long finger underneath his blindfold, showing off that infuriating wiggle of his snowy brows. “If you’re so great, then why did Yaga have you assigned with me, pretty girl?”

You sigh, rubbing your throbbing temples, “Only because someone-” And oh, if he had the most renowned eyes in all of jujutsu, then you had the most withering glare. “-completely skipped out on his last mission to stuff his face with sweets, n’ now I’m wasting my time babysitting. So this time, I’m in charge.”

Ah, a woman after his heart - in more ways than one, for sure. 

“Yes, ma’am~” 

Dramatically, he mimics the zipping of his lips shut, readily following you towards the flashy building standing out amongst the bustling Tokyo street. Walls painted such a suggestive pink, neon lights flickering special discounts at passersby - it would have almost been scandalous to be caught outside such an obvious love hotel such as this - if it hadn’t been for the mission, that is. 

“Didn’t think our first date would be at a love hotel.” he chuckles as soon as you reach the gaudy, perfumed reception. And that flickering, wide-eyed stare of the woman behind the counter is enough for Gojo to prattle on, “Now, tell me what room you want, honey-” Throwing an arm around your shoulder, you’re pressed helplessly against his toned front. “-they’ve got candy-themed, anime-themed- oh, they’ve even got a train station-”

“Best to keep our train station fantasies to ourselves-” You simper, subtly stepping on his foot with your own, but that only topples you against him. Instantly, another strong arm snakes around your waist to support your weight, as if second nature, “-isn’t that right, dear?”

And you swear, you could spot a tiny dimple when the ends of his mouth curl even wider into a saccharine sweet grin. “If my memory serves me right, you were the one that dragged me here. Isn’t that right, dear?”

Shivers run down your spine - ones he runs the soft, rounded pads of his fingers up and down along. You’re sure you looked like a disgustingly loving couple to the poor lady working at the counter. And to put her out of her misery, if anything, you recite, “A-anyways- apologies. Room 143, please.” Managing to plaster on a weak smile, it only falls flat when the receptionist hands you your key - and two complimentary condoms along with it. “I- uh- thank you?”

And it’s all you can do to not just shove off the 6’3 thorn at your side when he steers the two of you to the elevator with a disbelieving, “Only two?” 

Though, you’re sure it wouldn’t do much against him, anyway. It never has - because ever since you’d stepped foot through Jujutsu High’s towering gates as its newest teacher, Gojo Satoru seemed to make it his mission in life to get on each and every single one of your nerves. The only mission he’d willingly do, mind you. Insisting on interrupting your classes, hiding you little sweets in your office, pushing your buttons in front of-

“Well, that went as inconspicuous as ever.” Gojo hums, reeling you out of your little reverie. “Of course, it did, thanks to me.”

“‘Inconspicuous’ my ass.” you groan, hastily punching in the ground number for your room. Yaga had said that the veil was already completed around the entirety of the curse-infested floor by now, good - the faster you could get away from Gojo, the more intact your sanity would be. “If it wasn’t for me smoothing things over, she’d be filing a complaint against the sleazy man in a bad Kakashi cosplay at this very moment.”

“Hey! I didn’t see you putting on any Oscar-worthy performances. And my Kakashi cosplay is gre-”

DING!

The elevator doors open to a seemingly normal, barren hallway - not a hair or person out of place - though, you knew better. And as much of a fool as Gojo acted, he did, too. 

His steady arm drops from your side when you stretch out your limbs in preparation - shit, you forgot it was still there. “Watch and learn, Gojo.” you hum.

“Hell yeah, I’m watching.” 

A beat of silence. Two. 

With his thick blindfold, Gojo’s expression was almost indescribable - but your skin prickles with the slow, sultry sweep of his eyes down your figure. But before you can snap back at his loaded tone, it happens- “Don’t fall behind, sweetheart.”

Curses burst out of the fourteen heavy, wooden doors along the narrow corridor - some small, some big, all crushed easily under the power of your cursed technique. And neither of you had to utter a word to know you’d both be trying to best the other. 

You’ve got one slobbering mess of a curse trapped underneath your heel, locked in combat when Gojo calls out from somewhere across the hallway. “Still stuck on that grade one?” Your jaw ticks, pressing the curses face deeper into the carpeted floor of the bedroom, “I’ve already located one of two special grades- better keep up.”

Fuck, curse him and his six eyes. 

Not wasting any more time, you easily exorcize the remaining curse, feet carrying you door after door. Most of the infestation had been cleared out by now by the both of you, splatters of red and limbs lining along the hallway - you only felt bad for Ichiji having to organize a clean-up after this. 

The next time you saw Gojo’s flash of cerulean eyes was from outside another bedroom. Goading, “Heh, need a little help, Gojo?” 

“Oh fuck-” he wraps two arms around the special grade’s flowered horns. Powerful legs bowed, cloudy hair mussed, blindfold dangling somewhere around his neck - he was beautiful. And it was fleeting moments like this that you held an ounce of begrudging respect for him. Ripping those offending appendages, “-off. Roughed up the other special grade for ya since you were so slow, sweetheart - consider it a lil’ gift for this date.”

“Oh, fuck you-”

In the midst of it all, Gojo still manages to flutter his long lashes your way, “Well, we are in a love hotel, after all. Just say so if you wanna get those pretty hands on me.”

“I wouldn’t fuck you if you were the last person on Earth, Gojo Satoru.”

His loud bout of laughter follows you to the final hotel room - 143, coincidentally. It was decadent, almost-spotless - had it not been for the towering curse hunched over in the middle. You could tell that Gojo had been here, because its pink, scale-like skin was already bruised.

You slam the door shut behind you, better to keep the property damage to a minimum. Hastily getting into action - it wasn’t anything new, after years of exorcizing curses you’d grown used to predicting their pattern of attack. But it was only after a pressurized, finalizing punch of yours lands right on the curse’s thumping neck that you find yourself growing weary. Cautious of the tiny, red flower that’d sprouted out of thin air on its skin. Immediately, you think back to Hanami, because it was blossoming - unnaturally fast - petals unraveling to explode in sparkly pollen-

Shit. Your head whirled, eyes watery at the heady scent, “Wh-what the fuck-”

It takes only that split-second of distraction before more blooms pop! pop! pop! all down the curse’s figure. It just heaves with fatigue when they all burst out the same powdery substance from before.

“Fuck- what is this-” your thighs clench together, teeth clenched so hard it hurt. You stagger back towards your opponent, and it seems this last-ditch Hail Mary caused more damage than good. Because the curse was lethargic, barely even flinching when you’re back to pummelling it with your cursed technique. Again. And again and again-  “-if only you’d taken to making perfumes- instead-”

It falls to the ground with a last ringing screech, the flowers withering away instantly. 

But the damage was done.

And you’d never felt so drained - even after your most difficult of missions. Never sinking down onto your knees this way, skin heated, mouth salivating. The air in the room was just thick with something so delicious - syrupy, with hints of pine and cherry - traitorously, you find yourself inhaling deep, addictive lungfuls of the scent. 

“Smells so-” your brows furrow, digging a hand into the plush bed beside you to clamor back onto your feet. “Smells like-”

Gojo. 

Your entire body jolts with something so dark - visceral, gasping when you feel your underwear just drench. Mind such a melty mess filled with only Gojo Gojo Gojo - and before you know it, you’re stumbling towards the door-

Bang! 

The aroma only grows heavier near the door, blood thunders in your ear at the deafening crash from outside. Shit, had you locked the door- 

Bang! Bang! BANG-

Fuck, neither of you were making it out alive. 

It’s the first clear thought headlining through your mind for the first time in what feels like ages - only several, syrupy-slow seconds later does it follow up with the realization that you’re now standing face-to-face with Gojo. 

Gojo pain-in-your-ass Satoru.

Who looked absolutely crazed right now - teetering unsteadily on his feet, his head was bowed, fingers trembling. The mahogany hotel door in mere splinters under his hands.

“F-forgot you could teleport?” It comes out a yelp - pained, almost - and the very first note of your strained voice is enough to have his entire, powerful body wracking with a gasp. Goosebumps pricking along his milky skin, he finally - finally raises his eyes.

Shit, he’s finally lost it.

Because Gojo’s gaze was burning, lids hooded, dark pupils blown so wide that his eyes looked almost black. He didn’t look at you with that usual teasing glint, no, he looked like he was going to rip you apart. Twitchy, drinking in a shaky, drawn-out gasp of the scented air. You almost had half the mind to wonder whether this was some special grade masked as your coworker. 

But it’s real - it’s so, so real and you can’t deny it when he’s baring you with such a vicious grin. Plump lips pulled back to show off those glinting canines, “You.”

“Satoru.”

His lips are on yours - pressing and pressing so hard you were sure it bruised. But fuck- you’re kissing back - because how could you not? The candied seam of his mouth was addictive, breathing you in like his last breath of fresh air.  

“Kiss me-” he spits into your slack mouth, as if he wasn’t already. Two hands surging forwards to cup your cheeks even deeper, “Kiss me kiss me kiss- fuck-” That last little swear almost comes out as a whimper, and you can only keen when Gojo wraps his pretty lips around your tongue, sucking lewdly. “Y’smell so sweet- taste so sweet-”

“Sa-t-toru-” you’re managing out. It just then hits you how weak your knees have gotten, sinking down to straddle his muscular, jutted-out thigh. It makes him throw his head back when you’re just dragging your hips in a long, languid stripe. “Look what you’ve- what you’ve gotten us into.”

Pulling away to lick lazily up, up, up your neck, his teeth bite just at your thundering pulse. “Me?” he hisses out, voice a few octaves higher than usual. “You think I’m the one fuckin’ responsible for this?” It almost hurt - but it hurt so good. “I’m responsible for this-” And his startling eyes sink down to the darkening wet patch on the middle of his leg, your flimsy panties sticking to his uniform. “-am, I?”

“Yes.” your defiant fingers are trailing down the hem of his shirt, ripping apart those buttons in hasty, urgent tugs until it was off completely. “If only you hadn’t half-assed it with this special grade then-”

Gojo huffs out in humorless laughter into your lips - the same one he’d give a persistent little curse, and it makes your hairs stand on end. Wondering how high the kill count would really be. In the hundreds? Thousands? “I thought you were supposed to be the babysitter, huh?”

Millions. 

“And aren’t you the strongest?” A trembly hand of yours ventures its way down his flexing body - down, past those plush pecs, past his flinching abs, dipping teasingly just above where you could feel the hiking tent in his tight pants. “How did you end up this hah- bad?”

You’re holding back a groan at the long, solid inches straining to break free of his thick fabric, you could feel the rapid thump! thump! thump! of his throbbing length under your palm. Fuck, water was wet - Gojo Satoru, unfortunately, had a big di-

“You.”

It’s low, ragged - so quiet that for a second you think you almost imagine it. 

“You.”

His lips are sagging open once more, greedy gaze widening - and you knew it was glowing now. Tiny flickers of blue lightning flickering at the ends of his eyes with every mindless gyration of your palm down his bulging, clothed shaft.

“It’s all because of you.” 

Yeah, you would be lucky number one on his kill count when he breaks - or maybe he would be on yours

Your back is hitting the mattress, and the buttons of your poor uniform are hitting the velvety floor - absolutely nothing against the strongest, who was now tearing through your clothes the same way he was ripping apart those curses from before.

Shit- did he teleport you two?

“Don’t know-” Gojo pants out feverishly, and at that moment you weren’t sure if you’d simply babbled your thinking out loud or whether he could read your mind. “Don’t- don’t know- fuuck.” Low, feral groans crack at the back of his throat with each inch of your exposed skin, and before you know it, he’s surging forwards into the naked valley of your breasts. Breathing you in so filthily, “Just know that I need you- fuck m’gonna fuckin’ kill someone if I don’t-” 

Each spat out little word is punctuated with an intoxicated push and pull of Gojo’s hips. Angrily rutting in-between your thighs until it was just a clingy, syrupy mess of slick and precum between you two. 

“Oh-” your lips drop into a soft gasp, reaching out your fingers to smear a sinful sheen down them. It glosses all the way to your wrist with each newly beaded wave of his precum. 

It feels so dirty the way you’re pushing the very tips of your fingers into your mouth. Gojo can only look - can barely even breathe when you slur, “You taste so good, too, Toru.”

Oh, that was it.

Gojo Satoru had finally thought he was getting control of his sanity - he finally thought the effects of that cursed technique were wearing off. But now - at that little nickname - he feels something snap. The lamp on your right bedside table shatters.

And usually, Gojo’s taunting was tinted with a little laugh, an inkling of fondness in them - but right now they sounded pained. Wrenching out of his broad chest, “Fuck you. Need you- do you know what you’ve done.”

Your useless skirt - along with your soaked, see-through panties - are ripped off of your squirming body. And for once in his life, he’s speechless - eyes almost bulging out of his skull, nails digging into the plush of your thighs. 

Your clothes end up in a pile of sad tatters on the floor, and you felt a strange inkling that maybe you’d end up much the same. 

Smack!

Two, large fingers slap down harshly right on your drooling cunt, slobbering down a glistening coat of your pretty juices down his wrist. “Pay attention.” He’s pressing a hot, open-mouthed kiss to your neglected nipples, your stomach, down, down, down in a flurry until the very tip of Gojo’s nose was nudging at your pulsing clit. “Because if m’losing control I need you to stop me.”

The dim hotel lights flicker when Gojo meets your cunt in a sultry, self-indulgent kiss. And through it all, one thing burns into your dizzy mind - his eyes. Maddened, gleaming with slight blue cursed energy in-between your legs. 

“Oh.” you’re gasping at the sheer burning stretch of your thighs being pushed to their limits. Gojo didn’t need that much space - he just loved the way you whined. “You’re s-so much better when you shut- hah!”

His tongue shuts you up by flicking harshly over your puffed-up clit, letting your syrupy juices slide their slow way down his eager tongue. “There we go- good girl, good fuckin’ girl. Hah- all it took was some shitty curse to get you hah- honest like this f’me, huh?” 

“Don’t act like- ngh!” you’re barely able to drawl the words out, which makes him grin a dangerously content grin. Sharp teeth clenching teasingly around your angry clit, throbbing and slicked glisteningly with his spit, “Don’t act like I’m the only one- this way- hah-”

It was true - every hollowed-out suck on your needy clit had him grinding onto the mussed-up mattress. Those silken sheets hiking up with every drag of Gojo’s weepy erection down onto the bed - imagining you underneath him. It wasn’t enough - it never will be. 

That realization was enough for him to break out into a drunken grin, hot tongue smearing open your folds over and over- “Yeah? What about it? Does it scare you that I want to fuckin’ break you, sweetheart?”

He was crazed. 

Dangerous. Depraved. 

“N-no-” you give such a harsh pull on his soft strands, he’s leering up at you with a dragged-out groan. Looking for the life of him so used - you just knew there’d be thousands that would kill to see the strongest so fucked-out, ear blearily blinking open, flushed your favorite shade of pink up to his cheekbones, mouth chasing those thin spit strands to your glossy pussy. “Jus’ think s’unfair how I’m the ah- only one havin’ fun right now.”

You’re shutting up his pussydrunk protests about how he is having fun and to “please, please, please don’t stop” by crashing your soft lips against Gojo’s. Wrenching him upwards, he lets himself be so used. 

“Need you-” you’re gasping, biting into his pouty lower lip. Nosing slowly up his bobbing Adam’s apple, you gasp in that heady combination of pine and candied cherry. “Wanna see if you hngh- taste as good as you smell right now.”

“No fuck- fuck you.” he hisses, wrangling you to straddle his angrily fidgeting hips. 

Running a hand down to fumble with his metallic belt - already loosened. But you don’t have the patience - or the sanity - for that right now, because you’re tugging, shredding. The tell-tale buzz of jujutsu fizzing at your fingertips when you tug down the entirety of Gojo’s pants. Kneading the soft peaks of your palm over that sensitive divot on his head, “Who’s fucking who?” 

“Me.” And there’s another smack! to the heated place of your cunt, Gojo’s own fingertips having you see stars with his power. 

He takes the distraction to just drag you upwards like some ragdoll, easily maneuvering you around. “Turn- turn around f’me- thaaat’s right, fuck-” You’re jostled until your shaky thighs straddle either side of his head, puffed-out pants condensing hotly against your cunt. Your own coming face-to-face with the fat head peeking out from the hem of Gojo’s boxers. Head swimming with how angrily pink he looked, already winking with a drenched sheen of precum up at you. “Arch that cute back a lil’ more- lemme see.”

You’re whirling your head over your shoulders to catch the fucked-out grin on his lips, dragging his tongue out to lap up every bead of your sweet sweet juices, he tilts his pliant head back against the pillows to let it slide down his bobbing throat. “Y-you’re really that pussydr- hngh!” 

Another branding smack! leaves you gushing even more down his tongue. “Yeah, s’what I fuckin’ thought.” he spits out a thick wad of spit into your messy cunt. Gliding his wet fingers over the dripping mess that puddles onto the his chest below. “-can’t even run your mouth- so desperate f’me. Taste so good-” Using his inhuman strength to haul you down onto his pretty face.

Before he knows it, he’s slotting the thin tip of his tongue past your quivering hole. Taking him so greedily, the elastic ring of muscle stretches all around his form, clamping down as if to milk something delicious. 

And Gojo knows - he thinks with whatever’s left of his rationality that maybe he should slow down, take a second to fuckin’ breathe. But, no, he’s making out with your ravaged pussy like he’s angry he hasn’t done this before - way back when he first met you.

A slender fingers pushes past your swollen folds to curl deftly into your gummy cunt, molding up into that easy divots at your walls. He’s feeling around so depravedly for your g-spot, aching to make you feel just a drop of the sheer need he does. 

“Fuck!” Your velvety walls come crashing down around his fingers, knuckle-deep inside your ravenously swallowing cunt. Only getting faster - dipping perfectly to press up against your spongy sweet spots. Shit, he really was good at everything, huh? “You’re so…”

“What was that?” Gojo’s tittering, “Can’t hear you over your cute cunt, sweetheart.”

You don’t answer - you don’t need to, because all the breath in his lungs exhale out in a low cascade. Hiccuping around your candied clit when you take Gojo’s thick, weepy tip just past your lips. Wrapping just around the sensitive slit, it makes him gasp, it makes him keen, it makes him spit out some sloppy swears into your cunt.

“What was that? Can’t hear you over my cunt, Toru–” you bat your lashes, humming around his velvety head. Fuck- if you were in any better state of mind you’d have taken longer admiring him.

Because he was so massive, so pretty with prominent veins thumping at the roof of your mouth. Girthy, rotund end a throbbing red, gradiating into a creamy pink that meshed in delicately with those neat tufts of white at Gojo’s toned pelvis. So delicious. Big enough that you were already wondering just how you were going to walk out of this bedroom - if either of you are in a walking state - or even alive - that is. 

“Fuck- fuck you little-” his mouth refuses to part with your puffy pussy lips, even if it was to talk back to you. “Don’t you dare fuckin’ think this is-”

The new angle has his sharp jaw grinding up into you, jostling your body up and down all over his face. He’s whining - heaving - at this point with every sultry swirl of your soft tongue around his twitchy head. Coating down every inch of your silky soft mouth with a hot sheen of precum, he tastes so good on your tastebuds - slightly salty, with a tinge of something so sweetly Gojo. 

Powers acting before him, he doesn’t even realize it before he cheats - just a little. Eyes burning with power when Gojo uses his six eyes to plunge scarily accurately into the plushy bullseye of your g-spot. Greedy fingers hitting it again and again and-

“Satoru!” your scolding tone has his globular tip twitch ferally into the back of your throat. “That’s not- I can feel your jujutsu, y’know. S-so-” 

“What? Good? Heavenly?” Gojo rattles off. You’re fucking your drooling pussy back into him - you can’t stop the mindless, shallow little grinds in an attempt to meet his mean pace. “Never said anythin’ about a jujutsu ban, pretty- you’re sounding like a sore loser to me.” As if on cue, your cunt is gushing out in more silken sweet juices all down the lower half of his face, squelching so obscenely. His droopy eyes admire your glistening cunt, riding his face to his insanity. “Well- not this cunt, of course, in fact- I think she’s gonna cum.”

