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bunny-lily · 3 months

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Satoru, who...

Did you ask for more fluff? I did, ehe~

Pairing: Gojo Satoru x fem!reader

CW: pure fluff, just fluff, no angst, only happiness | proposal, marriage, pregnancy, husband!Gojo, dad!Gojo, soft!Gojo, categorically fucking whipped Satoru, domesticity, kinda slice-of-life, mildly suggestive at the end

The starstruck boy, Gojo Satoru, who is utterly obsessed with you in every way possible.

AN: while I’m in the middle of writing an absurdly long fic, I wanted to post some shorter stuff to 1) keep my hands loose and brain active/busy, and 2) post something while I’m working on the fic to come. I won’t post much about it rn because I want to actually finish it first and not make any promises, so enjoy a lil fluff in the meantime <3 just something short and sweet

WC: 3k

Satoru, who is smitten with you from the very moment he first lays eyes on you. Sure, he's had infatuations before, but they were short-lived and typically lasted no longer than a week. A quick fascination, then poof. You, on the other hand – you are different.

And it is plain to see for pretty much everyone. He is normally cocky and outgoing, even during the little fads he’s had, he never let down his façade of bravado. You, though? You melt all his walls until he’s a goopy puddle of a blushing, giggling school girl.

He is whipped, almost to an annoying point. He rambles off Suguru's and Shoko's ears enough times for them to know when he’s about to start singing your praises and avoid him, or distract him somehow (which is a monumental task when his ditzy head is full only of thoughts of you).

Even so, they are conflictingly bewildered and happy for their friend. For him to have found someone that he is interested in for longer than a week – let alone several months, now – is a riveting change of pace. He seems so genuinely delighted any time you two interact, bubbly, dreamy sighs leaving him as hearts dance in his eyes.

He has fallen for you bad.

Satoru, who’s a stuttering disaster when he tries to ask you out on a date, and damn near collapses in relief when you’re able to decipher what the hell he’s going on about and agree to go to the new café that opened up near campus with him.

One date turns into two, then three, then a dozen more that become routine for you. You meet up after classes let out, then head to the café side by side. Or, if one is running late, you have each other’s orders memorized. You even go the extra mile and order him a sweet he hasn’t tried yet to surprise him with when he bursts into the establishment, panting like he ran a marathon. He might as well have, he booked it for the café as soon as he was free, dying to see you.

Satoru, who is somehow in even more shambles when he gets the nerve to ask you to go steady with him, despite the two of you being borderline boyfriend and girlfriend by now. He’s jittery, sweaty, downright vibrating with tense energy when he brings you to the sakura tree near the back of school that you two had laid claim on. Oh, and when you say yes? He’s certain he’s died and gone to heaven. Nothing can explain how an angel like you decided to grace him with your existence as is, let alone love him – even while you called him an idiot and said you thought you two were already dating.

Satoru, who was already protective over you when you first met, dials it to eleven after you agree to being his girlfriend. Gojo Satoru, the strongest man alive, could inspire fear and respect simply by being in the room with his confident and brash nature, completely relaxed and faithful in his skill. But if, gods forbid, something happens to you? Gone is that cocksure attitude. Gone are the coy smirks and passive-aggressive taunting meant to rile others up. Gone is everything but his one track mind that focuses solely on two tasks: protecting you, and destroying whatever harmed you.

Satoru, who spoons you to his chest and watches ASMR, random videos, or movies on your phone with you 'til you both fall asleep. It became routine shortly after you began officially dating. You'll climb into bed first and decide what you want to watch while he finishes his nightly regimen, then he'll slip under the blankets and pull your back flush against his front, prop his chin atop your head, slide a thigh between your legs, and off to cozy dreamland you two go as whatever you choose acts as white noise.

It brings him an immense amount of comfort, and though he doesn't need as much sleep as normal folks, he'll refuse to leave bed until you're awake (with the exception of any needs he might have to take care of that will only see him away for a couple minutes at most before he’s cradling you in his protective hold again).

Satoru, who salts and peppers your face with endless, ticklish kisses to wake you up, saving the best kiss for when your sleepy, pretty little eyes open: right on your lips. He always wakes up before you do, and spends hours watching your blissful, precious face as you snooze, content and relaxed like a cat with full trust in its human. The comparison always makes him smile, because he, truthfully, envisions you both as being cats all the time. Lazy ones that cuddle in the sun, your smaller form using his ridiculously fluffy and larger one as a pillow-slash-blanket. His tail twined with yours, your ears twitching as he grooms you with kitten licks, ah, the dream.

Satoru, who wants to slap a ring on your finger the very moment he can. You two spend so many days and weeks raving about your imaginary wedding that he so desperately wants to be real, setting up plans, picking out what you would want for decor, scrolling through forum boards for ideas on a wedding dress for you. He is practically more excited at the prospect of getting married than you are, eager to help in every step of the process and more. 'Let me handle all the hard stuff, baby,' he nearly begs.

He won’t tell you the cost of anything, and insists you go all out. Get the dress you want, don't you dare look at the price tag. Choose the perfect venue, he doesn't care if it's in Japan or fucking Dubai, he'll handle paying for everyone's travel and hotel needs on top of the whole wedding. Only the absolute best for you, nothing less, everything more.

Satoru, who is a train wreck of nervous excitement, anxious anticipation, and giddy trepidation when the day comes for him to propose. He takes you to the perfect location – up a short and easy hiking trail that leads to a cliffside with the most magnificent view of the ocean and setting sun. You think it's just a sweet date trip, until you see the path of tea candles guiding you to a romantically set up picnic blanket, a basket resting atop it, waiting to be opened.

When you turn around to express your shock and confusion, you find Satoru on one knee, looking up at you as if you are the most gorgeous and divine creature to ever exist. He's confident and boisterous, as always, as he plays out his little speech about how much he adores you and wants to keep you by his side, forever and ever, but he's a shaking trash fire inside. A shivering little dog that's relieved he didn't stutter or screw up the speech he practiced a hundred times over and then some.

Satoru, who's thanking every god to ever possibly reside above (and even below) when you throw your arms around him, sobbing into his shoulder as a flood of yeses pours out of you, slurred as you ramble through your tears and tell him you love him, how happy you are, and a plethora of other things that make him genuinely the most elated person to ever live.

Satoru, who slides the brilliant engagement ring he had custom made for you onto your finger; smooth, with an inset blue diamond that shares the same shade as his eyes, nestled in with a dozen tinier crystals in vine-like spirals flowing outward from the center. Swarovski, of course. He made sure that it was all flush with the platinum to ensure it wouldn't snag on anything.

He was practically breathing down the jeweler's neck during the entire process, needing to guarantee it’s positively perfect for you. And, when he sees the glimmering jewelry cozy on your finger, the evidence of your bond and the next step in your journey to unite as one, he knows he made all the right choices.

Satoru, who only uses the finest material for your matching wedding bands, and has the insides of both engraved with each other's names. Yours in his, his in yours. He has the same jeweler as before (poor guy) design them to have two stripes of platinum within the gold of your rings, delicate and stunning for himself and his wife.

Satoru, who's jubilant and so incredibly ecstatic that you're now his wife that he can't help but tell everyone he knows, everyday, multiple times a day, even those that were at the wedding. He just can't get over it. You're his wife, the girl he's been crushing on since highschool, the girl he swore to make his, and to devote himself to. It feels like an incredible dream, and he worriedly pinches himself from time to time to make sure it's real.

He did it. He married you, and now you carry his name in yours, in your wedding band, everywhere he could put it to subtly (not really) show you off as the unquestionably precious treasure you are, his wife, and how overjoyed he is that he managed to catch you and keep you.

Satoru, who forgets how to function when you hold up a pair of white and pink sticks on his birthday, from different brands, both showing positive symbols. You. You're pregnant. With his baby. He swears his brain short-circuits because one minute, he's staring at you like you'd grown a second head, and the next, he has you wrapped up in his arms as he showers your forehead, cheeks, nose, jaw, lips, neck, ears, anywhere he can reach, with kisses.

He's a babbling, sniffly mess as he practically crushes you to his chest and coos and preens and weeps with elation. He reveres you like a deity and he’s your loyal and pathetic servant who was blessed beyond measure that you decided to give him the gift of life. He's going to be a father, and it's all because of you.

Satoru, who completely spoils the living hell out of you during your pregnancy (as if he hadn't already been), bending backwards for you for everything. Weird cravings? He's on it. Swollen ankles and nausea? He's rushing to the store for medicine, then rubbing your feet to ease the ache. Insatiable horniness? He's your slave for you to use for your pleasure. Hormones swinging wildly back and forth? He's there with a box of tissues and his firm chest for you to beat on when you feel like you're going crazy. It's his fault you're pregnant, after all. You're doing the hard work of not just carrying his child, but of nurturing it, growing it, letting it take from you to develop strong and healthy. Of course he's going to take care of you.

Satoru, who refuses to let you do any work. You're on indefinite parental leave. From the moment you show him those positive tests, he sits your pretty ass down on the couch and tells you firmly that your only job now is to help your baby develop. He'll take care of everything else, don't even think about lifting a finger.

Satoru, who's there at every appointment with you, clutching your hand tightly as you talk to your doctor about everything you need to know. And when you have your first ultrasound, and see your fetus together for the very first time, he's crying right alongside you.

Satoru, who spent meticulous hours packing a duffel bag with everything you'll both need for when it comes time for you to go into labor. Spare changes of clothes, plenty of water, blankets to keep you warm, a couple pillows, anything and everything. He refuses to go in unprepared. As soon as it's all packed and ready to go by the 8 month mark of your pregnancy, it's in the backseat of the car. The baby car seat is in the trunk of the sleek and top-of-the-line SUV he purchased specifically for your soon-to-be family. He doesn't care that it's taking up space, or that it’s too early, he refuses to go in unprepared.

Satoru, who immediately ditches work the very instant your water breaks. Who gives a fuck if he's in the middle of something important, nothing takes precedence over you and the incoming birth of your infant. He's breaking several driving laws to get you to the hospital, but neither of you care. Not when you're panting in the passenger seat, white-knuckling the grab handle with a palm pressed to your stomach, grunting and crying out in pain any time you have a contraction. It's a miracle he doesn't get pulled over, and he's incredibly thankful (and proud of himself) for thinking of calling the hospital ahead of time so that they're ready for you.

Satoru, whose entire world becomes a blur from the second you reach the hospital, to the second you're crushing his hand in your grip, screaming as you fight to bring his baby into the world. He's letting you yell at him and blame him for the pain you're in, easily accepting and agreeing because it is his fault.

But while your shaking sobs and shrieks of agony wound his heart beyond any possible measure, he also can't help his elation at knowing it's time, all the waiting has been worth it, every minute spent catering to your every need, want, and desire. He'll do it indefinitely, wait on you hand and foot for the rest of his life, treat you like a queen, because you deserve it and so much more.

Satoru, who's shocked by how well he's holding up when the nurse puts the wrapped up, pudgy little newborn in his arms, gazing down at the tiny being. His tiny being, your tiny being, the fragile and priceless life you both created. Looking down at his kin, his reason for being, he knows he'd do anything and everything to protect you and your child.

Satoru, who sees you, a disheveled and tired disaster, with your hair all tangled, frizzy, and astray, strands stuck to your sweaty skin, your body slack in relief as the hardest part is finally over, watching your husband hold your baby, and he thinks you're more beautiful now than you've ever been.

You look like you’ve been dragged through hell; your legs are sticky with residue blood, amniotic fluid, placenta, and whatever else that needs to be cleaned off (though your legs are covered with a few layers of blankets to keep you toasty warm while you recover from labor), your face is a little pale and sallow, you're barely clinging to consciousness, and he's marveling at how he's never seen anything or anyone as utterly blest and sacred as you.

A goddess amongst men, the only one the strongest man in the world would ever willingly bow down to without you even needing to ask.

Satoru, who helps place your baby on your chest, the nurse having opened the blanket for skin-to-skin contact as you feed it, and finally lets himself release all his pent up emotions of raw, unfiltered joy. Every cell, every fiber, every atom in him is dancing in overwhelming happiness. He'd do it all over, again and again, as many times as you'd let him, if it means he gets to see you this blissful and tranquil. The glow of maternity suits you like no other, even in all your unkempt and chaotic glory.

Satoru, who can't believe he's a dad. He goes above and beyond, insisting he takes care of the baby at night so you can sleep – he doesn't need as much rest as others do, after all. He murmurs to his newborn about how much he cherishes and adores you, how much you mean to him, how you're the best wife and mommy a man could ever ask for and more. He reads the kiddo bedtime stories to help it sleep, feeds it, changes it, whatever it is that is needed, he's there and doing it.

On top of that, he continues to be your doting, devoted, caring husband. He makes sure you're taking your vitamins, takes you to all your postpartum appointments, aids you through your subsequent depression, all of it. He's sworn himself to you for life, not just in this timeline and universe, but in any and every single one of them.

He made and said his vows with purpose and conviction. He meant every word, and upholds them like his life depends on it. Because, in his mind, it does.

Satoru, who is patient with you, and firmly commands you to not push yourself to do things you can't do while you're still in recovery. He doesn't care if he has to wait months or even years for you to be ready to lay with him again, he'll wait it out. He might not be a patient man, but for you, he'd wait until all the stars die.

Oh, but you, darling little minx that you are, do your best to take care of him, too. Even when he urges you to rest, or not worry about it, or anything other arguments he might have against it, you tend to him in whatever way you can. Touching, sucking, rough and heavy petting, whatever it takes. You refuse to leave him alone to suffer through months and months of dryness with no relief save for his hand and the toy you surprised him with to help take the edge off.

Satoru, who can't be more grateful to you. You're more than his wildest dreams, the perfect wife, the perfect mother, the perfect person as a whole in the entirety of the universe. He really can't help boasting about being the Chosen One, because he really is, if the cosmos decided to gift him with you.

Satoru, who swears to take care of you for the rest of your lives, and does well on his promise.

Satoru, who fights for the sake of you and your kin alone. He refuses to leave you in any way, shape, or form. He refuses to let the world be a danger to any of you. He refuses to have anything happen to his family. Nothing will tear you apart, not now, not ever.

Satoru, who loves you more than the sun, the moon, and all the stars combined.

—-—-•(-•ʚɞ•-)•—-—-

Banner by cafekitsune ♥ thank you for reading

#gojo satoru x you #satoru gojo x you #gojo satoru x reader #satoru gojo x reader #gojo x reader #gojo x you #satoru x reader #satoru x you #jjk x reader #jjk x you #fluff #chimera-writes #dad!gojo #husband!gojo

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captainfern · 25 days

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hellos!! i’ve been missing ghost :( maybe this boring but i just need some nice soft smut w him! maybe sprinkle in a breeding kink if you feel so inclined.. love you fern ❤️

requesting a breeding kink ?? ily more !!

18+, fem!reader, hashtag balls deep and breeding babyyyyy (sorry)

the weight of simon on top of you was always something you loved. to feel the sheer mass of him press down against you, to have the soft ridges of his belly and chest against your own, was something you cherished.

and when he was balls-deep inside the tight heat of your cunt? even better.

he had your legs spread wide, revealing the sopping core of your cunt to him in the darkness of your bedroom. you didn’t know what time it was, nor did you care— you woke up in the middle of the night, horny as fuck, and needed your husband’s cock. right then and there.

and he was more than happy to do so.

he had sunk into you with a guttural groan, your pussy already slick with arousal. you let him in so easily, the way your gummy walls stretched to take his thick cock. he never got over the feeling. never will get over the feeling of your sopping cunt opening up for him and clutching him tight.

he buried his face into the crook of your neck when he bottomed out, grinding his hips against yours. he groaned into the soft skin of your throat at the feeling of you clenching around him. he could feel the softness of your belly and tits beneath him, his large arms caging you under him. heaven on earth.

“s’that feel good?” he asked you, nosing at the pulse below your earlobe. simon canted his hips forward, starting a pace of thrusts, the head of his cock finding that perfect spot within you in seconds. “s’that good, baby?”

“yeah,” you whined, nodding as his big body shunted you up the bed, but the weight of his body atop yours kept you anchored. he was reaching so deep inside you with this angle.

your hands rubbed up and down the wide expanse of his back, grappling at the soft muscle there. your legs kicked up and locked around his thighs, holding him impossibly closer to you as he pushed his cock in and out of you. each thrust of his cock drew wet sounds from your cunt, causing heat to ripple through your body and pleasure to settle deep in the pit of your stomach.

“simonnn,” you dragged out through a moan. the pleasure in your tummy was building, sweat accumulating between your pinned bodies.

simon grunted and groaned into your neck, lips attached to the soft skin there. he sucked and nipped between sounds of pleasure, focused on the rock of his hips against yours and the deep plunge of his cock near the plug of your cervix. his soft belly pressed to yours, he couldn’t help but let his mind wander to all the possibilities. the possibilities of filling you up— getting you pregnant.

the thought made simon moan, loud and dramatic. the sound had your pussy clenching hard around his cock, arousal dribbling from where it was split open over his cock. the pleasure in your stomach twisted tighter, tingles beginning to set in the base of your spine.

“i love you so much,” simon suddenly said, picking his head from out of your neck. he looked down at you with a soft gaze. but there was infatuation in those dilated pupils. “‘m gonna get you pregnant, baby.”

you moaned, back arching off the bed, sweat gathering across your skin. you were burning up as he pushed you closer to release.

“yeah, you like that?” simon lilted, smiling down at you as his thrusts rocked the bed— and you. “‘m so deep, aren’t I? so deep in this pretty tummy. just wanna fill it up.” he added, slipping a hand between the two of you to pet your belly, but only for a few seconds.

“how’s that sound? you want me to come inside you? you want me to get you pregnant?” simon continued as your body slowly began to shudder, pleasure bubbling inside you, static bursting in your nerve endings. simon leaned down and kissed you. “yeah, i know, baby. i’ll come inside you and stuff your pretty tummy full.”

