#forgot my fucking knee brace

[echoxshxrx]

.

[arcadian-vampire]

Shoutout to my joints that are so fucked up, I really need to talk to a doctor abt them, but they're so fucked up that I'm scared to <3 if my dainty lil nine-poud cat makes me shriek in pain when she briefly steps on my hip, how the Fuck am I gonna handle a doctor poking and prodding at it. I'll die.

[the-mewrderus-duck]

The consequences of going fully nocturnal have come back to punch me in the head again.

My fucking guts hurt

[enbyeddiediaz]

me:

my knee caps: 🌔 🌕

me: ahhh shit

[lesenbyan]

"You can't sit on the table" okay, fair, it's the bakery and cleanliness and all that. "You can't sit on the cart, either" "can I get a stool, then?" "You have to ask [Fresh Manager]."

1) can you ask for me???? You're supposed to represent me as my supervisor and see him more???? Esp since I have literally no way to see the floor from back in the bakery anymore and you do freight

2) it's a fucking stool. If i can't have a damned stool i'm finding out how and where to report this. If they refuse to tell the gov't whether or not I have accomodations, then I will make a huge fucking fuss over them

3) I am literally the only person in the whole bakery who never ever gets help from anyone else. It's only ever offered when I clearly have it all handled and then only by a 70+yo lady who had a stroke within the last 5-8yrs. And claiming discrimination won't work bc we're all fucking disabled (and my current supervisor is also black and very very few people ever believe me about discrimination i face from other PoC for being half white) and I don't think an ageism complaint would go anywhere either bc this is hellmart but it sure as fuck is discrimination and ageism and i'm tired of it.

[leilanihours]

"I like your hand in mine, but I think it would look even better if it was wrapped around my throat " - I forgot what number prompt it was lol but could you do this smut with Nika Mühl congratulations on 1K queen

# SHE'S GOT MY ATTENTION, SHE'S CONFIDENT

pairing: nika muhl x bartender!reader

word count: 812

warnings: smut (MDNI), head (reader receiving), mentions of self-pleasure (nika's)

prompt: "i like your hand in mine but i think it would look even better if it was wrapped around my throat"

⭑ from lani: first smut of the celly 😜 WATCH THIS TIKTOK FOR BETTER UNDERSTANDING OF THE SHOT TRICK

celly masterlist !

main masterlist !

"WRAP YOUR LIPS around the bottle, put your hands on my head, and then just follow my lead, okay, babe?" you explain to the brunette in front of you.

nika bites her lip and nods as her friends are hyping her up from their respective seats. she blushes at your use of the nickname, hoping that it goes unnoticed by you.

you smirk at the power you have over the girl, wanting to tease her a little bit more. you notice the amount of distance between you two, disapprovingly shaking your head, "c'mere, don't be shy."

nika's eyes slightly widen as you pull her closer to you by placing your hand on her hip. you're only inches apart now, you could practically feel her heart beating against your own.

"okay, i'm ready," she affirms. she towers over you due to her height, but it's obvious that she needs a little confidence boost. you're banking on this shot to do so.

you twist open the lid of the small bottle, placing the base of it in your mouth as you tilt your head back, waiting for nika to come up behind you.

she follows your previous instructions, placing her lips on the rim of the bottle and gently placing her cold hands on either side of your face.

you take this as a sign to go, so you swiftly place your own hands on her jawline and spin your head so that you could flip the bottle of liquor to deliver the shot. nika flips along with you, her head now being the one that's tilted back.

you remove your mouth from the bottle quickly as nika downs the shot, feeling the burning liquid flow down her throat.

you lick you lips at the sight, not even realizing that your hands had drifted down to her waist, bracing the girl in support.

once she's standing upright, you take one of your hands and grab hers, lifting it in the air as the room fills with cheers.

you're both laughing when the exchange is finished, hands still intertwined. but the second your eyes meet, the room stills.

there's nothing but pure lust and desire lingering between the two of you - it's almost painful. there was no denying that nika was gorgeously sexy, it was one of the main reasons you were so eager to perform the shot with her.

after being so close to each other, it was insanely hard to back away. it was like you two were drawn to each other with an unbeatable magnetic force.

you can't help yourself when you whisper in her ear, "look, i like your hand in mine, but i think i'd like it better if it was wrapped around my throat."

nika's demeanor changes entirely, the atmosphere (and probably the shot she just took) giving her a newfound confidence, "when does your shift end?"

"baby, i run this place, it ends whenever i want it to," you smirk.

she bites her lip as she quickly pulls you into one of the bathrooms, instantly shoving you against the door and smashing her lips onto yours.

you moan at the feeling as it goes straight to your pussy, dripping into your underwear. it doesn't help when the brunette actually listens to your words from earlier and slyly wraps her hand around the base of your neck.

she squeezes gently, pressing you tighter against the door. her knee somehow ended up between your legs, pushing up against your clit.

"fuck, i can feel you dripping on me already," she groans as she begins to kiss down your neck and cleavage.

"yeah? you wanna fuck me now or what?"

"i'm getting there, baby, no need for the attitude," she shakes her head, peering down at you before lowering to her knees.

she unbuttons the denim shorts you had on, slowly pulling them down as her nails and rings trail red marks on your skin.

she begins to place teasingly light kisses on your thighs, working her way closer to your clothed pussy. you whine at her pace, ready to complain before she has you stepping out of your soaked underwear.

"mmm, who got you this wet?" she mumbles, thumb teasing your clit.

"you, nika- fuck," you sigh once you feel her tongue run through your slit.

soon enough, she's rubbing tight circles around your bud and fucking into your hole with her experienced tongue.

you find yourself grinding against her face, chasing down your climax. you look down at the girl, only to find her toying with her nipples underneath her shirt with her free hand.

the sight pushes you further to the edge, and with a few more laps of her tongue, you're coming undone with your legs shaking.

"holy shit," you pant out of breath.

she laughs at your fucked-out state, "yeah, you're definitely coming home with me."

— leilani signing off ! 📁

[charnelhouse]

no but like what if ghost did fuck reader in front of the team. my head is so full with that thought.

A/N: Simon Ghost Riley x F!Reader. Voyeurism kind of. Vague smut.

It’s not out in the open. Not really. But every damn one of them knows what’s happening. 

Price is on watch while the rest of the team lies on the floor of a dirty, old living room. It’s a rundown shack in the middle of Colorado. The cold is severe, full of needles and glass, and Soap can see his breath. Gaz is pressed against him. Vargas is on his other side. 

Romantic. Two unshowered men nearly on top of him, but the heat is appreciated.

It’s quiet except for the wind screaming like something out of legend. Makes him think of banshees or spirits. Soap can hear voices in the violence of its texture. Branches snap against the windows and patchy roof. Howls of agony that may just be from the meat of his head. He's seen a lot of death this week.

“We can’t.”

It’s you, your voice high and thin before it's met by the low, rumbling rasp of Ghost responding with something Soap can't discern. The floor creaks, the shadows burning patterns across the popcorn ceiling. Cobwebs. The stench of rotten wood. 

What are they whisperin’ about?

Soap hears Ghost shift. He’s surprised at how the man maneuvers his colossal mass without the room buckling.

Simon somehow got dibs on being your source of warmth for the night. Soap had even asked first, a tease more than anything.

“Care to be my cuddle buddy, lass?”

You’d laughed before your eyes cut to Ghost who was leaning against the wall, bulging arms crossed over his chest. All black aside from the white stain of his mask. Looming like some stone effigy.

“Um,” you said. “Sure, Johnny-“

“You’re taking watch with me, Red,” Ghost had cut in, tone flat and dry enough to burn. You’d blinked at him, the corner of your mouth twitching. 

“Oh,” you said softly. “Forgot. My bad.”

Sure.

Soap jerks when he hears you whimper. It slices through the cold, the wind. He moves his head to look before Vargas knocks him in the thigh. Soap scowls.

“What the hell, mate?” he whispers.

“He’s fucking her,” Vargas states plainly. “Just warning you.”

Soap nearly chokes, a laugh punching at the back of his throat before he stifles it. “Come again?”

Vargas widens his eyes meaningfully. Soap can’t believe it and so he lifts himself to his elbows to peek across the room. He’s not exactly understated, mostly running on curiosity and bewilderment. 

Lieutenant wouldn’t -

Oh. Holy. Shit. 

Ghost is on top, one arm braced beside your face. Soap can barely see you due to Ghost’s giant body that’s pinning you to the floor. You’re revealed in flashes. Bare knees locked against Ghost’s waist, pant leg loose around an ankle. His trousers are hitched lower, but he still appears fully dressed. Your small hands clasp the back of Ghost’s head, before slipping down to dig your fingertips into the nape of his neck.

Ghost is fucking you slow and lazy. His ass rises before driving forward, lurching you slightly up the floor. One gloved hand is under the crown of your skull, pillowing it from the uncomfortable wood surface. Your heel slides down the back of his thigh. He thrusts a little more sharply and it forces a moan from your lips.

“Shhh,” Ghost murmurs in a voice that Soap has never heard him use. In fact, it sounds alien coming out of Simon Riley. It’s coaxing and tender. “Good girl,” he finishes before there’s the distinct noise of something wet. 

A hand grips his collar and wrenches him back down. It’s Gaz, expression chastising as he cocks an eyebrow. “If Ghost catches you watching them…”

“He’s gonna what?” Soap returns, jaw clenched because the sight, the sounds are doing something to him. “If Price walks in, the cunt’s gonna have his fuckin’ head for screwin’ her.”

Gaz squints, his teeth gleaming white in the dark before stifling a yawn. “They’ve been sleeping together for months. I thought you knew.”

The wind screeches outside.

Soap gapes and Gaz flicks his chin. “Close your mouth, man, before the flies get in.”

Soap rolls his eyes. “How’d you know?”

“Saw them going at it outside that bar in Rio.”

“Like kissing?”

“Like he was behind her and had her cheek shoved up against the alley wall.”

Jesus. He remembered that trip. You’d scraped the side of your face and you’d said you’d fallen. 

“They haven’t been subtle,” Vargas shrugs. “Remember when Ghost slaughtered half that room on Vlad Kuznetsov’s boat…”

“Yeah,” Soap replies. “But they’d shot her. He was just reacting.”

“He was supposed to keep them alive,” Vargas reminds him. “Death only if necessary.”

“So he deemed it necessary-“

“Because they hurt his girl.”

“I’m too tired for this,” Soap growls. “He should-“

There’s the startling noise of Ghost slamming his hand on the floor and shuddering. You giggle, and he bites off a curse before slapping some bare piece of you - probably your ass. Christ. 

Silence returns. The two lovers are breathing hard and deep. The floor creaks and fabric rasps. Simon is talking to you in a soothing baritone before he chuckles. It’s weird as fuck.