He didn’t have to tell you - you already knew, with the trembling in your thighs, and the white-hot pleasure stemming from his incessant making out. Without answering, you only swallow up a few more solid, rock-hard inches of his painfully hard cock, lips stretched obscenely. 

“Y-yeah- fuck, now I definitely know you’re close, pretty girl-” he’s lolling out his tongue to let you drag your pussy across harshly. “Don’t be stubborn- cum f’me,” Rough patches of his tastebuds massaging you just right, fingers still pumping recklessly. “Cum f’me- please. Wan’ it on my tongue- want you- want you to use me- please.”

It doesn’t take long before you’re finally cumming, fucking your high over and over Gojo Satoru’s pretty face. He’s wrapping a free hand around the small of your back, just crashing you back into his drunk mouth over and over and–

“F-fuck, Toru–” you whine, toes curling with each crashing wave of pleasure. It was so violent - so dragged-out, like no orgasm you’ve had before. And you didn’t know whether it was because of the technique or the lazy drag of Gojo’s mouth all over every beading inch of your pussy. Your fist tightens around the thick, heated base of his cock, “Need- need you to-”

“No. Fuck-”

In the fleeting millisecond it takes you to blink, your front is being pushed back onto the now-damp sheets again, a grinning Gojo hovering over you. He looked so ruined - smile gleaming with your trickling, dripping precum, eyes crazed. Suddenly, you almost understand why every breathing thing fears him - almost. His eyes were blazing, flushed angrily. “I’m burning- think m’gonna die if I don’t fuck this cunt right now. Fuck-”

“Havin’ to use your powers for everything?” you’re quirking a brow over your shoulder. “Don’t tell me the only reason you brag about being so hah- good in bed is because of that?”

He’s narrowing his glowing eyes, tiny sparks of lightning flying furiously, “Ohhh s’that a challenge, sweetheart?” Gojo’s sharp canines tug on your bottom lip, and you moan into the messy clash of a kiss - all spit and teeth and the taste of you two. “Tell me.”

“So what if it is?” you’re managing to push back against his slender waist. “Without those stupid powers, m’the better…”

Whatever insult was on the tip of our tongue dies down at the glint of the foil in his hand - the condom from before. That tiny square looking so pitiful held between two fingers, “The receptionist gave me an XL, funny, right?” Gojo murmurs, so dark. “Such a shame it won’t fit.”

One daring glance downwards proves him right - because Gojo was sitting so heftily sandwiched between your swollen folds. Painfully beading needy pearls of translucent precum all over your front - fuck, your cockdrunk self from before didn’t recall him being so large. Big enough that you were sure any rubber would be on the verge of shattering into little pieces.

So then go in raw- you think. But before the words can tumble out of your mind, he’s giving a slow, slippery slide on your cunt, “S’alright- with these ah- ‘stupid powers’ m’still gonna get a taste of this pretty cunt.”

And then you can’t breathe - fuck, you can’t even think straight.

You feel like you’re being split-apart, because Gojo’s just barely pushing in the fat, round girth of his head. Managing to pop in his long shaft past that sensitive slit, before his body starts moving in hurried, impatient little grinds. Frantically trying to squeeze himself in deeper- “Fuck- fuck fuck fuck, even with limitless you feel so good, sweetheart.”

Limitless - fuck, that’s what it was. You could feel the slight pinch of the pressure around your body, the way he was reaching in so deep inside your velvety cunt despite not even being halfway inside yet. 

“Satoru-” 

“No-” his flickering eyes bore deep into yours. “Not that- call out f’me properly now, I know that smart mouth of yours can do it.”

Your words are barely a whisper, “Toru–”

The remaining lamp at your left goes out - cracking into tiny shards. And that’s all it takes for him to push and push in, distantly, Gojo knows he should slow down, maybe give you a second to relax - to think. But he could feel his sanity dancing away with every fucking inch fed into your sopping wet pussy, your elastic walls contorting to massage every ridge and vein of his so heavenly. Fuck- he’d fight a thousand more of those special grades just for another taste of this feeling. 

“Oh-” Gojo’s jaw hangs slack when he finally bullies past that feeble resistance of yours. The very top curve of his head nudging deeply in a glissading glide down your spongy cervix, heavy balls kissing against your ass. 

He lets himself be pulled, used like some filthy toy when your hot tongue cranes to lap up the trail of drool down the corner of his drunken mouth. 

“Wanna feel you-” you’re gasping through each thorough, steady ram into your snug channel. “Wanna feel all of you.”

Another memorable slap! resounds through the heady air, sending sparks exploding behind your lids. “Heh- s’this your way of hah- having me stop using my powers?” he chuckles. “I’m onto your dirty, dirty tricks, y’know.”

Truly, he wasn’t. Gojo didn’t think he had enough of his brain unfried to even contemplate that right about now. But it was just so much fun to watch you mewl in protest, your cunt dripping even further down his twitchy balls with each taunt. 

“Please- fuck m’burning up-” you spit. “Scared s’gonna have you c-cumming early?”

As a punishment - or maybe a little reminder about who really was the strongest, Gojo infuses his next sharp smack on your clit with an ounce of his jujutsu. The curve of his thumb gliding over in tiny circles to soothe over the buzz, “Talk to me when you can say “cumming” without hngh- stutterin’-”

“Talk to me when you-” Growling into the crook of your neck, it’s all he can do right now to bow his hulking body even deeper into yours, kneeing apart your stutteringly closing thighs. There’s a sloppy, milky ring forming where your folds kept smacking repeatedly against the sharp lines of his pelvis, “-can fuck me without your limitless going haywire.”

Fuck- fuck, how he wanted to prove you wrong. To have you crying out for mercy.

But Gojo’s throat drags out in what almost sounds like a cry when his limitless flickers on and off - just for a second. The mere touch of your slippery soft walls around his hot cock making him just slam down an arm on the headrest. It breaks - shattering into tiny wooden pieces, though, neither of you notice right now. 

He’s maneuvering the two of you so easily to push you onto your back. Stuffing your gaping entrance back full again, this time throwing your limp legs onto his broad shoulders to pummel you in such a mean mating press. Just the sight of your fucked-out, pretty face has his ragged breath hitching, “S-sweetheart…” 

Whatever answer you give is tangled up in Gojo’s drunken tongue, lapping at your words. His cock feels so heavy, so hot shoving between your legs. And the stretch - fuck, the stretch was something you’d always remember. Stretching out that tight hole into the very girth of his shaft - all the way down from his leaky, flinching head to the thick circumference of his hilt. “I don’t think I can- fuck, can I feel- please, m’dying to know what this cunt feels like-”

Your nails rake down the pale display of his back, those red, red jagged lines making him rut even deeper into you. “Do it then-”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Oh.

Fuck. 

It’s like something shatters - maybe limitless, maybe his restraint. Because Gojo’s eyes just fall shut in pure ecstasy, aching cock growing even larger inside you - as if that was even possible. Expanding tautly at your walls, he’s forming you so sinfully around his shape. 

“Oh-oh– fuck you feel- how the fuck do you feel so good?” His free hand dips down to roll a depraved thumb over the nub of your neglected clit, catching on your bulgingly-stretched folds. “Holy shit- think m’gonna pass out- think m’gonna die.”

“Hah-” your back arches up sluttily into his around the fifth consecutive time his rough cockhead was grazing so perfectly against your g-spot, fingers buzzing with electricity at your clit. “You’re s-so weak-”

But it didn’t matter, did it? Because all you could do was hiss out a few wet gurgles into Gojo’s mouth, blinking in the sinful sight of him with his eyes so hooded, cheeks burning with a scorching blush, mouth dangling so addictively open while he sucked your tongue. Like he didn’t even realize what he was doing - how each pressurized thrust into your gummy pussy had the lights overhead flickering, sparks of blue lightning bolting from the corners of his mouth at the same sloppy staccato as his hips. How it made you cum. 

“Sh-shit, Toru-” you’re gasping at the feeling of your toe-curling high, shots of pure pleasure running through your body. Convulsing up over and over into his weighty body, “Feels so good- m’cumming m’cumming ah-” 

Crack! 

And then it’s dark.

Hell, Gojo barely even realized when he does, too, shooting out creamy white ribbon after ribbon of seed with a soft, shuddering gasp of your name. And it’s the only thing on his usually-sharp tongue - voice cracking pathetically, when he whines it like a little mantra over and over and-

“Oh-” his five, long fingers splay out across your lower stomach - right where he could feel his own cock twitching wildly at the very bottom of your gooey pussy. Pressing down, hard. “Oh shit- just look at how you’re painted white from the inside-”

The lights were gone out - in all the wards of Tokyo, actually - and yet in the light of the slight flickers of electricity surrounding you two, you could spy the slow, syrupy glob of his cum down your thighs. Coating his hilt in a milky gloss, it sticks to the two of you like a sloppy second skin. “And you expect me to- hah- not go insane.”

You manage out a wet chuckle, too tired to notice how the bed was missing a headboard now. How all the furniture in the hotel room was trashed - as if it’d been slammed down from several feet above. “Hah- b-blame it on the sex pollen.”

The technique has him cumming more than usual, every new wave sloshing at your insides is followed by another - and another until Gojo’s cock felt so raw. Twitching sensitively in a way that brought big fat tears pricking at his eyes, and yet, he still fucks you so harshly into the mattress. Sucking out every remaining dredge of seed in those fat, cum-filled balls thwacking! at your skin. Sloppy. Depraved. Oh, he looked so ruined - like a man that crawled back from death, only to drag you down with him. 

“Oh, sweetheart.” Gojo drags his swollen lips down your earlobe. Voice shot, “I don’t think the sex pollen is done yet.”

---

“Trashed all across the floor, trashed furniture - especially in room 143 - Hokkaido still doesn’t even have power.” Yaga’s bellowing voice has you sinking ashamedly further and further into his office seat. 

Gojo, however, only beams, throwing an arm around the edge of your chair, “Damn- we should really try to send out the power in all of Asia next time, huh, my pretty girl?”

“Out!”

Across the hallway, three first-years eagerly (well, two of them and a reluctant Megumi) peer into the tense meeting. Wondering what exactly happened in your last mission that caused a record-level amount of property damage and the power to still flicker on and off throughout the day.

Yuji is the first one to speak up, “Well, no one’s dead but- why does the air seem so-” he gestures towards the almost non-existent space between you and Gojo - not anything out of the usual, sure, but the one thing different was the lack of threats. “-weird.” he finishes. 

“Tell me about it. That Gojo almost seems…” Nobara shudders in disgust. “...happy.”

And of course, at that very moment, the man of the hour himself turns to look straight at the first-years doing a poor job of hiding themselves behind the door. Sighing overly-loudly, “If you say so, Yaga~” Intertwining his fingers with yours to pull you up with him, “We had a date anyway.”

“A date?”

“A date?!”

“I win.” All eyes - including yours and Gojo’s turn towards the usually-quiet Megumi, his lips turned into the beginnings of a smile. Almost. “You both owe me ten thousand yen.”

A/N. Hope you babygirls have a good weekkkk!!!

Plagiarism not authorized.

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

You're my favorite writer, and König is my favorite aussie man, so OF COURSE im making you write for him, hal, BEAR W ME !

Alright, what do you think about König with the “You’re here late.” prompt? The reader is part of KorTac and always worked alongside König, since they both entered about the same time, because of the readers personality, they are always fighting, one of these fights are specifically bad, leading the reader to go on a mission with another KorTac member, to help out somewhere else and take their mind off things, when the reader face a problem on the mission and ends up arriving late, König is furious.

Moths Hit the Window

PAIRING: König x F!Reader

SYNOPSIS: Fights with König were always loud, but this time his comments went a bit too far.

WORD COUNT: 5.9k

WARNINGS: Verbal fighting, angst, high tension, blood & stitches, wounds, canon typical violence, guns/weapons, death, suggestive near the end, fluff, hurt/comfort, etc.

A/N: Huge thanks to @idocarealot for the German translations!! Also, König's wearing the arachnid skin in this because I love it sm - enjoy, Anon!

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

You seethe. If eyes could turn red yous would be a beautiful shade of crimson—bloody knives ripping out of the cornea to strike whoever happened to get too close. It was as if the very air boiled with the force of a raging tsunami as you stomped down the local military base’s hallways, covered in blood and guts. Never had you reconsidered working for KorTac more than at this very moment. 

Maybe I should just become a mercenary, you rip at the torn-apart gloves over your hands and jerk your arm out. Passerbyers quickly avert their eyes as you shove them into a garbage can and continue on with a growl. No shitty rules, no regulations—no fucking partners.

If people happened to slide past without noticing the steam coming out of your ears, they would have immediately locked eyes on the pure elephant of a man trailing fast behind. König’s eyes were goring into the back of your neck, gray and tan garb swaying as the packs and flash grenades on his combat vest bounced with every step. Accents of red do nothing in comparison to his visible flesh—the section of his eyes uncovered by his mask and head rig alight around his obsidian gaze. 

 König was muttering to himself far under his breath, curses and harsh comments all in German that he wouldn’t say to your face. At least not right now in view of others. 

“I can hear you, you dimwit,” you hiss over your shoulder, grinding your teeth as you both make your way to the armory, “curse me out quieter!” 

“You are making a scene!” The beast grunts, that heavily accented English striking your eardrums with its harsh dialect. 

“Oh, jeez!” You raise your voice even higher, turning back forward and clenching your hands into fists as blood and guts drip off your gear—none of it yours. “I’m just so damn embarrassed, König! I’m making such a large and obnoxious display. Whatever will I do?!” Sarcasm like a valuable drug is injected into the waves of your voice. People from open doorways look out with shock, brows pulled up. 

Everyone quickly darts back away when you snap your head in their direction and send them a scathing glare.

No one was surprised to find you and the Austrian going at it again but knew well enough to stay out of the crossfire. Lest someone get roped into it.

“Fuck off!” You spit the last curse into the burning air and shove past a soldier ahead of you.

König’s dark eyes flash dangerously, lips under his mask twisting into a sneer. The man’s shoulders seem to dig in even farther, spine curling over as if a brooding child. 

This had all started the second you’d joined up with KorTac. Fresh out of the military and eager to get back into the game after a good vacation the PMC group had been at the top of your list. But if you’d known you’d be paired up with this damn mountain every chance there was just because he’d got into the game at nearly the same time as you, you’d have put in your luck with SpecGru. 

“I do not see how this is appropriate behavior,” König follows as you place your palms on the black metal of the armory door, pressing with your shoulders. “I did what I was tasked to do—”

The masked man is cut off as you whirl on your heels, the door slamming shut as his body is shoved into it with strong arms. Dark eyes go wide in surprise, feeling the dig of your nails on his abdomen as your form presses into him and the chill of the door on his spine. You feel his skin bunch under his thick shirt and even if you want to stare him down that’s just not an option. Your warm figures shuffle together with panting breaths and dangerous glints in your eyes. 

“Bull,” you drag out the word, growling it right up into his neck; sniper hood caressing your chin. König’s breath hitches with shakes of swirling emotions. “Shit.”

Shoving once more so he gets the point, you push off of him and stalk away like a feral wolf, already unclipping grenades and medical packs from your vest. 

“You’re the damn reason the target got away!” Gear is thrown haphazardly to the long table in the center of the room. The Austrian watches with predatory eyes, hands clenched so hard that they quiver. He stays still, watching, as you send scathing glances. “The reason we’re going to be here for ten times longer than we’re supposed to be!” 

“It is not my fault you failed to properly check the perimeter before you rushed in like a fool.” Volatile couldn’t be used to describe this…this was nothing short of volcanic. It was as if there were two sides of a scale filled with bullets and gunpowder—fire in the middle that was equally heating both piles as they raised and lowered erratically. König’s voice grates over the air, “I did what I could to fix your scheiße plan!”

“Don’t you shit on my plan!” You point, voice bouncing off the weapon racks as you rip the rifle strap from over your chest, chucking it away. 

“I will shit on it—it was…it was…!”  König’s voice cuts out and he can’t find the words. The Austrian descends into visceral German ramblings. “Es war so ziemlich der schlechteste Plan, den ich je gehört hab. Welcher halbwegs vernünftige Mensch geht in eine heiße Zone ohne vorher alle Zielobjekte richtig zu markieren?! Ich kann dich und deine Rücksichtslosigkeit nicht mehr leiden — du bringst mich um meinen Verstand! Hast du überhaupt ein Gehirn in deinem Schädel?”

You shake your head to yourself, heart pounding. “You’re still the one that was supposed to focus on the HVT. I rushed so he would flush out, but, no,” taking out the magazine of the rifle you hold it in your hands like an accusatory ruler that a teacher would hold. König shoves off the door and stands to his full height; arms tensed and straining before they coil around his chest in a soothing gesture. 

He hated the fighting—the constant strain between the two of you. But when you were together it could never amount to anything else. The room felt like it was a million degrees.

Your eyes stab at him, “No! You had to go and focus on me! I hate to break this to you,  König,” feet come forward and you once again find yourself close to him—breathing the same air and taking in the scent of gunpowder and blood. You point the tip of the magazine into his chest. His unseen lips pull; jaw clenching with held-back fire. “But I am not your damn mutt to keep on a leash. I had it under control.”

It’s as if you don’t realize the Austrian could snap you in half with a single kick of his leg, as if the sheer size of König had slipped your mind as a whole. His hands could snap your neck in an instant, but that was only if he got ahold of you. 

But that was a line the both of you were never planning to cross. Words were one thing in this profession, actions another. If you ever got into a physical fight, you’d both kill each other, no doubt. 

You’d like to think you’re a bit above that, but perhaps not.

König’s chest rises and falls deeply, taking in calming breaths as he tries to get his temper under control. “You didn’t,” he jeers out, “I saved your life, you Heißluftgebläse. And if you wanted to be treated less than a dog,” he grunts to you, head pulling down close to your face, harshly whispering out, “You could have simply asked me, yes?”

You both snarl at each other's throats like rabid animals, the world disappearing all around the obsidian eyes that match with yours; for a moment you get lost in the shining bits of silver in his iris that seem to burn with chilled iron. What little skin you can see is flushed and tight—hawk nose nearly poking out your eye as you’re leaned over like a giraffe near a bush.

Body vibrating, you sharply breathe, “I’m not even going to ask what that fucking means, you tool.”

“Good.” The words are bitten and fast, “because I am not telling you.”

“Great!”

“Perfekt!” You both were arguing like children. Hot faces and unwilling to let the other have the last word. If you got along it might have been funny. 

“I’m going to dump all of your Einspänner out on the tarmac.” Your sure voice echoes with a definitive promise to the tone. 

Pale lids widen in horror at the threat to the Austrian's favorite beverage, comfortably sitting in the Base’s fridge. 

“You would not,” König’s tone is deathly serious and you smirk, eyes dancing. “You…” a guttural growl meets the air, mind translating words and giving meanings, “beast of a woman!”

“Oh, is that the best you can fucking do?!” You yell, splaying your hands out widely and moving away from him. “Now that’s really a show stopper, König, I’m shaking in my damn boots.” 

“Ich komm mit dir nicht mehr klar.” König yells, moving back and placing both of his hands atop his head, knuckles white. “You’re rude—you do not even try to get along. You are loud and disrespectful; how do you live like this?!”

Your eyes slightly widen, watching the Austrian.

“Don’t try?” You echo, scoffing loudly. “What do you mean don’t try? I was the one to try and smooth things out between us in the beginning.”

“When?!” König spreads his hands out, knees slightly bent. “Because I have no recollection of such events.”

“Well of course you wouldn’t!” The heat was meeting a breaking point—words were getting more personal, sharper. Like a blade being honed for the kill slowly; being sharpened by rocks and whetstones of conviction. 

König points a finger at you, voice going low and thin, “I’ve had enough of you, yes?” His sniper hood moves rapidly with his fast ricochets of breath. “Just about enough. Would you have wanted me to let you die?”

“I had it,” your lips spit, nose scrunched, and forehead tight. The man’s chest vibrates with a mute growl. 