“simon, fuck, m’gonna come—” you mewled, clutching on to him in the fear that your orgasm would make you lose your hold on him.

simon kissed you again. “you can come for me, baby. then ‘m gonna come deep inside this pussy and make you a mama.”

you came with an explosion of stars behind your eyelids. your body jolted and shuddered beneath his, orgasm wracking through you. your cunt pulled tight around the thick of simon’s cock, gushing with each twitch of your legs. you moaned and whined, whimpering his name as he fucked you through the entire thing.

“make you a mama…” simon repeated in some kind of delirious whisper, before he was grasping and moaning out your name, desperately and with a rasp to the syllables. he stuffed himself to the root inside you and came up against the base of your cervix, moaning the entire time.

you felt the warmth fill you, your body hot and sweaty. as his cock emptied inside of you, twitching with the last of it, simon kissed you gently, smoothing his lips against yours.

“i meant it, you know,” he said quietly, cock slowly starting to soften inside you.

“what?” you smiled. “that you’ll get me pregnant?”

simon chuckled and pressed a kiss to the tip of your nose. “no, not that. i mean, that’s true, but that’s not what i meant.”

“no?”

“no,” he said, kissing you again. “i meant it when i said i love you.”

you smiled against his lips. “i know. i love you too.”

#if someone threatened me with pregnancy rn in irl i would scream #but in cod fanfic ?? babe whisper that shit in my ear and hit it raw wtf #simon ghost riley smut #simon riley #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley #ghost x female reader #ghost smut #cod ghost #ghost x reader #cod smut #call of duty smut #call of duty #captainfern #captainfernsalutes

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depravitycentral · 2 years

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Thinking of men who practically whimper during sex.

They’re above you, muscles taut and flexing as their hips roll into yours, stuttering and spasming with every thrust. Calling their pace sporadic would be generous – the thrusts are random, carnally snaping into you, as if he has no control over his own body. His breath is labored, deep pants that have hot breaths fanning across your lips, his eyes practically crossed as he stares heavy lidded down at you. There’s not an inch of space between your bodies – your nipples brush against his chest, pebbled and hard and driving him fucking crazy, his cock twitching inside you over and over again until you’re sure he'll come any moment. His forearms cage around your head, the heat radiating from his body making you dizzy as he picks up his pace, the feeling of your tight walls fluttering around him leaving his eyes rolling to the back of his head. It’s heaven, the coarse hairs right above his cock brushing against your sensitive bud with every thrust.

But oh – the sounds he makes are something sinful, downright unholy. They’re deep, starting as groans way down in his chest but slowly climbing to desperate little moans as they tumble past his lips, getting higher and thinner as he nears his end. He can’t look at you like this – he’s too embarrassed, the pleasure making his brain mush as he gasps and heaves out uneven, stuttered breaths.

But at a particularly tight clench around him, he’s suddenly falling forward, his face buried in your neck as he cries out your name, the syllables slurred and runny and god, is he chanting your name? It’s low, breathy, in time with every smack of his hips against yours, heavy balls clapping against your ass as you lick your lips and groan.

Soon your name becomes pleas, little begs that leave you scratching your nails down his back, surely leaving lines you know he’ll wear like trophies tomorrow.

F-fuck, oh fuck oh fuck, just like th-that baby, fuck!

Feels so, mmm o-oh, feels so good, ‘m gonna come s’fast baby, fuck it’s all your fault –

Please let me come, wanna come so – so fuckin’ bad, wanna come in you baby fuck please!

Let me come i-inside, wanna – wanna stuff you so fucking full, oh god ‘m so close –

He’s nearly crying, big fat tears welling in his because he needs you to give him permission to come in that tight cunt of yours, to send ropes of white spurting inside you. He needs you to tell him he’s a good boy, that he deserves to get you sticky and spent, your pussy all puffy and musky.

And when you tell him yes, he can fuck his cum into you, he’s gone.

Suddenly he’s blabbering out slurred thank you’s, his hips bucking into you as he moans and whimpers and chokes on his own gasps, the sounds ringing in your ears as he stiffens up, body going taut and every muscle contracting and oh fuck oh fuck it’s coming he’s coming here it comes –

The moan he lets out is high, almost pained, almost sounding like your name. His eyes are squeezed shut, face still tucked against your neck, and you can feel the spurts of warm, runny cum as his cock twitches, over and over as if he’s trying to get every last drop into you, wanting to make sure you’re good and properly stuffed full. Stuffed full of him.

He’s shaking, his shoulders heaving as he peppers wet, slobbery kisses against your neck, cries of thank you and I love you spilling past his lips as his hips slowly begin moving again, his cock still painfully hard.

‘m sorry, he gasps, need to give you everything…

And, twenty minutes later, the cum slowly dribbling out of your used cunt will be proof – along with the strangled, choked moan he lets out as he watches it.

Keiji Akaashi, Atsumu Miya, Tobio Kageyama, Yuutarou Kindaichi, Kenji Futakuchi, Tsutomu Goshiki

#yandere haikyuu #haikyuu smut #haikyuu x reader #_lee thirsts #_keiji akaashi #_atsumu miya #_tobio kageyama #_yuutarou kindaichi #_kenji futakuchi #_tsutomu goshiki

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chewingcyanide · 6 months

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𝐁𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐊𝐀𝐁𝐋𝐄 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐍 | 𝐣. 𝐡𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐞𝐬

₊⊹ 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 — secrets are best kept buried, just like your tangled relationship with your best friend’s older brother.

₊⊹ 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 — unrequited love ( that heart wrenching shit ), cursing? weird mentions and descriptions of blood, cursing ( lots of it ), yelling / arguing ( LOTS of it ), heavy angst with a dash of laughter, kind of OMC x reader but not too much, jealousy, kinda possessiveness ( from jack… had to do it ), emotional distress and all that good stuff

₊⊹ 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 — jack hughes x f!reader , OMC x f!reader (briefly), best friend!luke hughes x f!reader

₊⊹ 𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑'𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄 — i’ve returned from a million year hiatus with this BIG BITCH and i’m sorry for it. may write a pt. 2 w a happy ending bc i’m a slut for them. anyway, enjoy! request if you’d like. love you guys.

𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

You had existed within the world of Jack Hughes since your freshman year of high school.

Existed. Not an integral part, nor a spoke on the wheel of many friends he already had. Truthfully, you were only acquainted with him because of his younger brother, Luke; your freshman biology lab partner, and eventual best friend. Years had passed since you first met Luke—no longer were you the wide-eyed fifteen-year-old crossing the threshold from child to near-adult. Now, you were an adult. Twenty, with two more years of college stretched out before you, seemingly everything had changed.

Well, except for the lead weight chained to your ankle—the fundamental and inexorable truth that you were still in love with Jack Hughes.

It started as most consuming things do: a small idea, watered by brief looks, a brush of heated fingertips against your hand, or arm, or waist—or anywhere, really. A head rush that sent you meters under waves of excitement and anticipation. Loving Jack was like having a fever that never broke; it persisted, a dull ache that squeezed your skull each time he was near. Even now, five years later, the flashing of blue eyes—never brimmed with what you knew was embarrassingly reflected in your own—was enough to make sweat bead at your palms.

It never grew into more than a hope, a wishful desire. But wishing seldom got anyone anywhere, and it surely hadn’t helped you. When the months turned warm and spring faded into summer, the overwhelming ache of freedom that came with warm weather and the end of the hockey season drew Luke and his brothers to Sanibel—a beach so wrought with memories of youth and foolish memories that the idea of going another year made dread settle like steel in your bones. They’d bought it after a vacation there a few years ago, and the rest was history.

But, of course, Luke—the youngest of three—never took no for an answer.

“You can’t miss this year,” he had insisted. The Devils had their hopes cut short once more—this time in an second round exit to Carolina. Ergo, the expected departure time had been bumped up significantly. Vancouver had missed the playoffs altogether.

You stood silent, tearing away skin from your nail-beds as Luke leaned against the kitchen counter. The cold metal of the fridge pressing into the bare strip of skin on your back was the only thing keeping you present in the conversation.

You hated how Luke did this—he’d take your silence over text as an invitation to barge his way into your apartment, destroying the barrier of safety and excuses a phone provided, and ask you face-to-face. And how could you say no? You never had before, and look where that got you. No closer to removing hooks branded with the name Jack from your heart.

“Luke…” you sighed, only dropping your hands when blood bubbled to the surface of your torn skin. Pain rippled down your fingertips, but you ignored it. The dread that quickened your pacing heart was too overwhelming a sensation. “I don’t know—maybe I should—”

“Skip out?” Luke rounded the kitchen counter and came to stand in front of you. “No way, Bells. You have to come. Otherwise I’ll be alone all summer.”

You could have scoffed if you cared more. Bells. That dumb nickname Jack had given you years ago—according to him, it was because you were such a silent walker, you required a bell to be heard. Aside from the embarrassment you got from being called a childhood nickname even now, it reminded you that your existence was always going to be tied to Jack. A piece of him carried with you, a cage keeping your heart from beating without him; the bright red ribbon tied around your wrist that screamed I Love Jack Hughes!

No matter what, it would always be him. You tried; God, did you try. Hearing stories of his hookups, the life of a single, superstar hockey player should have been enough to send your stupid childhood crush to its grave, but as if cursed by a necromancer, the mere mention of Jack brought it right back to life. It was a cruel cycle that just wouldn’t end. And you knew going to that damned beach house would only prolong the life of the indestructible feeling more.

Jack was tarnished jewelry, rubbing your skin green and raw and wrong, and yet—you could never seem to take it off, even when it made you look foolish.

Silence fell like thick fog. Luke’s eyes roved along your face, as if trying to read a book with the letters smudged. “C’mon, Bells. You have fun every year, and I don’t want to have a summer without you.”

“Jack and Quinn will be there,” you said, voice low. Pathetic anxiety swelled in your chest like the forecast of a hurricane. Even saying his name tightened your veins. “Trevor, Alex, and Cole, too—I don’t need to go, Luke. Won’t it be weird?”

An unamused look graced Luke’s face. “You go with us every year. Why would it be different now?”

You wanted to curse Luke for being so persistent. Part of you wished you could just scream that you loved his brother, but couldn’t. You never could. Loving Jack ensured you lost someone—Luke, who would never get over the thought of you potentially sleeping with Jack; and well, if that failed, you also fully lost Jack. Unrequited love confessions made fools of ghosts.

To Jack, you were a ghost. Haunting his life, disrupting some times, but never there long enough to be seen. And even if he did, he convinced himself you weren’t there, that you didn’t even exist. Maybe it were best if you moved on and let yourself rest. Ghosts haunt their murderers, but Jack hadn’t killed you, you’d killed yourself—hoping, wishing, praying he would take a moment to believe and see you. But he never did. So you floated through his life until the moment you were no longer confined by unfinished business.

And maybe that was what you needed. Closure, the severing of a tie that was only hurting you to hold on to. And maybe, closure would come this summer. To look on Jack and not feel your heart race, but settle into a quiet murmur, a healthy pace—to free yourself from the confines of this painful love and finally move on. Haunt the graveyard no longer; sitting by and hoping he would place flowers by the grave.

“Okay,” you said quietly, glancing down at your sweater. Crimson marks stained the white fabric. You’d accidentally wiped your fingers on the cloth. “You win.”

Maybe this would be the summer you let go of Jack Hughes.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆

The cry of gulls and gentle breeze of salt-bitter air welcomed you back as the car breezed past the Welcome to Sanibel Island! sign. It felt like a taunt, as if you were passing into the circus, the main star of a show you never signed up for. With Sanibel came Jack, and the potential end to a love you’d clawed onto for dear life for the last half-decade. It felt strange, almost wrong, to imagine a world where Jack Hughes didn’t exist as the basis for all romantic interests. To hold someone’s hand and not compare the texture to his. To lose the anticipated blush that warmed your face each time he glanced at you. Because losing Jack was like losing a piece of yourself—all your life you’d associated love with him, and what would there be afterwards?

Sandy beaches rolled endless at the horizon, dotted with the figures of vacationers and locals alike. You glanced to Luke, his hand working the steering wheel as he drove the long-winded path to the beach house. Strands of your hair were roused by the invisible hand of the wind, no doubt knotting it, but you were too enraptured in what ifs and a potential future to much care.

“Are you excited?” Luke asked, looking to you. Elbow leaned against the doorframe, you managed to work your mouth into a smile. Even if it was twinged with apprehension.

“Of course. I love it here. I’m glad you guys were rich enough to buy it.”

Luke laughed.

And that was true. Summer here felt endless. Nights spent on the beach, the tickle of warmth from a stick-lit fire cradling you against the rush of cold blowing off the ocean. The bitter rush of alcohol that stung your veins. Hair made wet by the sea, drying beneath the warm fingertips of sunlight. Skin richening into a burn, soothed only by aloe vera and a cold shower. Laughter between friends and the restless nights talking. All of it was perfect. For you, summer was Jack. Brief and sweet, the thing you looked forward to seeing each year. But it never lasted long enough to truly feel, something you could never touch.

You wondered if you made it obvious. If Luke suspected, or Quinn; the eldest Hughes was always the most perceptive. Any time Jack said something that made your teeth clench with hurt, Quinn glanced at you. A reassuring smile. The extended hand in the dark. But if he knew, he never commented on it.

“Who’s already here?” you asked, eyes catching on the brightly colored houses lining the beach. Blue, pink, the odd green, melding together as the car breezed into the strip of land the beach house rested on.

You almost dreaded the answer. “Quinn and Jack,” Luke responded, voice a little distant—his eyes scanned for the house, too focused on his task to much care for the cringe you gave at the mention of Jack’s name.

You shouldn’t have been surprised, really. It was his house. Yet you found yourself hoping you’d at least beaten him here so you could mentally prepare for his arrival. As it were, you had about five minutes to do that.

Tires crunched against sand as Luke pulled into the driveway. Lead solidified in your bones until you felt as though you were going to sink straight into the earth. A deep breath expanded your chest, and you watched as Luke took out his phone—presumably to text that he’d arrived. Escaping the car, Luke stared at you expectantly. Your body pressed against the doorframe, eyes glanced out at the horizon. Smeared like a painting across the sky, a myriad of colors—oranges, pinks, yellows—foretold the coming of night. Maybe you could stay in here until everyone was asleep, to sneak past Jack and not have to—

The door to the passenger side opened, and there stood Luke, a hand on his hip. Making grabby hands like a toddler, he motioned for you to come. “What’s up with you, Bells? You’re so… quiet.”

You snorted. “That’s not news.”

“You know what I meant,” retorted Luke, grabbing your elbow with a gentle grip. “What’s got your head off to sea?”

Your brother! you wanted to scream, but found your tongue bolted to the bottom of your mouth. Offering instead a smile, you allowed Luke to help you out of the Jeep. Soft sand caught your feet, cushioning the drop. It felt strange to be back here again, but somehow, you knew it wouldn’t be the same. A rueful feeling ached your bones. This would maybe be the last time you’d ever come to the beach house. If your closure went as you intended… there would be no more summers in Sanibel. No more late beach nights. No more salt air creating a stick sheen on your skin. No more Jack Hughes.

“Just thinking about summer,” was all you said.

Like everything, its temporariness was what made it special.

Together, you and Luke began to unpack the bags from the trunk of the Jeep. “Any fun activities planned this summer?” you asked, hoping to alleviate the tension making your head pound.

Luke gave you a backwards glance as he practically leaned his whole body into the trunk. “New bar opened on the strip,” he told you. “I think we have to go.”

Your eyebrows crinkled. “We’re twenty, Luke. And this is a tourist town, they’re going to ID.”

Luke only smiled, clearly not thwarted by your pessimism. “Lucky then that you don’t have to worry. I’ve got it all figured out.”

You didn’t want to ask how, so instead you sighed, hauling your bag onto your shoulder. “Whatever. But I am not ending up in jail because you want to underage drink in public, Luke.”

There was no response to that. Slinking past you with elegance you thought his large frame incapable of, Luke began walking up the driveway and towards the beach house. It looked exactly the same as it had last summer—a gentle gray exterior, like the storm clouds that sometimes brewed over the sea, and a darker roof. White wood bordered the many windows, some with their own balconies. Rust spotted the metal of the garage, slowly encroaching from the outside. A simple wood fence enclosed the sides of the house, leading to the back where you knew a pool hid. Everything was exactly the same, yet so different. Last time you were here, it all felt so unknown, like the end of the summer would make or break the rest of your year. You’d hoped then that maybe Jack would notice, that it would finally be the year he looked at you as more than Luke’s best friend. You’d packed your cutest outfits, the bikinis your friends said would make any man double-take, yet nothing worked. It had been the same as every year before. Jack was nice, but indifferent. Friendly, but inattentive.

However, this year wasn’t like every other year. You didn’t come here with starry eyes and a child-like hope that Jack would pick you after years of oblivion. You came here to finally let go of him, to move on, to bury a love you’d kept on life support for years and years, in the hopes it would come back to life.

Feet making indents in the sand as you walked up the driveway, you saw Jack’s car—a silver Mercedes-Benz—parked a bit ahead. You hated the stutter in your step when you saw it, and you hated more the stoppage in your heart when you heard laughter rounding the side of the house. There was two voices, interwoven and nearly indistinguishable, but you’d know his laugh anywhere, know it blind. All the feelings you’d shoved aside in favor of an aloof disposition crawled their way out of shallow graves. A shaky breath, the fluttering of your eyes, and suddenly—there he was.

Trailing behind Quinn, soaked black swim shorts clinging to wide thighs, a bare chest coated in droplets of water, tousled hair styled by the unconscious hand of water. He smiled, maybe at something Quinn had said, you weren’t sure, and it all came back. How could you get closure when he incited such a deep, profound longing in your soul? When he tugged you towards him the the moon to the tide?