“Think she’s seen his face?” Gaz suddenly asks. The question hangs there between the three of them. When Soap hears Ghost laugh softly again, Soap thinks it’s more likely than not.

For the Follow-Up.

[thecameronchronicles]

Homecoming

TW: sex. Dirty talk. Sex without a condom. Oral sex. Penetrative sex.

SUMMARY: Home from jail, you show JJ just how much you've missed him...

Homecoming

"Princess..." Of all the times the nomenclature is on your behalf, this had been the kost meaningful. Not because it was after the first "I love you" or by some grand declaration. Specifically because he was home.

After two years in prison, JJ Maybank was home. And instead of coming to The Wreck to celebrate with Kie, or fishing with the boys, JJ came straight to you.

Your feet sprinted towards him as he braced to catch you. He buried his smile into your neck as you wrapped yourself around him arms, legs, hands, and heart. Your lips were a frenzy to all available skin until finally meeting his.

"Baby, maybe we should go inside?" He teased before carrying you across the threshold of your house. The door wasn't even closed before you tried to remove his shirt. It was easy to do with the arms already cut off and the sides mutilated until it barely covered him, exposing his skin a few shades more pale from his lack of sun.

"And here I was wanting to talk..." He taunts before being pushed onto the couch. His smirk falls once you straddle him, disposing of your own shirt and leaving your naked breasts no longer supported by your tube top.

"Talk?"

"Two very good points have just been brought to my attention..." He smirks before leading your breast into his hand and up to his mouth. Where you expected him to be hungry for the taste of you, he savors.

"J...please..."

"Sweetheart, I've had to wait a long ass time to get my hands on you, I'm taking my damn time." He kisses you tenderly, rolling your pebbled nipples between his teeth, until finally sucking on the sensitive peaks.

"Ohhhhh...." You drawl in a moan as his hands grip you hard enough to threaten to leave bruises.

"I want you to-" he begins to demand but you can tell by his tone it will be sweet. You want heated, rough, and immediate relief you've been waiting for as even his most dirty words in sultry letters do nothing but fall unsatisfactory compared to him. To make this clear, you're on your knees in front of him as his tender blue eyes widen.

"You don't have to..."

"Do you want me to?"

"I feel like I should say no and be all of morals here..."

"JJ...it's been so long..." You run your hands up his thighs onto the belt holding up his khakis against gravity. He swallows hard before adjusting his hips so you can expose him.

That thick cock you've dreamed of sliding between your legs is now the reason you're biting your bottom lip.

"Tell me, J..." You offer as the chivalry behind his eyes sheds to concentrated lust.

"Put me in your mouth, princess..." You wrap a delicate hand around his thick shaft, running your thumb across his head as he jerks.

"Fuck, I forgot how good you are at this. Maybe you should just get on top of me before I embarrass myself and come-" By the time his rant begins to meet your ears, he's against your tongue. His words melt away and is replaced in groans as his fingers grip at the fabric of the well-used couch.

"Y/N-" He warns as you commit to him as your entire body takes part in the oral sex. Your cheeks hollow and your hands twist around him, both needed for his size, as your chest heaves as you take him.

Despite the way your knees begin to ache along with your jaw, neither falter as you take him deeper and deeper. Tears fall and spit dribbles from the corners of your mouth as you breathe through your nose and endure him.

"Jesus Christ!" He gasps, his ringed fingers tangling in your hair as he works to slow you as his hips fight him to thrust.

"I'm not coming in your mouth, sweetheart. I've been dreaming of your sweet pussy too many nights-"

"Then stop me..." You speak once giving yourself mercy for breath. He takes you up under your arms before you can convince him to let you finish, you are straddling him.

It lasts only a second before you're taken over the arm of the couch. He pulls your shorts down and swears, his fingers snapping the fabric of your panties.

"Shiiiiiit...." He moans before breathing them in.

"JJ!"

"You're so sweet baby...I've fucking missed this." He leaves a playful bite agaisnt your round ass, making you moan to the primal necessity that was your boyfriend.

He slaps the place he marked before you hear him dispose of his pants until they hit the floor. He levels behind you.

"Slow or fast princess?" He asks while gently pulling your hair back over one shoulder and to the other so he can kiss the newly exposed skin.

"Fuck me JJ."

"Then hold on baby, I'm taking what I've been missing." He spits on his cock and spreads your ass to moan at his destination.

"You're so wet...I can imagine how badly you've needed me and I wasn't here....but you were good and sent me all those panties didn't you? You know just what I need princess, so beg for it."

"Please JJ...please fuck me..." You grip the arm of the couch as he pulls your hips closer to him. His warm cock up between your thighs.

"I hope you got a lot of sleep, princess, because you won't after tonight." You gasp at the width of him pushing into you. No matter the preparation, foreplay, or tenderness, it still takes you time to adjust to him. Not only in width but the intimacy behind it. His touch is careful and his words, although dirty, are always with your comfort in mind. But the snap of his hips as he buries himself inside proves ad a reminder of his need for you.

"Oh God!" His head falls back as his toned chest tenses to the feel of him bottoming out inside. He squeezes the flesh of your ass as he watches himself disappear between your thighs, just as he's dreamed since his arrest.

"JJ!"

"That's it, princess, scream my name just like that, beautiful girl. Come on, I know you can be louder than that-" He takes hold of the curve of the couch nearby your head and pounds against you. His depth and speed are precise for your pleasure as he was devoted to learn.

"That's it. That's my fucking girl...ohhh yeah..." The sound of skin-to-skin is raw and passionate, dominant orders interrupt the erotica of it until he begins groaning into your shoulder. With a pull of your hair, you're up against his chest.

"You're gonna come with me." He manages to explain through his slow thrusts. "I'm gonna count...oh fuck..." He is moaning, struggling to compose himself, let alone you. One of his hands plays with your breast as the other lowers to your clit.

"Fuck, you're clenching already, baby. Ahh, I haven't even started counting yet!" He chuckles.

"Better start then." He kisses you quiet before beginning.

"Ten-"

"Ten?"

"You're right...three..." You smirk as the brutality of his focus worsens. You'll be sore and bruised and yet you crave to feel him unleash inside.

"Two...."

"One!"You both cry out together.

His body trembles as he coats between your thighs, twitching within as he spurts until you're full. As you bask in the fulfillment, he withdraws and immediately you ridicule him.

"Stay inside..." You moan.

"I'm taking you in the shower. Then taking you to bed. Our bed. I told you, you aren't getting any sleep, I meant it." He kisses you sweetly before carrying you as he promised.

Once beneath the water, his hands are eager to be a part of you but not necessarily lustful. He's caring, using your favorite body wash to create a lather and generously applying it until you're not much more than suds and awe of him.

"Promise me you won't leave me again, JJ..."

"I promise, princess." He kisses your forehead and pulls you against him and as much as you want to believe his words, you can't help feel in the deepest roots of your intuition that he'll get in trouble again. Still, you'll love and wait for him.

Just like you've done the last three times...

MASTERLIST

[tojjist]

“At Least” S. Gojo

☆ genre: angst to fluff (kinda)

☆ pairings: Gojo Satoru x f! reader

☆ summary: After Geto left, nothing has been the same. Especially not your relationship with Gojo Satoru. Once you decide to move to Kyoto for good, Gojo is less than pleased. But fate does not seem to want to let you go.

☆ cw: mentions of sex, depressed gojo, not spoiler free, hopping between timelines but like i added non-canon events, smoking, drinking, getting drunk, high school Gojo being a high school boy, cussing, mentions of drunk sex but it doesn’t happen, mentions character death (from the anime), gojo satoru (yes that's a trigger warning).

☆ wc : 5.6k

☆ a/n: this has been in the doing for so long? I've been waiting to have the chance to upload it for maybe a year now smh. Also was originally written for an irl of mine lmao

“Oh my god,” you emphasize each word, pushing the wooden chair away with your knee. “Satoru, is it yours?”

His black pupils, lined with iris the color of morning skies, study your figure from behind the shaded glasses, pink lips quirking slightly upwards in approval of your attention.

“Nah, it's only staying with me for a week,” he stated, watching nervously as you strode over to him. “His owner is away for some business.”

Your attention remained fixed on the pet in Satoru's long, long arms. Your face lit up when a bark escaped the infant animal. “Can I hold it?”

Satoru watched over you carefully, pleading eyes coming in line with his blues. You make it hard to say anything other than an immediate yes, but he tries to stretch out the conversation to his best ability.

“It's 400 yen for 10 minutes,” he muttered, sarcasm dripping from his words. He earned a look of amusement from you; a small victory. He then braced himself for the next part. Satoru bent down, meeting you eye-to-eye, and noticed your breath catching in anticipation. “Or... you can shorten your skirt.”

Your face took no time to grow hot, not giving any verbal answer besides the blank expression you stare at him with. For a second, Gojo let himself think he's the victor of this little challenge he started in his head. But he soon came to realize how grave of a mistake he's made.

You're not flustered, you're angry.

“You're such a fucking pervert,” you fume, eyes glaring daggers. He dares not move, noticing the way your eyes flutter over his face.

“You're truly unbelievable,” the shorter male chuckled, making sure he didn't bump into Satoru's now-bruised arm. “What were you even thinking?”

“I thought it was funny, y'know?” He huffed in response. Gojo's fingers ran through his own bright locks as he took a seat on the wood hung up by metal chains. "Besides, has she always been this strong? Physically, I mean."

Geto stared into the reddish sky of dusk, placing himself into a swing in turn and kicking the air so the swing would start moving. "I don't know. Girls are really full of surprises.”

He never thought, not in a million years, things would come to this. Ever since Gojo's last encounter with Geto after he, well, changed... Gojo became unable to face anyone quite the same way he did before.

How did he get here? How did things escalate to this? Thinking about it, Geto had shown signs of a change in his heart and mind. It was Satoru's fault, was it not? He should have done better. He should have noticed. How could he not have? wasn't he the strongest? Wasn't that his job? How could he be so bad at everything?

How could he fail everyone like this?

“Gojo-San?”

Your feminine voice cut his train of thought. He almost forgot the situation he is now stuck in. He's been doing that a lot: losing himself in thought, mind almost immune to the outer world until he temporarily lost his sense of self. Nothing felt quite the same any more. It was like the world had lost its color.

“Sorry- What's up?” He turned to you. Gojo-san, you called him. When did you stop using his given name? What's with the '-san'? Gojo hadn't realized that losing one person was the first step, and now he found himself deep in the road of losing everyone.

And now he's stuck in the elevator with the girl he had liked for so long. He couldn't find it in himself to say anything to you, to push your buttons like he always did or joke around. When did the world become so heavy? He does not know.

“Are you okay? You seemed off.”