In all actuality, you’d never seen him this worked up before. König wasn’t above giving your quips back even if he obviously disliked it—most of that was due to the strange familiarity between the two of you. In large crowds, the man preferred to stay silent. This only added to his almost deadly aura with others, though you knew the muteness was because of social anxiety and not some built silence. He wasn’t shy per se, just afraid he’d say something wrong; mess up the conversation. You did most of the talking in meetings and you never minded it. Added him in when the topic was something he knew a lot about.

Your mind had addled it up to thinking it was cute, actually. How his feet would shuffle; his half-lidded gaze and his intense eye contact to let them know he was still listening. When he’d have to remind himself to look away with a pinch to his thigh because it was starting to seem threatening. It was endearing, even.

But around people König knew, well, he was going to speak his mind. No matter how long it takes his brain to catch up with his lips.

The only thing the two of you were good at was being moths—hitting the metaphorical window over and over on the same topics and tension points. Slamming heads and flapping wings. You were at the end of your rope just as he was.

“I should have never taken you as a partner!” He calls, feet splayed. “Should have gotten out of this the second you were assigned with me. Gott, ich hab wirklich versucht, dich zu verstehen — Ich hätte gleich aufgeben sollen.” Your lips thin, lungs stalling as all the air vacates the room. You stand still and listen to what he really thinks, fingers shaking.

König’s large form towers over all, great sparks of electricity flying out. His gear shakes as he moves, thigh straps pushing fabric to shift and conform to his body. Your blood pumps with brewing hesitance. 

Maybe this had gone too far. I’ve never seen him like this.

“I can’t stand you any longer! Pathetic squabbles that mean nothing, absolutely ludicrous plans that make little headway.” Your head bursts with aggression and what little warning signs you have are squashed. “I can’t keep saving you because you can’t do your job correctly!”

“You don’t have to save me at all!” You scream. “You can’t keep your damn eyes off of me for five seconds, König.” Feet move away quickly from the armory door as if someone had come to put away their stuff but thought better of it. The next words burst from you before you can think of the contents. “It’s like you fucking love me or something!”

König doesn’t miss a beat, but for months afterward, he wishes he had.

“Oh, do not make me laugh—” he scoffs ferally, adrenaline making him talk, “as if anyone could ever love a woman like you in the first place.” 

Twin eyes widen and both parties immediately fall silent. A sharp inhale.

Too far.

Under the hood, König’s face goes an embarrassing shade of red all the way down to his chest. Fingers freeze. Jaw slackens.

You feel like your heart was just grasped in his grip and ripped out of your ribs with one violent motion—one sentence out of all the others enough to knock down the rebuttal that had formed on the tip of your tongue. Your throat closes up as you blink in shock.

“I-I…” König stutters, mind blanking as he struggles for words. But anger was easier than pain.

Numb fingers rip off the last of your weapons and belongings as you let them hit the floor with defining thuds as warm shame floods your cheeks. Shaky puffs of breath like a panting dog. Dark eyes watch with regretful panic, heart jumping and eyes flinching. The adrenaline it…it made him forget himself on occasion—how to properly act when not on the battlefield. It was like that with everyone but…but he hadn’t meant that.

Shame that it’s already too late.

Your fisted hand slams into his chest, brutal and unforgiving. König lets off a grunt but does nothing as you slither past, hissing into his ear, “Find yourself a new punching bag.”

His hand snaps to his breast where you had slammed your KorTac patch right into his heart, catching it. It’s many moments before he can think enough through the alarm; form words.

“I…I didn’t…oh, du blöde Kuh!” 

By the time the man composed himself, panicked tears burning in his eyes, the door had already slammed shut. His feet squeaked over the tile to an empty audience. 

—

Private Military Companies don’t have ranks. There are no Sergeants, Lieutenants, Generals or Colonels. Just people. Beyond the orders you’d been hired on, there was nothing keeping you in line with König on this mission. And those orders were loose at best.

Adhere to policy and listen to the Base’s COs. Shut up and get the job done. 

The Austrian and you weren’t due out for another week because of rotations. Since you’d failed to capture or kill the HVT that you were assigned, another group had picked up the tracks in the meantime. Like an oiled machine, the gears of this operation kept whirling. 

Evolve, or die. 

“Lieutenant!” You call to the geared-up man on the tarmac—the one heading that very same group. It had been only a few hours since the incident in the armory. You needed a distraction; blood was still running high and brain pounding for release. There were only so many times you could bruise your fists and legs on a punching bag before people started giving you nervous looks. “Need an extra hand?”

Your voice sounds strained, even to you. The man looks you over once and narrows his eyes. Nods not moments later. 

“Get tired of your big friend? Okay, how fast can you be ready for me?” You feel your shoulders loosen, a relieved sigh exiting your lips.

“Three minutes.”

“...get to it then. We move in five.” 

So that was how you found yourself backed into a corner five hours into the op from hell—bloody knife held tightly in your grip and mouth open in ragged pants. 

“Fuck,” your vest is torn and riddled with bullets; your entire chest must be bruised by now because it surely aches like it is. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

You really are reckless, just like König had said you were. Maybe you’d just never realized it because he always seemed to watch your six. This…this was really bad. The comms were awash with screaming orders and panic, ringing out across the abandoned mining factory that exploded with light from gunfire and the sounds that accompanied it. You knew for a fact three soldiers were down; two KIA. 

The Lieutenant is one of them. 

Your hand snaps to the radio strapped to your chest, one eye squinted in pain at the ragged slice across your left brow line. At your feet, two heavily armed men lay dead. 

“Pull back! They knew we were coming!” But your word didn’t carry weight here. Your face twists between pain and rage. König’s comment still rings in your ears as the onset of tinnitus does, as if anyone could ever love a woman like you in the first place. It wasn’t ideal to be thinking about this now—it was detrimental that you didn’t. 

But König and the things he did often stained your brain. No matter how much you tried to distance yourself from that fact. 

Snapping the knife in your grasp down in an arch to dispel the blood from the blade, you take a steel-laced inhale and shove off the wall. Limping, but moving. Sprained ankle. Nothing you hadn’t dealt with before.

The concrete under you is splattered with crimson viscera and you stumble over spasming bodies riddled with bullets. With a subdued shink you slip your knife into its thigh sheath, grabbing the FTac Recon strapped around your chest after slamming a fresh mag into it. With a numb calm overcoming you, you slip your forefinger into the trigger guard, poised over the easy press of the trigger itself. 

The long shadows spread over you; your head illuminated by the dull sheen of the moon as you pass under a stretch of open sky to slink into the building across the empty street. Feral yells still bounce off the air and you go to them readily, purpose settling in your veins. 

Pain flies to the back of your mind, displaced by adrenaline and the rabid puffs of breath that fall like grinding thunder from your lips.  

You wonder what König’s thinking right now—he’d without a doubt noticed that you were gone. He’d even probably gone to your barracks room to try and apologize and found it empty. That was just how he was. 

Would he be happy? You wondered. Relieved to see you out of his life? You’d both done nothing but fight, but there were moments of peace. Understanding. 

Shared meals and comfortable, yet sarcastic, comments; soft glances when the other wasn’t looking. Heat in your face and obviously shown on his when shy hands brushed. 

Your hold tightens on your gun, brows dripping with sweat as it dribbles down along with the blood. Gunfire flashes. 

Closer now.

Shadows scream on top of a raised walkway attached to an in-mountain compound, targets with trigger fingers firing on your fellows who take cover behind crumbling walls. Pinned down. You watch, unseen, from a broken window as dust and moths collide. 

Your eyes lock on the closest hostile and you raise your weapon slowly, barrel resting on the frame between shattered glass. You clock the distance and adjust accordingly; breaths falling steady. 

The small insect that keeps hitting the window plays in your mind over and over—drowning out the yells; the fire. 

Just a moth readily willing to smash into that barrier until it dies. You hum under your breath and rest the gun into the crook of your shoulder, cheek to stock. 

Your finger slams into the trigger. 

—

You stumble out of the loud infirmary with a bloody rag pressed deeply into your forehead, medical pouch under one arm. You hear rushing feet and barked orders from nurses and doctors just before the door closes, cutting off as you stake out on your own.

Limping, you reason there were others with more severe wounds than your own; as blood drips from your flooded rag, your feet take you deep into the base one broken step at a time. You’d figure it out yourself. 

Plus, the silence would give you time to think. Think about König. 

You just gritted your teeth and decided that was better than taking up space in the infirmary. 

In times like these, the Austrian would fix your wounds for you, just as you did his. While you had your disagreements and heated fights, he’d never made it as personal as he had hours beforehand. Never made it hurt. 

“Jesus,” you mutter, rubbing your other crusty hand over the mud along your chin. Everything ached and you don’t know if that’s a good or a bad thing. 

Flinching along like a downed bird, you shove through into the last door into the barracks; thoughts now stuck on finding a chair to sit down on before your legs gave out. The darkness of the common area was deep—staining your eyelids as you grunt, bumping into the back of the couch. 

It’s almost funny the way the lamp flicked on mere moments later. 

You hiss, eyes snapping shut as the rays attack your sight, rendering you blind for a moment. The shaking hand on your dripping rag tightens before the spark of pain makes you lighten the pressure. 

There’s a dark grunt just as you open your eyes back up.

“You are late.” König. 

He sits in one of the chairs—sniper hood still over his head yet only clothed in a large compression shirt and casual camo pants. Like a disappointed parent, the Austrian’s arms were crossed over his chest; feet resting out and crossed at the ankles. With such a big stature the look could strike fear into anyone. 

Anyone but you, that is. 

König’s dark eyes rove over you, stopping immediately on the fabric you keep to your forehead. The previous, furious, tone stops and the flash of very real concern takes precedence. His hands tighten on his biceps, thighs tensing over the cushion; spine just a little bit straighter. 

You watch and say nothing—dead-faced. 

Your heart suddenly skips beats, stuck into the framework of the man’s eyes. König’s brows peel back and a timid stutter stays in your breast.

“...Vögelchen?” Lids blink rapidly, and before you can register anything because of your blood loss and fatigue, you’re being dragged to the couch and forced to sit down. 

Strong hands encompass your shoulders and small breaths flutter in front of your face as König peels back to kneel in front of you; spying the medical pouch in your under-arm. 

“What is this?” He mutters to you, vision flinching along your body but always dragging back to the bloody rag on your face. “What did you do to yourself?” 

Scarred hands raise before pausing, obsidian eyes staring deeply into yours as if in frantic question. Your own gaze keeps him close, spying on his veiled fear at the sight of your blood and your disappearance. He’d heard about the mission, then, that much was upfront because of his earlier comment. 

The humvee had been late arriving back. Half an hour. 

“Fuck off,” you utter, shoving off the couch before you’re captured in an unyielding press again, shoved down. Your anger spikes along with your unease, “König! I don’t have the patience—”

“I’m sorry.” The fight leaves you. 

Fingers squeeze your biceps, hold lightly shaking with nerves. “I did not mean it.” Obsidian pierces you, “Please, Vögelchen, I am sorry. Utterly. I speak so fast I misplace words—get far more,” words fail as you stare so intently at him, a strange feeling swirling in your gut. König’s face was going crimson again, though not from anger. His tone was deep and honest, accent becoming more whole with emotion. The hands on your skin stay. “Rude than I intend. It is not an excuse, but…”

In the horizontal oval of his hood, you spy the dots of tiny freckles; the whispers of auburn hair. That hawk nose still points violently from behind the fabric. König never finishes his sentence, just takes a large breath and looks to the side after a moment of silence. 

Then he steals the medical pack from your grip and opens the zipper with firm fingers, taking out gloves and gauze. Needle and sutures. It’s all placed on the side table as the bear of an Austrian stays on his knees for you—bending and shifting as the bottom of his shirt rides up. 

It’s a tense affair of touching skin; warmth and hissed curses. Gentle shushing. But you say nothing through it. Until he’s up in your face trying off stitches with forceps and a needle holder, breath making his hood lightly caress your bloodless face. His fingers are large and firm, never second-guessing or stuttering over the course of directing tools that dig a needling and thread into your flesh. 

He’s warm and every motion elicits shivers. You see his form from the side of your eye; his face’s outline as the lamp light illuminates the hood’s fabric. Shadowy silhouette of König’s strong jaw that shifts with every other breath from his wide chest. 

“You’re an asshole for saying that to me, y’know.” you slip your gaze away just as he snaps over. “Adrenaline or not.” 

The needle pauses and a swift nod is given. 

“I…I know it was. No amount of apologizing can explain how very horrible I feel. It was like I was so…so…” An annoyed grunt was leveled at himself.

“Pissed off?” You offer quietly. 

“Yes! Pissed off.” Amused glances were shared, the air slowly smoothing out between the two of you. Dark eyes quickly look away from yours and König clears his throat terse-like. But softer, steadier, “I…could not bear it if I were to see you in harm and be unable to assist you. That…is why I was watching. Why I do watch you.”

Inside of you, it was like there was a pot of water on the stove, steadily boiling under the heat. Your eyes are delicately wide when the man’s hands leave your face; kneeling body still tall enough to stare into you.

“You are…” König pauses, but not to find the words. To ready himself. He takes a long breath. “You are special to me, my Vögelchen. I can not see you hurt,” a gesture to your forehead and creased eyes. As if your pain was his own. “Not like this.”

“What are you saying, König?” You whisper, face twisted with hurt and confusion. Apprehension. “You’re giving me mixed signals. We always fight with each other. I’m not saying I’m blameless, but…c’mon, now. Look at us.” 

“Not…always.” He grumbled like a child, tools placed away and hands dripping blood before he slips the gloves off. They meet the side table with a tiny toss. The Austrian leans back onto his ankles, butt to heel. He begins to look at your forehead and you can practically hear his heart break. “I do not like arguing with you, you know that, yes?” 

“Me neither,” you whisper, fingers fiddling as a sheen of anxiousness sets in. “You just,” you pause, “confuse me.”

 König blinks in surprise, head tilting and large eyes shimmering. Your mind flashes to a curious cat and you try to explain with a burning face and fast lips.

“You say we’re partners but you never act like it,” he stares and listens. When had you both had a conversation like this before? “You make it seem like you can’t trust me to do the simplest task. I’m not,” your voice betrays you, cracking, “I’m not that useless, am I?” 

He freezes, muscles going taunt. 

“U-Useless? Nutzlos? No, no,” A hand comes to capture your chin and you let him move you where he wishes. Creased eyes lock on yours. “That is not right. You’re not useless to me—how could you be?” Pained brows move in, “did I make you think like this? Like I did not appreciate your skills?” 

Your eyes burn, and the aches from your wounds mix with the pure fatigue in your flesh to leave your emotions running between sanity and sadness. A moment later you’re turning your head away. 

König recaptures it, hands finding both sides of your cheeks. He looks shaky; desperate. 

“No, please, Vögelchen, please. I need you to look at me.”

“König, I don’t—” You close your mouth before you let out the beginnings of a sob. “I can’t keep fighting with you.”

“I know, oh, I know,” his hands are so grounding it’s like you’re the inner pages of a book, and his grip the thick leather cover—leather laced with shared scars and the same that had stitched you up countless times. This push and pull had to end. “I cannot fight with you either—it tears me apart. Oh, du weißt gar nicht, wie sehr es mich schmerzt, dein wunderschönes Gesicht anzuschreien. Mit dir zu streiten bedeutet, meinen Verstand und mein Herz gleichzeitig zu brechen.” König’s thumbs run up and down your skin, still bloody with dried flakes falling to the ground. He seems not to care a bit. 

“What can I do to fix this? Anything. Anything to get us to stop doing this to each other.” You stare into his eyes, both creased and glazed over. 

There’s a brief moment where you wonder if anyone truly even knew you as well as König did—there was no one else that you shared such a deep connection with. Years upon years of being stuck at his side. 

And someone else’s hands had never felt as good as his. They were hard and callused over but cupped your face as gently as one would cup water from a rippling stream. His eyes were stars; visible skin like porcelain, his breath raised a large and wide chest with a fast-paced heart. You could sense his throat trapping air. 

König kneeled to you and bared himself. 

Anything, he had said, to fix what he had said. To stop this. 

There was one way you could think to stop this—it might not have been smart, certainly not, but…hmm…You gradually raised your hand raised from your lap and slipped it under the front of König’s hood. 

Slowly, with all the delicateness of a glass dragonfly, your fingers strayed to the side of his neck to press into tight flesh. A rapid pulse.

The man goes to stone. It’s like you’ve stolen his nervous system. Dark eyes stay locked onto yours as you gaze back, hand dragging nails up with a light pressure near to the speed of a slug. 

König whispers your name into the empty space and the oxygen seems to dry up. Warm light from the lamp cast phantoms on walls and over skin in a small moment of foreign discoveries. The Austrian swallows saliva and you feel his neck flex. You don’t answer him, just watch and feel his own hands tighten on your cheeks in warning. 

But you never listen, do you? Reckless you were called. And König had been right.

You were reckless.

Your hand had now explored like a map the indents of hidden facial scars; long and short over jaw and lips. The hand that was doing this had hiked the sniper’s hood up around your wrist so that the man’s lashes were twitching as the fabric got too close to his eyes. And you watched. And so did he. 

A twin pair of moths hitting a glass window, staring from opposite sides at one another until they realized the break in the frame. 

“Anything?” You ask in a loose tone, barely heard above the flood in both of your ears. 

König was breathing heavily but didn’t pull away. Pupils wide and body heavy to your touch. His spine briefly straightened, until he realized he had moved back slightly and immediately hunched again if only to keep your hands on him. 

“I…” he grunts, “A…anything.” Fingers touch his nose, they spread under the hood to trace the bumps and marks he keeps hidden like buried treasure. Your vision takes in the otherworldly hue on his visible skin; the glaze of rapture in his eyes yet still that ingrained heat. 

Your body shivers at the gravel in his accented English. 

Fingers stall over his lips, hood showing you the pale being of König’s strong chin and jaw. You shift your touch to the side and find chapped lips revealed to you, a small palate scar that had healed to nothing more than a line up to his nostril. 

You spare it nothing more than a glance before you look back into obsidian. Dark ether and dead galaxies devoid of stars. Swallowed in a sea of pasts and futures. You look for hesitation; for disgust. 

You find none. 

“You said that no one could ever love someone like me,” your head leans in, and your breath mingles together with an intimacy that had never been shared between this type of partners. König, as if broken from a spell, takes down a swift inhale of air into his stiff lungs. He stares with far back lids. Flashes of unidentified emotions. “Why did you say that?”

A moment of silence and of rabid hearts. The man’s lips twitch over yours as he answers slowly, not breaking eye contact for a moment. As if he did he’d be turned to rock. As if he’d miss something amazing from happening. 

He speaks with a whispered confession.

“Because if they did—I would have to kill them. Because no other than I would be able to love you more.” Your world slows and your ears strain with the breathy words. 

Face burning your lips part with shock and awe. Violent to any other, but to you this was a confession from a man that could meet you blow for blow—calm you and infuriate you all in one. Challenge you, but knew when he’d gone too far and how to properly apologize. 

He’d waited in that chair for you all night, you’d realized. 

For you to come back to him. His partner. 

You press your lips to his and hear his pitiful sounds of gasped reassurance. Slipping your tongue into his mouth, you let saliva drip off of your chins to splatter onto bent knees and shaking thighs.

König’s arms cage you; capture your waist and draw you closer, lips breaking apart before you both share a wide-eyed look of momentary pause. There was no room to breathe; to think. Chests hit together and fingers tighten to a tendon-visible hold.

The man's growing smile is wide from where you still hold his hood up by his nose, and with a lick of his red and wet lips, he reconnects your awaiting mouths. 

This time, you’re the one to gasp.

“Lass mich zeigen, wie leid es mir tut, Vögelchen.”

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[deanoheartspie]

hi:) can you please do soldier boy x reader where reader is from Butcher's team and very shy and kinda afraid of soldier boy and one night when everyone is sleeping she is awake (in her fluffy pyjamas which soldier boy finds cute) and eating she realizes soldier boys shield is there and starts examining/touching it AND of course suddenly soldier boy is right behind her so she gets scared but he makes jokes etc so they start talking

Well aren't you cute

Pairing: Y/n fem! x Soldier boy

Warnings: none.

A/n: feel free to send me more asks! I hope I did well!