You’d stopped walking. When, you weren’t sure. Time became an endless thing as Jack’s eyes flickered to you. Those blue eyes shot through with something you weren’t sure how to describe, but he grinned—at you—and then he was walking towards you. All at once you wanted to lob a rock at Luke’s head for making you come, and then kill yourself for even thinking for one moment closure would be remotely possible when you still were in love with Jack.

His presence was all-consuming, like stepping to close to the fire. Fingers worn by years of use brushed your own when he took your luggage, carrying it with ease. Even older than you, Jack never lost that youthful sense of delight you’d seen on kids when they got a new toy. He’d always been the sun. For you, and for everyone around him.

You’d never deluded yourself into thinking you were the only one who loved Jack, or wanted him. But it didn’t stop you from wishing you were the one he’d choose.

“Bells,” Jack greeted, warmth oozing from his words, so much that you wanted to yell at him that he wasn’t being fair. How could he expect you not to want him? How, when he was so nice to you, yet so indifferent? “How was the trip?”

Blinking, you allowed him to gathering your luggage and begin walking back to the house. Water transferred from his body to your tote bag, but you found yourself not caring. He could ruin everything you’d brought and it wouldn’t matter. They’d at least be stained with his touch.

“Good,” you managed, trying to keep your feet even on the lumpy sand. Why they’d decided not to install an actual drive way would never make sense to you. “Not a lot of traffic. Luke didn’t kill us, so that’s a plus.”

Jack laughed. It rumbled through his chest and echoed like a victory trumpet in the air. “He’s a shit driver,” he said. “Shoulda convinced him to let you drive with me.”

Tar filled your lungs. Words failed you, and so stupidity, you said: “But you drove with Quinn.”

Jack quirked an eyebrow. Readjusted your bag on his shoulder. “Quinn’s a big boy. He can travel alone.”

Before you could stop yourself, the words flew out of your mouth, “So you think I’m a little girl?”

Jack paused. Glanced over at you. The meeting of two sets of eyes holding extremely different emotions. After a moment, he cut the tension with another laugh. “You are two years younger than me.”

“So is Luke, and last I checked, he was the tallest,” you retorted, offering up a chuckle yourself. You didn’t want to give more, to give in. You had to keep that wall, even if there was already so many holes in it.

With his free hand, Jack tussled your hair, wiggling your head around. You batted him off, feigning annoyance, when really, you wanted him to keep touching you. You could have groaned. God, you were pathetic.

Entering the beach house was like entering freedom. It was typically decorated, that seaside aesthetic Ellen had done herself the first year the boys bought the house. Fishing net and shells in jars, accompanied by hanging hammocks and white coral displays hadn’t moved, and you felt the air greet you, blowing in from the open back door that looked over the pool—and the beach. Salty air snaked up your airway, a welcome sting. A missed one. You weren’t sure if you’d miss Jack or the beach house more.

Luke disappeared with Quinn, the latter offering a gentle smile—perhaps a little pity twinged in. That left only you and Jack, standing in the wide mouth of the living room, the sunset sky bathing your skin in those candle-light oranges you so loved. Beside you, the gentle pat, pat, pat of water dripping off of Jack’s shorts was all that was heard. You took a moment more to enjoy the feeling of peace you got from being here, before Jack snapped you back to the current with a throat clear.

“Want me to bring your stuff to your room?” Your room. The one you’d claimed all those years ago. A room that—after this summer, perhaps—would bo longer be yours. You’d spent hours decorating it, little trinkets imposed with sentiment covering the room. The sea blue sheets. The balcony overlooking the ocean. All of it would be gone.

You had to inhale to stave off the melancholia crawling up your throat like bile. “Yeah, thanks.”

It was hard not to look at Jack. He was always the center of attention—on the ice, off the ice; in his personal life, in the eye of the public. He just was. Never asked for it, always had it. Girls wanted him, boys wanted to be him. You imagined it got tedious after so many years, but at the same time, you wondered what it would be like to be that loved. So adored you could have anything and anyone. You found you’d trade it all for him, for Jack, if he simply asked. You knew he wouldn’t do the same. Why give up freedom for a small-town girl that his brother had dragged around for longer than he probably should?

Up the stairs, through a hallway, and there your room was. You tried to revel in it, in the finality of it all. Convinced you were never coming back here. That Jack would never carry your luggage for you again, making a mess of the floors just to help you out. Inside, you saw the bed was made just like how you left it. A small whale plush—affectionately named Hershey for the chocolate it had been holding when it was won at the arcade—was sat just before the pillows. You hadn’t left him there. Hershey was a cherish piece of history; Jack had won him for you, two years back. Whales were your favorite animal, a gentle giant, the crown of the sea. He knew it, and he had gotten him for you. Maybe that was what kept your hope alive, the little things, the moments where he was more than just an unreachable deity you prayed to repeatedly just for him to notice you.

You glanced over your shoulder as Jack placed your luggage down with a thud. He rubbed his hands together. “Found him downstairs,” he said, gesturing to Hershey, “figured I’d bring him home.”

Home. A word that made your gut turn. His home, but never yours.

“Oh, yeah,” you said lamely. “Wouldn’t want to lose Hershey. You tried so hard to win him.”

Jack scoffed. “I was playing against Trevor. I’d be embarrassed if I didn’t win.”

“Don’t talk about Trevor like that,” you teased with a smile. Finding yourself slipping back into the dynamic. You’d try to make him laugh, just to make him smile. Just to make him see you could make him happy.

Jack only rolled his eyes. You attempted to side-step him, only for your foot to catch his own. A hand immediately came to your rescue, steadying you. A hot flush pinkened your cheeks and slid down your spine. His breath fanned over your temple, a catalyst for every single one of your nerves fraying. You hated that he could do this to you, without trying, without caring, when you tried so hard to avoid falling back into him like a fool. It wasn’t fair—but when was love?

Jack pulled his hand away, the phantom of his fingers imprinted on your skin. Marked. Just like you’d always been. “Sorry,” you muttered, embarrassment eating at you.

His laugh was a reward. “It’s fine,” he responded. It was always fine with Jack. Never hard feelings. You didn’t think he had a aggressive bone in his body, even after years and years of playing physical hockey. “Even after all the years, you still can’t stay on your feet.”

A reference to your clumsiness. Which wasn’t clumsiness. It was just Jack. You never stumbled around anyone but him. “Yeah,” you bit out, probably harsher than intended. “Guess I haven’t changed.”

But you had. And you needed to find a way out of the hole that was Jack Hughes before you were buried alive.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆

Letting go of things has never been easy. Marked with scratches and tears, everything you’d ever relinquished never left the same. How could it, when you’d spent so much time loving it, cherishing it, only for it to be cruelly ripped from your grasp? Letting go had never been easy, because you’d never been ready to lose what was taken, because it was never ready to leave you either. That’s why it was so easy to reason with yourself about finally moving on from Jack Hughes.

It wasn’t mutually assured destruction. There would be no blowing out of stars and creation of supernovas when you finally put the love to rest. Because it was you. It was never him. He didn’t love you—hell, he didn’t even know you loved him. Perhaps there laid the foundation for burial, a tomb within the dunes, marked with a single shell. When the time came, no claw marks would mar Jack’s skin. He was never yours to mark.

Two weeks had since passed. Settling in had always been easy, but this time, it felt like a final meal before execution. A good thing before the inevitable end. Nights spent by the pool, the reflection of the water a perfect mirror of Jack’s eyes. Drinking and laughing and talking—a chosen family, but one you’d soon depart. You’d always have Luke, the last cord of the fraying rope, unbreakable and timeless. But never again would you tug on that rope, just to see the other end. To move on from Jack would be to forget him, as much as you could.

The summer sun blistered overhead, biting your skin until red bloomed. Splayed out on a beach towel, you opted to suntan while the boys enjoyed the water. You’d get in, eventually, preferably when Jack was not in. You didn’t want the distraction of his body to further make you doubt your ability to handle change. Back facing the sun, you remained entranced by the book in front of you, instead imagining your love life was as explosive and beautiful as the story written for you. When you went to flip the page, something hit your back—a ball, you guessed, from the feeling of impact—making your already sunburnt skin sting like hell.

“Shit,” you cursed, placing your book face down in order to stand. Glancing to the side you figured the ball bounced off to, there sat the culprit: a black-and-white soccer ball, covered in patches of sand.

You heard some shouting, and opted to be a good samaritan and grab it. As you bent down to pick up the sandy ball, another pair of hands invaded your vision and brushed your own. Rightening, you saw a tall man—your age, presumably—who immediately began spewing apologies of all kinds.

He had that youthful look to him, the same as Jack. Golden curls fell around his eyes, slightly sandy, a bit wet, but gleaming like rays of sunlight. Familiar eyes, the blue of the sky after a storm, peered at you with a mixture of concern and apology. He was beautiful, in an artful way—a hand-sculpted effigy, lain in the town square to be worshiped. You figured with age and maturity he presently lacked, he’d be all the more beautiful.

But he wasn’t Jack.

“I am—so sorry!” he spewed words like bullets, hoping one apology landed. You bit down a laugh at the desperation leaking into his voice. “I wasn’t watching where I was kicking. Sorta shanked it—scratch that, really shanked it. Are you okay—I meant to ask—”

“I’m fine,” you cut him off, sparing him. As endearing as his apology was, you could see red rising to his face—you knew what it felt like. “Although I don’t recommend you shoot for the Premier League.”

Upon realizing you weren’t angry, the boy relaxed. “Yeah, as if,” he laughed, tossing the balls back and forth between his hands. “You are okay, right?”

Your eyebrow quirked. “Unless you’re secretly the Hulk, I don’t think you kicking a ball at me could do any serious damage.” Your fingers grazed the spot the ball struck. “Might have a weird mark on my back, ‘s all.”

Goldie Locks, as you’d taken to calling in him your head, circled around you and bent at his knees. His fingertips grazed the small of your back, rattling your spine into a shiver. You heard a subdued sound—something between a giggle and a sharp exhale of air through his noise—and twisted to look down at him.

“It looks dumb, huh?” you said, trying to feel the patter marked on your back with your fingers.

Goldie Locks shook his head. “You wear it well.”

“I better, or I’ll give you a matching mark,” you teased. He stood up, imposing. “Really, though, I’m fine…”

He caught on swiftly. “Jackson. Or Jack.”

You could have cursed the Gods and Fate and her trifling ways. Of course the first cute guy you find has to be him, but not be him. The great irony of life, you supposed it was. Finally ready to move on, and your tugged right back to square one.

A tight smile made its way onto your face. “Jackson.”

Jackson opened his mouth to say something, but the voice of the man you quite literally could not escape interrupted him. “Bells? You okay?”

You thought briefly of faking fainting.

“I’m fine,” you responded, without looking at Jack. You couldn’t. But you wanted to. “He just hit me with a soccer ball and was apologizing.”

Jack imposed into your vision anyway. Jaw working, the rapid flex of his muscles that told he ran to you. Suddenly, the sweltering heat was no longer the cause for your sweating. “Hit you?” he repeated, glancing to Jackson with a raised brow.

Shoved into an unwanted spotlight, Jackson immediately backpedaled. “Accident. Didn’t mean to hit your girl.”

Your girl.

Those two simple words repeated like a scratched vinyl in your mind. Jack’s girl. His. It was something that would have made past you puff your chest. It made present you feel sick. Another pull towards him. Another lock trapping you inside of the room. In the past, you wouldn’t have said anything—wouldn’t have fought it. You’d have waited to see if Jack would deny it; he always did. Another nail in the coffin. How many were needed until you finally understood?

But you were now actively trying to fight the feeling seemingly hardwired into your blood. The instinct that told you to love Jack. “Oh, we’re not dating,” you told Jackson. Blue eyes flittered to you—was he surprised? For once you denied, distanced. Was he confused? “He’s my best friend’s older brother.”

You didn’t know why you added that part. It wasn’t necessary—Jackson didn’t care about your relationships to Jack past the words not dating. But here you were, petty pride swelling in your chest at finally getting to stick it to Jack. Finally being the denier instead of the denied.

“Oh,” Jackson quirked his brow. Glanced at Jack; he said nothing. “Is it okay if I have your number?”

That shocked you. And it clearly shocked Jack, as well. His shoulders tensed, eyes darting to you. Gauging your response. You would have said no before. Would have made some dumb excuse. If you accepted, you distanced yourself from Jack, showed indifference. Past you couldn’t have that.

Present you could.

“Sure,” you said.

This summer would be different.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆

You couldn’t remember the last time you’d been on a date. Michael Neely in eleventh grade, but that was in major part because he looked entirely too similar to Jack—didn’t act like him, however. Didn’t smile like the sun’s envy. He just wasn’t Jack. For as long as you could remember, no one had been. Isolating yourself for years because of the off chance Jack would finally admit it, as if he’d been pulling a big joke on you and had actually wanted you back. But he never did. And you couldn’t wait around forever hoping he would. He never asked you to.

You went through your hair with a brush one final time before deeming yourself presentable. A knit green tank-top paired with denim shorts, warm vanilla perfume—one you’d used since Jack had offered a compliment on the scent—and a smile that you hoped appeared genuine. For once you were excited, not thinking of Jack, measuring Jackson up to him. You let Jackson be himself, undeterred by the ghost of your unrequited love.

The downstairs of the beach house was alive with loud laughter and conversation—you hated you could still pick out Jack’s laugh, could imagine his face when he did; the gentle scrunch of his nose, the squint of his eyes. You wondered if it would ever go away, that sixth sense. If you’d ever be truly and unapologetically free.

Rounding the corner, you were met with the sight of the three brothers playing what looked to be Chel, their eyes fixated on the large TV in front of the couch they were splayed on. You debated slinking out of the house, silent as they’d always teased you for being, just to avoid the awkward conversation you knew would come from the knowledge you—Bells, infatuated devotee of Jack Hughes—were going on a date with a boy you’d known a week.

Fiddling with your fingers, you stood at the back of the couch. Not wanting to interrupt their game, you went to simply tap Luke on the shoulder, hoping he’d eventually pause it. He wasn’t the one to do it, however. Luke and Queen groaned in annoyance when the screen paused, glancing over to the only person who could have done it. Jack didn’t spare them a glance. His homely blue eyes were on you, eyebrows furrowed. Following his gaze, Luke and Quinn gave you a once-over.

“Hell are you going all dolled up like that, Bells?” Luke asked, flicking you on the wrist.

You didn’t really think you were dolled up. “I have a thing called a date, Luke.”

That incited the expected awkward silence. As if drawn by a unbeatable force, you found yourself glancing to Jack. White-knuckled, he gripped the controller with such force you were surprised it didn’t break on him entirely. You briefly wondered what his issue was before Quinn spoke.

“With who?” Surprise laced his question, and you hated it. Hated that he thought you were incapable of moving on from Jack��or maybe he didn’t think you incapable, just averse.

“That guy from the beach, right, Bells?” Luke piped up, turning his body on the couch to face you. “What was his name? Jack?”

You ground your jaw. “Jackson.”

Luke shrugged. “Same thing.”

It wasn’t. You really hoped it wasn’t.

You turned to leave, intent on scurrying out like a dog with its tail tucked between its legs, when a voice called you back. Always calling you back, just when you tried to leave.

“Bells,” Jack spoke, voice drawled. You didn’t turn. “Where are you going?”

You blinked at him, dumbfounded. “On a date…?”

“Where?” You figured it could have been a growl if he were less careful. Luke and Quinn glanced at each other. You fought back a scream.

Why do you care? Why now? When I’m about to move on? I spent so much time waiting for you. I’m done.

You wanted to scream those words at him, but of course, like most confessions, they went unsaid.

“The cove,” you humored him, eyes flicking to your fingers. When had they started bleeding? The cove, of course, was as it sounded: a small chunk of land past the rock barrier at the beach, cornered in by mangroves and hidden away from sight, Jackson claimed it the perfect place for a seaside picnic. You weren’t one to argue.

When Jack made no effort to respond, you finally left. Jackson wasn’t even there yet, but you couldn’t stay inside anymore. Indecision and confusion were eating away at your gut, turning your mind into a war zone. You didn’t understand—couldn’t understand. Years spent in the shadow of Jack Hughes had taught you to fear the light, that if you even for a second let the rays touch you, came the consequence of losing the shade forever. And you’d tossed those fears aside, let yourself into the light, and that only made the dark come back in full force.

It wasn’t fair. Why weren’t you allowed to move on? To finally break the bonds that you yourself had made? Jack had never kept you near, and yet now he didn’t seem to want to let you go. Like a child unwilling to relinquish a toy just because it was theirs.

You tried not to dwell on it. Not when Jackson pulled up, his 4Runner breaking the noise of gulls calls and rumbling cars. Not when he led you out to the cove, picnic basket in hand, like an old-timey romance your mother used to watch. You tried, but just like everything concerning not thinking about Jack, miserably failed. Jackson was attentive, sweet, he did it all right. And as much as you hated yourself for thinking it, it was true: he wasn’t Jack.

“Are you a local?” Jackson asked you. Your mouth closed around a strawberry, staining your fingertips red—better than blood, you supposed.

The tide lapped gently at the sand before your feet, spanning out from beneath the quilt laid beneath you and Jackson. Always coming close, but never quite enough to wet your feet. Gnarled roots of mangrove trees split the sand, boxing the little cove in. You remembered coming here with Jack once, when he was trying to make up for throwing you in the pool with your phone in your back pocket. He hadn’t set up a picnic, only sat beside you in the sand and offered you Hershey. A silent apology. One you never forgot.

Trying to build over that memory was like trying to filter the salt out of the sea. There was too much to ever fully get rid of it.

A breeze tickled your legs. Sand parted between your toes. Everything felt normal; normal, you realized, wasn’t always right.

“No,” you responded after some time, tossing the strawberry head to the sea. “I come here every year with my best friend, his brothers, and their friends.”