Your face is devoid of any genuine emotion, seemingly expressionless. But your voice is laced with concern. Gojo could only guess you didn't want him thinking you pity him or anything of such. But if that isn't the case, he wouldn't know. He's too tired to bother thinking about it.

“Yeah, yeah. I'm fine,” he smiled in assurance, “Just bothered by, well, this-” he threw his hand in the way of the control panel. The elevator doors have been stuck for almost twenty minutes now. How pleasant.

“uh huh,” you sigh, turning back around. How did you turn so cold?

When the silence stretches, you start a conversation, hesitant at first. “By the way, I got accepted as a helper in a nursery in Kyoto,” you mutter, gaze avoiding his own. “they're expecting me to start work right after spring break.”

Spring break?

Holy shit. It hit him like a truck. That’s barely a week and a half from now.

“Spring break? Why so soon?”

“That’s when the students file back in,” you mumble, fiddling with the watch placed around your wrist. You pause to read the time, then turn to meet his eyes. “I’m leaving in four days to get settled.”

“Oh…” His breath caught, “Train?”

What a stupid question. He knows. Satoru has never been unintelligent, especially in conversing. But now his unintelligence shines through as if it’s his only trait. He’s glad you don’t question it.

“Yeah, I have no other form of transport really.”

“Well, uh…” He hates himself. He hates himself for not doing anything. He hates himself for being so weak and  cowardly, for being unable to keep his friends around him, for shutting everyone he holds close out. But now, he especially hates himself for being unable to feel happy for you, or to congratulate you on the opportunity, “come visit us every once in a while, yeah?”

Your mouth remains shut, only staring at the tall man before your eyes. The silence stretches between the two of you once again, and you don’t find it in you to speak of how you feel.

“You.. you know you could have died, right? We all could have b-but you…” You trail off, thoughts splattered like a spilled pot of ink. Although you seemed unfazed, in your mind you were anything but. Haibara, Riko, and all the losses that trailed and every event that followed has been stressful and nerve-wrecking. And even in the quietness and silence of the general atmosphere, it has been nearly impossible to find peace within yourself.

“Well, I didn’t. What happened had passed. Can you change that? I doubt so. No point in ‘if’ and ‘could’ve’.”

Before you could respond,the lights flickered back on. You grow unsure if you’ve struck a nerve, but that wasn’t what you meant. Gojo’s response had nothing to do with what you said, you were sure he knew exactly what your words were meant for. Why is he so scared of confronting it?

You don’t know. You could never hope to know because you and Gojo Satoru live in different worlds, the man who was only Satoru some time ago. You were worlds apart, yet  Satoru loved to play pretend that he lived in the same world as you, even when he stuck out like a sore thumb. But he was no longer. Ever since Geto left… it’s safe to say everyone has been changing slowly, deforming from their previous lives and personalities. But Satoru flipped, like the head and tail of a coin, he got himself a new face. He turned into Gojo Satoru; the strongest. A soul unalive. A broken boy in an ever growing body. A stranger.

Two days later you find yourself still roaming the campus , searching so desperately for something. Anything. A reason to stay, perhaps? You don’t find it anyway. You have no attachment as this place holds nothing but misery. Or that’s what you told yourself over and over as you packed your things.

Your steps were graceful, walking so cautiously as if careful to not wake someone up. Your fingers find rest on the old, dusty door frame, pushing yourself into the room that hadn’t been used for a good month or so. The classroom looked the same as it always did. Except for the shadow that loomed over it; a gray shade that sent chills down your spine. Or maybe it’s just your imagination. 

Then you spot something rather out of place. You’re sure you’ve never seen it before and although you know it’s none of your business, the way it tugs at the strings of your curiosity is undeniable.

It’s red, poking out of what you’re sure is Gojo’s desk. The gloomy classroom was no fit for paper with a color so vibrant. 

Your heart skips a beat when you glimpse the seat next to Satoru’s. You do your best to avoid looking at Geto’s desk any further. You busy yourself with the task at hand, reaching out for the mysterious paper hidden in the wooden desk. Shivers run up your arm at the texture of the scrunched paper.

You attempt to straighten it to your best ability, strained by his hard work of crumbling it with obvious frustration. you can barely make out the letters of your name in the middle of the paper, outlined by a messy circle. How Gojo of him. A few lines stick out of the ‘circle’, one of them has the name of a steakhouse somewhere in Tokyo. Another has a date, reading somewhere along February. It’s near impossible to make out what the small combination of letters say, especially when Satoru’s handwriting is closer to symbols than a comprehensible language.

The thought of it was so funny it didn’t feel like him at all. Satoru never planned anything. Every breath he took was based on pure impulse. Never would it have occurred to you that he thinks through things, let alone brainstorm.

The thought makes you smile. But the realization that he never asked you out because he changed his mind or everything that happened getting in his way makes your stomach churn unpleasantly. 

You decide it’s probably for the best to never bring it up. It would only make matters worse for both of you. Life ran its course; who are you to try and change it?

“I apologize, but my answer remains. I refuse to take part in this,” you spoke in an even tone. “I have a job and a life away from jujutsu. I’ve made it clear sorcery is not a part of my life anymore.”

"That’s completely understandable,” the old man argued, his voice hoarse with age. You’re pretty sure you hear anger further straining his voice, “but your technique is quite strong. That strength could be of great assistance if put to use.”

“Thank you, sir,” you dip your head, maintaining eye contact with the decaying man. “But I truly apologize. The decision is final.”

“If you ever do change your mind, please let us know. We’d be more than happy to hear it.”

You almost let a sigh of relief escape. Finally he gave up. You end up only nodding your head in response gratefully, retreating from the old man. As soon as you're safe and out of sight, you let your posture drop, eyes rolling back in annoyance. These guys are truly as relentless as ever.

You stopped upon a familiar scent catching in your nostrils. Lifting your head up, your eyes roam around, scanning the room for your friend.

“You look troubled,” Shoko approaches you, taking the cigarette out from between her teeth. “What’s with the face?”

“How is that man even alive,” you look at her, “he’s ancient.”

Your comment earns a light chuckle from the brunette. “I’m glad I never have to get caught up in this bullshit.”

“Blissed aren’t you,” you roll your eyes as you speak. “I shouldn’t have come in the first place, I knew they were going to do this.”

“It’s alright, you’re all done now. Here-” Your friend then lifts the cigarette up, putting it near your mouth. When you don’t show any resistance she, being the bad influence she has always been, proceeds to place it between your lips. You waste no time, making quick work of the drag you inhale, bringing the familiar cloud of toxic chemicals and tobacco into your lungs. Your expression relaxes, shifting into one of relief. Shoko scoffs playfully, muttering that you’re dramatic under her breath before she pulls her cigarette from you, taking in a drag.

“Satoru’s here, by the way,” Shoko didn’t need to look at you to guess the way your eyes snap towards her. She bites back a smile. “He’s calmed down. He’d even seem the same as long as you don’t squint too hard.”

“Good for him,” you mutter, trying to seem as unbothered and nonchalant as your accelerating heart rate would allow. You avoid looking at Shoko, trying to seem disinterested. You know she’d pretend you weren’t gawking at her the second she said his name.

“He’s trying, you know. He’s just as nervous as you are.”

“‘M not nervous,” you scoff, “For god’s sake. It’s been ten years already.”

Satoru is stressed. He's nervous, as Shoko put it. He’d spent so long trying to ignore the past, pretend the past wasn’t at all. He couldn’t confront it. He didn’t want to. Satoru knows what he’s done, he's aware that he hurt you the last time you two had interacted. And that was ten years ago. He even let you leave without so much as a goodbye. How could he look you in the eye and pretend nothing has ever happened?

Gojo didn’t want to face the consequences of what he’s done. More so what he hasn’t. So many things were left unsaid in the elevator that day. They’ve been hanging over Satoru ever since, weighing his heart down and wearing it out.

What if he’s met by another woman? Ten years change a lot as is. What if the eyes that meet his aren’t yours? What if he finds himself talking to a stranger that carries around your name and features? Of all the horrors Gojo Satoru had faced in his life, nothing caused dread to pool in the pit of his stomach like this thought does.

Shoko seems to find something beyond you interesting. You don’t bother to turn to see as the brunette has always been a little in her own head. She’s probably just dozed off.

“Hey, think you can hold this for me?” Shoko muttered once Gojo crossed her sight. She stands facing you, averting his gaze. “I’ll be right back, nature’s calling.”

From his distance, Gojo couldn’t make out what the two of you were saying. He watched as your shoulders shook, presumably in laughter. Shoko then made her away from you, barely sparing Satoru a glance.

Every step he took felt heavy, weights landing on his shoulders as he moved towards you. He watched smoke emerge from over your head. He didn’t know you smoked. And even though he’s not completely sure what you do for a living now, he’s not expecting any nursery to accept a smoker in their team.

His long strides finally arrived, opting to remain a step behind you. Close enough to make his presence known.

The aura was unmistakable, almost as if it could be physically sensed. You freeze in place, the cigarette remaining a few inches from your lips. Even after he changed his perfume to one a lot more manly and appealing, and clearly grew taller judging by the shadow he cast over you, his presence still had the same strength as it did before. If not stronger. Anyone else would say it’s intimidating. But you find surprising comfort in it.

“That’s going to kill you,” his hand  reached from over your head, making sure to not cause any unnecessary physical contact. His fingers slip the burning cigarette  from your grip. You find yourself unable to make a single move in response, only watching his actions unfold.

He took a step, moving closer, dimming the light from the roll by rubbing it against the metal bars, then throwing it off the balcony. “You’re too young to kill yourself like that.”

“That bitch Shoko set me up,” You hiss, regaining your composure. “Will you look who showed up. You’re killing the ecosystem by throwing waste like this, Gojo.”

Although you haven’t glanced his way yet, You were every bit sure his mouth was quirked in the same smug smirk he wore so much when you were younger. You could even hear it in his voice as he spoke, “You haven’t grown at all, have you?”

“Oh shut it,” you chuckle. “You’re still as immature as ever. How you could be a manchild at 27 is a wonder to me.”

27… It felt so weird to say it out loud. Weren’t you just 17 a few days ago?

“Oh, how you hurt me,” he says in exaggeration, his voice conveying anything but the hurt he claims to feel. “That isn’t very nice of you.”

“That’s rich coming from you,” You say. He laughs a little, you do too. But the silence that follows is not that of a joke. He knew what you’re referring to. Maybe he underestimated your last encounter’s effect on you.

The silence speaks for itself. It’s louder than any conversation you’ve had before. What now? What have we become? Is it of any use to try anymore? Neither of you had an answer to the question that began to surface with this interaction.

The questions remain hung in the air, dimming the atmosphere around you. Was this fate’s doing? Or his karma? Gojo has always been told he’s a god, but how could he be a higher form of life when he struggled so much to hold a conversation?