Y/n had been with Butcher for a few months, working along his side with a few others like Hughie. Butcher complained and cussed as he wondered how they'd possibly take down Homlander little did he know what was coming.

••••

Next thing Y/n knew she was sitting in a motel quietly watching the news when Butcher and Hughie walked in with no other than Soldier Boy... “Well well, what do we have here... A cute lady it seems” the man states with a teasing smirk, her ears red and she turns off the TV disappearing off to the bathroom to hide out.

The woman was never good at being around new people, it made her nervous and shy so sometimes she needed a moment to herself to ease the nerves. When she came out she was dressed in her favorite pink fluffy pajamas that kept her nice in warm in shitty motels such as this one.

Butcher and Hughie were nowhere in sight, they had sent her a text that they had separate motel rooms but that she was in charge of Soldier Boy. She didn't see the man around so she assumed he was tucked away in bed, so digging through her backpack she pulled some snacks out and watched TV. The sound of her bag rustling, chatter coming from the screen of people trying to guess the answers on a game show that was rigged when she heard footsteps behind her causing the woman to freeze.

“Seems like you know how to dress for a party” He snickered, looking her up and down in all honesty he found the pajama set fitting and overall cute since that was exactly what she was.

She blushed and pulled her hands out of the chip bag ripping her hands on some napkins, she didn't say a single word to him but she couldn't help but notice the shield proped up against the bed. “Woah...” the details on the shield were beautiful, she's never been this close to something like this before and honestly? It was pretty cool, it was quite heavier then she thought it would be.

“How did you carry this all the time?” she softly asks her eyes sparkling curiosity.

“Theres handle on the back of it sweetcheeks.” Ben lifts it up like it weighs nothing, which it most likely wasn't heavy at all for him.

As they night went on, the tv was still playing in the background as they both cuddled in the bed while she tried her hardest to explain technology to him, it was not going very well.

“This shit is stupid. Why make everything harder then it needs to be?” Ben huffed out trying to figure out how to work an iPhone.

“You can ask all the rich people that” she whispered with a slight shrug.

•••••

“Good night sweetcheeks.”

[b1rds3ye]

Cod men with an so that has a kink for their gear/uniform …thats all

Anon you are SPEAKING MY LANGUAGE at this rate my obsession for people in uniform is unhealthy but it IS WHAT IT IS ✌️(only price and gaz for this one tho, my brain just ain’t braining for ghost and soap 😩😩)

In Uniform

Characters: Captain John Price, Kyle “Gaz” Garrick

GN!Reader w/ no physical descriptions

Word Count: 1.4 (~700 each)

Genre: Fluff, Smut 18+/MDNI, established relationship

Warning: Smut, 18+/MDNI, No overly dom/sub themes I don’t think? riding + worship (Price), thigh riding (Gaz), if I miss anything, let me know

A/N: This is the spiciest I've ever written (it pales in comparison to the filth I read but reading vs writing is a whole different story WRITING THIS WAS SO HARD ARGH-)

Captain John Price

Price is not blind. For the sake of professionalism, he doesn’t comment on it, but he can’t help but feel smug when he notices how your eyes trace his chest rig. How it looks almost too small with how it hugs to his chest, the straps that wrap over his shoulders emphasising his thick arms and broad torso. How the extra gear he has to equip gives his already large chest more volume

He will never sacrifice practicality and comfort over visuals on a mission… but if he knows he should just be wandering around base he may just tighten the straps of his gear a little more than usual just so it hugs his form better when he meets you. Just because he’s in a stable relationship with you and a high ranking soldier doesn’t mean the captain can’t have some fun and a little ego boost!

Still, Price is reluctant to test the extents of your uniform kink. His uniforms are often filthy and he can’t imagine anything more repulsive than some crusty blood of the enemy staining the pure haven that is your shared bed. Even after they’re cleaned, there’s a lingering concern that they’re not clean enough

But if there’s anything that John is weak to, it’s you with your hopeful eyes and sweet smile. He’ll triple clean his uniform and he’s ready to for it to join the confines of your bedroom

Even under you, Price prides himself on his restraint. He hasn’t lost the image of a commanding captain, still fully dressed save for the fly of his cargos pulled down just enough to free his cock that is now buried in you. The rough fabric of his cargos leave a pleasant burn against your bare thighs, but it’s nothing compared to the pleasant burn of John stretching you out. You want to move your hips faster, to have him hit the parts you know he can hit perfectly. But no, this night will be slow, cherishing the delicious sight below you.

You shift slightly and you whine at the impossible fullness from within. Distracting yourself from the intoxicating pain you drag your hands along his chest rig. Prying and slipping your fingers into every crevice and bend of straps and pockets, they twitch as an odd aftershock washes through your body. Under your palms John’s chest lifts with every heavy breath. Pressing them flat against his stomach as it deflates, you exhale with him as your relaxing body adjusts to him filling up your every crevice.

John’s hand creeps up to curl around one of your wrists. The plastic coating of his gloves offers a foreign coolness that has your body jolting and you whine as goosebumps coat your burning body.

“Didn’t know you had such a thing for men in uniform,” he simpered, his other hand down to rest on your hip. He idly massages at the plush skin, fingers digging deep down into the layer of muscle. Tilting into his touch, you try and contort yourself to get his hand a little closer to where you’re most sensitive, just that little bit more but he doesn’t relent, his moustache and beard now slightly curved as he watches you with amusement.

“Only you,” you whisper and his next breath is hefty and rugged, accompanied with a satisfied hum that reverberates through his entire being.

“That’s right, sweetheart. Only me.”

You pull your hands back up to his chest rig, you slip your fingers under the securing straps and take a firm grip. Hands dangerously close to his throat, John’s Adam apple instinctively bobs in anticipation.

“Getting handsy, are we?”

“Just need a bit more,” you mutter absentmindedly. You stare at him with blown out eyes. “Can I?”

“Do as you wish.”

Using your grip on his rig, you pull your hips further, feeling him deeper, harder. His hands immediately find purchase on your hips to steady you as you tremor at the new sensation. He only moves with you, his hips offering the faintest of encouragement as he slightly drives them up into you. Once you manage to set a rhythm above him the captain sounds near unrecognisable as he stifles a groan with every tug against his gear.

“Fuck. Just like that, darling.”

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

Kyle is attentive to you, so he is aware of how your eyes scan his body when he walks past. He never thought that his uniform was particularly attractive or attention-grabbing since literally everyone else wears it, but he’s glowing upon noticing that he can entrance you over what’s merely his day-to-day gear

In low stakes situations, this man is teasing you to hell and back. Not directly though, he’ll never explicitly say he knows you have a thing for his uniform, but just before a mission he’ll have you double checking if his chest rig and gear are firmly secured to his body. Of course, they won’t be, and he’ll ask you to tighten the straps, discreetly flexing the respective body parts all the while

Now you can tell when Kyle’s horny. Instead of immediately shedding his gear to wash up and relax with you, he’ll only get rid of weaponry and any contents in his various pockets but the gear and uniform stays on in a (not so) discreet attempt of getting you just as riled up as he is

“Shit, you look so good.”

You let out a halfhearted laugh that morphs into a sigh as you grind your hips against his thigh. Through the flimsy fabric of your underwear, you swear you can feel everything against you. Each individual fibre of his cargo pants, the ridges of the seams. Even through the fabric you can feel the soft swells of his muscular thigh that you’re seated on.

“You should take a look at yourself,” you praise breathlessly.

Even with clothes on, Kyle looked hot as hell. Still in his gear, it made the slivers of his skin that revealed themselves all the more tantalising. His half-unbuttoned shirt revealing skin covered in a sheen of sweat. Sleeves haphazardly shoved up the arm to reveal his lean forearms, veins pulsating with lust as they hold onto your hips like a lifeline.

“Caught you staring earlier,” he mutters. With those godly arms he wraps them around your back, forcing you to lean into him, sweaty forehead against his.

“Thought you were worried about me, but it was really you I should have been worried about.”

His words are lost on you and he only smirks as your hips move forward and back and forward again with reckless abandon. Each drag of your hips getting more exaggerated, more forceful as you strain against Kyle’s arms that selfishly pull you taut to him.

“Let me… move, dammit,” you huff as you struggle to move in his hold.

“What? Is it bad that I want to be close with the love of my life?” he offers an innocent laugh but his eyes are still trained down to where your hips rhythmically meet his thigh with sinful movements.

Grinding your hips, you grunt unexpectedly as a pointed intrusion brushes against your clothed sex, nipping at where it was most sensitive. Christ, Kyle must’ve forgotten to take out a spare magazine in his cargo pockets. The edge of its hard metal giving a delicious contrast against his thick, clothed muscle, you experiment, trying a new angle to brush your most sensitive areas with his leftover weaponry.

It sends a wave of electricity through your body that has you jerking a knee up, one that brushes against Kyle’s hard on and he whines. His embrace only tightens as he tries to silence himself with his face buried in your chest.

“Shit- do that again,” his words are muffled against your skin, echoing through your rib cage.

With the next roll of your hips you pull your knee up once again. The stimulation against his dick has him instinctively flexing his thighs, and you tremble at the extra firmness in between your legs, the sensation evoking a sound of pure sin from you.

Kyle rolls his head to the side to rest on your shoulder, his ragged breaths burning against the crook of your neck.

“Please- fuck - do it again, love.”

You didn’t have to be told twice.

Call of Duty Masterlist

[jeonsbabygirlsworld]

LEASH

SUMMARY: Fucking both of them is pure bliss but what if one of them is in relationship and still fucking you ?

PAIRINGS: FWB? (Mingyu X Reader X Jungkook)please be aware Mingyu cheats on his girlfriend with reader ⚠️

WORD COUNT:1.5 K

SMUT WARNINGS: Grinding, male masturbation, sex with cloths on, teasing over panties, oral (m,f), fingering,loads of kisses , cream pie, doggy style, unprotected sex (don’t do it y’all) , cum eating . Lmk if I miss anything

a/n: This pure filthy smut. CHEATING THEMES ARE INVOLVED , SCROLL IF YOU DO NOT LIKE ⚠️ ⚠️ALSO THIS IS WORK OF PURE FICTION I DO NOT SUPPORT CHEATING IRL Mingyu be looking extra hot these days. HAERIN is gyu 's girlfriend. enjoy sweet pies <3.

Loud music is the only thing you the three of you can hear your back pressed against Mingyu, while Jungkook is in front of kissing and grinding on each other, wet kisses are shared between Jungkook and you. “Mph baby” muffled moans slipped from your mouth, Mingyu kissing your neck his hands massaging your waist, your hands tapping Jungkook’s shoulder “Let’s take this to the dorm?” You asked gasping for air, looking back at Mingyu while he nodded.

You were dressed in a short white skirt and pink crop top while both of them were dressed in all black. “Gyu bring her where I parked my car, I’ll be heading first” Jungkook said searching for his car keys in his pockets, while you and Mingyu told your friends you would be heading first.

Mingyu held your soft hands dragging you through the crowd, Jungkook had been waiting for you both in the parking, Mingyu opened the door sitting first and then making you sit on his lap you turned sideways to kiss Jungkook on his lips, “Let’s get home soon yeah baby? sit like a good girl” Jungkook said already speeding through the parking lot.

While you turned around to kiss Mingyu his hands were all over your ass palming it and groping them “Speed up kook pretty little thing keeps grinding on me can feel her pussy getting wet” Your lace panties must be wet from the constant grinding.

You soon reached your dorm when Mingyu had you in his arms your legs wrapped around his waist. Jungkook had your house keys opening them the three of you entered the room while Mingyu and you continued to kiss each other “Yah Mingyu get her down now” Jungkook groaned when you both wouldn’t stop. Mingyu placed you on your bed while giggling looking at Jungkook's pissed of face, undressing himself while Jungkook had already sunk to his knees at the end of the bed where you were sitting.

Ready to remove your clothes Jungkook stopped you “Wait wanna fuck with your clothes on you look so fucking pretty in those small skirts” Mingyu sat there on the chair right in front of the bed palming himself through his boxers “Keep going kook wanna see her pussy” he said chuckling.

“Lay down baby,” Jungkook said in a hushed voice “Kook I’m so wet do something " you moaned when you felt his fingers brushing over your lace panties softly teasing your clit and wetting them by spitting on your clothed pussy “Ah…Jungkook” moans slipped from your lips grabbing his hands to keep on licking you sucking your pussy over the lace.

Moving them aside he was greeted with your wet pussy clenching “fuck Gyu she is so wet bet we can slide inside her without a prep” Jungkook turned behind to give him a look “fuck really? could feel her getting wet the movement she started grinding on me” Mingyu said digging his hard cock out of his boxers.

You went without a bra today, you could feel your nipples getting hard at the site of Mingyu jerking off while Jungkook played with your pussy, grabbing your boobs over your top you massaged them while whispering Jungkook’s name.

Jungkook sucked the hell out of your clit while you begged him to stop telling him you might come soon “Yeah baby you gonna come?” He teased you knowing damn well you were near the edge. Easing his finger inside you he slowly fastened his pace when his finger touched your g spot “Right there Jungkook…... right there baby” Soon Cumming you rested there panting heavily “ wanna fuck her Gyu?” Jungkook undressed and soon climbed on the bed settling beside you, “fuck yeah I’ll go first” Your hand grabbed onto his length “fuck y/n” Jungkook hissed when you started palming him, caging your hands over his cock he guided you, while Mingyu teased his fingers over your whole “want you inside me gyu” you said shyly gazing into his eyes “yeah baby? Spread wider” he said pushing your legs further decreasing the space between your pussy and his leaking cock he eased inside you slowly. “What a sight kook …. She clenches so hard kook when you kiss her, “Mingyu said moaning above you, curses left your mouth “Gyu you are so good and so big” you whimpered your hands leaving Jungkook’s cock and coming to grip over Mingyu's shoulder. “I know baby can you be a little bit louder?” He said while his fingers started rubbing your clit, Jungkook and Mingyu talked you through your orgasm while Jungkook palmed himself through the three of you coming in the moment. “Fuck gyu got me messy,” you peeped, “love making you messy baby” Mingyu kissed your cheeks sucking in a few hickeys around your neck while he backed away from your body.

Turning to face Jungkook he was already looking at you, your hands gripped onto his sensitive cock while he hissed “ mmhm sensitive y/n” Humming you climbed on top of him, yours and Mingyu’s cum dripping down your pussy and making a mess between you and Jungkook, grabbing the mess between you two you swiftly moved your fingers through your pussy lips gathering the slick and bringing it to Jungkook’s mouth so that he can suck on them “mm sweet” Jungkook winked looking at Gyu who was on the bed settled on the end of the bed.

“Fuck me from behind kook wanna suck him off too,” you said already getting on your position, Mingyu getting up too. Jungkook loves doggy style, seeing your ass bounce back from his fast pace made him cum fast.

“Baby lift your ass a bit … mm perfect go ahead suck him good yeah?” Teasing his tip near your hole you murmured “Need it, baby” you begged palming Mingyu who sat in front of you. Easing inside you he moaned “fuck so tight even after Mingyu fucked you hard you are still so tight” Chuckling at you “Such a pretty slut for us right Gyu?” He asked his hands on your pretty waist just above your skirt to hold you in place. “Yeah man almost came when she first clenched around me.”

Gagging around Mingyu's cock you massaged his balls moaning when Jungkook hit your spot. Pure bliss from the pleasure you sucked him arrays of gasps, heaves, and rasps left your mouths. “ Gonna cum baby,” Mingyu said pushing your head so you can choke on him better “Yeah gyu cum for me” your words left in a hurry motion because of how fast Jungkook was fucking you. “ Gonna cum too kook”. You warned Jungkook while Mingyu filled your mouth with his salty release sone of it dripping on your crop top. “Fuck y/n gonna cum so hard baby, pussy made for us, gonna make you leave your pussy filled with our cum” Jungkook said in his deep voice.

Soon Cumming you were left with your pussy covered in damp and creamy releases. “Fuck you both tire me out” you said lifting up yourself and facing Jungkook inching closer to kiss him. “mph Koo” moaning when he slightly pinched your hard nipples. You were soon in between the both of them cuddling them you had finally removed your messy cloths, while you hugged Jungkook while Mingyu hugged you from behind telling you did great today for both of them. Sleep soon overcame you three.

Haerin: hey, I’ll be dropping by tomorrow to give your books back . Will be there by 10 am . See you ☺️

Next morning

You’ve been rustling for a few minutes now, “baby lemme sleep” Jungkook murmured “yeah sorry” you reach up to get your phone seeing the time “hm 9:47” you opened your chat seeing Haerin’s text gasping you wake Mingyu up in instant. “Gyu wake up haerin will be here in few” he groaned when you abruptly woke him up.

“Fuck really shit I need to leave before she come” wearing his yesterday night’s clothes he went to wash his face in the his face , coming back soon after he grabbed his things and went ahead on kissing you lips “ thanks for the night baby I’ll text you soon , tell kook I’ll be at the basketball court if he needs me” hugging you one last time he exists the door .

“Fuck I just hope I don’t run into her now” Mingyu whispered closing the door from outside when haerin walks “Gyu what are you doing here also at 10 am in the morning?” She asks not expecting her boyfriend to be here this early. That’s when Mingyu knows he fucked up really bad.

TAGLIST : @babybella337 , @jungk97kwife

PART 2

DRABBLE 1

DRABBLE 2

[911lonestar911imagines]

My girl- Judd Ryder x Reader Smut

Summary: After a small scare, Judd comes home to make it up to his girl, Y/n

Warnings: Smuuuuuuuut

Summary: After a small scare, Judd comes home to make it up to his girl, Y/n

Your husband was always a kind man, but a wreckless one. You loved Judd more than anything, and would do whatever he asked, even though he hates asking for things from you. So whenever you heard his voice over your scanner, that you may or may not have taken home from your shift you got worried.

"Cap, If I don't make it home..You make sure my girls know I love em"

His words echoed in your head, you knew calling and texting would be no use, so you were forced to sit and wait, for either Owen to show up with bad news, or to see your husband walk through the door like any other night. Sitting on the couch with your daughter you leaned back, trying your best not to fall asleep, you had to stay up, no matter how late It was.

Judd groaned getting the last stitch done on his shoulder, anxious to get back home to you and his daughter, finally he saw Paul walking over with his phone "Sorry man, someone moved your charger, so it was in a different spot" He apologized handing the phone over, Judd just nodded unlocking it and starting to search for your contact.

Your phone ringing scared you awake, not sure when you got up and put your baby in her bassinet you searched for your phone desperate to answer incase it was Judd. "Hey baby doll" You heard your husband's southern drawl come through the other end of the phone. "Judd..Are you alright?" You asked immediately chewing on your nails, your body shaking with anxiety "Yeah, yeah, I'm alright, baby doll. I'm leavin' the firehouse now" he said calmly, picking up on your anxious tone. "You had me worried, husband" You whispered finally feeling your body relax "I know, I know, I'll tell 'ya all bout it once I get home" He explained, you smiled to yourself a bit starting to pace the living room waiting for his arrival.

It felt like forever before you heard the front door open, rushing over to him, you hugged Judd tightly taking in a deep breath. "There's my girl" He whispered kissing your face repeatedly as he lifted you up, carrying you to the couch. "I missed you" You whispered wrapping your arms around his shoulders, Judd just huffed against your skin, running his hands up your back. "Bad day?" You whispered pressing your lips against his jawline "Shhh" He hushed squeezing your waist "No work talk, no baby talk right now" Judd added on pulling you closer to his body on his lap, making you grind against his lap.

"Mr. Ryder, sir, what has gotten into you" You chuckled, feeling him squeeze your hips in disagreement. "Just missed my wife, damnit" He grunted, pressing his thumb into your jawline, forcing your head to the side before leaving hickeys down your neck.

"J-Judd" You whispered in shock, you and Judd had done things like this before, but he's never come home and immediately wanted to get in bed with you. He pulled away grunting giving you an almost tempting glare "I missed my wife, and I couldn't help but catching a glimpse of you this mornin'" He whispered pulling off your shirt, you cupped his cheeks, forcing his eyes to look up at you. "All you had to do was ask" You chuckled attempting to get up and lead him to your bedroom, but he just pulled you back onto his lap, not moving from his spot on the couch.