Jackson nodded. “The guy from the beach, the one I thought you were dating—” You fought the urge to cringe, “—that was Jack Hughes, right?”

Always the icon. Beloved, beautiful Jack Hughes.

You glanced at Jackson. He smiled. “Yeah, I’ve known him for years. His brother is my best friend.”

“Yeah, I remember you saying that,” he laughed, a whimsical sound. Off-key; pitched too high. You didn’t think you’d be able to differentiate it in a room of others. “How’d that even happen?”

You grinned. Memories of freshman year. Restless nights spent studying in Luke’s room. False trips to the bathroom just for a chance at a glance of his brother. “Luke and I met in our freshman year biology class. He absolutely sucked. Had to tutor the poor kid so he wouldn’t fail.”

Jackson shook his head, the mess of golden curls crowning him danced with the movement. Raising a finger, he wagged it at you as if apprehending a naughty dog. “Hold on now. Biology is damn hard, cut him some slack.”

You giggled. Almost cringed. You felt like a schoolgirl again, trying to slow time as a cute boy walked past. “Maybe if you’re a loser.”

More time passed, the sun’s rays dulled to a warm orange instead of a blinding yellow. The sea calmed. Unseen birds chirped and sung their tunes, never to be understood. Jackson asked questions, answered some. He indulged, dug deep, hoping for treasure. It was strange, to fix your hair and bat your lashes in the hopes of impressing a boy who wasn’t Jack Hughes. Stranger yet you were enjoying Jackson, even fantasizing about a second date. The cold fingers of the wind rose gooseflesh in its wake; your arms rose to combat it, folding against your body in hopes to retain heat. Jackson peered over.

“Cold?” he asked, presumptuous and forward and hoping; one arm already out of his cardigan.

You nodded, murmuring a thanks as Jackson draped his sweater over your shoulders. At once the smell of salt and secondhand smoke snaked up your nose, invaded your airways. It was so different from the warm amber you imagined your skin would faintly smell of if Jack made you his—he smelled like heartbreak and sleepless nights and longing, something you feared was permanently smeared on your flesh. You found yourself heating at the scent, blushing, a slight twinge of excitement at the thought of being claimed by another boy. Foolishly, maybe, you thought it could purge Jack from you, draw over the marks he’d made all over your flesh.

You’d had boys like you before, liked them back—felt the head rush that accompanied youthful yearning. None had ever compared to Jack. Like a stain on your favorite shirt, he’d never come out of your heart, a scar that pulsed every so often, a reminder that he was still there. That he’d never go away. You realized now, looking at Jackson—the soft lines that sprouted next to his eyes when he smiled, a mess of curly blond hair that seemed to fall perfectly in front of his eyes, catered specifically to his beauty—that the memories of wounds weren’t always bad. They weren’t just reminders that you’d been hurt, but that you survived.

Before your mind could conjure any wishful images of you and Jackson, he spoke, “Tomorrow night, there’s a beach bonfire.” His finger extended, curled a stray piece of hair out of your eyes. “Something the locals do every year to kick off summer.”

You smiled—genuinely smiled, not just a flash of teeth forced in order to hide a grimace. Not the smiles you got so used to giving Jack. “And you’re telling me this because…”

Banter. He could tell you knew where he was getting, yet wanted him to spell it out anyway. “Go with me? I think you’d enjoy it,” he said, voice gentle over the lap of waves against the shore. You could almost feel the world hold its breath, awaiting your answer. Would you cling to a hope and dream, or go with what was sitting in front of you? “Plus, having a pretty girl with a perfect personality on my arm wouldn’t hurt too bad.”

“Hmm…” You faked contemplation, tapping your chin. When Jackson flicked your forehead, you scoffed, batting at his hand. “Well now I’m reconsidering my answer, ass.”

Warm fingers wrapped around your wrist, caught it midair, a fish hooked on a line. Feverish, a heat you’d only associated with one person your whole life rose to your head as Jackson’s eyes met yours. Not blue, green. Your mind didn’t even attempt to paint over them, to erase his color, to make him him. Lips wet by eager tongues, a mutual desire. When had you last even considered another man romantically, sexually?

The answer was: not since Jack Hughes barged his way into your life and trapped your heart behind a wall, tossing away the key.

Before anything could be realized, before you could experience your first kiss in what felt like forever, a dull vibrating ripped the moment to shreds. Annoyance flashed in your heart, and a part of you told you to ignore it—but you couldn’t. What if something had gone wrong? Apologetically, you tore your eyes away from Jackson and dug your phone out of your back pocket.

The name flashing on the screen had your heart clenching.

Jack.

“Yes?” Confused, clipped. Why was Jack calling you?

“Oh, uh, hey,” came Jack’s voice—you frowned at his tone. He sounded as if he didn’t even know why he was calling. “I was just… calling to see when you’d be home tonight.”

A scream bubbled in your throat. This is why he was calling you? “This could have been a text.”

Jack laughed dryly. “Guess so. Figured you wouldn’t have seen it.”

You didn’t want to admit he was right. “It’s what…” You took your phone away from your face to look at the time. 8:43. “8:43? I’m not sure, Jack. We’re still at the cove.”

Shuffling on the other end. Your eyes darted to Jackson; he seemed intrigued at who was calling you. “Right, well… Luke wanted to know, so…”

You frowned. “Then why didn’t Luke call me?”

“Playing Chel,” was all you got in response.

Pettiness whirled in your chest like a maelstrom. For once you had the upper hand; cards hidden against your chest, not splayed out for all to see. Maybe with the right move, Jack would fold after so many years of winning. It was childish, you knew that, but the child in you who’d hoped and hoped and hoped only to get turned down every single time awoke—wanted Jack to feel the burn she’d felt when he’d sunk his hooks into her heart.

“I may not come home tonight,” you told him, relished in the pause. Jackson’s eyes flickered to you, curious.

“What?” Jack asked, voice darkened with knowing and other terrible emotions. “What do you mean?”

He knew very well what you meant.

“Absolutely fucking not.” You resisted the urge to recoil at the scorching flame simmering in Jack’s tone; he rarely ever spoke to anyone like that, least of all you. “You met him this week, Bells. If you aren’t home by 10:30 I’m coming to find you.”

Rage flared. You weren’t sure why. Maybe because you could pretend like he cared. As if he had any right to tell you when you had to be home. “So what? Now I have a curfew?” You didn’t want Jackson to overhear the spat, but it’s clear he was watching, listening, picking apart the conversation. “Forgot the part where you were my mother, Jack.”

“You’re staying in my house,” he retorted sharply. “10:30. I’m not kidding.”

After that, the line went dead.

Fire lashed in your veins, threatening to burn your being to ash. How dare he? Just as you inched out of the cage, he tries to drag you back in. Why did he care now? Why couldn’t he have before?

Why?

Tears taunted you. Tried to slip past your eyes. You had given so many tears to Jack, expected him to bottle them and place them on a shelf, a reminder to never hurt you again. He never did. The moon’s rays were a solace, an extended comfort from who knew loneliness better than anything. Soft fingers touched your arm, didn’t push—only rested there, a reminder of consolation.

“He’s like an older brother, huh?” Jackson tried to alleviate your melancholy, revive your playful spirit like a necromancer.

It only made you sadder. If only Jack were like an older brother, if only your heart hadn’t chosen him to beat for.

“Yeah,” you chuckled dryly. “Let’s be glad he won’t be there tomorrow.”

A bright grin tugged on Jackson’s lips. “So you’re coming?”

You smiled.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆

10:15.

The bright light of your phone screen cut through the darkness as you walked up the sandy driveway to the beach house. The departing rumble of Jackson’s 4Runner interrupted the ballad sung by the cicadas and crickets, a sound that followed you all the way to the front door. Sliding your sunflower-adorned key out of your pocket, you fiddled with the lock before finally managing your way into the house. The biting cold of the summer night was promptly chased away by the inviting warmth, but you found yourself unwilling to remove Jackson’s green cardigan. Plastic buttons twirled between your fingers, a few stitches unraveled. Well-worn, loved—smelled like summer nights and escape. You smiled to yourself.

The hum of the TV, along with its vibrant glow startled you as you crossed into the living room area. Despite the somewhat early time, you hadn’t expected anyone to be awake. But there Luke was, curled up on the couch, watching Grease. You could have laughed if you weren’t more aware; Luke had always had a major small crush on Sandy, his guilty pleasure movie, one that came with summer nights and hours talking into the AM. Rounding the foot of the couch, you plopped down next to Luke, startling him out of what appeared to be oncoming sleep.

“Back already?” he asked groggily, clearing the gravel out of his throat. He straightened, blinked a few times. “I take it you didn’t get laid.”

You glared at Luke, silently cursed his teenage-boyishness. “Not everyone fucks on the first date, dick,” you retorted, smiling. “Someone here gave me a curfew. Said he’d come looking for me if I didn’t come back in time; I wasn’t too keen on testing him.”

Luke rolled his eyes. “Cockblock,” he muttered. “Which of them was it? Quinn? He seems like the type.”

“The other one,” you corrected, earning a confused look from Luke. “Exactly! That’s what I thought. Also, did you ask Jack to ask me when I’d be home?”

“No,” Luke drawled, raising an eyebrow. “Why would I?”

That son of a bitch.

Was he just dead set on denying you happiness? Why couldn’t he just admit to caring even a little about you? Why dress up good deeds as the requests of others? Nothing about Jack made sense; it never had. You supposed that was part of the appeal, the mystery of it all. A puzzle gathering dust on the shelf, tried and forgotten for its difficulty. You’d always had a knack for choosing the hardest games.

You waved Luke off, not wanting to hear his conspiracies tonight. Maybe tomorrow, when you didn’t have the weight of a thousand unanswered questions close to caving in your chest. “Nothing,” you said. “Are Quinn and Jack awake?”

Luke eyed you. He saw through you—always had. Yet, for the sake of your dwindling sanity, chose silence. “Quinn isn’t, no,” he told you. “Went to bed like an hour ago.”

“Old man,” you commented, earning a laugh. “And Jack?”

Luke’s eyes flickered to the door leading to the back porch. A warm orange glow was visible through the drawn curtains. “He’s in the pool, I think.”

You nodded. Came to a resolution in your withering heart. “Right,” you murmured, standing. Before departing, you pressed a kiss to Luke’s cheek. “Night, Luke. Go up to your room, if you fall asleep here, I won’t be able to carry you to your bed.”

Luke rolled his eyes, nudged your leg with his knee. “How unfortunate.” Then, he stood, and disappeared up the stairs.

Dread swarmed in your stomach like a tornado, wrecking every defense you’d built up these past weeks to keep out a certain boy. You feared damage control wouldn’t be enough this time, that you couldn’t rebuild if Jack shut you down now. But you had to confront him, had to at least tell him to stop controlling you if nothing else. This summer was meant to be your closure, the final chapter in a book you never thought would end. It felt more like the procession to the grave, not the closing of a door.

What if losing your love for Jack lost you him?

The back door swung open with a squeal, piercing the once thick silence. With your presence swiftly outed, you forewent attempting discreetness, and eased out onto the pool deck. Fingers of frost grabbed for your exposed skin, only combated by Jackson’s cardigan. Bones rattling, you wondered why on earth Jack was going for a swim right now of all times.

You heard the lapping of water, roused by movement, before you saw him. The fluorescent underwater lightning cut through the darkness and reflected on your face, a myriad of whites and blues that was distinctly Jack. When you came to the pools edge, your eyes focused on him—clad in nothing but a pair of blue swim shorts—floating ok his back, eyes closed, as if imagining himself in a different place. You almost felt sorry to ruin the fabrication of his mind. Remembering your anger, you pushed aside the feeling. Why should he be given peace when he’d never given you any?

Before you could even open your mouth, his eyes opened, as if sensing you. He adjusted, treading water, as you merely assessed each other. Waiting. Who would draw first? You. It had always been you.

“I’m home now,” you bit out, your leash gone; Jackson wasn’t here to judge you. “Happy?”

Water lapped at Jack’s collarbones. You almost envied it for being able to touch him so freely. His eyes darted around you, then stopped on the cardigan. Forest green, like Jackson’s eyes. You knew he knew; you hadn’t been wearing it when you left.

“Cute,” he commented, sarcastic and dripping with cruelty you’d never heard from him before. He parted the water with ease, as if he expected everything to bend to his will.

Jack stopped where you stood at the edge. You looked down on him for once, a prick of pride stinging you as for once you had the high ground. For once, he wasn’t able to confine you with his overwhelming presence and being. Fingers curled around the edge of the pool, his hair dripping tears of chlorine-tainted water down his face, Jack merely watched you, waiting a scolding, the tantrum of a child who had what she wanted torn away.

You thought if unfair someone could be so beautiful, especially when he could never be yours.

“What is your issue?” you snapped finally, folding your arms, protecting your glass heart from his insults he’d fire like arrows. “I asked Luke, he said he never asked you what time I’d be home. Was it fun for you? To ruin my date?”

Jack scoffed. Arms corded with muscle flexed, rose from the water; a heave and he was on his feet in front of you, your leverage lost. Water bled off his body like a torrent, soaking your shoes. Droplets flicked on Jackson’s cardigan, the water staining through. You stepped back instinctively, throat tight. You hated how, even now, he had an effect on you.

“Ruin?” he echoed, eyebrows creased. “Don’t be dramatic. It wasn’t like you were planing on staying out with him past 10:30. I was doing you a favor, giving you an out.”

Classic Jack; thinking he knew better than everyone else. “You weren’t, actually,” you hissed. “I didn’t need an out, Jack; I was enjoying myself. So much so I’m going out with him again tomorrow night.”

That was unnecessary to say, you knew. A bite only given to wound him, to prove you were capable of rising from your knees and tearing down the shrine you’d devoted to him for years. Because if Jack Hughes was no longer your sun, you didn’t need to revolve around him—shine only when he was near. Pathetic and driven by childish need to probe yourself, you wanted Jack to hurt—even if you knew he never would, that he couldn’t care less about who you loved and who you were with.

You just wished that he did.

A flicker of confusion. A frown, and then, “What?”

“Jackson invited me to the beginning of summer beach bonfire,” you told him, watching Jack’s jaw tense. You wanted to look away, but couldn’t—he’d always been so encapsulating. “It’s tomorrow night.”

His presence invaded every defense you’d placed up. Chin tipped to look at him, you felt suddenly claustrophobic, as if boxed in—everywhere you looked was him. Deep breaths made each muscle of his chest flex and tense, well-sculpted from years of punishing activity. You hated the flush that almost burned your face. You hated the thunder of your pulse that drowned out any noise but your racing heart. You hated the effect he had on you.

“You aren’t going,” he said simply, as if he had any say.

You frowned. “Yes, I am.”

Jack’s lip wrinkled. Condescension dripped from his voice. “No, you aren’t.”

You could have strangled him. You really could have. “You aren’t my father, Jack. You can’t tell me what I can and can’t do. I’m going.”

He smiled at you. Smiled like he thought you opposition was funny. “You met this guy this week, Bells,” he said, as if it were obvious. “Not only that, you have no idea who’s going to be at this bonfire. What if something goes wrong? You think Golden Boy is going to play the white knight?”

Ignoring what Jack had called Jackson, you turned to leave. You were absolutely not having this argument with him. Not when it was ultimately your decision and your life. Before you could even make it a step, a wet hand clamped around your arm, fingers closing around you like a vice—Jack spun you, unsteadying you. In an effort to save yourself a trip straight down, you threw up your hands, connecting palms with the rigid plane of Jack’s chest. Heat rose to your face, a feverish high sinking the logic of your brain. All of a sudden, you were sixteen again hoping Jack would come out of his room while you were in the hallway.

Breath deepened, you searched for an out—a way to defend yourself. The sword lying at your palms was cheap, but effective, “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were jealous.”

But you did know better. And you knew he wasn’t; you just wished he was.

Jack smiled. Predatory. “Of Jackson?” Fingers loosened—you took the chance to escape, pulling yourself free of Jack’s hold. “If you’re going to try and make me jealous, maybe do it with someone who doesn’t have my fucking name.”

He breezed past you, disappearing inside like a shadow.

You looked down. Eyes grazing the cardigan. A wet handprint stained the arm. Jack’s handprint.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆

Smoke thickened the air into a husky, palpable haze. Dozens of conversations overlapped into one massive dissonance, drowning out the harsh crash of waves upon the shoreline. Bathed in an amber glow provided by a massive fire housed upon a hearth of triangularly-laid sticks, the beach was alive with drinking and laughing and dancing. Sand cushioned your feet, sandals dangling in your hands. Jackson haunted your side, keeping close. He led you in deeper, parting throngs of people like the Red Sea. Greeting a few of them, introducing you.

Excitement turned your blood hot. Rebellion made it all the sweeter. Despite Jack’s vehement opposition against your coming here, you’d done it anyway. When the boys had decided to get a few drinks at the new bar that opened up, you feigned sun sickness as a result of a day at the beach. Whether or not they believed you didn’t matter much—they’d left, which allowed you the chance to be here.

All you had to do was be home before them, which shouldn’t have been difficult. They’d be home in the early hours of the morning.

Mingling with Jackson was simple enough—people didn’t much care who you were. Just that you existed. Beers were handed to you, drank quickly. You wanted to have fun, to let yourself exist without the shackle that was Jack Hughes dragging you back from any romantic venture. A heated hand slipped in your own; Jackson smiled at you. Stomach knotted in a ball, you downed the rest of your White Claw and grinned back.

“You feelin’ okay?” he asked, bending down to better carry his voice to you. The proximity of his face warmed your chest.

“Mhm,” you hummed, relishing in the head rush. Being drunk wasn’t something you did often, what with being underage. There were parts you hated, parts you sought. Like the current buzz of warmth that whispered false confidence through your bloodstream.