He’s about to speak again when you cut him off, muttering “here-” as you push your hand down the coat you wore. Your tongue pokes at the inside of your cheek as you search for the anonymous object.

You pull out a worn out paper, grown from what could have been a bright red to an orangish shade. His eyes study as you shove the paper in his  direction, eyes avoiding his gaze at all costs.

Seeing your bashful expression made him rather curious, the contents of the wrinkled paper piquing his interest. He hesitates before he pulls the paper from your hand, half-expecting you to bite him.

The letters were scribbles, almost like they’re straight out of some cult’s ritual,  that with the wrinkles of the worn out paper making reading it next to impossible. Still, he could make out just enough to realize what this paper is. His eyes widened behind the blindfold. It didn’t take much to remember this paper, trivial as it may be.

“You found this- how did you even…?” he trails off, confused.

“I guess I did,” You confirm. He’s unsure if you’re proud of yourself for your rather… interesting discovery. It’s bold of you to pull this out ten whole years later. But he can’t deny the relief he feels that at least this means you don’t completely hate him. For once, he’s truly at loss for words. 

But he wouldn’t let a perfect opportunity like this slide.

“Oh, so you’re in love with me? You’re so obsessed with me that you kept this for so many years, what a loyal fangirl.”

Before he knew it, a weight so crushing landed on his foot. He turned off his infinity around you as a sign of trust. But he soon came to regret his rather unsmart decision. Your foot stomped and crushed his toes. It makes him groan in pain, bending slightly forward.

“Tomorrow, at Narisawa in Minato city, 5:30. I’m leaving for Kyoto in 3 days. Don’t waste your chance again, Gojo Satoru. You’re not getting another one.”

“I take it you’ve been in love with me ever since?” He leans forward, elbows on the table. “Say, did you fascinate about me?”

“Hmm..” you hum softly at his childish question, “only a little.” You show no signs of interest in his tactics as you sipped the wine in your hand. Undeniably, Gojo is taken aback by your lack of reaction. He hasn’t known you to be so reserved and smart at keeping him on edge. He couldn’t help finding your new behavior enticing.

Is there anything else you’d like to have?” You nodded your head towards the plates sitting on the table, some empty and some half-full. “Or do you wanna do something else before I go back to the hotel?”

“Hmm? Maybe I could join you at the hotel, actually. Surely it’ll be a lot less lonely with me around?”

You’re tempted by his offer, feeling the heat pooling in your stomach. He looked strikingly handsome today. Maybe you were just really lonely and touch starved, or maybe it’s the way his lips quirk as he teases you that makes your brain a little hazy, inappropriate thoughts floating through it and send jolts to your core. Yet, you set your mind on refusing his advances. You haven’t had a decent conversation since high school, for god's sake.

He keeps his eyes set on you, shining before him. You looked glamorous. He’d lie if he said there wasn’t a certain allure to  your matured looks. The years that flew by changed a lot of things about you two, but his breath still catches in his throat when your eyes meet his dreamy blues. The feelings rush back, memories clouding his train of thought. 

He’s sure he’s going to pay. He didn’t mind it at all, what a small price for getting to spend an evening with you. But you surprise him when you bring up that you had already put your card down, courtesy of having been the one to ask him out. Or maybe this was your way of telling him that you are in pretty good condition, living perfectly well without needing sorcery.

“How’s working as a jujutsu teacher?” you quip, smiling softly. “Utahime says you’ve got some interesting kids in your pack? Two special grades, too. You’re sure a favorite attraction for wonders.”

“You’re still in contact with her too?” he dodges talking about his students, not meeting your gaze. “That’s ironic. Weren’t we friends too?”

A hoarse chuckle emerges from him. But nothing about it leads back to amusement, as it was a joyless sound devoid of life. Almost as if he were mocking you. The dark lenses of the shades sitting on the bridge of his nose served as a shield. He curses himself for being so weak. He's almost thirty but somehow you’ve got him acting like he did when he was 17. 

“You didn’t try to contact me either,” you shrug, not willing to take the blame for your lack of contact. 

“You could have visited then. Even Yaga talked about you every once in a while,” he isn’t too happy and it’s showing.

“All good things, I hope-“

“Don’t change the subject,” he frowns, an uneasy edge outlining his words. “He was enough. You didn’t have to go ahead and leave too.”

“I had to move on, Gojo,” the name felt like a jab every time you used it. He couldn’t bring himself to say anything about it. This is how you drew your boundaries. Calling them by their last names gives you a false sense of satisfaction, convincing yourself that your sorcerer friends are past figures now. Mere acquaintances. 

“-I couldn’t remain hung there forever, I valued my mental health. You grew distant, the atmosphere was growing uneasy every day. I had to cut ties with Jujutsu before I couldn’t recognize myself anymore.”

“Yet you’re here now. Back to square one,” his playful tone was long gone, now replaced by an even, stern one. “Whether you moved away or called us by our last names. It’s a curse you can’t escape. you’ll always end up back in the palms or jujutsu.”

His words held some truth. You know that. But just as he refused to confront this past, you repulsed the idea of your reality. You truly want to believe that you could escape this part of yourself and live a normal life. You couldn’t come to terms with your inability. You held onto your hopes as if your sanity completely depended on it. Another thing that won’t change no matter how much you grew.

“I'll be okay as long as I refuse to interact with this world.”

Once you leave the restaurant, you find yourself wandering through the rich streets of Minato city. It felt as though the night was pulling you further into its welcoming embrace, with nothing rushing you.

“He was only thirteen,” you chuckle, arm linked in his. “It’s unbelievable how bold kids nowadays are.”

“I would’ve done the same thing, honestly,” he smirks, his gaze fixed on the stores around.

“Of course. You’ve got the brains of a thirteen year old.”

Satoru grins at your remark, pulling you into a clothes store. 

“What’s this?” you look around in confusion, noting a woman in a suit welcoming you. The place looked a little too fancy, judging by the display of the items and the lighting of the place.

“It’s a western brand,” Satoru answers. Looking over at him, you can’t help but smile a little. He looks good tonight. His fancy outfit gave the impression that he’s a model to strangers. “Louis Vuitton, I think,” He furrows his brows, trying to remember the name of the brand stores he’s been to with Nobara and Shoko.

“Prada, sir,” The lady in a suit corrected him. “Can I help you?”

“We’re just browsing, thank you.” It’s a phrase he heard from Kugisaki countless times whenever they wandered into a store. His response makes you chuckle, watching as the lady takes a few steps backwards politely.

You’re soon comfortable, searching through the expensive coats and bags. Satoru watched tenderly. Even though the ten years that passed with no contact whatsoever definitely propose a wall between you, he's glad you're able to feel free. You might nit on the same page, but you two can work with what you have.

You stride back to the “S” shaped velvet couch sat in the middle of the checker-carpet store, where Satoru sat. But he was nowhere to be seen.

You walk around in hesitance and confusion, completely aware of the lady walking always a few feet behind you. Surveillance, you guess.

You find him standing in front of the white counter, taking a black bag with the brand’s name printed onto it in golden letters from the man standing behind the counter in a white shirt with the brand's logo on it.

“Gojo,” you call him, confusion fused into your expression.

He extends his arm to you, trying to suppress any sourness at you calling him Gojo. “Let’s go?”

You nod, eyeing him suspiciously before you link your arm in his. You make sure to flash a grateful smile at the woman by the door as you walk past the reflective glass door.

You almost forgot how busy the world outside is. It felt as though the glass building of the store was sound proof. Now you have to adjust to the noise of the full streets again.

Satoru remains silent for the most part. It’s not awkward, rather just neither of you knew what to say. He expected you to ask about what he bought, which you have considered. You decide against it though as you feel it’s none of your business. You’re not too surprised anyway as Gojo has always been a wealthy man. He could buy the entire Prada chain with half of his monthly spending.

“What do you wanna do now?” He asks. “Wanna go somewhere else?”

You think about going to the club to give the night the best closure. But neither of you were dressed for it anyway. You contemplate your choices. Then you grin at him, and Satoru knows it’s best to fear what comes after

You’re well aware that he has a high alcohol tolerance. While you would be wasted a few shots in. Yet you consumed so many drinks recklessly, thinking that maybe you could beat him in a drinking game.

That’s why he’s stuck to your side now, helping your sleeping body out of his car. Satoru is glad your hotel card was so easy to find in your purse, taking it out as he gets into the lobby.

A few people eye the man, glaring at him and at the way he held you in his arms. But he couldn’t bring himself to think too much about it. His mission is to get you to bed now.

“Satoruuu~” You whine, rubbing your face into the pillow once he sat you on the white bedding. “Stay with meeee”

And Satoru is nothing if not human. Despite what everyone else says. It’s proven now that he had come to face a human flaw like this. He is weak, and you are all but practically seducing him.

“Stop crying,” He mutters. He finds himself smiling sheepishly at the unlikely scenario he found himself in. Tucking you in bed, your face hot due to the drinks you had. He really should have stopped you. “I’ll stay the night, so sleep already.”

He convinced himself it’s for the best. He should watch over you for tonight. No funny business. Deep inside he knew he was just finding a reason— any reason to stay around you for a little longer, heart yearning for the lost years. But he ignored the pathetic feeling, convincing himself it’s for your sake instead.

“But I’m uncomfortableee,” you whine again, hands running down your body. “The dress...”

Did you have to make it so hard on him? Satoru is tempted to kiss you, eyebrows knitted in the space between, eyes looking around the room for any sort of aid.

This is probably a form of invading your privacy, but he sees no other choice. He’ll have to hold it together for tonight.

“nngh..”

Your groan came with an impending headache. Your body moves against the rich covers of the bed, sunlight illuminating your physique.

He stopped in his tracks, feet bare against the gray carpet.

Your form is beautiful, one to compete with statues of goddesses. The rays of light complimented every inch of skin in all the right ways. Satoru had to physically shake his head to stop the flowing perverted thoughts in his head.

Your flinch when you catch him standing near the door, heart beating slightly faster. You thought that you’re alone. You don’t think much of it anyway, muttering a “holy shit” under your breath.

“Good morning,” he casually greets, brushing off the mutual shock, albeit for different reasons. “I made coffee, if you wanted some.”

“Oh... thank you,” you mutter, rubbing your eyes as you sit up straight. “Did you eat anything yet?”

“Not yet, no,”  he says, holding his overly sweet coffee in both palms. “Thought I’d wait until you woke up.”

“You’re a real sweetheart, Satoru,” you yawn. His name slipped past your lips before you could stop it. You busy yourself with stretching your arms. “What a doting housewife God has blessed me with”

His response is only a chuckle, rolling his eyes as he sighs on the edge of the bed. “Well, at least I wasn’t begging a man to spend the night with me”

“Huh?”