"Judd, we're in the living room" You whispered resting your fingers in his hair "I'm not movin, little one's in her room, it's okay" He whispered grinding his hips against yours, forcing you to dig your nails into the back of his neck "Fuck" He grunted pulling you closer, you moved your hands down before your fingertips found the stitches on his shoulder. "Judd what happened?" you asked pulling away "Don't wanna talk about it" He grunted trying to kiss your neck again but you pulled away again. "I fell off the rig's ladder and got a little banged up, I'm alright though" He whispered before undoing his belt, you didn't care how many times you and Judd had sex, it would always make your stomach flip seeing him take his belt off. Judd could notice your stare on his belt, he smirked taking your hands behind you using his belt to keep them latched behind. You let out a very shaky breath looking at him "You want this?" He asked cockily grinding his hips up against you, holding the end of the belt to keep your hands behind you. "Yes, please Judd, yes" You half whispered half moaned, trying to keep your voice down, Your husband smirked kissing down your chest as he undid your night shorts for you.

"Holy hell, you're beautiful" You heard Judd whisper before feeling your shorts and the underwear you were wearing being ripped off "Judd!" You whisper yelled looking at him in pure shock "They were too much struggle" He shrugged caressing the side of your neck with his thumb. "Judd. Fuck me please" You grunted in annoyance "Mrs. Ryder, language" He warned teasingly before pushing two of his fingers inside of you, you felt your legs twitch as you arched your back. You two weren't that extreme in bed, but Judd was possessive, and in certain moods of his, he doesn't want anybody getting you off, especially yourself included.

"You're alright, baby, stay there" He grunted kissing you deeply while biting your lip, you whined against his lips feeling his fingers curl inside of you. "J-Judd" You whimpered scratching at his back while grinding against his fingers "Yea baby, you're doin great, takin three fingers" He grunted biting down on your neck lightly. You whimpered trying not to arch your back and follow Judd's instructions, whining as you felt him pull his hand away from you "W-What..?" You whimpered looking at him before biting your lip. You watched as he pulled himself out of his boxers and jeans, stroking himself with one hand as he undid your hands. He helped you lean back on the couch, holding your hands above your head as he slowly pushed into you, you fought against his hands, desperate to touch his skin, pull his hair, hell even just a quick kiss, but Judd was staying persistent, watching you fall apart just by him bottoming out.

"Talk to me baby, use them pretty words of 'yers" Judd whispered in your ear slowly pulling his hips away from you, to the point where you only felt the tip inside of you. "F-fuck Judd, I've missed you, so much, fuck I've missed this" You whined still fighting against his hold, which was obvious that it frustrated but amused Judd. "Do better" He grunted pushing all the way back inside of you, making you arch your back, forcing your chest into his face "Good girl" He whispered taking a nipple into his mouth, running his tongue over it, doing small motions while moving his hips, keeping his dick inside of you going in and out. "J-Judd please come on" You groaned trying to grind your hips to speed up his agonizingly slow pace. "Oh You want it faster now, do you?" He asked breathily before bucking his hips quickly, he slammed his lips against yours to keep you quiet, letting your hands fall so he could find your clit with his ring and middle finger.

You felt like you were about to explode, the pressure between your legs was intense, and Judd knew it, he reveled in the fact he could make you fall apart this quickly. Judd on the other hand wasn't worried about his release, just watching you fall apart on his dick over and over again.

Your husband had you laying on the couch for almost three hours, orgasm after orgasm, you weren't even sure Judd was cumming, but he was enjoying himself, putting you in different positions just to see how quickly you fell apart.

[hoonvrs]

ROUND AND AROUND — n. riki

req for 1k event!

PROMPT  [ two, 9 ] picking you up and twirling you when they’re excited 

PAIRING riki x gnr

GENRE est. relationship, fluff

WARNINGS none

W. COUNT 0.6k

S. NOTE last but not least my baby riki. this is the last req from my event ( long overdue ik but shhh ) but I tried to make it a little special for my special boy and i genuinely had fun writing this so hopefully it’s good <3

also the title being one of my fave songs ever. jo yuri u will be punished for making it so so short

the sounds of machines beeping and other teenagers screaming rang through your ears as you walked through the arcade hand-in hand with riki. walking past all the friends playing with the claw machines before you pulled him back towards one that caught your eyes.

“oh my god, how cute!” you said, digging through your pocket to ply one round before you felt riki push you away to take your place.

you see him slot in a coin as he bends down a little to grab the joystick, posture relaxed “i’m an expert, watch me get it on the first try for you.”

fast forward, it’s been over half an hour and still no plushie in sight. your competitive boyfriend refuses to give up after many failed attempts, something about not letting a stupid machine hurt his ‘manly’ pride. he was hunched over the control keys, knees bent, as he followed the claw using his whole upper body.

after another fail you begin to tug at the bottom of his shirt, “come on, babe. we all know they’re rigged, and you’ve already spent too much on it.”

you see him huff under his breath, annoyance starting to show through his face still adamant on winning. suddenly shooting up straight, startling you as he whips his head towards you. If there was a lightbulb above his head, it would’ve turned on, “hug me.”

“what?” you looked at him confused, seeing him looking completely serious.

“hug me, you’re my lucky charm,” he grabbed your arms, encouraging you to wrap around his waist, and how could you say no after all the effort — and money — he has used to discourage him now? so, slowly wrapping your arms around him wasn’t the problem, but the awkward situation it left you in with him slightly bending into you.

trying to ignore the questioning glances thrown your way by people just trying to walk past you two as riki goes back into focus with a deep breath.

you couldn’t see much of what was going on, having your view obstructed by your boyfriend's huge back until you start to feel him shake. he turned around so quickly you barely had time to register before you suddenly felt your feet leave the ground.

rikis excited about winning the plushie after god knows how much time and money manifested in him lifting you and spinning you both, “i knew you were my lucky charm!”

leaving no room for you to respond, he quickly places you down as he turns to retrieve the plushie, an almost jarring yellow duck with pink round cheeks and a puffy beak. presenting it to you like a cat would when leaving a dead bird at your doorstep, all pridefully accompanied by the biggest box smile on display.

“here you go, bae. why’d you pick this duck anyway?” he asked, the adrenaline of finally winning evidently still hadn’t worn off yet. you slowly raised the plushie to be beside rikis head, now having two ducks facing you.

you could see the gears turning in his head, but no dots were connecting as he slightly tilted his head with a pout on his lips. you could swear he was trying to copy the duck if you hadn’t known him well enough.

“no reason, just cute.”

shrugging in response, as he grabs your hand to pull you towards another game that wouldn’t suck your pockets dry. looking down to see the duck snug between your forearm and chest and looking up to see the boy you love who looked almost identical.

but of course, one of them is way cuter.

perm taglist @mesopret @whoschr ​@haknom @shinsou-rii @redm4ri @lacimolela @llama-lyna @boyfhee @lazysmushi @flwoie @kocokookie @kyexvly @seongclb @dammit-jjk @flwrshee @produmads ​@teddywonss @aleiouvre @dneltrise @aleiouvre @nyxvrse @yohanabanana @whois-alexis @sngvhs @tinyegg @sserafimez @satsuri3su

[ssturniolo]

hii could u do a chris or matt angst? like a realllyyyy sad angst but then the fluffiest cuff ending ever?? thank uuu and i love ur work sm <33

Fixed

𝔭𝔞𝔦𝔯𝔦𝔫𝔤 - Matt x fem!reader

𝔰𝔲𝔪𝔪𝔞𝔯𝔶 - After Matt realizes why you’ve locked yourself away from him, he shows up at your apartment, attempting to fix things.

𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰 - sad angst, hints of depression, comment on body, kissing, sorry if I missed any <3

Curled up on your couch, in the same clothes you’ve been wearing for a couple of days, you scroll through comments on the last car video the triplets filmed. The one you were in.

[matt doesn’t look at her the same anymore]

[I think Matt’s falling out of love with her]

[no offense, but matt and y/n’s relationship kinda looks one-sided]

[anyone else noticed that y/n put on a few pounds? No hate but maybe that’s why Matt isn’t into her anymore…]

Squeezing your eyes shut, you power your phone down, knowing if you don’t, you’ll continue doing this for the next few hours. It’s been like this for days, locking yourself up in your apartment, only to spend hours looking through TikTok and YouTube comments mentioning you and Matt.

You and Matt had been dating for 8 months now, and you were so afraid to lose him, you cut him off completely. Ignoring his texts and calls, pleading you to answer your phone, you felt as though you were digging yourself deeper into a hole, and couldn’t seem to climb out.

You couldn’t remember the last time you’ve eaten, nevertheless showered. Simple tasks seemed like the end of the world, and you could never seem to shut your head off. Although you’ve never been good at communicating your feelings, Matt always knew what was going on, and comforted you without pushing your boundaries. But this time, he couldn’t seem to figure it out.

Laying on his bed, mindlessly scrolling through instagram, Matt is interrupted by Chris barging through the door. Shoving his phone in Matt’s face, Chris let’s out an angry huff.

“Look at all of these comments about y/n on here man” Chris let’s out, frowning at his brother. Matt grabs Chris’s phone out of his hands, scrolling through the awful comments about you.

“There’s more on TikTok, I hope she hasn’t seen them” Chris says, running a hand through his hair. And then it clicks. Matt stands up, reaching to grab the car keys off of his bedside table. He can’t believe he missed it, ever since those videos were posted, you had been locked up in your apartment, completely blocking him off.

“Where are you going?” Chris asks, confused at Matt’s sudden urge to leave the house.

“To fix things”

Hearing a knock at your door, you stand up, dropping the blanket that’s been wrapped around you for longer than you can remember. Stumbling over, you peek your head out the door, only to find Matt staring back at you.

Hesitantly, you opened the door fully, waving Matt in. Now standing there in front of him, you felt so small, so unimportant, those comments were probably rig-. Matt grabs your hand, pulling you from your thoughts. He leads you to the couch, pulling you down next to him.

Avoiding his eyes, you play with the strings of your hoodie, afraid that if you look at him, it’s all gonna be over.

Matt surveys you. Noticing the dark circles under your eyes, the way your shoulders slump, the paleness of your skin. Tears sting behind his eyes as he cups your cheek lifting your head to meet his gaze.

Leaning into his touch, you let out a shaky breath. “You don’t love me anymore, do you” you whisper, watching as his eyes brim with tears.

“Of course I still love you, nothings ever going to change that” he says, tears now trickling down his face.

“B-but the comments, the edits, the everythi-” your cut off by him smashing his lips into yours, pulling you as close as possible, quickly filling the gap in between you two. Tilting your head to deepen the kiss, you let out all of your pent up emotions without needing to speak.

Pulling away to catch his breath, Matt presses his forehead to yours. “You can’t pay attention to any of those comments y/n. Those are just a bunch of jealous fans who want to tear you apart. I WANT you, I NEED you in my life, I’m not sure what I’d do without you” he lets out, wiping away stray tears from your cheeks.

Pulling away to look into his eyes, a small smile forms across your lips. “Thank you for being here when I need you the most” you say quietly, twirling a lock of his hair around your finger.

“I’ll always be here for you my love” he says, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “Mind if I stay the night?” He asks, earning a quick nod from you.

After showering and doing your skincare for the first time in a week, you crawl into bed with Matt, resting your head on his chest as he wraps his arms around you. Exhausted, you mumble a quick “love you” before drifting off to sleep.

“I love you too” Matt whispers into your hair, planting a kiss on the top of your head.

/////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Thank you for the request! This is a longer one, I hope you like it! This is my first Matt fic so I hope I didn’t disappoint. I also tried changing the colors of the boys dialogue so if y’all don’t like it, please let me know. Requests are open!! :)

XOXO - Zoe

[lilacripley]

Angel Dressed As a Demon

Pairing: Dark!Rhea x Reader

Word Count: 1.4k

Warnings: NSFW ish, slapping, dark themes, jealousy

A/n: forgive my use of tenses, keeping one tense has never been my strong suite. Also this is fucking rushed and not proof read soo yeah.

You weren't quite sure how you ended up in this position; body heaving, standing face to face with the woman who woman who was meant to protect you from everything, trying to puff out your chest to appear bigger than you felt.

You used to feel big. Now you only felt small under her gaze. An ant crushed under the thumb of a psychopath.

Rhea made you feel small again.

You'd met her when your boss set you up with a journalism gig for the WWE, set up with a camera outside a club. You'd been stood hours, jostled between men bustling to get a better look at the club entrance.

You'd never been a fan of crowds.

Or men.

Pushing through the reporters, you made your way slowly around the building where the people lingering were thinning out. Slumping yourself against the wall, you exhaled loudly, knocking your head back and staring into the sky.

You didn't even know why you'd agreed to this job, you didn't know shit about wrestling, nor did you want to be paid pennies for snapshots.

You'd been wrapped up in your own head when someone cleared their throat beside you. Slowly, you'd risen your gaze to meet worried blue eyes, the glare from the streetlight casting a golden halo around her head.

'You okay?' Her voice was soft, and she reached out for you like you were an old friend, not a stranger.

Finding yourself nodding, unable to take your eyes off her, the way her hair fell in front of her eyes and she'd brush it from her face with dextrous fingers.

'Well then what's a pretty little thing like you doing out here alone at this time of night?' You hadn't even noticed that the sun had long since dipped below the tips of the buildings, casting dangerous shadows down alleys.

She'd led you inside that night, and you'd talked about everything and nothing.

It didn't take long for her to take you under her wing, taking you everywhere she went, possessive, protective and so loving. You hadn't felt love like that in a long time. Falling for an angel dressed like a demon, you swooned over her ring costumes, appreciated being able to see her without the get up to. You were smitten.

The honeymoon phases ended. They did so abruptly, after a match against Becky that she'd lost.

You'd told her again and again, 'the match was rigged, in Beckys hometown, nothing more could be expected.' She'd fumed, black fingernails digging crescent moons into her palms until you'd snaked you palms into hers, pushing yourself softly into her gaze.

She was medusa, and as her palm had landed for the first time against your skin, you felt yourself turn to stone. You never really got the feeling of life back into your bones after that.

'You think Becky deserved to win over me? Go crawling to her for attention, maybe she'll fuck you if your desperate enough.'

'I love you.'

'I hate you.'

'I still love you.'

It was true, you loved her pain. Deserved it maybe. No one would love you like she did.

As time passed, you found yourself distanced from everyone you'd become friends with. Not allowed to speak with Liv, one of the first people you'd met whilst at RAW in your first few weeks of being with Rhea. Rhea only allowed you to sit with members of the judgement day while she was in the ring, but you usually just sat in silence and waited for her to return.

She'd caught you laughing with Becky one night, bursting through the door angrily just as Becky had laid her hand on your thigh, laughing. She'd told Becky to get out if she knew what was good for her, and she'd fucked you, bent over the bench in the locker room.

'Do her fingers feel better than mine do?'

'Do you call her Daddy, you little slut? Go on, call out for Daddy. See if she wants to come see who you really belong to.'

Removing her fingers from your mouth, grasping your jaw and caressing it with her thumb.

'Say it. Who owns you babygirl?'

'M-Mami, you do. I'm yours, only yours.'

'Do you feel her fingers inside you the next day? Do you scream her name like you do for me, hm?'

Rhea had taken your phone after that, kept you at the house while she worked. She didn't want you getting into trouble as she'd said. Didn't want you wandering off.

Liv had popped round that day, all wide eyes and worried, eyes lingering on the discoloured skin around your arms and jaw, promising to return with a phone.

That had been months ago. You were drowning in your mind, trapped in a body that belonged to an angel dressed as a devil.

You weren't sure that she was an angel anymore.

You knew you still loved her. And hated yourself for it.

'Where the hell do you thing you're going?' You stopped, hand contracting against the door handle as if it would just disappear from your grasp.

You turned towards her voice, angry eyes flashing hot towards you as she stepped forward. Rhea raised her eyebrows threateningly.

'I was just- I just needed some air, I'm not going anywhere I swear.' You didn't know who you were trying to convince.

You'd heard the slap before you felt it, a sharp pain that had you doubled over clutching at your cheek with aching palms.

'You think I was born yesterday babygirl? You think I don't know how you've been whoring yourself out to Liv?' Her fingers were around your neck now, and you couldn't help but remember the time when you'd watch her fingers; breathlessly in awe. Now they took your breath destructively, clamping down and leaving you gasping.

You smacked her arm away, shaking the feeling off your skin, 'I don't know what the fuck you're talking about. Liv and I are friends,' you spat at her, turning away and slamming your hands against the door in frustration. 'And I haven't even spoken to her since you have taken my fucking phone.'

You felt Rhea's body pressing up against you, pushing you against the door and sliding her hands down to rest on yours. Linking your fingers she laughed, breath hot in your ear, teeth nipping at the skin under your ear. You pinched your eyes closed, trying to not get yourself worked up.

You hated her.

But you loved her.

'I found your little burner phone you little slut. Now, does she fuck you as good as Mami does?' Her tongue licked a strip down the nape of your neck as you groaned. 'Don't think for a second I won't get the boys to sort her out for fucking what's mine.'

'I'll leave you,' you whined, straining against her grip, turning around to face. She smiled, lip curling into a snarl as she pressed a kiss to your browline.

'You wouldn't dare, would you baby?' fingers drawing idly over the faint marks on your wrist, before dancing over to your hip bone. The faint 'Mami' was still visible in the skin there, making you shudder and clench your teeth. 'You're mine. Why don't you show me how much you love me? Put that petulant little mouth to use and then maybe Mami will forgive you for being such a little brat hey?'

Long fingers tangled themselves in your hair, pulling taught at your scalp as she pulled your head back. Rhea kissed up your neck, biting and sucking at delicate skin until red bloomed in place. A painful canvas for her art. When you refused to acknowledge her she pulled away, cocking her head slyly and pinching at your arm. 'When Mami asks you a question you answer her, ungrateful little bitch.'

'No.'

You spit on the ground at her feet, and puff yourself up. Done making yourself small for her. You asked herself if she'd always been that tall.

All that you could hear was the blood pounded a heartbeat in your ears, and her breath, short and fast and so angry. Eyes full of poison. And yet she smiled at you, shaking her head as her hands dropped to the clasp of her belt.

[outermaybanks]

Out of the Woods - ch 12

a/n: sorry for the break college is whooping my ass :( series masterlist

prev ☆ next

When I woke up, it was once again to the feeling of being suffocated, JJ’s head nestled into my neck. “JJ we gotta get dressed.” I whispered, starting to move him.

He let out a whine as he rolled off me, allowing me to get up. 

“JJ, c’mon, today’s the day, John B is gonna come by right after his fishing trip with Ward.” I said, looking for a shirt. I found one near my bag and threw it on before looking in my bag to find some pants.

“I was having such a good dream…” JJ mumbled, I pulled some shorts on as he finally sat up. JJ watched me for a moment before a smile crept onto his face.

“What?” I asked, buttoning my shorts. “By that mark on your neck, I don’t think I was dreaming.” 

I furrowed my brows before digging deeper in my bag for my compact mirror, and when I held it up, sure enough there were hickies scattered on my neck. “I’m gonna kill you, Maybank.”

“You’re wearing my shirt.” JJ countered, making me look down. “You look better in it.”

I rolled my eyes and quickly threw him his clothes. “Get dressed, I’m gonna make some breakfast.” I said before leaving the room to head for the kitchen.

My friends slowly joined me, first Pope, then Kie, and JJ last just in time for me to make some plates for everyone. He was shirtless, which only drew more attention to the fact that I was wearing his shirt.

“Thanks mom.” Pope teased, grabbing his plate.  “So… did you guys hear any strange noises last night?” Kie asked as she made hers.  “Nope.” I quickly answered, keeping my head down, focused on my plate. “What noises?” JJ asked with a smirk. “I can’t be too sure. A thudding. But it only lasted like… 15 minutes.”

“Hey! 15 minutes is long for some thudding noises,” JJ defended and I hit his arm, making Kie and Pope burst out laughing.

“Fine, next time, make your own damn breakfast,” I said, sitting on the counter with my plate in my hand. “Oh c’mon mom,” Pope said. “Yeah, we’re just teasing. It’s not our fault you're practically waving it in our faces.” “What’s that supposed to mean?” I questioned.