The confidence that made you lead Jackson to the water’s edge, hidden from the glow of the fire, shadows outlined by the light of the moon. Rosy-cheeked, you tossed your arms around Jackson’s neck and peered up at him. Although his countenance was lost in the darkness, you could make out blown pupils overtaking his eyes, parted lips lightly doused in alcohol. Water lapped at your feet, danced around your ankles. You didn’t care. Everything in your mind was screaming at you to just do it—kiss him and get it over with, get over with Jack.

Jack.

You hated that even in a moment like this, your mind went to Jack.

It was then—arms tossed around Jackson’s neck, the waves kissing your bare legs—that you realized you’d never let go of Jack. You couldn’t. He was too well in your heart, the patchwork of two souls. If you could, you would turn tail and run, find happiness on the road of abandonment. You wouldn’t have to worry about being alone, isolated simply because people found a piece of your life more interesting than the whole. You wouldn’t have to rebuild your shattered heart when another summer passed by without Jack loving you. You wouldn’t need to remind your heart not to give in to his toothy smile and infectious laugh.

But then, you wouldn’t have Jack. His smile, the devil’s disguise, a shot of oxytocin to the system. Touching of skin, unintentional yet entirely wanted, setting ablaze the wildfire that burned down your castle of wood. Nights spent by the pool, his face illuminated by the glow of underwater lights. The way he made your heart break and mend all at once, the high of a drug that you could never quit. Every time, you relapsed, reminded yourself why you loved Jack—why he was your favorite love, your only one. He didn’t want you for anything, he didn’t even want you.

And maybe it was that; the hypothetical, the possibility. The construct you’d built inside your head, trying to fit into the narrative every summer, but never getting the part.

“Jackson?”

He looked down at you. Green, not blue. Never blue. “Yeah?”

“I don’t think—”

All at once, your arms were falling, cradling empty space as Jackson was ripped away from your touch. A splash of water sent droplets launching into your skin and clothes. You shrieked, stumbled, looked for the culprit. And of course—there Jack stood, huffing, as if he’d run to you. You could barely make out his face, but you didn’t need to; you’d know him blind, by touch alone. Your eyes went down to Jackson, body engulfed in the shallow water. You pieced it together, came into the frantic understanding that Jack had pushed Jackson.

Immediately, you went to help Jackson, only to be tugged back by your elbow. “Jack! What the hell?”

He didn’t grace you with an answer—didn’t even look at you, actually. Those stormy blue eyes were on Jackson, murderous and heated. He shoved you behind him. “What are you doing, huh?” he barked. “Did you know you were giving a minor alcohol? She’s twenty, you fucking idiot!”

Tears of frustration turned your eyes wet, and air became scarce. You wanted to do something, but what could you even do? Jack was accustomed to ignoring you. Stares nipped at the back of your head. Conversation dulled into a lapse.

“Jack, enough,” you begged, the sheer desperation in your voice normally something you’d hate—you couldn’t be bothered to care now. “Please. I’m fine. It wasn’t Jackson’s fault. He didn’t do anything.”

“Stop,” Jack interrupted, eyes flashing to you, a warning. “I told you not to come. Stay out of this, Bells.”

“I had no idea, dude, I swear!” Jackson responded, pulling himself up from the water. Soaked head-to-toe, and dully embarrassed. “She did it herself, I didn’t offer her anything!”

It soured your mouth he was trying to shift the blame to you, even if he was being honest. Your eyes flicked to Jack, and all at once you were reminded why you chose to love him.

His hair was tousled, worked one too many times by frustrated fingers. Eyes wild and concerned, so raw that you could’ve convinced yourself he was that cut by your situation. You knew it wasn’t you; he was just a good person, an empathetic one. But still, you liked to imagine. You’d spent your life imagining what it would be like for him to love you.

“Jack, please, just—”

“Don’t you dare blame her,” Jack’s voice was strangled, as if barely bypassing a wall of fury. “What the fuck do you think this is? The blame game? I don’t care who gave her the alcohol. You brought her here.”

“Please, Jack, let’s just go,” you pleaded, voice tight—embarrassment crawled up your spine like the cold. Everyone was looking, observing the screaming match you’d unfortunately found yourself a part of. “People are looking.”

“I don’t give a shit,” he hissed, advancing on Jackson. Chest-to-chest. A size up; one you hoped wouldn’t result in traded blows. You’d never seen Jack so angry, so wrought with violence. He’d always been docile—kind.

“Why do you care?” Jackson finally snapped, shoving Jack backwards. You tried to intercede, only to be shut down. “She said she wasn’t your girlfriend. Stop acting like a jealous dick.”

Jack laughed. He turned around, facing you as he spoke. “She may not be mine,” he conceded, “but she sure as hell will never be yours.”

Everything was happening to quickly. Your mind struggled to process the entire interaction, how quickly it had all gone sour. Before you could question Jack, scold him, consider the root of his rage, you were being lifted by the middle, and promptly tossed over Jack’s shoulder.

Air fled your lungs, your head pulsed—both from the swift movement and your consumption of what was likely too much alcohol. Jack’s hand stayed on you, keeping you steady as he carried you through the crowd, cutting through blots of people who all looked just as confused as you felt. Anger sparked then, fanned by embarrassment and anger and frustration.

Slamming your fists into Jack’s well-muscled back, you spewed profanities at him. “Put me down, asshole!” He didn’t. Kept walking, over the boardwalk and into the parking lot. Jackson’s 4Runner taunted you. “Jack, let me go! Jack!”

And he did. Your feet felt unfamiliar as he placed you down with little preempt. He steadied you before you could fall, kept a hand on your arm even after. Your heart felt pulled in a million directions, throat filling up with sand—fossilizing in your own skin, mortification sawing pieces off of your soul. Jack looked furious, pacing in front of you. His silver Mercedes gleamed in the moonlight.

“Bells—” He cut himself off. His throat bobbed, ran a hand through his already messed hair. “What the hell were you thinking?”

Your teeth bared. “Me? And what about you, barging into my night and accusing my date of being a criminal? The fuck is wrong with you, Jack?”

Jack laughed. Mocking, mean. You half-wanted to punch him, felt the itch in your fingers. “Oh, forgive me for trying to help you,” he hissed. “What if cops had busted the bonfire, huh? If they’d got you? Do I have to remind you that you’re twenty, Bells? That’s a felony.”

He was right, and you hated it. “But did you have to do all that? Jackson didn’t even give me the alcohol, why did you push him into the water?”

“I already said I don’t care who gave it to you,” Jack grunted, closing in on you. A step back, and you felt your back press into the cold metal of his car. “He was with you. He let you drink.”

You rolled your eyes, tried to muster up a semblance of control. “He doesn’t know my age, Jack.”

“Then he’s a fucking idiot.”

Scoffing, you shoved him away from you. “Oh, is he? Or were we just on a second date, one that you completely ruined! He’s never going to speak to me again, Jack, so thank you for that!”

Faintly, you wondered how you went from adoring Jack to despising him. Maybe it was always meant to be like this. There was a fine line between love and hate.

Eyes flashing, Jack rounded on you. “A second date you shouldn’t have been on,” he snapped. “I told you not to go.”

“New flash: you’re not my keeper,” you said, feeling the anger wane into something worse—fatigue. You didn’t want to fight. Fighting with Jack felt like fighting a part of yourself. “How’d you even find me? You guys were at the bar.”

Jack paused; he noticed your deflated shoulders, sullen face. “SnapMap,” is what he said. He didn’t expand, and you didn’t ask him to.

Silence felt like the worse fog—thick and impenetrable, falling over you like a suffocating blanket. You didn’t know what to say. What could you even say? Jack would never tell you why he was so upset, you didn’t want to ask—didn’t want to hear another made up story he’d spew just to tear apart the hope in your heart.

It hit you then that maybe Jack did love you—or care about you in some capacity, but he’d never admit it. Dancing in circles, a choreography that never ended, you’d never know what Jack truly wanted; didn’t know if he even did. Probably figured you’d screw it up, would ruin a friendship—his and yours, yours and Luke’s. It was a losing battle either way. Every word he uttered cut to the bone, because it was meant to. When the shift started, you didn’t know. Maybe when he realized you were not always going to kneel at his alter, when you tried to escape.

Maybe then he understood, and still avoided—lied, all to protect himself and his brother. He knew, you knew. One wanted, the other avoided. None of it ended well. Heaven was breakable, and he couldn’t dare threaten his own peace. Not even to have you.

You knew then where you stood.

“Why?”

He shook his head, chewed on his lip. “Don’t.”

“Please, Jack,” you whispered. “You owe me an explanation.”

Did he not believe in love? Had a girl hurt him? Was it really Luke, or something else? Why wouldn’t he just try?

“Bells, don’t.”

Your hand reached out. Hoping, praying—it brushed his shirt-clad chest. He didn’t move back, finally looked at you. “You owe it to me, at least. I’ll drop it, I’ll never ask again.”

“We’d just… we’d screw it up,” he managed out, the blue of his eyes richening into a navy. His eyes darted around your face. “I can’t…”

What did it matter anymore? Everything was being bared. All of it. Your fear disappeared into dust; the yearning for a conclusion to this twisted knot of a love died. Just like it always did with Jack—you’d want him, try to forget him, and fail. A never ending loop. But before there had been no chance, now—now you weren’t sure.

“Can’t what?”

Jack didn’t respond. He dug into his pocket. Grabbed his key. “Get in the car.”

The stark change of situation caught you cold. “What—?” You shook your head. You weren’t going to lose this opportunity. “Jack, no. Talk to me. Please.”

“Get in the fucking car.”

You didn’t budge for a moment, then finally, “Okay.”

The drive was silent, thick with awkwardness. What could you say? You’d been so close to coming clean, to finally—after five years—admitting everything. It seemed like Jack had too, but something stopped him. Something always stopped him. You wished you could pick his brain, lay it all out to see the moment he’d stopped seeing you as a ghost, as Luke’s high school best friend. All because you’d tried to move on, because you’d hoped for happiness beyond his black hole persona. But of course, he always managed to drag you back in.

“It’s not fair,” you muttered aloud, semi-an accident. Jack’s eyes snapped to you, the dark road rolling out in front of you.

He worked his jaw. Adjusted his grip on the steering wheel. “What isn’t?”

“You,” you grunted, looking out the window. “I try to be happy, move on. You’ve never wanted me before, I didn’t think it would matter. But when I try, you turn it into World War III.”

Jack didn’t say anything. Barely even moved. You wanted to scream, to leap out of the car, if only to see if he’d care enough to come back for you.

“Why now, Jack? Why not before?” you whimpered. Alcohol made you pathetic, even more so than usual. “What changed?”

“Bells,” he warned, nostrils flaring.

“No,” you protested, swiveling your body his way. “I deserve an answer, Jack. Please.”

Silence still.

“Stop the car.”

Jack looked at you. Up and down, before his focus returned to the road. “No. Stop having a tantrum.”

That nearly sent you into a murderous rage. “Stop the car or I’m jumping out.”

Jack scoffed. “You’re not going to jump out of a moving car.”

You clicked off the lock. Fingers tested the handle. When you tore the door open, the alarm blared; wind whipped your arm as you gripped the door, the darkened road greeting your eyes. Thankfully, no one else was out this late. Jack grabbed you with his free hand, slammed on the breaks and veered off onto the side of the road, just beyond the dunes. Beachgrass surrounded the car, the distant buzz of crickets the only thing you could hear as Jack cursed at you. Unbuckling his seatbelt and slamming the door shut, Jack glared at you.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” he snapped. You felt something akin to pride; he finally had a reaction to something. Cared enough to stop you.

“You won’t answer me,” you said, eyes darting around his face. The emergency interior lights of the car blinked into existence, lighting up your bodies. Jack’s face was flushed, eyes wild. “Please, just—”

“Fuck, stop saying that,” came Jack’s strangled plead, his head dropping.

You blinked at him. Confusion welled like a storm in your eyes. “What? Please?”

Silence. Jack’s head raised lazily, he looked distressed, mouth parted ever so slightly. A hand ran through his hair, mussed it more. “Fuck,” he cursed, low and gravely. “Luke is going to kill me.”

What was he on about? He looked like he was struggling, his hand gripping the steering wheel which such force his knuckles blanched. “What?”

“You’re his best friend,” Jack said. His tongue darted out to lick his lips. “If I… Bells, please…”

You had no idea what to do. What to say. “Jack, what do you mean? You aren’t making any sense.”

“I want to fuck you,” he bit out, leveling you with a furious look, as if he hated himself for that very fact. “But I can’t. If Luke found out, he’d hate you, or me, or us both. I can’t risk that, Bells, I can’t.”

He sounded more like he was trying to convince himself than you. The very fact that he wanted to sleep with you sent you into a dizzy spell; normally, you would’ve wept with happiness at the sheer fact that Jack Hughes wanted you, in any capacity, but all you felt now was a resounding emptiness. He wanted to fuck you, to have you carnally, without anything attached. You loved him; not because he could give you brief pleasure, but because you knew how many freckles were on his back, how he drove with his left hand predominantly, how he quoted Camus but never actually read him.

It occurred to you then that this summer was different. Not because you were getting closure, or because Jack Hughes finally loved you back, but because you finally understood that the devotion you��d put in him for years should have been put in yourself.

You looked at Jack, and for once, didn’t feel that biting desire to touch him, to be wanted by him; now you knew you were, but for what? For once night, just to fade into obscurity? Either you had Jack entirely or not at all. You couldn’t tease yourself with a taste only to never be given the full experience. You didn’t think you’d survive the memory of it.

“I love you,” you said. Watched his reaction. The confession felt like the greatest heartbreak and the biggest relief.

He said nothing back.

And you weren’t heartbroken that he didn’t. You were relieved. Free.

#jack hughes #nj devils #nhl smut #nhl #hockey imagine #hockey smut #jack hughes imagine #jack hughes fanfic #jack hughes x reader #luke hughes #quinn hughes #jack hughes smut #nhl imagine #nhl imagines #hockey

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merakidoll · 9 months

Text

billionaire men who after a long, stressful day in their beautiful office find themselves gathered at the same high end strip club with beautiful women of all ethnicities, and bodies that left their eyes lingering for too long. they would flash their big bucks, and shiny watches, with their handcrafted suits that fit their fit bodies snug. they would have a nice dark drink that goes along with their personality of “mean and grumpy”

they would leave everyone in the room thinking of how absolutely dominating they are. how they would fuck whoever - deep into the mattress showing the sub who’s the actual boss. but what’s so interesting about these men is that their far from .. “being the boss”. their eager. eager to please, to follow orders, to be a good little boys.

“mmm t-that’s right princy” leaning their head back against the back of the couch, you straddle him. suffocating every breathing point he had with your pussy and ass. you shook, giving him the dance he begged for while also pleasing yourself. his tongue licked and poked all over your pussy wanting to taste a reward that he had been thinking about in all of his stressful, time consuming meetings.

just as he felt that the peak of the delicious cream was near. you got up giggleing at the whine and pouty lips he showcased while heaving in air to his burning lungs. “n-no ! get back he-“ he stopped as soon as your gave him that eye. the warning that if he continued to disobey your authority, he was in for a long edge filled night.

you walked over to his naked, beautiful, body throwing your legs over his muscular thighs and large cock that was always standing proudly. you could only think of what people would say to this image. the playboy billionaire finding himself immersed with the local stripper that almost every night, begs to stuff her cunt with his heir.

“open” he did exactly that, opening the pretty mouth with the million dollar teeth. sliding down onto his cock, you let a large droplet of your saliva fall into his mouth. you held in every whine and moan you wanted to release enjoying how even with a scrunched face, and eyes rolling to the back of his head. he kept his mouth open. letting the chocked moans escape echoing out in the led lit vip room.

“thata boy” you rewarded, closing his mouth and kissing his perfect lips rocking your body at a slow pace so he could feel just exactly how he makes you feel. how wet, and needy he gets your cunt. “f-faster — p-please” instead of being rude and correcting him, you began to bounce. the wet noises of his cock fucking into you deep. along with your combination of moans and dirty talk, telling him how only you could see him this way. how he was only every this slutty for you.

that he was the only one that could get you to cum so much in so little time - which was true. the poor man pleaded on the verge of cumming, and salty tears rolling down his model like cheeks, to suck the pretty brown nipples that were hard from the crisp air. and once again you listened, letting his pink lips wrap around you and suck as if milk was gonna come- that led you both to a loud, long orgasm. and an hour of comforting the big, bad boss.

eren, choso, könig, john price, leon kenndy + anyone who you invasion

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hedgehog-moss · 9 months

Text

Today felt like the last day of summer... I spent a long time following a little stream, looking for the spot where I'd found wild currants last year. They had clearly moved to a different spot, or maybe I'm just bad at finding things again because the only landmarks my brain finds worth remembering are stuff like "there were two baby cows to the left" or "there was a majestic hawk perched on a fencepost." I did know the currants grew near a waterfall that's near a little hamlet, and (unlike the baby cows) both were still here one year later.

Half an hour into our quest Pandolf had decided we must be looking for water, so he stopped like "Here!!" every time he found a noteworthy watery spot, it was very sweet.

Eventually I resigned myself to the fact that I wasn't going to find my favourite berries this year, and I went back to the road—and found raspberries instead! The last ones of the summer...

I was like "I accept this consolation prize, world, thank you" and had started picking raspberries when I heard soft dainty footsteps on the road behind me. On reflex I said "Bonjour !" as I was turning around and then realised I'd just said bonjour to this lady:

She walked up to me like she was about to ask me for directions, but then went right past me and walked on with the same purposeful air.

She stopped to admire the view above the waterfall like an old lady on her routine evening walk, then she was on her way.

Pandolf and I went in the opposite direction, to go home, and we soon found another pony who was clearly the first one's pasture mate. This one was in her pasture and she looked sad and abandoned (and/or outraged). She kept pacing and then stopping behind the fence and whinnying.

After we crossed the hamlet we saw a guy on his tractor on the road—he was on his way to a pasture where you could see a little herd of cows who had formed an orderly queue in front of their milking parlour. It was evening milking time and the ladies knew it.