You couldn’t remember anything of the prior night. Nothing that occurred after you sat at the bar, specifically. But then you begin to realize, eyes widening at the revelation. You feel dreadfulness landing in the pit of your stomach a little too late. 

He’s shirtless, wearing only his suit pants. And even though you wouldn’t mind the sight any other day, the fact that you are in your pajamas isn’t helping at all.

“Did we...” You trail off, expression darkening. Your eyes meet his own, fear implanted in your pupils. You watch as his expression drifts from confusion to an awkward hesitance. Unsure how to break the news to you.

You don’t know what to expect, not realizing you’re holding your breath. 

“I-I’m sorry,” He sighs, gaze faltering as his eyes look away from you. Your eyes widen further, oxygen becoming hard to consume.

What have you done?

“But- don’t worry. You know I’m not some asshole...” if anything, he sounded chivalrous. “I-I’ll be accountable for my mistake. When do you want to hold the wedding?”

You gasp, face feeling hot. “You piece of shit-“ You groan as your foot reaches him, forcefully pushing him off the bed. “As if!”

He breaks into a fit of laughter, the sound full of genuine delight. “I can’t believe you fell for it,” He manages between the laughter.

“Fuck you, Satoru,” you mutter, a smile of relief breaking across your face. “I can’t believe you pulled something so childish.”

“Why are you so down?” He climbed back onto the bed, reclaiming his spot on the edge. “Are you disappointed? You know it’s never too late to just as-“

“Fuck off,” Your heart is pounding as you send him another kick, less forceful this time. “Say one more word about it and I’ll make sure you don’t make it out of this room in one piece.”

He laughs, asking you to pass his coffee. You reach for his coffee from the bedside table. Your fingers lift the glass mug to your lips, sipping at the hot beverage before handing it to him.

Your face scrunches up at the horrible taste. Too much sugar. Too much milk. It’s a lot worse than you might think.

“Your coffee should be criminal,” you push the mug his way, frowning. Satoru hums in response. 

There’s no awkwardness between the two of you, and he can’t help but cherish it. He feels content, enough to sit a little closer, at least.

Enough to lean in towards you, mouth closing over yours in an ever awaited kiss, at least.

[flametrashiraarchive]

Closer

Alright alright this is for @desi-the-blue-eyed-kakushi because I forgot Giyuu existed for about 30 seconds. Please accept this shameless smut of your needy boy as my formal apology.

Giyuu Tomioka x f!reader. NSFW below the cut. Get outta here you little babies.

Imagine being on top of Giyuu, leaning back with your hands braced on his clenched thighs, giving him the most spectacular view of your body as he groans beneath you. His hair is spread across the pillow like crows' wings, his lapis lazuli eyes drinking you in as you ride his dick. The room is filled with the sounds of your breathing and Giyuu's moans as he fingers your clit, loving the way your pussy clenches as he drives you closer to release. 

"Fuck, you feel so good," he murmurs, putting everything he has into stroking your clit just the way you like it. It takes all his self control to let your pleasure build steadily instead of just strumming you relentlessly to climax. He wants to be good for you.

You look incredible riding him like this but you're so distant, so far away from his lips. He wants kiss you so fucking bad. He wants to hold you and feel your breath fanning over his lips. Dammit, he needs it. He needs to be close to you.

"Hold my hand," he whispers, “please.”

"Not yet. Giyuu… don't stop."

He grits his teeth and turns his head to the side, the sinews in his neck flexing as he tries so hard to keep his cool. He could so easily get you off with one hand while you held the other, but you’re too far gone to realize. His sulking only lasts a second or two before his eyes are back on you, addicted to the hypnotic sight of you grinding against him. 

He focuses instead on the closeness you are permitting him; the squeeze of your thighs around his hips, the wet heat of your pussy clenching around his dick, the weight of your palms braced just above his knees. Gods, but it’s not enough. He needs to hold you. 

His lips part once more. “P-please…”

Your lips tilt into a smirk–you know exactly what you’re doing to him and it drives him crazy. But you feel so good, so damn good. Good enough to drag a needy whine from his lips. 

God he just wants to be close to you, to breathe in the scent of you and–

He can’t stand the distance a moment longer. In one swift movement he sits up and turns you both over, putting you on your back and pinning you beneath his weight.

“Giyuu!” 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I just…” he takes your hand and interlocks his fingers with yours, holding it as he rocks into you. Your foreheads are pressed together, his breath hot and ragged against your lips, his body flush with yours, touching every inch of you he can. “I need this. I’m sorry.”

He knows he probably just delayed your orgasm, he knows he’s going to have to work extra hard to get you off now. And he’ll make it up to you, he will, but not before your lips are plump and tingling from his kisses, not before he’s drunk on the sensation of being this close to you. 

And all the while he’s slowly grinding his hips against you, his dick harder than it’s ever been, stuffing you full but barely moving, because the intimacy and the closeness is far more potent to him than the physical sensation. 

“So needy,” you sigh affectionately, earning you a whine of protest as he buries his face in the curve between your shoulder and your neck. 

He’s still clasping your hand in his as he fucks you slowly, trying to savor every moment of closeness. But the moment you stroke your free hand through his hair he can’t hold back. 

“Oh, love, no don’t… I’m gonna… fuuuck,” he gasps, pressing his lips to your shoulder while his cock spurts into you. “Fuck, I’m so sorry.”

You assure him it’s okay, you don’t mind, and he raises his head, revealing his dewy eyelashes and pink-stained cheeks.

“It’s okay,” you insist again, pressing your lips to his temple and holding him as he trembles in your arms. "I promise."

His eyes flutter shut. He's still rock hard.

It just feels so good to be close to you that he simply doesn’t stop after he cums. His back teeth are pressed together as he rides through the overstimulation, thrusting faster and faster until the room fills with his breathless whimpers and the beautifully lewd sound of his cock pounding his cum deeper into you.

His hands are still entwined with yours as he kisses you,  pistoning his hips now, moaning, whimpering, deeper, harder, swallowing your cries when you cum, your pussy throbbing as you moan his name. 

“M-more,” he slurs, barely able to keep his eyes open as he lowers his weight onto his forearms around your head, caging your face so he can kiss you more. He’s so damn drunk on the intimacy he barely registers his second orgasm, or yours.

[courtingchaos]

Untitled No. 1

Eddie Munson x Fem Reader

Freak Like Me

Warnings: Oral (female receiving), shaving (legs and other sensitive areas).

Summary: Eddie offers you the full spa treatment.

A/N: I gotta say I don’t even know where I was going with this, other than the fact that I think dudes who help shave legs are entirely too hot and should be studied. Anyways, welcome to another look into what I think is hot and it’s probably not. 🙃 enjoy.

18+ NSFW No Minors

“Whatcha doing?” Eddie asks quietly. You’d heard the click of the lock before he’d leaned in. Perched on the side of the tub, one leg on the ledge and the other swishing the foggy water slowly.

“Shaving my legs.”

“Mmm.”

“You miss me?”

“I had a joke to tell you and then forgot it when I opened the door.” He shrugs and leans against the doorframe. “You tend to have that effect on me.”

You click your tongue at him and drop your propped up leg so you straddle the side of the tub.

“You can sit in here if you want.”

“I didn’t want to intrude.”

“You’re not intruding but if you hang out too long I might make you work for your view.”

And that’s how you end up crowded in your now drained tub, Eddie between your legs after only ten minutes of watching you run your razor over your knee.

“See, you were worried for nothing!” His hand glides over your smooth skin, rough calluses scratching on the curves of your leg. “Not one knick. I shave my face every day, no issues.” He gestures to his chin with your pink razor, rolling his eyes up at you.

“Legs are much different from faces. I’ve got a streak going too, didn’t want you to fuck that up.”

He just hums at you, still inspecting his work. He’d been mildly taken aback when you’d handed him the cheap bottle of conditioner when he’d settled into the tub with you.

‘Conditioner?’

‘Yeah. The shit you’re supposed to use on your hair?’

Now his tune is a little different when he feels how soft your leg feels. You’d stopped him going too far up your thigh, one you didn’t want to get out of your shorts, and two it didn’t really matter. He never complained about it and it’s not like anyone else was going to be seeing your extreme upper thigh anytime soon.

Eddie rocks forward to readjust so he can start on your other leg. He holds your foot up so you can brace it at the base of the faucet and so he can drape his arm over your thigh, holding you steady so he doesn’t cut you. The radio he’d left on in the living room gently floats music down the short hallway and into the bathroom where the quiet ‘shlick’ of the razor glides across your shin. He’s careful around your ankle, runs his fingers over the delicate bone to feel for any rogue hairs. His tongue pokes out of his mouth when he gets to your knee and he really concentrates on not cutting you. A few short swipes and he holds his hands out to the side and gasps delightfully.

“Magic hands, baby!”

“You didn’t have to shave my kneecap to tell me that.” You laugh at him. He just shoots you a playful sneer and continues on to the back of your knee. The way he moves his hands on you to bend your leg the way he wants it makes your breath catch a little. A speeding up pulse and a small tickle on the back of your neck make you want to slide down the tub a little more so you can press up against him. He hasn’t so much as tried to make a move on you since doing this and it’s just made you all the more aware of his presence. His soft touch and breaths that ghost over your dewy skin, the gentle way he moves you around so he can do this thing for you.

You’re too busy making heart eyes at him to notice him finishing up. His wandering hand inching along the hem of your cotton shorts.

“You sure I can’t interest you in a full service salon visit today?” His eyebrows dance under his bangs. You laugh and slap his shoulder.

“Do you care suddenly?”

“No! I’m just…this is kind of fun.” He smiles at you, hands resting on your thigh. “And also if I can convince you to take your shorts off I consider it a win.”

“Well when you put it that way,” you snap your fingers and make a whooshing sound, “panties, magically gone.”

“Oh, no shit?” He tosses the razor over the side of the tub and pulls at the elastic band of your shorts, overacting his look into them. It turns into a game of grabbing whatever skin he can find on you until you call mercy when he starts tickling you. It ends with both of you out of breath and Eddie’s hand shoved up the leg of your shorts, fingers dug into the meat of your ass.

“You gonna let me go?”

“Only if you show me how you magicked your panties off, I haven’t learned that cantrip yet.”

“When are you gonna let me shave your legs again?” He asks this in the middle of the pasta aisle like he’s asking what brand of angle hair you want.

“Is this a thing for you now?” You don’t even look over at him when you drop a few boxes in the cart. Eddie had been a little too well behaved since walking through the doors of the grocery store and you start to wonder if he’s been leading up to this question.

“I don’t know.” A shrug you catch out of the corner of your eye. “It was kind of fun. I mean, when I let you shave my face that one time you had fun right?”