Kie’s eyes widened before she looked to JJ, so I looked to JJ, with his shirt off, you could see faint scratch marks along his shoulders and back.

“What can I say? The lady couldn’t keep her hands off me,” JJ said, earning groans of disgust from our friends. “Go put a shirt on, JJ, please, before John B and Sarah get here,” I instructed. “Yes ma’am,” JJ replied, putting a piece of bacon in his mouth before getting up from the table.

After breakfast, John B still hadn’t shown, so we all decided to wait outside for him, Me and JJ laid together in the hammock, while Pope and Kie tested out the rig using the tree.

“John B pullin’ a Houdini,” JJ spoke up as I fidgeted mindlessly with his fingers and the rings on them. “Yeah, where is he?” Pope asked. “He’ll show,” I said, loud enough for Kie and Pope to hear. “I got my scholarship interview tomorrow, we gotta get this done,” Pope added.

“Speak of the devil!” JJ chimed, and I sat up to see John B walking over. JJ got out of the hammock to greet him, but he ignored JJ and Pope’s bickering over who set everything up, and just walked into the house. Me and Kie exchanged looks then quickly got up to follow after Pope and JJ, already following after John B. He was searching for something. He ignored all of us as we asked what was happening, but he stopped looking after he pulled the gun from under the pull out couch.

“John B, what do you need the gun for?” JJ asked, but John B ignored him, and when JJ tried to stop him, John B flipped him onto the couch.

“Jeeb, what the hell?!” I scolded, but he just pushed Pope out of his way. “What the hell is his problem?” I asked, helping JJ back up. Kie steadied Pope, then chased after John B. “John B what the hell are you doing?” Kie called. When we got back outside, John B was JJ’s motor bike.

“Ward knows about the gold. He killed my dad,” John B said, making all of us stop. His voice was cracking, and before we could process what he said, he drove off.

“What the FUCK?” JJ shouted, running a hand through his hair. “What do we do? Do we follow him? Go to the police?” I questioned. “Cops are useless,” Kie said, exasperated.  “Junie, June- where’s your gun?” JJ asked.

“In my bag-” I said pointing behind me before heading back into the house, the three of them right behind me. I grabbed my bag from the room, but JJ took it out of my hands, digging through my clothes, pausing to pocket a pair of my underwear before finally finding the gun.

“I say we go find Ward,” JJ said, holding the gun up. “JJ, stop.” I scolded, grabbing my panties from his pocket. “We can’t kill Ward Cameron, we need to find out where John B went.” “Who knows where he went?” Pope pointed out. “Sarah… He’s gonna go find Sarah,” I said. “How do you know that?” Kie questioned. “‘Cause it’s John B, we should take the boat over there, see what we can see.” 

Everyone agreed, and we got in the boat, Pope driving us across the water over to Figure Eight, pulling up right next to Ward’s boat.

“So what now? We just go up to the front door and ask, ‘Hey, have you seen John B?’” JJ asked. “He lives at Tannyhill now, it’s plausible. We can play dumb,” Kie said. “Play dumb?” JJ questioned. “It’s pretty late…” Pope said. “What?” I threw at Pope’s readiness to give up. “Look, I’ve never seen John B like that. Maybe Junie is right, maybe we should go to the cops.” 

“The cops- and say what, Kie? We’re worried about our friend because he’s going off on a rampage because Ward Cameron killed Big John? They’re not gonna believe us!” JJ countered.

Pope picked up the binoculars and looked through them. “Hey, I see Ward.”

Kie quickly took the binoculars to look through.

“Doesn’t look dead to me. Let’s go home,” Pope said, moving to get back to the wheel. “What?” Kie asked. “Look, obviously Mr. Cameron is fine, and even if John B was here, he isn’t now, okay? Plus I have the biggest, most important moment of my life in six hours,” Pope explained. “Yeah, well, our friend is in trouble.” Kie argued. “I’m in trouble! Guys, I haven’t been home in three days. My dad’s probably put all my shit on the street by now.”

“Guys-” I tried.

“So that's it? You're gonna turn your back on your friend?" Kie accused.

“Okay, yo, guys, can we not do this right now?” JJ asked.

“I have a scholarship interview in the morning. I can’t-” “What about John B?” Kie asked. “Why is it always about John B?” Pope threw back. “It’s not always about John B, don’t be stupid, it would be any of you guys in this situation,” Kie shouted.

“Guys-” JJ spoke up, making me turn to him, but Kie and Pope kept arguing.

“Oh, bullshit!” Pope argued. “This is about friendship!” Kie continued.

“Bring it down…” JJ said.

“Look, this is about Pogues for life.” “What about forensic pathology?” Pope countered. “Forensic pathology?” “It’s my life. Everything I’ve worked for-” “That’s your priority?” “Stop the moral high ground bullshit-”

“Pope!” I interjected quickly, I was all for making sure Pope made it to his interview, but I could tell this argument was heading in a bad direction.

“Excuse me?” Kie questioned. “No, no, she has no room to talk.” Pope turned to Kie. “Where were you when Big John went missing? You weren’t there. You weren’t there for John B, you weren’t there for any of us. Remember your Kook year?”

“Dude!” JJ spoke up.

“Yeah. You forgot about us. Now you feel guilty.” “Don’t talk to her like that!” I shouted, standing from where I sat on the bench. “Give me a break!” Kie shouted, pushing Pope, but he pushed her back. JJ quickly jumped up to get in between them. “Hey! If I’m the one mediating, we’ve hit rock bottom. Bow, now.” JJ said to Pope, separating the two. “I’ll drop you off.”' “Okay, yo, guys, can we not do this right now?” JJ asked. “I have a scholarship interview in the morning. I can’t-” “What about John B?” Kie asked. “Why is it always about John B?” Pope threw back. “It’s not always about John B, don’t be stupid, it would be any of you guys in this situation,” Kie shouted.

“Guys-” JJ spoke up, making me turn to him, but Kie and Pope kept arguing.

“Oh, bullshit!” Pope argued. “This is about friendship!” Kie continued.

“Bring it down…” JJ said.

“Look, this is about Pogues for life.” “What about forensic pathology?” Pope countered. “Forensic pathology?” “It’s my life. Everything I’ve worked for-” “That’s your priority?” “Stop the moral high ground bullshit-”

“Pope!” I interjected quickly, I was all for making sure Pope made it to his interview, but I could tell this argument was heading in a bad direction.

“Excuse me?” Kie questioned. “No, no, she has no room to talk.” Pope turned to Kie. “Where were you when Big John went missing? You weren’t there. You weren’t there for John B, you weren’t there for any of us. Remember your Kook year?” “Dude!” JJ spoke up. “Yeah. You forgot about us. Now you feel guilty.” “Don’t talk to her like that!” I shouted, standing from where I sat on the bench. “Give me a break!” Kie shouted, pushing Pope, but he pushed her back. JJ quickly jumped up to get in between them. “Hey! If I’m the one mediating, we’ve hit rock bottom. Bow, now.” JJ said to Pope, separating the two. “I’ll drop you off.”

JJ dropped Kie off at home, then Pope. Then it was just us.

“Where to now, princess? Back to the Chateau?”

I looked over the skyline, from the way the blue was filling the sky, it had to be maybe four in the morning. “Something Pope said reminded me of something.”

“What?” “The rest of my stuff, I told my mom I’d come back for it.” JJ raised an eyebrow. “I really don’t want to go back there alone, JJ.” I said softly. “I’ll take you, as soon as the sun rises.” I forced a smile and then looked back out on the water. “JJ?” “Yes darlin’?” JJ asked, preparing to turn the boat around. “That was really hot, how you handled the situation.” I could practically hear his smirk. “Just let Papa J handle things, baby girl.”

We had nowhere to go, no idea where John B was. JJ drove the boat to the dock he used to pick me up from, and tied down the boat, but the sun was just starting to rise. Me and JJ sat across from each other on the front of the boat, I kept my knees up, my stomach churning at the thought of what I was about to face.

“Hey…” JJ said softly, making me look up at him. “You alright?” “Yeah… It’s just a lot… Big moment, y’know?” I replied. “Just ‘cause it’s big doesn’t mean it’s gotta be heavy. I’m here.” JJ said, letting his fingers twitch closer to touch mine. I smiled to myself before reaching out to interlock our fingers.  “For the guy who took my virginity, you seem awfully hesitant to touch me.” 

JJ chuckled nervously, before pulling me closer, letting me lean on his chest. “I just… I don’t want to mess this up, bug. Finally have something worth holding onto.”

I looked up at him before putting a hand on the back of his neck, pulling him down to press my lips to his.

We sat like that for a while, watching the sunrise with his arms around my waist. Then, the sun was high enough to justify showing up at my mom’s door.

JJ insisted on being the one to knock. Cody was the one to pull back the door.

“Junie!” Cody practically shouted, before my mother was quickly in the door frame.  “Now isn’t a good time-” “What did I tell you? She’d come running back with her tail between her legs.” I heard Theodore shout before he appeared behind my mom. “We’re here for her things.” JJ spoke up.  “They’re in my house.”  “Her mom’s house.”

Theodore’s jaw clenched, but JJ wasn’t scared. He turned around to hold his hand out for me, and I took it and he opened the door, causing everyone to back up as JJ led me into the house. He pulled me in front of him and walked right behind me into my room.

I could barely remember what I was supposed to be doing, and the talking didn’t help.

“Mommy, is Junie leaving again?” Cody’s small voice asked. “Shh, sweetheart.”

I shook myself out of my thoughts and started grabbing handfuls of clothes, making a pile on the bed.

“Let me guess.” Theodore’s voice boomed from where he stood in the living room. “This guy knocked you up and you need to sell all this shit, right? Well, I’m telling you right now, no hand outs, and your mom won’t babysit for free.” My eyes closed in annoyance. 

“Man, do you ever shut up?” JJ replied. “JJ, stop, he’s not worth it.” I muttered, shoving the pile of clothes into a garbage bag. I moved over to my desk and started clearing out the essentials. 

“You’re cocky now, son, but I’ll tell you what, being a father? A lot harder than it looks.” “How the hell would you know?”  “JJ don’t.” “What the hell did you just say to me?” I could hear Theodore’s footsteps booming. “Teddy, not in front of Cody!” My mom’s voice chimed in, cracking like it always did when this happened. “I want you off my property, now.”  “She’s getting her things, and then I promise you we’ll stay far away. She’s never coming back here.”

“JJ, stop.” I said, shoving the garbage bag of clothes into his chest. I looked up and saw my mom staring at me with tears in her eyes as she held Cody in front of her. “But he’s right. I’m not coming back unless it’s to take Cody with me.” I stood up straight and looked out the doorway. “Until then, be a fucking mother for once.”

My mom practically crumbled while she sobbed. 

“Don’t you speak to your mother like that. You see, Tiff, I told you she needed more discipline.”

Then, before I knew what was happening, JJ rushed past me, past my mom and had Theodore against the wall.

“JJ!” I shouted, chasing after him. “June, you tell your little boyfriend-”

JJ smacked him back against the wall. If I wasn’t standing so close, I wouldn’t have seen JJ press the gun into Theodore’s side. “That’s big boyfriend to you. Now here’s what’s gonna happen. Junie is going to grab her stuff, and then we are going to leave, and you will not say a word to her the entire time. If you think you can do that, I won’t kill you for putting your hands on my girl, sound good?” 

Theodore nodded, his hands held up in surrender.

“Bugs, go get your stuff, I’m just gonna stand right here.”

I quickly backed up, turning to go back in my room, grabbing shit at double time, grabbing stuff I wasn’t even sure I needed before I tied the bag off and went back out into the living room where JJ still had Theodore against the wall.

“JJ, c’mon.” 

JJ let go of Theodore to take the bag from me, then had me go out in front of him

Once we were out of the trailer, we ran back to the boat.

“Holy fucking shit, I can’t believe you did that.” I said between pants. “I told you, bugs, let Papa J handle it.”

I bit back a smile before jumping up to wrap my arms around him. He turned his hat around before dipping down to press his lips to mine.

taglist: @lilliebellee

[in-halingstardust]

The way he makes you breathless~

A/N: First nsfw post! Lmk if u likey likey (ꈍ ‸ ꈍ✿)///. With my genshin men, because I love them. Tags: !mdni , light bondage w/ ribbons, light dacryphilia, blowjobs, overstimulation, praise cuz you a good girl, hehe lots of cum

The way he makes you breathless.

Literally.

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Fingertips dig into the soft flesh of your throat as he leans into you. You can feel everything at once. The way his nails makes small indents into flesh that will definitely bruise tomorrow and the way he makes his hand travel down flicking your clit before clutching the flesh of your thigh steading you as your body jumps moaning out his name.

If stopped looking at the stars filling your vision and peered at him you could see a blush covering his whole face as he moves against you, him biting his lips eyes scrunched in pure pleasure. Your smile as you curve your back in delight as you flex against- him coming undone.

"Fu-Fuck! You feel- so good." He breaths letting go of your airway as you take a gasp, the stars becoming more clear turning into the dark specks on your ceiling as your body shudders.

You can feel sticky warmth trying to leak out and he knows as well as he ruts it back in, making sure nothing can spill. It's important to him. Through all the bite marks, the eclipse shapes of his nails on your throat that he does this in a way that was for you to know- you are his and he is yours.

You gently wrap your arms around his neck as he try to begin again, and you cry overstimulated, "Stop, not yet." But your lying to yourself because it comes out in a way that pleads 'Yes, please more!'. It's a good thing he understands you so well because he thrusts in again his pace steadying to reach every single part of you.

He does this until you are breathless again.

Who: SCARA, Tighnari, Kaeya

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Your hands are tied, wrist together encompassed with a red bow as you shyly lean forward, showing how how your tits are tucked perfectly into a lacy bra, ribbons lacing in intricate patterns as they all tie to the back.

A present just for him.

But he is a good boy, and is patiently waiting to unwrap you.

He looks at you, hands fisting pre-cum from his cock onto black gloves. You blushed as you opened your legs more on his command, those black gloves were the same ones he used to rig you together into a present for him. You remember the way cool leather feels fire against skin.

He only cocks his head to the side, a firm blush covering to the tip of his ears as he begs you to play with yourself, him stroking in sync at the way your breath goes in and out.

It feels so good, better than it does alone and you lean back into a mountain of pillows, the gentle tightness of the satin rubbing your skin taught. You rub against the thin piece of lace that is drenched, you feel the knot forming in your stomach as you press firm circles into yourself.

You're giving him a show. A damn good one as he grunts, "Archons, you are too beautiful." He strokes faster mesmerized by the way your hips move up and down with him, "This wet, just for me."

It makes you feel powerful to hear him- strong even- to hear him gasp as he grunts the sounds echoing in the room. That you had this effect on him.

His final peak, that is what makes you breathless.

You tilt your head to the side. Him slump against the chair, head hanging back as he gulps in air, his whole cock spent white dripping against dark slacks and black gloves.

‌Who: Diluc, Dainsleif, ZHONGLI, Ayato

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He is entirely too big for you, but that doesn't stop you. Opening your mouth wider as his cock sits on your tongue. Its rough, and you can barely breath with the way he fills you, but when you take a breath through your nose and to look up to his face.

Oh my Archons. It's worth it.

He's barely holding on, his chest heaving in an out his whole body willing him not to destroy your pretty mouth. The way his hands are gripping your head with such a tenderness underlay with feral appetite to use you until he is empty.

You can see it in the way his eyes are molten with desire bleeding into you and your feel your heart match his inticipation.

Relax. As you take more, a gurgle comes out of you as you feel the tip on the back of his throat and he groans gripping you tighter, barely in control of himself, "Baby- please, I!"

You take him until he is a crying mess bobbing up and down using your hands when you couldn't reach any further. Him just babbling of how good you are to him.

That he is so close, and when he cums you are breathless as he fills you spilling into the back of your throat as your milk whatever he has to give you.

Who: ITTO!!!!, Childe, Cyno

[bainutwater85]

Can we get some Hetalia Japan general smut headcanons with a bratty partner if possible

abzolutely, abzolutely, abzolutely.

cw: choking, degrading, hair pulling, spanking, anal, spit, biting.

he’s already pissed at you for interrupting him during a world meeting with the other countries. constantly texting him and blowing up his phone for petty and stupid reasons as such “the dog peed on the carpet, kiku!” or “i can’t find my shirt, also i need money to go out!”. Yeah he was pretty much fed up with your attitude whenever he told you to wait and put you on hold— trying his damnest to ignore your complaining and arguments you tried to rile up.

by the time it was break, he called you back in response to 12 missed calls from you. The phone rang but, you didn’t pick up. He called again..no answer. A few more calls later you didn’t answer; wanting to throw his phone agaisnt the wall he brought himself down to earth and finished on with his meeting. By the time he got into his car it was midnight and he wanted to see if you were still up. Trying to call you again, there was no response on the other line. Kiku, tired and fed up, sent a message to you. Turns out, you blocked him!! the message did not deliver and it was green!. In his mind he was cursing you and the situation out but in reality he just threw his phone on the passenger seat and drove home to you.

you were sitting in the front room, waiting patiently for him to come home; as he did. He saw you and paused before he closed the door behind him, “y/n..what was all that about? you know these meetings are very impor-“ you cut him off: “i don’t care kiku!” you say with a scoff, turning your head the other way. It got silent and kikus face softened & darkened by each passing second. “Fine. be like that.” he says in a thick japanese accent, making his way towards you—pulling you by your hair as he sat next to you on the couch. Propping you over his lap— your ass in the air. Kiku wasted no time in pulling down your pants along with your panties and sending 4 harsh smacks to the ample flesh of your ass, back to back. With a yelp you try hard to look back at him but he has a firm grip of your hair. “Don’t ever. act out like that. again, while i’m in a meeting y/n!” he said with every slap to your ass, leaving behind and lingering stinging sensation. You squirm and yell out “sorry’s!” and “i won’t do it anymore!” he didnr believe you at all. So every that came out his mouth— followed behind a smack to your ass.

your face scrunched up in pain while you hold and spread your ass cheeks from the stinging. He looked down at you in frustration and anger, mostly anger. On his knees, he not only spat once: but twice on your tight asshole before sticking a thumb in, then his cock. As his cock gradually ripped through the tightness of your rectum—your wails got louder. “kiku!” you yell out as your hands are still in place, spreading your ass open for this sadistic man. Slowly but steadily, the pleasure replaced the pain and you..you had a firm grip on the couch; nails digging deep into whatever material it is made from.

kiku snaked a hand around and under your neck as his other one remained on your lower back keeping you instilled and in place. He took the opportunity to mark you up and bite your neck, leaving little to no small wounds along your neck, nape and shoulders. Your moans were coming from pain and pleasure while his veiny and rigged cock slid in and out perfectly through your tight ass. With heavy breaths he unlatches his mouth from your neck and starts whispering hurtful words into your ear. “you bratty whore thinking everything goes your way!” “is this all that you wanted you annoying bitch!?” words that would make you shed a tear if you two weren’t fucking hard and raw on his couch right now.

before you could’ve even chase your own climax: he pulled out and came all over your back and ass, leaving the wind to find its ways inside you as long and beady ropes of sperm coat your back and ass. Leaving you on the couch to catch your breath.

[chicgeekgirl89]

Summary: While responding to a multi-car pileup, Carlos is involved in an accident that leaves him fighting for his life. A/N: This was a request from @rubinsteinsilva126. They requested: I’d want a Carlos Whump story! Carlos getting injured, riding in the ambulance that TK responds to the call of, and then TK later holding Carlos in the hospital bed because Carlos was in pain and needed comfort 🥺 (Also, they requested this almost a literal year ago. So I am no longer taking requests because I am clearly bad at following through on them! 😂)

Read on AO3

T.K. does not want to be at the scene of a multi-car pileup. T.K. doesn’t want to be at work in general today. What T.K. wants is to be at home, in his bed, with the covers pulled up over his head, his moody playlist blasting in his ears.

But unfortunately his work schedule doesn’t care about his feelings in the slightest and instead he’s arriving in an ambulance at said multi-car pileup in the middle of the highway.

And his husband is here. Because of course he is.