Cows queue like British citizens, I mean very politely and patiently, but still I didn't want to keep them waiting so I hesitated to stop the guy to tell him about the fugitive. I chose the compromise of trotting besides his tractor to give him the news, and the tractor was very loud so he couldn't hear me well and I had to sort of convey the concept of escaped ponyhood with hand gestures. The guy looked in the direction I was indicating and then nodded and moved his arms in a philosophical gesture of total acceptance, like, "Such is life." Or maybe it was "Not my pony, not my problem."

I on the other hand feel a deep sense of community with people who have escape artist animals, so I ended up turning back to see if I could at least orient the pony in the vague direction of her pasture. I found her at a crossroads, wondering where tonight's walk would take her.

When I tried to go around her and shoo her back in the right direction, she went off the road and down by the stream, which wasn't the plan, and Pandolf happily followed her then barked at me like "hey!! water!!" Our search for water had ended but I followed them to humour him—and! I found some wild currants! down by the little bridge that the pony was waiting for me to notice like some mystical guide.

There were no actual berries to be found, I'm a bit too late for that, but I got some cuttings to transplant near my house and since I thought I was going to go home empty-handed it made me feel successful anyway.

So maybe the pony saw me meandering near her pasture looking for currants and decided to escape so she could help me out. A criminal with a heart of gold. If I'd walked by the bridge I might have seen the currants without her help because, guess what, last year's hawk, Guardian of the Gooseberries, was still there on his fencepost nearby. What a good landmark! But I wouldn't have walked by the bridge without the pony's prompting as I had already given up on my search, so she did escape for a good cause.

I tried to use the currants as bait to attract the pony (let's call her Mrs Berry) towards her pasture, but after I pulled the leaves out of her reach for the third time I lost her trust and she stopped paying attention to me. So I had to go back to the good old method to make shetland ponies move, i.e. walk behind her and occasionally pretend-kick in the direction of her bum, the way you'd shepherd a reticent pigeon.

Her friend looked pretty indifferent upon seeing her again, so I think she wasn't whinnying out of worry but because she's a Pirlouit (a snitch).

I opened the pasture gate but Mrs Berry had absolutely no intention of going home so early. She went in the opposite direction, for a little stroll around her hamlet. (Look at Pandolf merrily leading the way! He loves escape artist animals, he thinks they're so much more fun than everybody else.)

Nobody was home in the house by the pasture and I decided to let Mrs Berry stroll, now that she was no longer on the road walking away towards the distant horizon. I figured she must be a Pampérigouste, a known local personage who goes out for an adventure every now and then. We let her have her harmless fun in the two and a half streets of her little village, and since we had lost some time following this pony round, the sun was now quite low and Pan was all prettily backlit as he frolicked on the way home <3

#crawling along #another very long post to say not much at all but i loved this little encounter!

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astroknottt · 1 month

Note

thinking about semi-public sex with gojo, except he can't keep quiet not for a second

TW : NSFW top! mreader ﾉ afab! bottom gojo satoru ﾉ exhibitionism ﾉ gagging ﾉ degrading ﾉ reader is kinda mean ﾉ teasing ﾉ orgasm denial (small mentions)

satoru was a risk taker. call it on a count of his cocky personality, or the fact that he was the strongest sorcerer to grace the lands of japan—but taking risk is what made him who he was. there was no one strong enough to stop him, no one to tell him “no” or “that not right”. he did at one point in his life but he never listened. It wasn’t his thing.

satoru was a brat. you’d learned that about him within the first three weeks of your relationship. he didn’t listen. it was like being on his worst behavior was second nature for him. learning to tame the untrainable took time and skill, but you were willing to learn.

he loved to push your buttons, see how far he could take you before you blew. satoru knew what exactly made you tick, even if you didn’t show it externally, he knew on that on the inside you were thinking of every way you could break him apart.

and that was what exactly was going through his mind as he teased you underneath the table with his foot, toes pressing among the bulge that formed in your dress pants as you and yaga discussed business about a current student of his; yuji itadori.

you maintained eye contact with the older man while he spoke, satoru pressing a grin into the palm of his hand. yaga couldn’t see it, but you could feel those piercing eyes on you. expecting, waiting, pleading for some type of reaction but he knew you wouldn’t give in, especially in front of someone.

so he teased and teased, watching you tense, feeling you twitch beneath his toes.

but he couldn’t help but grin as you grabbed his hand entirely to sweet? lacing your fingers together as you pulled him into a vacant classroom. “come on baby, it was just a bit of teasing. it ain’t my fault you can’t handle what i give.”

you’re quiet but satoru knows he won when grab the back of his head and pull him into a kiss, one that’s full of nothing but tongue and teeth. there’s a fight for dominance but it’s only because he doesn’t want to give it so easily—all it takes is a firm grip around his neck, fingers bruising his skin for him to whimper like a bitch on go pliant in your hold.

within minutes you’re buried inside of him, his pants and boxers long discarded as you hammer into his ruddy pussy. his knees are pushed into his chest, his toes curling as he lies flat on his back and all open for you. he’s crying, it always ends with him crying. he was somehow still loud, even with his own underwear stuff in his mouth—the material wet with drool and tears. his beautiful body jolted along the desk, the small mounds on his chest shaking too. strands of his white hair almost glued to his forehead from the sweat.

you give a few slow thrusts that drag your cock deliciously against satoru’s spongey spot. he melts, his eyes damn near roll into the back of his head. you’ve been doing this long enough— satoru’s close enough to orgasm—that every touch feels like a shot of pure sensation up his spine.

“come on pretty boy. you can take what i can give right?”

he hates when you do that. he hates when you give him the same energy from earlier. but it’s so fucking hot when you tease him back—when you deliver slow strokes to his throbbing cunt and his cocklet, all red and wet jumps from the onslaught. satoru’s head lolls back on hits the desk, between your words and the amazing pressure of your cock, he was sure his brain was oozing from his pussy.

his chest rises with every thrust as you pick up the pace and it brings him embarrassment just how much wetter he gets. just then you rotate your hips in a way that has his back arching off of the desk and an incredibly loud moan leaving his pink swollen lips.

“what is it to much? this is what you wanted right? to be taken right where anyone could walk past and hear you taking this dick like a whore”

you drop his legs and lean over him, satoru’s legs coming to wrap around your waist as his hands find your back. he knew he’d something to ground him. you grip the edge the edge of the desk and the other grips his jaw, forcing him to look you dead in the eyes as you make his pussy your home, as you force his walls to remember the way you feel nestled deep in his stomach. the gag is completely soaked, just as you are in his cunt.

“we’re gonna go until i deem you fit enough to cum. i don’t care who walks in and see’s. you’re gonna fucking learn satoru.”

#𝐇𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐑𝐈𝐗 𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄𝐒.#afab! gojo satoru #gojo satoru #top male reader #dom male reader #jujutsu kaisen #gojo x reader #gojo x male reader

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eveningepiphany · 9 months

Text

go with it | H.S oneshot

my masterlist!

summary: your ex boyfriend— someone you never want to talk to again— is searching for you at a party. trying to do anything to deter him or get away, you spot harry, and a plan comes to fruition.

warnings: cheating ex, surprise kiss, sexual tension, partial mentions of sexual stuff, love/hate relationship, protective! h, fluff, cuddling and lots of kissing

a/n: I’m sorry but this gif actually has me in a chokehold. his jawline, his chewing, his FROWN. literally melting 🫠

———

There was never a day you thought you’d be b-lining to Harry of all people.

Especially not with the intention of once getting there, that you would be slamming your lips against his.

However, you already know you’d rather face a pit of blood-thirsty snakes then be forced into a conversation with your asshole of an ex boyfriend.

Who you know is currently seeking you out, because when you’d caught glimpse of him scouring the groups of people inside the kitchen, after coming back from the bathroom— your stomach dropped, and someone tapped your shoulder.

“He’s your ex, right?” The girl had said this with a light scrunch of her nose as she looked over to him. Her face riddled with a sense of disgust you couldn’t relate to more If you tried.

You had nodded, to which she replied, “Well, he’s asking everyone if you’re here and where you are. Going by his personality I’m assuming you’re gonna want to avoid that.”

You’d never wanted to hug someone more then her in that moment.

At the information she’d so kindly shared with you, your first priority was getting out of the house.

The front door wasn’t an option since he is near the only hallway that leads it it. So out through the back patio, where a smaller group of people were mingling by the fire, was easily your best option.

You knew this was where he’d be likely looking next, so you ran out the door. Unsure if you are about to just find a way to jump the fence and make your escape or…

Either way, you knew if he managed to talk to you, you’d be getting an unwanted earful of advances.

He’d beg with his nasally voice for you to give him a chance, and then go on about the same bitter ending you’d both faced. To his own fault, of course.

He was talking to multiple other girls over the damn state while you were together. And once you found out, it confirmed your outlook on his person.

He of course was charming and nice at first. But it was almost in a sleazy way when you think back to it. He’d yelled at you when you bought up his adulterous habits, and you never looked back after that.

Once you were outside, you were considering your options, but you spotted a person on the other side of the decking.

The second your eyes locked on Harry, it was a done deal.

If you were to seem like you were in another relationship, he would be much more likely to back off. Much more likely to never contact or try to find you again.

He was petrified of other men. Always felt so inferior around them. So this would be perfect, if you could just make it work.

All your past with him fell from the forefront of your mind as you practically ran in his direction. Maybe you had argued countless times over college projects and he could be a bit of an ass, but you still knew you could trust him.

He was leaned against the wooden beam of the patio, skin casted with a warm glow from the fire a few feet away, down on the grass.

He had a signature frown. One that creased between his brows and pouted his pink lips. Creating his almost intimidating persona. Protective in a perfect way.

“Harry.” You state frantically, moving at a pace you’re not used to, shoes hitting the wooden decking hastily.

His scowl deepened as he heard his name, being pulled from his intense train of thought.

“What—” He looks honestly pissed off, but when his gaze snaps to you, it softens a tiny bit. Still annoyed, but just a sliver less.

Also confused at your frantic and rapidly approaching frame, which is now suddenly breaching the usual metre-wide distance you both would maintain on any other day.

“Y/N? What are you—“

You plant your hands on the side of his face, and the look of surprise in his eyes is evident.

His cheeks are warm and smooth under your palms, “I need you to just go with this okay? Can you do that for me?”

He is struggling to make sense of the situation, let alone get a sentence out without being interrupted.

“What do you—“

“I— I’ll explain later just—“ you take a final glance over your shoulder, and see your ex inside still, but seemingly headed for the sliding door to come outside.

This drives the final surge of adrenaline you need to tug his face to yours, melding your lips together. His are puckered in tense shock, and a noise of surprise sounds from the back of his throat.

His hands jump to your hips, gripping them like he’s not sure whether to pull you closer, or push you away.

Your mouth moves against his, and he reciprocates with a sense of hesitation.

His own brain is in absolute overdrive. The interaction far to short to go from being people who merely tolerate one another to people who are currently kissing.

And somewhere inside of him he acknowledges the feeling of how warm your lips are pressed to his.

He senses your urgency now though, hands tensing around his jaw at the sound of the access door getting slid open.

Parting his lips, he impulsively drags his tongue over your bottom lip. You sigh a sound of almost gratefulness at his action.

Harry turns his body swiftly, pressing your back into the railing, his lips moving harder against yours.

“Y/N! Are you bloody out here?” A grating voice sounds, and he quickly picks up the pieces of the story he was missing.

The voice also pulls him out of the half trance he’d gotten himself in. Your mouth so warm, he genuinely forgot his own name for a second.

One of your hands slide down to the neck of his black shirt, securing it in an anxious grip.

The pace quickly picks up, him plastering himself to you as close as physically possible. Clashing mouths as he shadows your body with his.

“Oi, mate!” He ignores the yell, and is met with the footsteps of this guy coming closer.

“Have you seen—“

Harry pulls from your mouth, turning his head to look at the dickhead who you’re clearly attempting to get away from. And who just hypothetically interrupted someone’s makeout session— which is just fucking rude anyway.

“Do I look like I have?” Harry scowls, an angry tone over his voice.

The guy frowns, an ugly look casting upon his features, he steps closer, “No need to be a fucking di—“

He moved just close enough to see you, frowning, making sense that you were just essentially making out with someone, “Y/N I—“

“Can you fuck off? We’re in the middle of something here, that you’ve just so kindly interrupted. Read the room you twat.” His sentences come out harsh, and it’s clear he means it.

Your ex tries his luck a final time, “look I just want to talk with—“

And Harry interjects it again, “She’s not interested.”

You stay quiet, and at this he gets a disgusted look. It appalls you that he thinks you owe him anything.

There’s a stare down between the two men. But you can see in his face he’s intimidated. Also humiliated, that you’ve seemingly moved on with someone else, and that he’s clearly got no shot at winning you back.

“Fucking ass.” He hisses, and turns around, storming down the patio and back inside.

Harry turns back to you, shielding your frame with his. A sigh of relief passes through you.

You look a little shaken up, and he loosens the grip he has on you slightly. Both your lips still puffed and shining from the exchange you unexpectedly shared.

“Thank you…” you pant out, not sure if you’re out of breath from the situation or because of Harry.

The reality of what just happened comes pelting down on you both.

And it’s quiet a moment as you both clock over in your brains that you just practically made out. It takes a second for him to break the silence,

“So, stalker? Ex? Random guy who can’t take no for an answer?” He quizzes.

Feeling embarrassed, you purse your lips— but are able to to taste the remnants of his own mouth on yours. “Ex.”

“Ex?”

You nod.

“You sound surprised. Didn’t you think I could land anyone?” You scoff, trying desperately to bring back the usual snarky vibe between the two of you.

“No, not at all. Just that he was clearly batting above his level. He was a proper dickhead, and that’s rich when it’s compared to you.” You thank god he plays back into your banter.

But he pries further, “What exactly did he do to you?”

“Long story.” You attempt to brush it off, but he has none of it.

“Love, y’just came over here and slammed your bloody mouth over mine, and now you’re not going to tell me why?”

“But—“

“No,” he interrupts, still very close to you as he shakes his head, “No buts. Y’said you’d explain after.”

A sigh rattles out of you, feeling a little pathetic you’re telling Harry you got cheated on.

“He cheated on me. Like with multiple girls.”

To this, his face immediately drops.

“Are you serious?”

“Yes. Unfortunately.”

He fights the overwhelming urge to go hunt him down and lay a hand into the side of his fucking face. An absolute scumbag.

“What a pathetic excuse for a man.” He scoffs, “Lucky to have even got a pretty girl like you, and he blew it.”

You flush, another brief wave of quiet falling over the two of you. His compliments throwing you.

You quietly speak again, “I’m sorry about the… kiss. Didn’t really get as much consent as I’d have liked.”

You did feel guilty, you don’t usually go forcing your mouth onto unsuspecting men.

“No, it’s okay. You did it for a reason.” He shakes his head at your apology, and in all honesty, he enjoyed it.

Somehow it meant more than many of his others have. And he can’t quite pinpoint why.

“I… I carpooled here so, I think I’m gonna call an Uber and go home ‘cause…”

You had no interest in sticking around, incase your ex comes back— and you don’t want to spend the rest of your night glued to Harry’s side, because you doubt he’d want that.

“You’re not catching an Uber home.” He scoffs aloud, fishing his keys from his back pocket, “I’ve only had one drink, I’ll be fine to drive, so I’ll take you.”

“Harry, no. You’ve already done plenty for me tonight, I’ll be fine—“

He grabs at your hand, lacing them together and beginning to walk you down the patio.

“I’m driving you home.” He states, leading the you inside.

He clutched your hand tight, eyes forward and uncaring of the heads that had turned your way.

You on the other hand had burned up at the curious— and quickly jealous— eyes.

Harry was by no means a whore. There were plenty of rumours of him sleeping with certain girls. Mostly outlandish stories that eventually fizzled out to nothing.

He’d had a few girlfriends here and there, but it’d been a while since. And he’s maybe had one actual fling over the last couple months.

It just seemed he was harder to get. And many women tried their luck around the school. Yet to no avail.

You cast your sight down, walking behind him out the front door. Relishing in the quiet surroundings of the front lawn, free of prying glares.

He unlocked his car that was parked on the side of the road, and he opens the side door for you to get in. Chivalry mustn’t be dead.

Once you’re both in the car, you fight the urge to say again that he really doesn’t have to take you, because it’s clear there is no other option on his end.

So instead, you let out a tiny thank you, and he nods while starting the car.

However, your self restraint only branches so far— matter-of-fact, you weren’t even out of the street— before you blurt out, “Everyone was staring.”

He veers his gaze momentarily to you, then flicking it back to the road. Silence stretches a moment, and he recalls the heat of your lips pressed to yours with no real prompt.

And when he thinks of it, the image doesn’t leave his head. It unwillingly transpires, into something that bubbles into the pit of his stomach.

He had to blink it away, grounding himself when he hears your nervous swallow.

“I— what?” He’s confused at what you mean, while you kissed? When you walked out?

“When we walked out.” You reply, and he makes sense of what you’re talking about.

“People will always stare. They’re nosey.”

“I know.”

There’s another breath of silence, until he laughs, so suddenly that it almost makes you jump.

“Where am I going?” He asks, still chuckling as he realises he’s literally just driving aimlessly.

“Oh.” You sputter out a laugh as well, rattling off the side of town he needs to start driving to.

You wish you had more to say to him. That’s conversation usually flowed easily— filled with the sarcastic retorts it usually is. But now all that sat between you was a thick, hot slab of tension.

It wasn’t bad— not by any means— but it was easy to tell both of you were stuck in your own head. And you fear you’ve fashioned a permanent problem between the two of you.

Your voice only cut through the quiet once you were a few blocks away from your house.

He hummed acknowledgements to your each set of directions, and before you knew it, you were pointing out your house to him.