You finally look at him, your own goofy smile matching his. “Yeah it was.” You edge around the cart so you can lower your voice. “I mean the rest of the night was pretty fun too.”

Eddie nods his head at you while you get closer, hands sliding between his jacket and shirt, your endless giggles peppered between your recounting of how soft his face was between your thighs. Only to be pulled apart when a squeaky wheeled cart makes you remember where you are.

In the self checkout he stands close behind you while he waits for his card to go through.

“You know, if you liked how soft my face was, imagine if you let me shave everything.” He punctuates his statement with a flick of your necklace and you can see the gap in his teeth when he smiles at you.

“Everything?”

“What, you don’t trust me?” The card reader beeps at him but he won’t turn away until you answer him.

“Of course I do, now take the card out everyone is staring.”

He snaps it out of the machine and helps you pile the bags back into the cart, a self satisfied smirk on his face. “Baby you’re gonna have the smoothest skin you’ve ever had.”

You can’t help but laugh at his enthusiasm, even if it is tinged with a little too much ego.

“You know if you wanted me hairless you could have just told me, we didn’t have to go through all of this.”

He’s only mildly blocking your view of the TV while he sits on the foot of the bed, your leg propped up on this thigh.

“This has nothing to do with that, I love you however you feel most comfortable.” His thumb rubs along your ankle bone in search of fine hairs he may have missed. “We’ve had this discussion before.” He sniffs, a dismissal of your sarcasm.

“Then why are you so hellbent on shaving my pubes? What did they ever do to you?” You point a finger at the back of his head, mock accusation tinging your voice. Eddie doesn’t need to turn around to know what you’re doing, just huffs laughter at you and continues his work up your calf.

“I don’t have to, if you’d rather not.” He glides the razor over your knee expertly while the sounds of the Enterprise getting shot at murmur in front of him.

“No, I didn’t say that.”

He shifts so he can get at your thigh, one big palm gliding up the inside, fingertips just barely grazing your underwear. It’s deliberate, especially when he grins but doesn’t catch your eye, something to entice you to play along.

Like you’d stop now.

He swishes the razor in the bowl of warm water he brought in with him and puts a dab more of the coconut gel you bought for this specifically; less mess on your bedding. Honestly this whole thing is mostly attractive due to his concentration, the same pull of his eyebrows he has when he’s building a map or writing lore. It’s the way he looks at a newly built engine block when he’s been the only one to put hands on it.

“Roll over.”

You oblige him even when he gives your ass a fast swat before he works on the backs of your thighs, the elastic of your underwear snapped every so often when he “just needs to get to a spot”. You’re a whole episode deep before he’s finally finished with your legs and you’re sufficiently wound up, almost overeager to see how he’ll handle this more sensitive job.

“You ready?” He wiggles the razor between his thumb and index finger, eyebrows in tandem with the back and forth. You loose your underwear over the side of the bed and he lays down on his stomach, feet bouncing up in the air behind him.

“You look like you’re about to spill the hottest gossip.”

“Listen, me and my girl got a lot to talk about.” His smirk makes you scoff but his warm hands guiding your legs wider has you feeling feverish. He runs a damp towel over your hair, his breath ghosting over sensitive skin creating goosebumps and his damn hands going featherlight over your mound has your feet curling into his ribs.

“Stop fidgeting or I’m gonna knick you.” He looses that playful glint in his eye when he gets into a groove, slight frown pulling at his lips where his tongue makes an occasional appearance. You almost want to laugh with how concentrated he is but you don’t want to interrupt. He holds skin taut when he lightly runs the razor over a small section, taking his time to be thorough and gentle. You only wince a few times when the razor blades catch on thick hair but he rubs his thumb over each finished part, soothing and searching, looking for a stray hair and never once does he let his finger wander.

You want him to though. You want him to give into that base need that you know is gnawing at his thoughts. Just a few centimeters over and he could run the tip of his middle finger over your swollen bud, effectively rendering you boneless. At this rate it wouldn’t take much at all to get you to cum. Eddie focused and taking such deliberate care of you has your stomach swooping; Yet another simple task that he’s taken to an extreme and made you wonder how you ever got along without him.

“Eddie?” Your voice cuts through the quiet hum of the TV.

“Hmm?”

“Thank you.”

“Oh don’t thank me yet.” He uses one of the towels on the bed to softly wipe away errant hair and looks up at you from between your thighs with a smile. “I’m not done.” But he shimmies off the bed and stands to stretch before snatching all the stuff off the comforter and balancing the bowl of water on his way to the bathroom. You take the opportunity to slide your legs together, everything slick and soft especially at the bend of your hips. From the bathroom you can hear water running and before you can wonder what’s keeping him he peeks around the corner to watch you basking in his handiwork.

“Nice isn’t it?”

“I never doubted you.” You feel a little ridiculous in just your t-shirt until you catch the glint in his eyes. “What are you up to?” You tug the hem down to cover yourself but he pounces on the bed before you can create adequate cover.

“Ed!” You yelp when he grabs you quick, already between your knees. His arms loop under your hips and pull you up to balance on your upper back. “What-oh fuck you.” It comes out deep from your chest when he plants his mouth on you without warning, the corners of his lips pulled up in a grin. His tongue zeroes in on your clit and you weren’t kidding about being close. Just the few licks he lays on you has you grasping out to claw at his forearms keeping you against his face, your only balance when you feel that quick build along your spine.

In the haze of your fast descent you notice the lack of the usual burn of his scruff and manage a laugh between your gasps.

“Did you shave for me?”

His eyes sparkle and he nods, nose grazing between parted flesh to make you moan. Eddie is having too much fun holding you hostage against his mouth but you can’t find it in you to complain when you’re pushed over into bliss brought on by his stupidly magical tongue. You pant and cry out, thighs clenched around his head to pitifully grind along his nose. Your grip slackens on his arms and you expect him to let you down but he doesn’t.

That mouth of his that gets him in and out of most trouble keeps working at you even when your thighs start to shake and your heels dig into his back.

“Eddie.” You whine and grab at the bedding under you in an attempt at leverage to pull away. He just doubles down with a laugh huffed through his nose and it’s too much all at once, his tongue an assault on too sensitive skin. His aftershave fills your nose the sweet musk of it making your eyes roll again. His thick fingers dig into the crease of your hips to keep you tilted back.

You chant his name in time with the flicking of his tongue when you rocket towards your second orgasm, minutes after the first. His curls obscure his face along with your legs and you miss his pained expression when you start panting above him.

“Eddie Eddie pleasepleaseplease.” Your fingers dig into his scalp and pull on his hair when he doesn’t slow down and the band of your arousal snaps for the second time. He’s mumbling something, lips still buried in your cunt, tongue still roving and making you squirm. You can make out a “for me-“ and a “too good” before the rush in your ears signals your fall. He runs his tongue down to lap at your entrance and his mouth is too hot. He’s too much and too wet and too everywhere and-

He drops your hips and you bounce on the bed, head still spinning from his mouth. Your shirt is bunched up under your chin and he descends on a nipple while his other hand trails down. Fingers prod at your aching clit before sliding in slowly, the aftershocks still spasming around his thick fingers.

“Ed I can’t-“

“Third time’s the charm, c’mon.” He lets your nipple go so he can rest his chin on your sternum. His dimples seem vicious while he works you toward a third orgasm, pads of his fingers brushing against that almost too tender spot. “It gets easier every time, you know that.” Wet sounds made wetter by bare skin trapped under his palm that he keeps pressed against you.

“Is th-this payback for the collar?” You ask and he laughs at your stuttering.

“Maybe.” He groans along with you when your eyes roll and your back arches. “But I liked that.” A dangerous tint to his teasing. “Do you like this?” Relentless fingers and the heel of his palm give you enough friction to start a fire deep in your belly. The spark is barely lit before is razes through you, turning your back into a tightrope that Eddie balances on, dark eyes locked on your face pulled into pleasure.

“There it is.” He watches you crumble under the tension and he twitches his fingers until he hears that telltale catch in your chest and he eases up, gently removing his hand. He keeps his head on your chest though, the rapid beating of your heart under his ear so he can hear what he does to you. “I got you.” He grabs the back of your knee to drape over his hip and slides his hand up the back of your thigh now slick with sweat. Practically boneless under him you move easy and he gets your wrapped around his overheating frame.

“You okay?” He asks when he hears a gasp from you and looks up to see a tear track down the side of your cheek.

“Oh I’m great.” A weak laugh and a flap of your hand against his hair. “I’m just trying to remember what my tongue does.”

“I can show you if you want.”

“I think you’ve done enough damage tonight.” It’s lighthearted with a small warning, your heaving chest enough of a signal to him that you at least need a breather.

“I don’t know if I’d call it damage.” He lets his hands wander over your dips and curves, soothing motions to bring you back down to earth. “Felt good though didn’t it?”

He watches your lazy smile and your eyes drifting closed, fingers wound up in his hair again. A small nod before you pull him in closer to your chest and he pulls the corner of the sheet up over your legs.

“You falling asleep?”

“No, I’m relaxing.”

“Sure, just resting your eyes?”

“Mhm.”

He can feel your go slack around his neck even while you laugh sleepily at him. “So should I wake you up for round two or…?”

“Surprise me.”

[princessbrunette]

Campcounselor!Jj taking you on a picnic deep in the woods and fucking you on the picnic blanket !!!

🧸✧˖°❅👢

“so where’s this surprise you speak of?” you giggle giddily as you follow jj through the woods, the blonde walking ahead of you whacking bushes and branches out the way with a long stick.

“right theees way.” he announces in an accent you were certain he made up. he pulls a curtain of leaves out the way, allowing you to walk through a small entrance first. as your eyes adjust in the late afternoon light, you’re met with a beautiful sight. a checkered picnic blanket laid out on the grass by a small waterfall over some rocks, a small flowing stream passing by it. he’s messily strung up fairy lights over the trees surrounding, and placed mini faux candles around the blanket. jj walks in behind you with a humble smile, wiping his hands on his pants as you both admire his work.

“jayj! you did all this? this is so cute!” you whisper in awe, hands over your heart through the material of your sundress.

“yeah, well you know. you deserve it.” he shrugs, and you lurch over for a kiss.

the two of you enjoy the picnic you’d packed, laughing and telling stories as you eat until you’re full, staring up the birds flying over the tree tops, laying back. maybank rests two hands behind his head, and you lay your head delicately on his bicep, curled at his side.

“so you’re sure you didn’t bring me all the way out here to kill me like in those summer camp slasher movies?” you smile softly, looking up at his profile as he watches the birds.

“well, uh— can’t now, can i? you ruined the surprise… and anyway i forgot my mask.” he sarks and you laugh, his chest vibrating with a chuckle in tow. “speaking of which, dude — we’ve gone the whole summer and haven’t watched one of those shitty slashers? you know those movies are like, my specialty.”