T.K. spots Carlos directing traffic around the accident as soon as they pull up in the rig. Usually this would be a delight. Usually he would smile and wave and feel a rush of joy at seeing Carlos during a call. There’s something special about working together to save lives. 

But today he is not thrilled.

“Oh look, there’s Carlos,” Nancy says as they jump down from the rig and start gathering supplies. “Are you going to go say hi?”

At that moment Carlos sees them, his eyes locking with T.K.’s. Neither of them smile and after a second Carlos looks away, focusing on directing a blue Toyota around the mangled mess of cars.

“Well that seemed a little frosty,” Tommy says as she steps up next to them.

“Frosty? That was downright arctic,” Nancy says, eyeing him curiously. “Trouble in paradise?”

T.K. shifts the backpack on his shoulders, annoyed at how the straps are already digging into him after only a few seconds. “Carlos and I,” he says testily, “are in a fight.”

“Well that explains it,” Nancy says with a roll of her eyes. “You’ve been grouchy all day.”

“No I haven’t,” T.K. snaps back at her in annoyance. The only thing worse than being pissed off at your husband is having your friends point out that you’re pissed off at your husband.

“Sweetheart if looks could kill we’d both be dead,” Tommy says gently. “Several times over.”

“Well I’m—” T.K. huffs, “I’m mad at him.”

“Yeah that doesn’t mean the rest of us should have to suffer,” Nancy says. “What are you so mad at him about?”

T.K. turns his hands into fists, squeezing them tightly as all the feelings of the last twenty-four hours bubble just underneath the surface of his control. “He keeps turning the thermostat down.”

Tommy and Nancy both blink at him. When they don’t speak he presses on. “I turn it up and the next thing I know I come back out and it’s turned down again. It’s like he doesn’t even care about climate change at all!”

“Haven’t you two lived together for like, a long time now?” Nancy asks. “Shouldn’t you have worked out the temperature of your living space at this point?”

“We had to replace the thermostat last week,” T.K. says. “It’s all different now.”

“I understand that must be frustrating, but I’m not sure it’s worth having a fight about,” Tommy says.

“That’s not the only thing,” T.K. continues. “It’s the pillows.”

“The pillows?” Nancy asks.

“He buys allllll these throw pillows and puts them all over the place, but guess what? Are we allowed to touch them? Lean on them? Use them for what they’re intended for? No. Why? Because they’re ‘decorative’ and if I lean on them they’ll ‘lose their shape.’ Isn’t that insane? Why do we have them if we can’t use them?”

“Okay, yes, that does seem kind of annoying,” Tommy says, but T.K. is on a roll, and now that he’s started airing his grievances to the public he can’t seem to stop.

“Also he got his hair cut too short last time!” he gripes, glaring at the back of his husband’s head.

“Um, his body his choice dude,” Nancy says.

“I know that!” T.K. says with a scowl. “But he knows how much I like his curls and he didn’t even tell me he was going to do it, he just showed back up at the loft looking like a sheep after shearing!”

He can hear the words they’d hurled at each other even now, as if he’s reliving them.

T.K. had come out of his shower, still toweling off his hair when he’d heard the whoosh of the AC system kicking on. Eyeing the thermostat on the wall he’d sighed. “Seriously Carlos?” he’d said, turning to look at his husband, who was reading in their bed.

“What?” Carlos asked in confusion.

“You turned the thermostat down. Again.”

“Yeah…” Carlos said slowly. “It was getting stuffy in here.”

“You know that air conditioning is a big part of the issue with our carbon footprint.” This shouldn’t have been a big deal to him, but T.K. had come from a meeting grumpy and in the mood for a fight.

Carlos set his book down and scoffed. “I don’t think using the air conditioning that was built into our home long before we moved in is that big of an issue T.K. We live on the top floor. Heat rises. It gets warm up here without it on.”

“Then open a window.”

Carlos bristled, rising to the bait T.K. was laying out for him.“It’s ninety five degrees outside! The air is so stagnant out there it’s like opening an oven door! Why are you freaking out about this?”

“I’m not freaking out, I’m just asking you to think about the environment and our electric bill!”

“Our electric bill is fine! What do you want me to do, plant a tree every time I turn the temperature down a degree?”

“That would be a start.”

Carlos rolled his eyes. “It’s my home too T.K. I should be allowed to have a say in it.”

“Oh, like I have a say with the throw pillows?” T.K. snapped.

“That’s totally different!”

“How Carlos? How is it different? You want to use the air conditioning, I want to use the throw pillows. It’s exactly. the. same.” He gestured sharply with his hand to emphasize his point.

“Because the air conditioning doesn’t lose shape and color when you lean against it! I picked them all out, I’d like them to stay nice so that when people come over they don’t look like shit!” Carlos’ eyes flashed dangerously, a sign that he was well and truly pissed off.

“You think our friends are judging us for our misshapen throw pillows? Wow you really are a control freak.” 

“You don’t care if our friends think our home is nice?”

“I really don’t.” That wasn’t true, but it felt good to say it in the moment.

Carlos rolled his eyes.“Okay. Sure. Next time we have game night we’ll just let our all friends sit against lumpy, flattened pillows.”

“Do you not hear how insane that sounds?!”

“Oh, is it as insane as keeping mealworms in our refrigerator next to our food so they last longer?”

T.K. gapes at him. “You said it was fine!”

“I said it was fine. I didn’t say I liked it,” Carlos said, his lips pressing together into a thin line.

“So you’d rather Lou II starve? Is that what you want?”

“No, of course not T.K.! It is unbelievable to me that you would even say that after all I’ve done for that stupid lizard!”

They’d gone on for another fifteen minutes before descending into frosty silence after T.K. declared he hated Carlos’ new haircut. Both of them refused to move to  the couch so they laid angrily next to each other until they fell asleep. The silence had persisted through the morning as they readied for work, ending in a terse, “Love you, be safe,” from both of them before they headed out the door.

“You’re comparing your husband to a sheep?” Tommy asks, an amused smile on her face.

“Yes!” T.K. gripes. “And that’s not all. He also—“

There’s a screech of tires and a car, a silver Honda, pulls out of the line of vehicles that are waiting to pass the accident and tries to zoom around them. Time slows and T.K. sees what’s about to happen and realizes there’s nothing he can do to stop it.

The Honda clips Carlos and sends him spinning, his body whirling like a top before he collapses to the ground, unmoving. 

“CARLOS!” His husband’s name tears from his lips and T.K. is running before he can think, feet flying over the ground to reach Carlos’ side. He skids to a stop and drops to his knees, backpack falling to the ground beside him.

Carlos is flat on his back, eyes wide, mouth gaping as a harsh, rasping sound escapes from his chest. He looks shocked, terrified, and T.K. can tell his own face is a mirror of the same horror. “Carlos, Carlos, hey, hey talk to me,” T.K. babbles out, hands hovering, afraid to touch, all his training completely gone from his mind as panic takes over.

“T.K.” His name comes out on a whimper and T.K.’s heart shatters inside of his chest. He’s never heard Carlos make such a terrible sound in his entire life.

The world around him feels like it’s moving through sludge, everything slow, muffled out of focus. The only thing he can see is Carlos’ pained expression. And then there are hands on T.K.’s back and everything snaps into real time as Nancy and Tommy join him on the ground.

“T.K. back up,” Tommy says sharply. “Give us some room to work.”

T.K. shuffles back awkwardly, hands clenching into the knees of his uniform pants to stop them from shaking. 

“Carlos, baby, where are you hurting?” Tommy asks as she takes scissors to Carlos’ uniform shirt.

“My…chest…” The words barely come out, strung together on forced gasps that sound terrible and painful. “Leg…”

“He’s not moving air,” Nancy says, a stethoscope pressed to Carlos’ chest. “I think it’s a pneumo Cap.”

“Okay, we’ll have to decompress him,” Tommy says. “Grab the kit. And a splint, he’s got a tibia fracture in his left leg.”

“On it.”

It’s all moving so fast, everything a blur, and T.K. is struggling to keep up with it all. It doesn’t feel real, this can’t be happening. Not to them. Not now. Not again—

“T.K. come hold his head,” Tommy orders.

In hindsight he’ll wonder if she really needed his help or was just giving him something to do so he didn’t come apart at the seams on the asphalt of the highway, but in the moment he does exactly what she asks without question, his hands, cloaked in blue gloves, cradling Carlos’ head just above the c-spine collar they’ve put on him to keep his neck stabilized.

Carlos’ terrified eyes look up at him, boring deeply into his own and T.K. should offer some words of comfort, tell him he’s going to be okay, that they’re taking good care of him, but he can’t. The words won’t come.

He can tell when they finally shove the needle into Carlos’ chest, feels relief when air hisses out and Carlos takes a huge breath. “That’s it, keep breathing Carlos,” Tommy says as Nancy slips an oxygen mask over his face. “You’re doing great. Just relax and let us take care of you.”

She glances up her eyes finding T.K.’s and usually he would grab onto the calm he sees in them, but he can’t right now. His spirit feels wild, like it’s been torn loose from his body and is whirling around in an uncontrollable storm. “T.K., you with me?”

“Yes,” he rasps out. “Yeah, I’m okay.”

“Good. Because I’m going to need your help getting him onto the backboard.”

They roll Carlos on and then get him into the ambulance. Later T.K. will find out the entire event took less than ten minutes. In the moment it feels like hours. 

T.K. sits in the back of the ambulance with Tommy as Nancy drives. He watches as Carlos’ body finally starts to relax, morphine doing its work as it drips into his veins. 

He looks up into T.K.’s eyes and it’s only then that T.K. realizes he’s crying, his eyes a darker brown color than usual that only comes when tears are falling. T.K. reaches down and carefully wipes them away.

“I’m—“ Carlos’ voice is breathy and muffled behind the mask, but he pushes the words out anyway, “—sorry.”

T.K. shakes his head his own tears falling now, droplets landing in his lap and soaking into his pants. “You don’t need to be sorry,” he says, brushing a hand gently through those short curls that he said he hated last night and now he loves more than anything in the world. “I’m sorry.”

“Call…my….mom?”

T.K. nods. “As soon as we get to the hospital and you’re checked in okay?”

Carlos’ eyes close and T.K. thinks the medicine and the pain have finally pulled him under, but then the blinks them open again, and they spear him with a terrified intensity. “Scared.”

Oh god. Oh god this is going to break him. “I know you’re scared,” T.K. says, clearing his throat when his voice cracks and resuming brushing his fingers gently through Carlos’ hair. “But you’re okay. You’re stable and we’re almost to the hospital. They’re going to take good care of you and soon…soon all of this will just be a memory. We’ve got you. Tommy’s here and Nancy and…and we’ve got you.”

He hopes that will be enough.

Within fifteen minutes of arriving at the hospital Carlos is taken off to be prepped for surgery. That’s when T.K. finally loses it, collapsing into a chair and sobbing into his hands as Nancy rubs his back while Tommy takes over the task of calling Andrea and his dad.

“He’s going to be okay,” Nancy says, but T.K. can hear tears in her voice too. “It’s a pneumo, some bleeding, broken bones, it’s all fixable. He’ll be all right.”

“What if he’s not?” T.K. cracks out. “What if this is…what if he…and the last thing we did was fight about the thermostat?”

“T.K., Carlos knows it was just a fight,” Nancy says. “Couples have fights. About important stuff and stupid stuff.”

“She’s right.” Tommy sits down on his other side. “Just because you were having an argument, it doesn’t negate everything else. Carlos knows that. And you do too.”

“It was just so stupid,” T.K. says, sniffing and wiping ineffectually at his eyes which will not stop crying. “How could I have been so stupid?” He struggles to push the next words past his throat. “I don’t want to lose him.”

“I know,” Tommy says. “Let’s not go there yet though, hm? Let’s have faith. Carlos is strong. He can pull through this.”

Andrea and his dad arrive and T.K. pulls it together enough to be strong for his mother-in-law who needs to believe that she’s not going to watch her only son die when the loss of her husband still feels so fresh. T.K. explains what happened, interprets everything the doctor told him on arrival, discusses what the surgery will entail, and the possible outcomes. 

It’s exhausting and he takes himself off to the bathroom for another crying jag about two hours after they arrive, returning with red, swollen eyes that they both can see. Andrea immediately folds him into a hug and they stay that way until the doctor finally returns.

He reports that Carlos’ surgery went well. They repaired his lung along with some other internal damage and set his leg fracture. He’s also got three broken ribs and a concussion, but overall he’s in good shape considering. It could have been much worse.

Somehow that phrase doesn’t feel like a comfort.

Tommy and Nancy leave once Carlos is settled into a room. He’s very out of it, the sedation and heavy pain medication taking a severe toll on his ability to stay awake. He manages a hello to his mom and Owen before lapsing back into sleep again. It’s brief, but it goes a long way toward reassuring them all that he’ll be okay. 

His dad heads out after that to grab some things from the loft so T.K. doesn’t have to spend the entire night in the hospital in his uniform and Andrea decides to go to the chapel for a little bit. T.K. is grateful for the space.

He sits in the chair next to Carlos’ bed, picking at a stray string on the cuff of his shirt. God he fucking hates hospitals. They’ve spent more time inside these walls the last few years than any human should have to. If he never has to come here again it will be too soon.

“T…K.?”

The croak has him snapping his head up to find Carlos struggling to open his eyes, pain lining the tension in his limbs, the darkness of his eyes, the creases of his forehead. He has medication onboard, but it’s like his body still knows how broken it is, even if he can’t fully feel it.

“Hey.” T.K. sits forward and forces a smile that feels like it’s straining his face. “Hey baby.”

Carlos swallows, the pain mixing with confusion in his eyes. “Am I—?”

“You’re okay,” T.K. says. They filled him in the first time he woke up, but it’s clear that it didn’t stick. “You were in an accident. Your lung was collapsed and you have a broken tibia and some ribs, but you’re going to be okay.”

Carlos nods, his eyes closing briefly as if he’s struggling to take it all in. “I’m okay?” Carlos asks, like he’s really not sure.

“Yes,” T.K. says firmly, reaching out to cover the back of his hand. “Yes, you’re okay. It’s going to be a long recovery, but you are okay.”

Carlos’ next breath is shaky and full of tears. “I’m not—I don’t want to leave you.”

God damn it just when he thinks he can’t cry anymore. “You’re not leaving me,” T.K. manages to choke out, squeezing his hand. “You’re not—you’re not dying. I promise baby. I promise.”

“I love you,” Carlos is crying in earnest now, like he has absolutely no control over his emotions. “I love you. I’m sorry.”

“Shh,” T.K. soothes, sliding the chair closer so he can run his hand up and down Carlos’ arm. “There’s no need for sorries.”

“I wasn’t safe.”

“It wasn’t your fault.”

Carlos swallows hard like it hurts him to do so. “Do you want some water?” T.K. asks and when Carlos nods he helps him sip a little bit.

When he’s done he licks his lips and meets T.K.’s eyes. “We can turn the thermostat up.”

T.K. chokes out a laugh, his eyes still damp with tears. “I don’t care about the damn thermostat.”

“I don’t want to fight anymore.”

“Me neither.” T.K. grabs a tissue and uses it to gently wipe the tears from Carlos’ face. “We’ll bring in a neutral third party to deal with the thermostat setting. Paul can do it.”

Now Carlos manages a small huff of a laugh. “And we can use the throw pillows.”

“Thank god,” T.K. says, trying to lighten the mood. “I was ready to sign the divorce papers on that one.” He reaches up and brushes a hand through Carlos’ hair. “And I love your hair. I love all of you. All the time. Any way you are.”

“I love you too.” He shifts a little bit, trying to get more comfortable. “Was my mom here?”

“She’s in the chapel. I think she needed some time to herself,” T.K. says. “My dad was here too. He went to grab us some stuff. If there’s anything particular you want from home I can text him.”’

Carlos shakes his head. “Just you.”

“I’m here,” T.K. says immediately. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“Thank you.” Carlos closes his eyes and a shudder runs over his frame.

“Are you cold?” T.K. asks. He knows all too well that blood loss brings on a special type of chill. One that settles into your bones, that you can’t get rid of no matter how hard you try.

“A little,” Carlos says, shivering again and then letting out a small, pained sound as the movement jars his injured body. “Can you…can you hold me? Please?”

He shouldn’t. There’s barely any room in the hospital bed. And Carlos is covered in bandages and IV’s and the cast on his left leg. But honestly, T.K. needs some physical reassurance as much as his husband does right now.

So he carefully maneuvers himself into the bed, moving so slowly that it’s almost painful, tucking himself up against the railing so that his touch against Carlos is practically featherlight. “Why don’t you try and get some sleep,” he says quietly, running his fingers gently over Carlos’ stomach in a soothing motion. 

It always helps Carlos sleep to have his back rubbed, but this will have to do for today. He watches as the tension slips out of his husband’s body, sleep pulling him down and T.K. breathes out. They’ve survived. Again.

[delcakoo]

txt’s reaction to you randomly saying marry me .˚◞♡ ⃗

requested

PAIRING ! txt x gn!reader

WC ! 1.4k

GENRE ! est relationship, tooth rotting fluff

a/n: first txt post wooo! pls lmk if u want me to write for them more T-T

// CHOI YEONJUN!

after a long shower, your boyfriend emerges from the washroom with nothing but a towel secured around his waist, ruffling his black strands up messily.

feeling your ogling, yeonjun sends you a flirty wink before turning to his closet, scanning the shelved arrangements of clothing. you shamelessly admire his back profile from the bed as his arms flex firmly, reaching up to grab a plain white tee-shirt off it’s rack.

perhaps it was because of how beautiful your boyfriend looked, but you impulsively allow the first words that form in your brain to tumble out of your mouth. “marry me,” you blurt.

he pauses, turning back around to face you with a cocky smirk plastered across his lips. “what?”

your gaze wanders between his smug expression and the water cascading from his locks to his bare chest, a soft blush painting your cheeks as he stares you down. “uh..” you swallow.

yeonjun simpers further, throwing his shirt to the side before prancing up to you mischievously. he gently holds your chin with his fingers, forcing you to meet his fox like eyes.

“say it again,” he demands teasingly. a few water drops tumble off his body and onto your own, and you flinch at the cold contact against your skin.

you gulp, feeling small under the male’s inspection. “marry me?” you repeat.

then, he giggles like a small child, happily pecking your lips. “i think i will, baby.” before you can even process anything, yeonjun’s already run off again, throwing his shirt over his head at last with a stupidly cute smile.

// CHOI SOOBIN !

the grocery store is rather empty; the only sound resonating the building being muffled pop music in the background, and your grunting as you pathetically try to reach a box of macaroni on the top shelf.

right as you’re about to give up, a soft, amused chuckle emits from behind you. you whip your head back to see your boyfriend, shiny blue bangs bouncing animatedly as he tilts his head down, gazing at you with eyes full of adoration. “you should’ve just called me, dummy.”

before you can form a reply, soobin playfully ruffles your hair before lifting an arm to grab the macaroni with ease, throwing it into your cart placed near the end of the aisle.

mouth parted dumbly, you look up to him. “soob.. will you marry me?”

the tall boy nearly chokes, eyes widening in surprise. “what? are you okay?”

“yeah i am,” you pout, “you don’t want to marry me?”

he emits a shy giggle, bunny teeth poking through as he walks back to the cart full of groceries, you close behind. “i do, but.. don’t you think it’s a little sudden? y’know, in the supermarket?”

you simply shrug, “you retrieving macaroni for me really touched my heart. that’s all, babe.”

soobin shakes his head between more giggles, pinching your cheek affectionately. “okay, cutie. when’s our wedding?”

// CHOI BEOMGYU !

you nearly break the claw machine in frustration as you slam your hand down, one more loss away from pacing over to the arcade’s front counter and complaining about how rigged their machine was.

all you wanted was to win yourself a corgi plushie while your boyfriend went to the washroom, but the damned metal hand seemed to purposely release the animal right before it reached the drop box every single time.

right as you dig your hand into your pocket to pull out your last coin, two hands wrap around your waist from behind. you immediately recognise the embrace of beomgyu as he rests his chin on your shoulder curiously.

“what’re you trying to win, baby?” he asks against your skin.