As his car pulled to a stop in the driveway, he didn’t hesitate to turn off the engine and get out.

Confused, you follow suit anyway, but wondered if he was about to walk you to your door.

And you weren’t wrong. Somehow, the guy who seems hardly like a gentleman, is waiting to walk the maybe 15 steps with you from his car to your front door.

You get your keys from your small bag, looking at him with an undeniably curious gaze as you meet his side.

He follows in sync by your side, hands in pockets. All the way up the patio steps, and he falls to a stop when you do, still next to you.

“Thank you for driving me home…” you smile, and can feel an unwilling red colouring spread over your cheeks.

“Was nothin’. Glad you’re home safe.”

“Were you seriously worried about me?” You frown, yet it’s undeniably endearing his concern for you.

A tiny scoff sounds from him, “Obviously?”

“That fuckin’ twat of an ex you have hardly seems like a good person. And who’s t’say he wouldn’t follow you home from that party and…” he stares off in thought, jaw clenching.

“Harry.” You state, stepping forward, wrapping a single hand around his wrist.

“Thank you.”

His distant gaze was snapped away at your touch. He’s never really considered himself an overly violent person, but your ex was easily about to change that.

And he hardly can pinpoint why. Or not yet.

The only thing he knows he wants to do again in sudden clarity, is kiss you. It almost shocks him, because he hasn’t felt an urge as strong as this in forever.

“Can— I need you to just go with this.” He mutters, being the one now very suddenly invading the gap between you both.

He’s mimicking what you said when you kissed him, yet you don’t realise “I’ll explain later.”

His hand cups the side of your jaw, and he leans to brush his lips against yours, a breath of relief fanning out his nose after finally feeling the contact.

You’re stood on your porch, and Harry is kissing you.

And somehow you’re all the sudden kissing him back.

Not because there’s someone you’re running from. Not because you have to. Because you want to.

He pulls you closer to him, allowing his teeth to graze your lower lip. Causing your hands to card through the hair at the nape of his neck.

You both play a back and forth game. Full of lips against tongue and tongue against teeth.

Until you’re both panting and running out of new places to map out with your hands.

“Care to explain?” You retort gently, stricken of breath.

He hums in the back of his throat, barley a rumble as he trails his mouth along your jaw, and down to the base of your neck.

“Is this enough of an answer?” He asks, sucking the skin between your two collarbones between his teeth.

Your knees almost give out at the sensation, and even the pressure behind his harsh mouth.

A near whimper comes from you, and he licks over the slightly bruised spot before he pulls back.

He cocks an eyebrow, expectant of your answer, despite having such a skilled mouth you’re pretty sure you forgot your own name for a second there.

“I— yes. That was… plenty.” You nod.

“Did it because I wanted to, and y’have an incredibly hot little mouth.” He provides anyway, a laugh coming from him as he pecks your cheek. All gentle, all loving.

You’re lacking for words completely, and can only lean your head against his broad chest. Unsure what exactly you’ve sparked between the two of you this evening, but simultaneously not caring of the future right now.

“I’m also probably not going to be able to stop thinking about it…” he whispers.

“Stay.” You blurt out, and then clarify a few seconds later, “The night.”

He chuckles at this, “Are you trying to get in bed with me now? Moving very quickly, sweetheart.”

You flush, “Not everything is about sex, you fucking addict.”

“So you were inviting me to stay the night so we could cuddle?”

“I was.” You affirm, despite not being opposed to his idea either.

Grabbing his hand, you lead him to your front door. Unlocking it and making quick work of sneaking him inside without the one of your three lovely housemates hearing.

All the others were luckily out at varying parties, and the only girl still home— Grace— sleeps like a log.

“You seem like a bit of a professional at sneaking people in.” He smirks, kicking his shoes off and leaving them in the corner of your room.

With only the lamp turned on, he’s lit with a warm glow, and he looks beautiful.

“Comes naturally when you live with housemates that are like your best friends. They wanna know everything.” You go to your cupboard, pulling out a jumper to change into.

He watches as you pull it over your head, yet managing to unclip your top and bra off underneath it.

“Impressive.” He nods at your easy change.

“I’m taking my pants off.” You state, “and not in a sexual way, perv.”

He lets out a defensive laugh, “I’m not a perv! You’re the one stripping off.”

You unbutton your jeans, sliding them down your legs to change over to sweatpants. His gaze strays around your room and you smile at his respectfulness.

Once you’re changed, you sit on the edge of your bed.

You lock eyes, and he gives a sly smile, not waiting to tug his shirt over his head and unbutton his own jeans.

You cover your eyes, sarcastically scoffing, “yea well, I didn’t plan on getting fully naked, but you go right ahead.”

“No different if we went swimming, darling. Still have my underwear on.”

You don’t get to reply as his hands tap your knee, “Budge up.”

You uncover your eyes, being met with his toned chest and calvin klein briefs.

Obliging silently, as he gets under the covers with you. The two of you rearrange until you’re comfortable.

Your head perched on his side as you cuddle into him, arm over his abdomen. His own arm curled underneath you.

“This is… an awfully weird situation we’ve ended up in.” You laugh. Because you’re cuddling in your bed right now, and if you told yourself even yesterday that would be happening, there no way in hell you would have taken it seriously.

“Guess it is.” He shrugs, turned his head to look down at yours.

“Still hate your guts.” You whisper.

“Mm, i don’t think I ever even hated you.” He muses.

You laugh, “Is that so?”

“Seriously,” he nods, “you’re too pretty. And even though you’re annoying, and can’t admit when you get a project question wrong, i think I have a little bit of a soft spot for you.”

“Gross.” You say, but he can hear in your tone— and the way it nearly shakes— that you actually are a little worked up over his minor confession.

“Cmon, you can’t even admit you like me a tiny bit?”

You shake your head, blushing profusely as you try to hide it.

He tugs you further up, so he can look at you properly, “You’re blushing though. Like you always seem to do when I get a bit sappy. Which is my most recent observation of you.”

He doesn’t let you respond as he presses another kiss to your lips again. And you smile into it unwillingly.

He pulls away mid-kiss, letting you whine a little at the abrupt ending to it.

“Admit it, and we can keep kissing.” He says, and it draws an eye-roll from you.

But he somehow knows it will work, because you quickly crack under his ultimatum, “Fine! Yes. I like you— just a little bit.”

To your response he laughs, murmuring against your lips, “I’ll take it, I suppose.”

He presses another kiss against you, and you press back again.

It becomes another makeout session, but despite being the third one of the night, it’s the first time hands can skate against mostly bare skin.

Which his own palms find their way under your jumper, and one cups gently at your breast, flicking over your nipple while his tongue dips into your mouth.

That’s as far as it goes for tonight though.

He kneads the flesh there softly, until you’re panting into his mouth with a heat budding between your legs.

Somehow there’s an unspoken not tonight agreement.

And you know that despite how needy you feel for him, it’s definitely for the best. And you’re still shocked you made it this far with him.

You roll into him further, chest rising and falling quickly as you sigh out to him, “I lied.”

“When?” He sounds completely unconcerned, despite your risky sentence starter.

“Before, when I said I only liked you a little bit.”

He chuckles at your response, “How was that a lie, hm?”

“I like you more than a little bit.”

“You’re sweet, darling.” He strokes his thumb against your ribcage, “so do I.”

To this you smiled. Eyes growing heavy at his rhythmic touches and soothing voice.

And his gentle words are the last that you hear before you fall asleep against his chest.

Both filled with a warmth you haven’t felt in a long time.

———

#harry styles #harry styles fluff #harry styles smut #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfiction #fanfiction #harry styles oneshot #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #protective harry #love hate relationship #fluff #harry styles one shot #harry styles writing #love him so bad #phh #prince hair harry

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d3wdropz · 7 months

Text

Sukuna NSFW Headcanons

Warnings: fem!reader, nsfw, smut, trueform, overstimulation, degradation, fingering, oral (fem receiving and giving), creampie, breeding, doggy style, cowgirl, mating press, light spanking, hairpulling, fingering, blowjob, dom! sukuna, p in v, no protection, double-dickery, and that's all (I think)

A/N: hiii! I have never really written a fic on tumblr so i'm hoping it goes well- plz have mercy on me and my horny ass

Thank you @roseschoices for the beautiful banner!

♡- Dominant. A rough dom at that. Also kind of demanding, but only bc he knows you love it

♡- He loves being in control, refuses to let you top or call the shots. If you think riding him helps, you are so wrong. Sukuna's just gonna grab your hips and start pounding- best thing to do is hold on tight and enjoy it

♡- His punishments are never like BDSM extreme with whips and chains. In his mind, sex has an end goal and prolonging it can be fun, but not when it feels like a chore for him. Sukuna loves some bratty behavior, but it gets on his nerves sooo fast

♡- Sukuna just expects you to be an obedient little girl, but if you're not be prepared for some rough backshots and hair-pulling that leaves your scalp sore

♡- He won't slap your ass hard, more so as a way of warning you when to shut up

♡- Speaking of hair-pulling, he uses your hair/head like it's some fucking handlebar- especially when you give him head. Bc he has you in an iron grip, he gets to choose the pace, how deep you take him, and whether you swallow or not

♡- He has definitely said shit like "Come on, slut- I'm keeping you here until you swallow" and he means it. So either guzzle that baby-batter or get ready for a long night

♡- You'll have one of his cocks in your mouth while jerking off the other. That's not enough tho, best believe he wants both sucked dry

♡- Sukuna doesn't just like getting head, he'll dive into your pussy for hours. And he's not just gonna eat it, he's gonna take his time sucking on your clit and scissoring open your cunt until you're crying

♡- Your thighs will be clamped around his head, hands pulling on his hair, begging for him to give you a break. Sukuna just chuckles and watches you shiver from the vibrations before he uses one pair of arms to hold your thighs open and the other to work you to your next orgasm

♡- He degrades you in the best ways, not that "You're my bitch" type shit, but the really good stuff

♡- "My poor little slut's getting sensitive" he says as he speeds up his thrusts, "Don't worry, just need you to cum again for me. Promise this'll be the last one" fucking liar

♡- One of his favorite positions is the mating press. One cock fucking you open, the other bumping against your tummy while you beg for more- or in you ass, depends on his mood

♡- He cums so much, it's thick and a little sour but very creamy. One load from just a singular cock leaves your mouth flooded. And bc of his double-dickery, expect to be stuffed full

♡- Sukuna believes the only place his cum should be is inside you, he doesn't care if it's your mouth or pussy, long as it's not wasted

♡- When he is in the breeding mood, expect at least six rounds. Three for each dick, and atleast two orgasms for you each round

♡- He loves fucking you stupid, overstimulation is his favorite thing. The main reason is because Sukuna loves watching you go dumb on his dicks

♡- "Fuck- that's my girl" you can barely hear him over the sound of his thighs slapping against your ass, heavy balls smacking at your clit "Can feel you getting closer- that's right, princess, come for me"

♡- Sukuna's pride is also a big reason why he loves making you cum so much. He wants you to know that nobody else will make you feel anywhere near as good as he does. Gets a shit eating grin when he feels you tighten onto his cock for the fifth time

♡- No matter how much of an asshole he is, he knows that taking both cocks at once is a process. The day you finally give the okay is gonna be when he spends twice as much time prepping you

♡- For once, praise is going to be flowing from his mouth "Doing so good for me, baby" and "Just a little more, you can take it" are just a few examples

♡- He'll eat you out, then finger you for hours until you're begging for his cocks

♡- Which I forgot to mention that one of his fingers alone is as thick as like two of your own

♡- Back to the fucking- he wants to get you into a fucked out headspace to help ease the pain, so prepare yourself for five rounds, eight orgasms, and atleast two squirts until he finally gives you both cocks

♡- You will be thankful he did all that prep cause damn, those cocks are big. One alone is like 9 inches, and so thick you can barely wrap your hands around it. So both at the same time is a tight squeeze

♡- Enjoy the view though, cause this man is going to lose it. You're tight pussy squeezing both of his dicks is gonna make him forget everything and just jackhammer your pussy

♡- Sukuna will be whimpering "Oh shit- fucking best pussy I've ever had. Fuck, that's my girl, take it- take it"

♡- By the end of it all, you'll be stuffed beyond belief and practically passed out

♡- If it means anything, his aftercare is. . . okay. He'll clean up the mess he made, give you some water, and fall alseep with you wrapped in his arms

♡- Overall, 10/10 experience- would recommend

#fanfic #sukuna ryomen #sukuna #jjk sukuna #sukuna x y/n #sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #sukuna smut #sukuna imagine #jjk #jjk x reader #jjk smut #smut #mdni #breeding k1nk #i want this man so bad #jujutsu kaisen

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aezuria · 3 months

Note

okay now we need those Percy hcs immediately

*ੈ✎ love grows (where my rosemary goes)

"there's something about her hand holding mine, it's a feeling that's fine and i just gotta say 'hey!'" —edison lighthouse

note: OKAY ANON GOT TO WORK AS SOON I SAW THIS 🫡 idk what happened im sorry this is kinda ass 😔😔

content: percy jackson x reader; dating hcs

warnings: cursing

this man is a menace

he's head over heels for you but also almost drowned you

he claims the wave "wasn't supposed to be that big" SIR??

that was like typhoon level shit right there

he just wanted to put you under a littleee bit so he could be your knight in shining armor and save you 🥺🥺

spoiler: you ended up saving yourself

(it's okay he made it up with lots of cuddles and kisses)

you were wading into the water, eager to join percy in the deep end, when suddenly, an unnatural wave crashes into your back and sends you falling into the deep end

you gasp too late and take a mouthful of salty seawater

with your arms flailing in the water, you swam to the surface and gulped for air

you wiped at your face, opening your eyes to see percy near you, but at a distance as if he was afraid of invoking your wrath

you narrowed your eyes at him, his skittish behavior obviously telling you that he was the culprit

"JACKSON!" you swam towards him at a frighteningly quick pace, leaving the poor boy scrambling away and screaming apologies

"IT WAS SUPPOSED TO BE A JOKE!"

anyway

he swings your hands while you walk

its so silly and he loves it

also a fan of running while your hands are interlocked

the first time was purely out of instinct, him grabbing your hand as a monster crashed behind you guys (because when can demigods catch a break?) and he started sprinting, dragging you along

likes skipping??? he's so weird

says it conserves energy and it's fun (he's not wrong but he forgot to mention the downside of looking like a dumbass)

imagine him skipping into battle

or better yet: "greeks! let's, um, fight stuff!" and they all skip menacingly

that was kinda off topic my bad

if you wear a ponytail he loves spinning it around like a helicopter

makes the little noises too

you feel a tug on your hair, already knowing who it is

"percy? what the hell are you doing?"

"helicopter."

back to almost drowning you, you got back at him by draining all the water in his cabin

to this day, he still doesn't know how you did it

all he knows is that after the sink wouldn't turn on, he knew exactly who it was

he was a man on a MISSION as he ran across the whole camp to catch you

"Y/N!"

"IT WAS THE STOLLS!"

"YOU FILTHY LIAR!"

your relationship is full of prank wars and all that good stuff

once it's over you settle down and cuddle on the shore

he laid out a picnic blanket for the two of you and you talked for hoursss into the night

the two of you were sleepy, heads resting on each other as a gentle breeze swept the salty air into your faces

percy was rambling on and on about you, but you were already half-asleep

"you're just so amazing and wonderful and i'm so grateful for you, you know? you're so fun to be with, and you're so beautiful.. y/n?" he looked down at you after your lack of response, finding your pretty eyes shut

he smiled down at you and pressed a kiss to your forehead

"goodnight."

#percy jackson #percy jackson x reader #percy #percy x reader #pjo #percy jackon and the olympians #percy pjo #pjo x reader #percy jackson and the olympians x reader #*ੈ✎ stories

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satorusdiary · 1 year

Text

"Now that's where you’re wrong, baby. Your mine. Anything you do is my buisness."

Toji Fushiguro x Reader

slight angst + fluff + smut + happy ending + Toji and Reader being down bad for each other :)

Summary: Toji and Reader have been on and off. Yet they have never made it official on what their “relationship” actually was. After an argument, the pair finds themselves being distanced away from each other for a whole 2 months. For the whole 2 months, Reader has been avoiding Toji. When Gojo’s birthday party happens, Toji has had enough when he catches you locking lips with him on the dance floor.

Today marks the 67th day of you avoiding Toji. 67 days without being in bed with him, 67 days without his dick in you, and 67 days without him spoiling you with all the love and affection you desperately needed.

You missed him more than anything.

Apart of you was so close to text him, and to send that “i miss you, please come over.” message. But you had to put yourself first for once. You came to your senses that you wouldn’t waste another 6 months with a man, just for him to call your “relationship” friends with benefits.

Therefore, you blocked him.

You didn’t know what you were doing now. The party you were attending was one you didnt even want to be at, yet here you were. Dancing along side with your friends.

The whole room starting reeking of alcohol and weed, and other stuff that you couldn't put your mind into thinking of it. You were for sure catching a headache from all substances creating in one setting into your senses.

"Fuck i gotta pee." You held your stomach, the slight feeling of needing to throw up occurred to you. Yumi, who was your long term friend and roommate next you held your back and looked at you worried.

"You okay? I'll take you to the bathroom if you need." She offers.

You shake your head and sent a smile her way easing her feels of worrying. The beating in your head wouldn't stop, but you managed to still get by when you starting moving away from the group to find the restroom.

Pushing past others was also a hassle. You encountered others sexually dancing with others, and pushed past the larger groups that were blocking entry ways into spaces you needed to get by.

You walked into the main entrance where many other were crowding around, letting others into the house. You knew there was a bathroom near by there.

Something then caught your eye once you got a clear view of one of the couches, near the entry way. There was two girls, one boy on one couch. One girl was on top of his lap above his crotch, while the other girl was next to him kissing those lips that were once kissing you, and your body.