“you know, now i’m your girlfriend you should probably stop calling me dude.” you grin lightheartedly, poking the end of his nose making him scrunch it up briefly.

“shit, yeah, no— you’re right…” he glances at you out the corner of his eye, lip twitching as he gears up for a punchline. “how’s dudette, instead?”

you burst out laughing, clammy hands clutching your tummy making him blow air out of his nose in surprise, brows furrowed as he smirks down at you. “damn, was the joke really that good?”

you grin, elated and push yourself up onto an elbow to look at him properly. when you do so, you feel your stomach go all fizzy inside like shaken pop, and you fight to not look away in shyness. “i happen to think you’re very funny.” you compliment modestly and he smiles, pushing himself up also on his elbow to mirror you.

“well i happen to think you’re very pretty. so i guess it evens out.” as he speaks, his voice gets quieter, eyes on your mouth until you meet in the middle, lips locking in a kiss. you pull back away from him slowly, giving him a look. his eyes flutter open in confusion.

“you don’t think i’m funny?” you grin with faux astonishment after a pause and he sniffs out a laugh, shaking his head and cupping your cheek.

“shutup.” he groans, before kissing you hard. it doesn’t take long for things to heat up, his hands roaming your body through your thin sundress, your own hands sliding over his tanned stomach beneath his blue t-shirt, hat long knocked off his head.

before you know it, after what feels like an hour of licking and sucking what was between your thighs— he’s sliding his dick into the mess he’s made, elbows braced either side of you as he starts to thrust.

“oh, ah — jj— feels — feel so—”

“iiiii know, cupcake. feels good, don’t it.” he drones, panting hot air into the skin above your tit.

“what if— what if someone hears?” you whine, knees bracketing his waist as he rocks you continuously against the blanket that was ruffled beneath you.

“no one’s gonna hear you all the way out here, baby. let ‘er rip, know you got some pretty noises in you.”

🧸✧˖°❅👢

[toxicanonymity]

Which Joelkémon is most likely to build IKEA furniture and then fuck reader on it to "see how stable it is"?

Trouble / silence can never be bought but can stand alone. I stg I already had thots about them going to ikea lmaooo you completed my thot 💙🥵.

MALM - drabble / Joel x f!reader

You have a new apartment back in Austin and Joel is helping you move into it even though he wishes you would just "move into his pool house" (as far as everyone else knows). It's so hot watching him do anything remotely construction related. Like using a tape measure to figure out if you can fit a king bed or not. Without turning around, Joel asks, "how long 'til we need to leave for ikea?" You're not listening because you're watching the way his eyes narrow as he looks at the fully extended tape measure, concentrating as his triceps bulge under his tight white Tshirt which rides up and exposes an inch of tan flesh as he holds his arm out. He looks back at you to ask again, "what time do we need to leave? Do you know what time they-" He sees the way you're looking at him. "Oh, you like my long tool, huh?"

You snap out of it and look at your phone, "shit, probably in a few minutes." He presses the button, the tape retracts. He puts it in his back pocket then walks toward you slowly and cockily and kisses you but keeps walking, pins you up against the pantry door. You don't make it to ikea that night but the next morning you do. You get all turned on lying next to him on a bed in ikea. Like the idea that you're in public, next to him on a bed for even less than one minute is so thrilling. Not even doing anything, not even touching, just lying on your sides facing each other. Then he gets that horny look in his eye and you're like. Yeah, MALM, this is the one, because you just want to get home.

When you get back to your apartment he unloads the bed and the way his veins pump over his muscles makes you weak in the knees. As soon as he's done unloading it, you hug him and slide both your hands into the back pockets of his jeans and pull him into you hard with a squeeze. One hot mirror quickie against the bathroom sink later, you agree that's all until the bed is put together. That only makes it harder not to do it. And harder to focus on putting together the bed but he won't break the agreement. It just takes forever. You spend half the day putting the bed together and you can hardly stand how hot he looks doing it.

Finally you finish and put the mattress on and as soon as the mattress is down you stretch out on it, but he's looking at the ikea instructions again.

"Damn," he says.

"What?"

"Forgot a step."

You brace yourself like the bed could fall apart.

Then he tosses the manual aside and says, "insert wood into hole" before crawling on top of you with a self satisfied smile.

"oh my god, you scared me."

"well, let's see how it holds up."

[mypoisonedvine]

buhhh jd you had me THINKING with that prince paul drabble. would love to see more of him being stern with reader, like, maybe she makes a little joke at his expense in front catherine (which catherine thinks is so funny) while they're at dinner and just has to set her straight. something about a warning looks or words and knowing what's coming later is -- truly doing something for me.

ugh yes I relate I want him to wreck me

warnings: smut (18+ only), oral m receiving, choking, dom/sub dynamics, degradation

"You found that amusing, did you?" Paul growled in your ear, tightening his grip on your arms until you whimpered slightly. "Need I remind you how insubordination is dealt with in this regime?"

You had to hide your small smile from him, worried that if he knew you'd wanted him to punish you for your comment all along, that he might not.

You'd been waiting for it since you said it-- since he gave you that icy stare, hiding it with a half-smile as he pretended to take the joke well. But just the way he'd met your gaze from across the table, his fist clenching around his salad fork for a second, made your thighs clench together in anticipation. You wanted that hand tightening around your throat, those smirking lips against your ear as he warned you that he didn't have the patience to be gentle.

And, for the most part, it worked-- you were in his bedchambers now, bracing for your punishment. The only thing was, just when you expected him to bend you over his bed, he turned you around and pushed you onto your knees.

You looked up at him expectantly as he worked to get his trousers out of the way-- why did fancy royal clothes have to be so complicated?-- and pull out his cock for you. It wasn't fully hard yet, but considering it was in your mouth a second later, it didn't take too long before he was erect and throbbing against your lips; Paul moaned, tangling his fingers into your hair as he guided your movements. "I like this mouth better when it's pleasing me, instead of insulting me," Paul cooed at you as he pet your swollen bottom lip with his thumb. "This is what these pretty lips ought to be doing-- getting stretched out around your prince's cock, yes?"

You hummed and nodded in agreement, though you whined when he yanked your head back by your hair, gripping his cock tightly as he stared down at you.

"I'd like to hear you say it," he demanded.

"M-my lips should be pleasing you, my liege, serving your cock-- not insulting you," you promised.

"And this throat," he continued, making you swallow nervously as he ran his fingers over your neck. "You always come the hardest when I choke you with my hands, but there are other ways. Why don't you show me how good of a whore you can be, and choke for me?"

Choke you did; he only gave you breaks when you absolutely needed them, smirking down at you when you gasped and spluttered, and then got right back to fucking your throat recklessly. You tolerated the discomfort because, for one, it turned you on for some unknowable reason, being used like this; and two, the way he loudly moaned and bit his lip as he slid his cock deeper in your mouth was simply too addictive to stop.

Only when his come was spilling from your abused lips did he seem satisfied, sweetly asking you if you'd learned your lesson as he watched you try to swallow down all the seed he'd given you. First, you thanked him for his come-- something you never forgot to do after that one punishment that left you limping for a week-- and then you agreed that, yes, you'd learned your lesson not to embarrass him especially in front of his mother.

"All right," he nodded, "now get on the bed."

You raised your eyebrows. "My prince, but--"

"That was just to teach you your place, whore," he explained with a frown. "Now I'll have my real fun with you."

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Unexpected 6

Sequel to Unsolicited

Warnings: non/dubcon, pregnancy, Lloyd being the worst, and other dark elements.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

Several more tries to get up only serve to further strain your back. You manage to return yourself to the nook of the corner behind the door as you contemplate your choices. Not just those that led to that helpless position, but every single decision that led you to this place and its owner. 

Would you still be foolishly ignorant with Colin if you hadn’t walked into that jewelry store?

You yawn and rub your eyes. No point in thinking about it. You’re already trapped physically, you don’t need to sit and languish in the prison of your mind. You shift and groan, rubbing your hip as your knee hits the paper bag. Your burrito wrapper shoved inside next to the half-finished chips and queso.

Why did you leave your phone by the couch? That’s your most regrettable choice at that moment. Well, what does it matter? Are you really going to call him? Would he even do anything? You imagine he’d be unimpressed by you interrupting his work for your pathetic back ache and even if he came back, he couldn’t make the pain any better.

You sigh and lean your head in your hands, slumping against the wall as your eyelids burn. You could sleep there and hope it sorts itself out overnight. Sometimes that worked. When you weren’t sleeping on a cold floor.

“Is there a reason you’re on the floor?” Lloyd’s voice echoes around you and you snap your chin up.

You bite your lip and look around. You forgot about the damn cameras. They didn’t really bother you because he was always creeping around anyway.

“Comfortable?” You throw your hands out and wince.

He’s quiet and you hear his long sigh crackle and another voice just before the line clicks. Dead. You glance up, searching the corners, wondering if he’s still watching. You wait for another booming declaration from the heavens but nothing comes. 

The silence of the foyer swallows you up and prickles behind your ears. You let your head loll back against the wall and cross your arms, you can’t bend your knees all the way so you leave your legs straight. You lean against the plaster and close your eyes. You’ll find the will power soon. You will.

💎

A jolt runs through your foot as the door bends it back, the collision waking you and sending a hiss up your throat. You bend your leg out of the way and look. Just as quickly, the door slams back into place. Lloyd tosses a black bag onto the side table beside you and stands before you with his hands on his hips.

“Hey,” you run your fingers down your cheeks, trying to blink away the drowsiness, “what time is it?”

“What time– Fucking Christ,” he comes closer and bends down to hook his arms under yours. He lifts you and you whine, the pain rippling through your muscles as your voice rises to a roar.

“Ll-Lloyd– Stop!” You hit his shoulders and he lets you back to the floor as you brace your hip, “you can’t just—”

“Why the fuck are you on the floor?”

“Why the fuck do you care?” You spit back, “shouldn’t you be out? Working or whatever?”

“Yeah, I should be,” he bends his knees to squat in front of you, a line across his forehead, “but you’ve been down there for five hours.”

You crook an eyebrow and look around, “I got food.” You point to the paper bag.

“Not the point,” he huffs, “what’s wrong?”

Your eyes flit away as you shrug. Another spasm making you whimper. You blow in exasperation. It’s only getting worse and staying there isn’t going to help. He’s you’re only lifeline and you hate that fact as much as you hate him.

“It’s my back. Again.”

“Your back– Fuck, I should’ve known,” he shakes his head, “right, let’s take this slow.” He moves forward and bows his head, “put your arms around my neck.”

“Lloyd–”

“We’ll take it slow,” he insists, “you should feel special, I’ve never said that to a woman before.”

“God, you’re so—” you grit your teeth as you reach out, “annoying.”