“that stupid corgi with the stupid tongue sticking out,” you bark, thrusting your money into the machine much more aggressively than needed.

beomgyu snorts at your attitude, releasing your body to move in front of you confidently. “i got this, don’t worry.”

you watch utterly dumbstruck as after about a minute, he successfully picks up the plushie, landing it perfectly into the reward box while looking back at you with the most cocky expression imaginable and arms opened in expectation.

though flabbergasted, you rush into the hug, squeezing his waist in excitement. “oh my god gyu, marry me!” you squeal, leaving a messy kiss on his lips.

he snickers proudly, watching you reach down and grab your long awaited corgi. “hah, did you see that?” he brags, “piece of cake, babe.” he silently waits for your praise, smirk continuously growing along the way.

however, beomgyu’s pleased expression falls when he realises you weren’t even sparing him a glance; much too busy leaving a kiss on the plushie instead of him. the stuffed dog was nearly being choked in your hold as you swayed back and forth happily.

of course, feeling left out, beomgyu tugs your sleeve with a childish pout. “yah! am i not kissable enough for you? i thought you wanted to marry me!”

you give him a weird look, shaking your head before leaning up to kiss the boy again, not before mumbling how much of a big baby he is under your breath.

as you both leave the arcade, you completely miss the harsh, competitive glare your boyfriend sends the plushie in your arms, wrapping his own arm around you in jealousy.

// KANG TAEHYUN !

with finals coming up, you were nearly glued to your seat all afternoon, fingers slowly becoming numb from the amount of typing and writing you’d done in the past couple hours.

your boyfriend was rather against the whole study-til-you-can’t-keep-your-eyes-open strategy that you had going on, but after many sad, failed attempts, taehyun had simply given up on trying to persuade you to move or learn what the word ‘break’ even meant.

however, this didn’t stop him from helping you in any other way he could; which is how you found yourself nearly bursting into tears when the calm boy walked in with soup and some crackers.

“it’s not much,” taehyun murmurs, planting a soft kiss to your head, “how’s it going?”

you offer a grateful smile in return, “thanks, love. it’s okay.. more bullshit about something something, the usual.”

he nods sympathetically, “want a quick massage?”

your body aches at the thought, “would you really, tae?” what you did to deserve the boy in front of you? you’d love to know.

“why wouldn’t i?” without another word, taehyun shuffles behind you, palms and fingers massaging into your shoulders with perfect amounts of pressure, releasing a satisfied groan from your lips.

“god, just marry me,” you blurt, slumping further in your seat.

he only giggles calmly, “i was hoping to ask you first.”

// HUENING KAI !

when you and kai finally got a day alone together, what better way to spend it than bringing anime’s all night, pressed up into each other’s warmth while bonding over hatred for a certain character and terrible predictions of the plot?

after many position changes, kai secured a spot for his head right in your lap, focused thoroughly on the screen that showed mikasa spinning in the air, slashing a titan’s head off brutally.

meanwhile, your eyes were nearly burning off your skull, so you decided to give yourself a break from the blinding tv screen to scroll through your messages with your brightness at almost the very bottom, another hand finding purchase in your boyfriend’s soft curls.

then, one text from your friend catches your eye. with the caption ‘try this on hyuka’, she seems to have sent you a video of a girl asking her boyfriend to marry her, resulting in the guy becoming all flirty and flustering her.

you glance down at the boy in your lap just as he starts blabbering. “y/n, i was thinking for halloween this year you could be mikasa and i’ll be eren, mostly ‘cause you’d look really hot in their uniform but also—“

“kai,” you interrupt.

he shifts in your lap to meet your eyes with slight worry. “yeah?”

“wanna marry me?” suddenly, your boyfriend bursts into a ear piercing laughter, body shaking and making you flinch in surprise. “yah, why are you laughing?” you complain through giggles, “knowing you, i thought you’d get all shy!”

kai laughs harder, “yeah maybe i would’ve if you said it properly! have you ever heard anyone say ‘wanna marry me’ in your life?”

you groan in defeat, throwing your head back. “you’re so lame, you ruined my epic prank, asshole.”

his dolphin like laugh barely softens as he leans up to peck your lips, hoping to cheer you up. “just leave the pranks to me, hm?” when you turn your head away right as he tries to kiss you, a dramatic gasp leaves his lips.

you pout, “say you’ll marry me first.”

kai snickers more at your childishness, curling his arms around your waist with attack on titan completely forgotten in the background. “m’kay, i’ll marry you, baby.”

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[facelesssbirds]

A Rainy Affair

Rated: Teen and up

Characters: Neuvillette, Fem!Reader

A/N: So sorry if this is formatted strangely or not well written, this is actually copied over from a YT pov playlist, and I'm quite new to writing ff as well as Tumblr :)

(divider art is not mine)

Rain poured down; wetting the cement and only adding fuel to the raging sea. You calmly sipped your drink, your chair creaking softly on the wooden porch. The pitch black sky and endless rain managed to both heighten your nerves and calm them, the soft pitter-patter of the rain mixing with the howls of the night creating a strange sensation of feelings you adored. The lights of the Court in the distance were the only thing visible in the smog covered air. 

You took another swig, wondering how you had gotten here, a man hanging around your shoulder, drawing kisses to your neck, as you watched it rain. You wrapped you arms around him, embracing him. *Him* always him.

You had never lived in the confines of the city, living in a small, hidden village. It was peaceful, quiet and disdained. You rarely got visitors, mostly painters from the Court; they viewed your village with a taste of disdain that you found ironic. Now, of course, you were the only one left in this village-- the others had gradually died or left, taken to the seas, or gone to the akademiya. Nobody but you had stayed, and for good reason. The flooding had already taken the underground, had drowned thousands of people, and 19 of your measly village of 35. It had scarred everyone. You, yes-- you were the sole keeper of this place, for you were the only one who could do it. No one else in your village could breathe underwater-- or liked to explore the glassy horrors of the dark oceans in the middle of the night, which had gotten you your curse. 

A Blessing? Perhaps at first. You had been diving farther than you had been told to, only twenty and so full of curiosity, eager to get out of your little nowhere town and experience the real world. The oil rig stitching far into the submerged hole as you followed it curious. It had been your own fault, he had been beautiful. You had been underwater for-- god you remember it so clearly-- you remember the sensations.

The lack of air as your helmet was knocked off and your oxygen tank broke, scattering bubbles in every which way, your eyes squeezing shut as salty water rushed into them stinging. It felt liberating. Terrifying. You remember trying to hold in your air, eyes finally opening to look through the water for light. You saw only a glimpse of harsh, unrelenting light and panicked, stumbling through the water for it, finally, as it came into view you noticed rock. You saw the metal of your helmet, the diving light attached to it glowing like a death sentence as something swam through your peripheral vision.

Something scaly-- and much longer than a normal fish tail snaked past you brushing your arm. You screamed the last of your oxygen rushed out of your lungs, replaced with water in the blink of an eye. 

Then you remember him. His piercing icy eyes as he looked at you-- a flash of pity swimming through them as he watches you drown. You remember the hysterical laugh that swam through your throat as he watched, you clawed at your throat, at the water, struggling to swim as black spots hit your vision, but your eyes? They remained fixed on him, his white hair splayed around him ethereally. He had blue streaks in his hair too, they didn't look real, smooth and soft to the touch. You remember his hand grabbing your arm, his nails sharpened like claws digging into your arm drawing blood you knew would attract sharks. 

You remember blacking out as he dragged you towards the light. Then you remember being waking up on the coast, half dead, blood coating your arms, legs, basically everywhere-- the pain in your neck which revealed a strange puncture wound. You remember not thinking as you dragged yourself home, your mothers horror when she spotted you, in the middle of the night, the torch in her hand dropping as she called your name. You remember her telling you search parties had been looking everywhere for days. Then, of course, nothing.

It was only half a year later that you realized what had happened to you. You had written of your mystery man as she weird dream you had had or a hallucination, and you hadn't been aloud near the water. At all. It was only when you woke up to a flooded house filled with drowned bodies and a tail you knew wasn't there before that you realized what had happened. 

You had slept through it, the flood that wiped your family and half the village out. You had slept through it. Not by enough. Your parents were still in their rooms; scratches on the door alerted you to how they had tried to get out, probably screamed your name for help. They were the first body's you saw, but not the last. By the time you had swum to the surface you had seen plenty of bodies, loved ones, friends, family, the nice butcher who always gave you extra meat for your old cat before Pixie died. 

When you made it to the surface, it was even worse, you had been scared to break the surface, you appearance surely monstrous, so you had done it in solitude, then walking to the site of your village above ground. Greeted with familiar faces you had cried. 

The burial was hard. You couldn't get the bodies from under the waters, not for a while. The people left were fractured, broken, scared of being near anyone else form the incident. It was a scant month before you were the only one left.  It was before that that you realized how you were addicted to the feeling of being in the water. The ocean. 

You would spend days-- then weeks, then months in the water, exploring. It was much longer before you saw yourself in the water-- how different you were. It was when you had met him again.

He was the same, unchanged, his beautiful white hair still splaying around him like a crown and those eyes drugging you like ecstasy. You however were different. Your legs changed out for a tail-- one that was a deep sleepy blue, and while you didn't know this at the time, your neck held a swirl of markings, like waves and clouds flowing freely to curl around your collarbone and snake fully down your back. Inky black waves you had no idea about. He looked at you-- this time surprised, and perhaps a tinge protectively. 

You felt uncomfortably well acquainted with a man who you didn't know, staring at him, curious. You had never tried to speak underwater, but your mouth opened anyways, ready to say something. He silenced you quickly, his tail, which unlike yours, which was almost adorned with splaying fins and decorations you had given it, was almost draconic like a serpents tail, beautiful nonetheless, wrapping around yours, coiling tightly. Had you not been in the water, mildly confused, you'd have yelped in surprised.

He led you silently, swaying through the waters deftly, taking you somewhere you had never been, a large structure filled with marble, submerged and grandiose, filled with mirrors showing you how different you looked, inks swirls you had never put there coiling persuasively around your neck where you had been bitten just a few months ago.

Curiously, you traced them in a trance, he watched you do so with careful, almost hesitant eyes. Finally, he spoke, watching as you stood transfixed in the mirrors. 

"I am sorry." Was all *he* said, before he fled, disappearing quicker than you could turn to question him. 

You had looked, briefly for him, to no avail. Defeated you had returned to the room, the one filled with mirrors, standing there for half a day, just looking. 

When you came back, you weren't quite the sam person who left, more questions and less answers, as usual. It had been what had solidified your decision to stay in your little abandoned village. You were a freak who turned into a siren any time you got into large bodies of water. You were someone who should've died. Twice. You needed to stay. To live like a ghost. 

Your life was one of water, exploration and the silence that came with being the only one thousands of meters under the surface. It was one you liked. Until, of course, you found him again.

You were the first to speak this time, hesitant and unsure of what to say, "Hello." was all you could manage practically cringing at how terrible it had come out, the tinge of fear in your voice less concealed than you had hoped. 

He had stared back at you for a moment, almost surprised at your voice-- mumbling something incoherent as your tail wrapped around his in an act you couldn't control. A blush spread on you cheeks as you looked away, embarrassed. 

"You... aren't scared of me." He spoke the sentence unlike a question, with a tone of confidence, but a hint of confusion, his hands stayed focused on what they had been doing before, fixing an otters fur in an almost affectionate gesture. 

"No." Was your first thought, before you quickly followed up with a question, "Why would I be?" 

He looked up, his movement pausing for a second, the otter quickly scurried out of his hands and into yours, instantly you mimicked his prior movements, focused on the man before you. 

"I bit you." Then he followed up with a more bitter tone, "I'm a monster with no ethics." 

You laughed, a full blown laugh that devolved into hysterical giggles, "A monster? You? No, no, you're far too pretty."

That had been the start of something, a something that had left you coming back to your little cabin with wobbly legs and hickeys were your tattoos had been. You gained the knowledge of the fact you could switch between your legs and tail in the water, and a thought that perhaps one night stands weren't so bad. 

Except it wasn't. 

He would seek you out for conversation, and you'd come home with hickeys on your neck. The village you often ran to for groceries thought you were married, much to your embarrassment, and he hated to let them heal. You did too. 

And that was three years.

It had been a surprise when someone who had used to live in your village had dropped by, an almost bittersweet reminded of simpler times. He had two tickets to a popular court case and was looking for someone to go with. You loathed to be away from to sea for that long, but supposed that the sea was in the Court too. So, hesitantly you agreed, packing your bags for a trip, and paying the ferry fee with a kind of giddiness you hadn't felt in a long time.

You-- in all your twenty four years-- had only been to the court of Fontaine twice technically thrice, once when you were born, a tradition in the family to be born there. And twice when you had accompanied your father with his business in oil selling when you were much younger. It was magnificent place, though you had never been in the courthouse, you were sure it was equally gaudy.

Entering the city had been nostalgia filled, almost peaceful as you bantered with your friend, and book a hotel, two rooms, and then split up. He had to go meet up with his boyfriend, who would also be accompanying them, and you left to wander the city. Enjoying the cafes and pastries and little clocks. The machinery which perplexed you, and the water -- oh the water was everywhere, beautiful and enchanting, cleaner than the countrysides which was already crystal clear and pure. You adored it. 

Finally, the trial drew close, you had bought a new dress while out, hoping to look semi-presentable, it was long and a deep blue, an uncanny match to your siren tail. You had also bought white gloves, and a nice carry on, filled with money and makeup. 

Your friend, Dominique and his girlfriend had already gone ahead, leaving you to wandering the gauche halls filled with rich people alone. you had felt terribly out of place, feeling slightly in line when you grabbed a glass of bulleit, heading towards the balcony overlooking the courtroom. 

She was greeted with polite nods from people who didn't recognize, people who looked important, most straight up ignored her already conversing in small talk, sipping various wines.

The balcony itself overlooked a currently empty courtroom; sans a few court clerks running about, preparing. You weren't exactly sure what this case was about but it had seemed intriguing enough of an offer, considering the high turnout.  Sipping your drink, you quietly made your way to a more secluded corner near where the Chief Justice's chair was, giving you a worse view, but a better ear. Easier to listen than to see. You spotted your friend and his girlfriend sitting down, along with most of the other guests, signaling the start.

People started filing into the courtroom below you, straight backs and almost as though they were preforming-- putting on charming smiles and waving towards the crowds. The Chief Justice wouldn't be there for a few more minutes, considering, but it was still entertaining. A butler came back, taking your now empty glass and trading it for a sort of bubbly champagne, just as a speaker announced the arrival of the Chief Justice... Monsieur Neuvillette. 

Curious, you craned your neck, trying to get a look at the most famous man in Fontaine. You had always been a busybody, curiousity was your vice, and perhaps your death. 

Still, the sight that met you made glass shatter on grandiose marble with a soft crash; you knew him really-- the resemblance was uncanny, his eyes still had that same quality of unbreakableness and pain that you had become so accustomed to seeing in your bed. You had been hooking up with the Chief Justice for three years. God if that wasn't so impossible you would've cried. Still, you couldn't deny it, his hair, his eyes, they were the same, but what really solidified your sureness was the way he walked, unbridled confidence in himself, back straight, broad shoulders out in a proud display.

A butler came over, collecting the pieces of glass around your feet, blood coated your legs from cuts. Luckily, you hadn't made a scene about it, and everyone was caught up in the appearance of Monsieur Neuvillette-- the man you had called mon cheri more than once. Stifling your emotions, you looked up, your dress was cut-- and you needed to clean up the blood off your legs, but you instead let yourself be captured in eyes you had fallen into for three years, a man you didn't know, a man you knew to well. 

His gaze swept over the audience in one perfunctory glance, finally coming to rest on you. He didn't react outwardly, simply hesitating on you for a moment as you rushed out of the room, a blood trail behind you. 

You ran, and ran and ran, ignoring confused glances as you rushed out of the court building heading straight for the water. It was hardly a minute before you made it, crashing into the water you ignored the way the people whom had followed you gasped, trying to get you back-- which you ignored. Swimming farther into the depths you lets yourself go, relishing in the silence as you take a deep breath fighting panic. 

Little did you know, a certain Chief Justice would be trailing behind only three hours later, one of the quickest trials he had ever held.

Its not an exaggeration to say Neuvillette had been naive to assume you wouldn't find out, his little affair, the person he was so desperately in love with. He didn't want you to know, didn't want to have to watch you immediately change how you behaved, how you looked at him. He had wanted to have you because you loved him, not because he was an important figure. 

Still, when he saw you in that dress... archons, it wouldn't be a lie to say he had almost gone after you right there and then, trials be damned. He upheld morals to the highest degree, his job to the highest degree, or he had. Then you had come along. At first he had saved you because he couldn't let you die, nothing more, nothing less. Then... you found him, again and again-- then he had started to prefer you to his paperwork, leaving work at a reasonable time, all just to go see you. 

And now, you were gone. 

The rain was unrelenting, coming down with such ferocity that most businesses had closed down, water flooding the streets in some sort of terrible, unexpected flood.

He had followed the blood as far as he could, it trailed off near the outer banks of the city, near the ocean. The one place you had always preferred-- the one place he too had come to love, for the ocean meant seeing you always you. He hadn't even bothered to see if anyone was watching him, jumping straight into the water without a care, immediately searching for you. He searched the coral reef first, then headed towards the submerged ruins, your favorite spot to meet.

It was there he found you, hunched over in you human form, curled into such a small ball he would've missed you had he not been searching. Neuvillette was hesitant to approach, swimming at a slow pace. As much as he wanted to go, hug you-- cry into your shoulder and apologize-- say sugary sweet words both of you knew meant nothing in the end, he refrained. 

Slowly, he approached, speaking in a low, ashamed voice, he said your name. 

You responded in kind, looking up with puffy, bloodshot eyes and a raw voice, "Neuvillette." 

He cringed back slightly, but composed himself, "I... am sorry, cherie, truly." 

You laughed, hysterically, like you always did, so full of life and pain and everything, like an open book. You had always been so open with your emotions, with him. 

"I can't..." You trailed off looking away, flushed cheeks not from embarrassment but tears, "I can't make you tell me things like that. I can't be mad." 

Neuvillette's chest constricted, though his face-- his facade of calmness-- remained steady, "No, I should've disclosed such pertinent information before entering a relationship with you." 

You laughed again, "There you go, acting like a judge again-- archons, I should've known."

He stayed silent as you continued rambling.

"I-- I can't be mad about it, really. I know its not something you had to tell me, we weren't--" you swallowed hard, "We weren't dating. We didn't mean anything to each other. I should've known better than to get attached to a man I didn't even know the name of."

With that you went to swim away, heart beating hard in your chest as you tried to hold back tears. 

"Wait."

His hand shot out to grip your arm, pulling you into his chest.

"Im sorry. My name is- Neuvillette. I should've told you." 

You looked at him, hair splayed out across your face and puffy swollen eyes. You looked like a mess. He loved it, he loved when you looked perfect, when you looked messy. He loved you for everything you were. He didn't love seeing you in pain though, his chest constricted in a painful human way as he buried his face in the crook of your neck. Inhaling deeply into the tattoo-- the (ahem) marking he had given you years prior, it remained on you, tainting you with himself, with his marks. He loved it, sinfully so.

"It's all my fault, for being a coward-- for being selfish. I should've known." He murmurs his arms coming to encircle you, pulling you close.

You yelped, surprised, "No-- I shouldn't have expected more from you."

Neuvillette's arms tightened around you, "No, no, ma cherie, I love you, I was the coward for being to scared to tell you."

You stilled, eyes wide as you turned to look at him a pretty flush painting your cheeks. A hand came up to twirl with his hair on instinct, as you surveyed him, shocked, before you shook your head disbelievingly. 

"No-- there's no way. I'm-- Im not good enough for you anyways."

He sighed, personally he thought he wasn't good enough for you not vice versa, but nonetheless, you deserved love, his love. Nobody else's. His hands came to curl tightly around your waist, this time rubbing circles near your hips. He leaned in to whisper in your ear, soft and sweet.

"My Darling, I love you" He repeated it over and over in soft, silky whispers, as you buried your head into his chest. 

Finally, after god knows how many days, you said it back, little above a whisper, but firm and knowing as you pressed kisses to his cheek, "I love you too."