He helps you latch on and hooks his arms around your back. It’s awkwardly intimate, surprisingly so as this man has explored nearly every nook of your body. He plants his soles under him flatly.

“Alright, on three,” he directs you and you torturously bend your legs so your feet meet the floor, “one, two, three.”

You grunt as he helps you stand, more so dangle from him as he does most of the work. He turns you slightly and you wobble, uncertain, as your arms slip. He bends and lifts you bridal style, little effort in the action as he easily spins on his heel. You hang your head back and groan.

“God, this is fucking–” you stifle your voice. Humiliating.

He takes you back to the front room and lays you on the couch, against the pillows still left propped against the armrest. He slides his arms out from under you and stands straight. You feel him glaring at you in agitation. You’re just as annoyed by the situation.

“Why didn’t you call me?” He sneers. You jab your thumb towards your shoulder and he clicks his tongue, “take it with you.” He says as if you’re dumb, “why didn’t you mention it?”

“Mention–”

“Your back.”

You scratch your head and give a nonchalant gesture with your hand, “I thought I could handle it. Thought… better not to bother.”

“Fuck, you are so stubborn. Do you not understand that you’re pregnant? You have a child–”

“Oh, dearie me, I forgot. I wake up everyday ready to hurl my guts out and I just can’t figure out wh–” You cry out and reach back as your back twitches painfully, “goddamnit!”

“Settle down,” he rubs his forehead in frustration, “you’re making it worse.”

“No, you are,” you snarl.

“Oh my god,” he touches his temple, “just–”

He swallows his growl, holding up a hand as if to put himself on pause. He puts his fingers to his ear and you notice the dark bud there. He listens as his eyebrows betray his concentration. His jaw squares as you watch him curiously. He doesn’t have his jacket on, and the leather holster around his shoulders holds a pistol. Shit.

He pokes a finger up and leaves you. You crane your head as far as you can as you watch him go back to the foyer. You hear a zipper and see him pass by again, a tablet in hand before he disappears into the den across the hall. He’s still working.

You’re quiet as you recline against the pillows. You have no other choice as your back keeps you sedentary. You stare at the curtains. It’s not morning yet. Must be late. Or early.

“...Indigo to the east…” you hear Lloyd’s deep timbre drift through the air house, “...execute…”

You stretch and grab the remote, flipping on the TV as you hope to drown him out. You turn on an episodic comedy you never quite got into and settle back with a whimper. This is better at least, even if Lloyd’s presence sets a new knot in your muscles.

You make it through a full episode before he returns. You don’t notice at first, looking up to find him standing behind the couch. He grips the backrest, silently watching the screen. The earbud is gone, holster too. 

“Lloyd,” you croak up at him. He slowly looks down at you, blue eyes icy, “thanks. I’m sorry I got in the way–”

“You don’t understand, peaches, and you can’t. It’s better that way. Whatever I do needs to stay separate from the family. Got it?”

“Yeah, I get it–”

“So if you need help, if you’re in pain,” he says pointedly, “you tell me before I drag my ass halfway to the equator. I don’t like to bring this shit home.”

You nod, “I got it.”

He exhales through his nose and looks at the television again as it buffers the next episode. His expression softens and he pushes himself straight. He sniffs and scratches his nose as he slowly paces around the couch.

“Well, can’t let you into a hot tub. That was on the no-no list,” he says as he nears you, “but, nothing wrong with a bit of Hansen magic.”

He stretches his fingers emphatically and you frown. He can’t possibly have that in mind. You can barely move.

You flinch as he bends and pushes his arm under you. He forces you to sit up as you squeak, clamping your eyes shut and biting your tongue as he creates a space between you and the pillows. He awkwardly moves behind you, pushing his leg down between you and the backrest as he settles in.

“What are y–”

He shushes you and  keeps his hands on your shoulders as you curl them forward. You weakly hunch over your lap as he slides his thumbs down your back. He follows your spine to your hips. You breathe out between your teeth as he frames your hips and kneads firmly. You grasp his knee in response as a strangled moan escapes you.

“Too rough?” He asks.

“N-n-no, it’s… it’s okay,” you gurgle as you squeeze his leg, “fuck.”

“Mm, that’s what I like to hear, baby cakes,” he pushes the heels of his hands against your lower back, “you can give me a nice rub down when you feel better, how about that?”

[adiosmotherfck]

Can you write Ghost x reader and the reader troubles with anger management issues. Like having to pull the reader off of someone bc reader and whoever were having a playful fight but it got serious. Sorry if that's hard to write about 🙏 thx tho, you can choose the gender btw

He Is There

Simon "Ghost" Riley x fem!Reader

cw: a bit of blood, swearing, fighting

word count: 1,5k

situation: Anger issues are no fun, he out of everyone knows it, and he knows how to calm you down when necessary

"What did you just say?" you stopped in your tracks with a couch pillow in your hands, glaring at Soap who had a wide grin on his face and was holding a similar pillow.

"Is your hearin' as bad as your sight? That's why you kept missing targets in training earlier, eh, kid?" the whole situation was highly amusing to Soap, he was grinning and enjoying pissing you off. A little. Today's playful banter was growing out of the allowed limits but none of you noticed that, only your temper did.

"Fucking MacTavish." you threw a pillow straight at his head, but the bastard dodged it and his grin widened.

"Come on, kid, show me what you've got." he was waving a red cloth in front of the bull and didn't know what might happen to him if he didn't leave it.

"I told you to not call me kid, you old man." you picked the pillow up from the floor and swung for his head again, wishing you'd have something sharper so you'd trim his already irritating hair into a great bald head.

"Oh my bad, .... kid." he really loved to piss you off, swinging for your legs with his pillow, he went a bit stronger and your back met the floor with a thud, you not having time to react and brace yourself for the fall.

"You- little bitch." sometimes even you yourself didn't notice when playful banter grew into actual anger and irritation with your friend. This was one of the occasions when it happened, and there was no way back.

Soap didn't have time to react, as you slid to him, throwing him off his feet with a sharp swing of your leg, the man meeting the floor, with you grabbing him in a position to hold his hands behind his back, but this time he didn't let you have it this easy. He threw you off him, pinning you to the floor, trying to catch your hands and stop you from trying to kill him, but you weren't so easy to capture, you got your place on the team not for beautiful eyes and pretty lips, you were a master in combat and he knew that.

That day you two were stopped by Price, who happened to visit the room and freeze a little, barking an order at you two, to stand up and get yourselves ready for a meeting. You two brushed it off and went on, working together as a team you are.

The next time you and Soap faced each other in the base gym, both of you had some steam to let out. He smirked at you and tilted his head to gesture at the ring to train your combat skills.

You agreed, getting inside and preparing to fight with him. It wasn't a serious fight, you two were just training, but the punches grew in strength, in speed. Both of you breathing hard, a few droplets of blood on the floor from the especially hard punches landed to each other.

You long forgot that you two were just training, it was a fight you had to win. His grin was making your blood boil and your will to wipe it off grew stronger. He swung at you again, but you dodged and went for his legs, as you noticed it was his weak part. He didn't shift his weight when needed, and left them open for an attack.

Before you managed to get him in a chokehold and knee him in the stomach, both of you froze at the angered voice that thundered through the room.

"Sergeants!"

You looked up and saw Ghost standing in the doorway, mask on his face, but you clearly saw his eyes that were showing the surprise and disbelief he felt in the moment of finding you and Soap in that position.

Using the moment and the fact that Soap's attention is now on the Lieutenant, you managed to get his hands and pin him in a position where he wouldn't be able to do anything, mans grunt and heavy breathing were a sign of his surprise, that you still went through with it, even after Simon tried to stop you both.

Before you even took a breath, you felt a hand on your shoulder and then a hand on your waist, picking you up the floor and off Soap, dragging you in the direction of the door, to get you out of the room.

"This is not over, MacTavish." you said, struggling against Ghost' strong arms tightly holding you close to him.

"No, it is, Y/L/N." Ghost's voice once again thundered over your ear and you involuntarily listened, deciding to not go against him again.

He dragged you out of the room, and shoved into another one down the hall. When your eyes got used to the darkness, you saw an unfamiliar room that you've never been in before. All the things in it were perfectly laying in their places, it would be hard to make a mess in there, considering that from personal things there were only two bags, a book and a weapon bag.

"What was that, Sergeant?" Simon' voice took you out of your thoughts and brought back to the reality, which was a mountain level tall man towering over you and glaring at you, waiting for an answer.

"Me and MacTavish were training, that's it." you said, exhaling, you had to give it to him, Soap was good in what he was doing.

"That looked like a hungry dogs fight over a piece of meat rather than a training, Y/N." you could hear it in his voice that he did not take your bullshit and did not believe what you just said.

You sighed, running a hand through your hair, you didn't want to lie to Ghost but you also didn't want to tell him that you got angry at Soap's banter and things got out of control, both of you not giving up and not standing down from the fight that grew from a game into a real competitive battle.

"I got angry. There. He pissed me off and I didn't hold back." You sighed and looked to the side, admitting what you are feeling, especially because of such stupid small thing felt too vulnerable for you.

Silence fell over the room, with Simon looking down at you and evaluating the state you are in. He wasn't angry at you, he didn't know what he felt when he saw you and Soap on the floor, going for each other's throats. He knew that you are able to stand your ground and wouldn't let anyone hurt you, even Soap, but he couldn't help to feel a bit of worry.

He didn't say anything and that made you think he wasn't pleased with you and would punish you, make you train more or run additional laps in training, but none of that ever came.

What came was the strong arm around your shoulder pulling you close. You didn't react at first, not knowing what is happening, but when he wrapped the second arm around you too, you relaxed into his touch, his arms that were on your back, holding you to him.

He was taller than you, and your face rested on his chest, with one of his hands travelling up to your head holding it close to him. He didn't want to overstep the boundaries between the two of you.

After a few moments, you wrapped your arms around him too, melting into the hug, accepting his help to help you calm down. He wasn't good with words, he didn't know what to say to not worsen the situation, he wanted to support you in a way, a way that wasn't worsening your state, the hug was the only thing he came up with.

And you liked that. You didn't want to hear anything, whatever he could possibly say, silence was the loudest with him. The silence held all the questions and answers, his eyes gave you everything you needed to know.

You don't know for how long you two stood like that, but his grip on you didn't weaken or falter. He stood there, keeping you close, while kept you close to him.

"Thank you." you muttered into his chest, as you slightly pulled away and looked up at him, meeting his eyes looking down at you. His mask shifted a little from your contact, and you gently lifted a hand and put it back in place. His eyes shifted to your hand, he didn't expect you to do it. A gesture of reassurance for him, and a little gesture for you.

He looked back at you and gave you a slight nod, stepping away, his arms sliding down from your back, leaving you wishing for them to stay on you for a little bit longer.