His raven hair, the baby hairs falling into place infront of his face dangling slightly hinting the other girl he was making out with.

One of his large hands traveled down onto the girl that was on him, slithering down her back and into her ass, giving it tight squeezes. The other hand was cupping the girl he was kissing face, holding it roughly. You shouldn't be watching this, but suddenly you felt a burning sensation build up in your body, most likely your chest.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” You cursed to yourself. The first time you’ve glanced at him, Toji. Was when you catch him having a three way with two random girls.

You didn’t even notice your eyes watering. He used to touch you like that.

He opened his eyes, glancing at you with a gentle smirk forming as he continued to kiss the girl beside him, observing your shift in movement at the intensity of his gaze. He watched as your jaws clenched with a hint of jealousy. He was enjoying this.

You sucked in a deep breathe before walking in a fast pace back into the crowd, looking for anyone in general that could keep you company and calm you down at once.

Him thinking this shit was funny was what pissed you off the most.

Satoru and Suguru, who happened to be by the drinks near the kitchen were around a big group of people. Some girls ogling over Satoru, Suguru beside him was selling. Their eyes were settled on you once they saw you enter their gaze, as you walked over to get a cup of alcohol drinking it straight away.

Satoru quickly walked over to you, ignoring the others who were protesting he come back to receive more gifts from others that came to celebrate his birthday. Before you can drink anymore, he snatched the drink from you and looked down at you with a confused tone.

"Easy—easy there love. You good?" He rubbed your shoulder making you look back up him. You ignored the pet name, even though you were slightly blushing and continued to have small talk.

"It's nothing, i was just thirsty." you replied.

He furrowed his eyebrows and looked at you uncertainly. The birthday crown that was over his head was slightly falling off the one side of his head. You scanned around the room and sucked in your teeth, trying to see if Yumi was around. No sign of her in your vision.

You ignored it and looked up at Satoru, plastering a somewhat forced smile on your face, sheltering the feeling of hurt you felt towards the scene you once saw before walking towards him.

You wanted Toji back. Desperately. But your pride for yourself, and self confidence was getting in the way. You needed to provide for yourself for once.

Satoru places one of his hands against your lower back, gently rubbing circles as he looked at you with a gentle expression. He knew you were upset about something, but he couldn't understand what you were upset about that would ruin your night so easily.

Your eyes lit up at an idea. You wrapped your arms around Satoru’s neck and pulled him down until your lips slightly made contact with his ears.

"Satoru.. would you like to dance with me?" You asked in a seducing tone. One that made his hold on you tighten bringing you closer to him. A smirk appears on his lips.

When you pulled away waiting for an answer, his low eyes looked at you with a hint of lust. He smiled and gave you a small nod before holding an arm around your waist, leading you towards the dance floor.

Once you were in the center, a place where you knew Toji would see you, you placed your arms around Satoru and started to move along with him. His large hands slithering down your frame and running against your ass, giving them slight squeezes.

When you looked over his shoulder, you noticed a few girls looking at you with a hint of jealousy running through their expressions. No sign of Toji yet.

You sent delicate kisses over Satoru’s neck. One hand left his waist as he cupped your jaw just so he could whisper in your ear.

"Y'Know, this is dangerous. Your lil boyfriend can pop out of no where and beat the shit out of me for dancing with you." He smirked.

You shook your head, talking into his ear once more.

“Boyfriend? no, no no. It wasn’t like that the second he fucked up.” You murmured.

He pulled away to meet your eyes. Leaning his face closer into your face, before asking you one question that made you know what you wanted at the moment on the dance floor.

"Oh, so he won't mind me kissing you?"

You shook your head and placed your lips on his. His other hand grabbed the back of your head to pull you closer into the kiss than you already are; deepening the kiss. He bit your lower lip and continued to suck on it, making you moan into his mouth.

He slithered his tongue into your mouth as the make-out session continued. Satoru’s big hands running down the sides of your dress, letting his hands touch, studying every curve they came across giving them small squeezes.

You opened your eyes to get a glimpse around you. Toji came to your vision as he watched you and his friend make out willingly in-front of him. You did as he did, smirked in-front of his face and continued to bring Satoru closer than he already was.

Toji was willingly wanting to go over to you both and push him off of you. But he couldn't, he was frozen on the spot and upset, obviously glaring at you both with a beam of hatred.

He didn’t know why he continued to watch. Maybe it’s his sick mind imagining that it was him making out with you instead of that Jack-Frost wannabe.

He distanced himself from you both, going his own way to deny his own feelings of jealousy that he definitely has because of Satoru. You chucked to yourself and gave your attention back to Satoru, happily kissing him which he obligated back.

"Is this my birthday present from you, baby?" Satoru questioned against your lips.

You giggled and nodded your head. "Yeah if you want it to be."

The two of you continued to have small talk for the next hour, having fun and keeping each other company. Happily.

"We should probably stop before things get hectic, Toji over there looks pissed." Satoru laughed out nervously as he looked over your shoulder to look back at Toji, who was giving him an intimidating hateful glare.

You frowned but nodded in agreement. "Alright, give me one more kiss though."

He agreed and pulled you down into one more kiss, roaming his hands down onto your body once more to remember the feeling of being able to do something like those with you.

After a few minutes, you pulled away from him and followed him as you made your way back over to your friends group.

"Hold up, i'm gonna freshen up real quick. I'll meet your with the others soon." You told Satoru, who nodded his head and pushed past the crowd to get back with his friends.

The music changed and started playing "Persian Rugs by PartyNextDoor." You loved this song with a passion. Everyone in the room began to get hyped and continued to dance with others, the lights changing color as smoke consumed most of the area.

You quickly made your way into the bathroom and shut the door, lucky you pushed past the big line of people that needed to use the bathroom. You walked up to the mirror and placed both hands on the counter looking back at your reflection, letting out a big sigh. Your lipstick was slightly smudged, which made you put your thumb at the smudged part to wipe of the left over lipstick. You eyed your figure, and your dress. Your lucky you've gotten this dress, even if it was a bit tight you loved it. It was one of your favorites to wear at a party.

A few bangs hit the bathroom door, signaling you to hurry up. You rolled your eyes and took your handbag and placed it over your shoulder before placing your hand on the doorknob to twist it open. Kento , who was outside the door looked down at you with a surprised look, which turned into a apologetic look after.

"Whoops, sorry y/n. Didn't know you were in here." He apologized before pushing through to get in the bathroom.

"It's fine, Kento." You began to walk away. This time in a different direction than where you were supposed to go. Instead of going back to the dance floor you decided to walk further into the house. You've never been in Satoru’s family home before, why not take advantage and give yourself a house tour for yourself?

You walked down the hallway and walked into a led light room, filled with many different colors that were covering the room with its light. There was not many people inside, besides a few people you recognized that went to the same college as you.

As you walked further, you noticed how beautiful Satoru’s family home actually is. It's well decorative, insanely expensive, and it has beautiful lighting all around the rooms.

You felt someone tug at your wrist which startled you. Before you can get a look at the person you were lifted up by the waist and thrown over someone's shoulder, as if you were a sack of nothing. The man's muscular arms were around your legs while you turned to look at the person who began walking away with you over his shoulder.

"What the fuck— hey let me go!" You punched at the persons back. It was hard to see who the person was, he kept taking you both through dark rooms making it hard to make out the person features. That was until he brought you both into a bedroom and closed the door behind him, locking it. Now you were afraid, you were growing a anxious feeling in your stomach that made you want to scream.

That was until you looked up at the person who brought you into the room. The larger man’s large hands pushed down on your waist as you were pinned against one of the walls in the bedroom. He looked upset, his glare looking down at you sent shivers down your spine as you kept avoiding his gaze.

It was Toji fucking Fushiguro.

He placed his hand under your chin and shifted your head to meet his eyes, placing his forehead against yours.

"So, you getting at my friend now?" His low voice murmured against your head. His hot breathe hitting your face in doing so. You looked up at him with an upset gaze.

"Don't act stupid. Actin like you weren't having a three way with two girls you probably don't know. And anyways, anything i do with Satoru is none of your business." You explained and tried getting out of him grasp. You wanted to walk out the door, and have your own fun. Without him ruining it.

"Now that's where your wrong, baby. Your mine. Anything you do is my buisness." He told you, bringing down his head to place small, delicate kisses onto your neck.

Your legs were gonna give out, there was a heat building up in between your thighs which made you slightly rub them together.

"I'm not yours, now leave me alone. Don't ruin my night please." You pleaded.

He ignored your statement and continued kissing your neck. He noticed how you rubbed your thighs which made him smirk. The next move he did was placing his knee in between your legs, making connections with your crotch.

“Y-You broke my heart Toji. I fucking hate you for that.” Your throat began clogging up as your hands clenched into a fist.

Toji moved his kisses up from your neck, and kissed the shell of your ear. Before muttering soft words you’d never though you would ever hear again.

“‘m so sorry, my baby. ‘m a fuckin idiot for letting you go. You’re my only girl.” He apologized, thinking it would atleast make you feel better.

That was until he felt a few sniffles against his shoulder. His world stopping as he now feels tears seeping through his jacket. Then he remembers when he saw you watch him make out with a few randoms. His poor girl, probably couldn’t handle the scene she saw.

"Those girls meant nothing to me, all i want is you. But you made it more difficult when you blocked me." He stated into your ear. The smell of his cologne was all you can smell.

He picked you up by the waist and made his way onto the bed. Unknowingly to you, the bedroom was Satoru’s. Toji knew what he was doing when he dragged you into this room.

As he sat down, he placed you on his lap making you wrap your arms around his neck so you didn't fall down.

"Don't lie, w-what d’ya even want from me?" You stuttered, a heat of embarrassment rose inside your chest.

He rubbed his hands up and down your body, eyeing at how much skin you were showing from your dress. Then, his hands slithered down to your bare legs and rubbed them aswell.

You looked so beautiful. As if an angel just appeared into his eyes.

He kissed your forehead and place his head against yours before looking down at your lips.

"I want you, sweetheart." He admitted. You wanted to pull away and deny everything. But honestly, you missed his touch. And you missed fucking him.

You placed your hands under his jaw and pulled him into a kiss. Your lips sucking at his bottom lip making him softly grin at your actions. His hands were on your waist, moving and guiding your hips above his crotch. You felt his clothes budge under your crotch as well.

His hands that were roaming your bare legs lifted up the dress you wear wearing, taking it off your frame making you pull away from him. He looked into your lustful eyes as he unclothed you.

His cheeks were slightly red, from the slight movement you've been making that's gotten him hard under your touch. Delicately, he held onto the hook of your laced bra and unhooked it. Your bra fell off your body, your breast being free from it.

You felt heat build up into your cheeks as you embarrassingly covered your chest. You haven't done this with him in awhile, it's like this is your first time with him again.

Toji held onto your arms and tried removing them from your chest. "Don't hide from me, Baby your beautiful"

He pulled away your arms and left kisses around your breasts. One hand was massaging one of your breasts, while the other was being cupped to help Toji kiss it better for you.

You moaned when he began sucking on your nipple, constantly licking and biting the more you grind your hips on top of him. Suddenly, he carried you and laid you down on the bed, letting go of your breast with a pop.

"Open up for me." He demanded.

"H-Huh??" You cried out, your legs were shut. You were too embarrassed to show yourself like that.

"Your legs." His voice was an octave lower. "Let me see that dripping cunt." You whimpered and swallowed your breath before slowly parting your legs giving a slight glimpse of your folds, that were soaked and glistening with your wetness. Toji thinks he's died and gone to heaven with this sight that was blessed for his eyes, and his eyes only.

"Look at you," Toji smirked, pressing your thigh to the bed with one hand while sliding up your leg and ghosting his fingertips over your pussy's lips with the other. "You're soaked, princess," He muttered.

Two fingers were inserted into Toji’s mouth, covering them in saliva, and then pulled back down to slide between your folds. He abruptly put two digits inside, crooked them up, and sent a shockwave through your entire body.

He tittered, pulling out his fingers only to re-insert them into his mouth while swirling his tongue to catch a whiff of your flavor. He continued to look at you while muttering softly between his fingers. His sneer was lewd as he slid them out.

"Toji—" You were cut off when Toji began swirling his tongue against your clit, holding your body firmly in place as you moved on the bed from the pleasure that has been given to you.

"I missed you." You admitted making him look up from between your legs, his eyes meeting yours as he spared a small grin. He pressed another kiss to your cunt before replying.

"I missed you more, baby."

He kissed up at your body, stopping at your lips as he swirled his tongue around yours in a lewd manner. Occasionally you would moan into his mouth, as you were lolling your tongue into his.

He pulls his pants down, along with his boxers. His cock springs out, obviously rock hard. To your surprise it was harder than usual. He strokes his cock into his hands, eyeing you the whole time as your cunt gets wetter and wetter just from looking at his cock.

He aligned himself towards your body, rubbing his tip against your sopping wet entrance. The lewd noises of your cunt squelching can be heard from all around the room. Carefully, he pushes himself inside you. His hands on both sides of your hips as he gets inside deeper.

Once he's fully inside he places his hand above your stomach to feel himself inside you. You were basically suffocating his cock inside of you from your squeezing, it made him close his eyes for a slight second to adjust to your feeling.

You placed your hand on his arm, rubbing it up and down and looked at him with doe eyes. "Tojii, move please." You beg. The feeling of him just cock warming you wasn't enough for your pleasure.

"Aight, you asked for this 'baby no going back now." He began thrusting into you in and out, in a harsh and fast manner. Your eyes began fluttering in arousal as your clung to his arms.

As his thrusts grew louder, so did your moans. You gripped around his neck as he moved inside of you. The headboard banged violently against the wall making a harsh noise that you knew the people in the room next door wouldn't enjoy as Toji continued to push his big cock into you harshly. Toji began to rock faster inside of you, observing the ways your eyes fluttered and threatened to roll back as he thrusted into your g-spot which made you moan louder than ever. he pulled himself out of you, only to reinsert himself so you felt full once again as he made you adjust to his own size as you continued to cry out his name over and over.

Tears began escaping your e/c orbs. The wet substance began falling onto the bedsheets making Toji bend down to kiss your tears away. "Your pretty when you cry." He complimented, continuing on to kiss your face and your tears.

He continued to roll his hips into yours in a fast pace. He abused your used hole in ways he has never before making a new feeling appear in your stomach. The bubble that was forming was just begging to be released. When his cock twitched inside of you, it made it worse for you.

"Look how deep i am inside you, baby." He cooed making your hand press against your stomach. You looked at him surprised as you felt his cock move inside your stomach. The feeling was almost too much to bear for you body.

He felt pleased that he had caused you to see stars as he watched your breasts bounce with each violent thrust he made. Toji continued to pound into you; you could hear your flesh slapping and hearing a mild squelching. As he continued to pound into you, you moaned out his name while holding onto him. He groaned each time you clenched around him as he pulled away from you and then pushed himself back in. He halted the pulling and started to set a rough pace once more. Toji proceeded to exploit your sweet spots, and you felt ecstasy take over your body.

"—'m gonna cumm" you moaned outloud into Toji’s ear when you pulled him closer to you. Your bodies were hot, closed together as the intimate feeling continued on.

"Cum then, y/n." He pounded harder into as he buried his head into your neck. Kissing, sucking, and licking your soft skin as he claimed you as his once again for the first time in awhile.

You began releasing on him as kept trusting into you. After a few thrusts he came in you aswell. That was a trigger that made you cum for the second time around his cock. Cums mixing in together deep inside of you unknowingly creating the love you two sheared together.

Now, the both of you were panting. Toji places a kiss onto the crown of your head before hiding his head into your neck. Deep breaths being felt against you as you tried collecting your breath.

He was still buried deep inside of you. Thrusting in slightly as he calmed down from his high. You watched as he slowly pulled his cock out of your entrance, you hissed from the the overstimulation that over came inside your body.

"Shit, —sorry." He rubbed one side of your body calming you down.

"You okay?" He questions, looking at your fragile, bruised, marked body that he had done.

You hesitantly nodded your head before scanning your body. A pain flashed through you as you tried moving your legs, which Toji took a notice in.

"I can't move my legs." You nervously laughed out loud. Toji nodded his head and began messaging your legs and thighs.

"Sorry baby, i'll help you put your clothes on." He offered, carrying your frame to bring you over to the bathroom that was inside the bedroom.

After your cleaned up, Toji brings your dress and drags back up over your naked body. You looked at him in awe. Your legs were still sore, but you only had your heals with you.

"fuck, this is gonna be a pain." You whined, putting on your heels. Your arm was around Toji’s waist as he assured you some help when you would have difficulties.

He was already fully dressed, besides his jacket that was left on the counter of the bathroom. You patted down your dress as you examined yourself from the mirror. Toji behind you took his jacket, and hung it over your shoulders.

You smiled and put it on before turned around to pull him into a hug, which he happily returned giving you a small rare smile that he usually doesn't give to others around him. As you hug, his hands roam around your body, admiring your curves

“Let’s get out of here, hm baby? Let’s’ go back home and cuddle the night away?” Toji offered. The look he gave you was full of love, and adoration. Something you missed.

You hummed in response, though it wasn’t one he expected.

“That depends, am I still your friends with benefits?” You teasingly asked, the grin on his lips never leaving his features.

“Nah, you’re my girlfriend. Hell, baby. I’d buy you a fuckin ring if you’d want.” Toji exclaimed, kissing your forehead then your lips.

Your body filled with excitement, just a few days ago you continued crying over him. Now you were back with him, today really went according to plan.

“I love you.” Toji muttered, quietly. Yet you were able to hear it.

A big smile appears on your cute features, making Toji’s heart do spins. The feeling of your warm welcoming hands cup his cheeks.

“I love you s’much more. Take us home, please Toji.” You begged.

His arm wraps around your waist, and over his jacket that was around your body. His other hand clutching onto his car keys.

“Right ahead of you, sweetheart. ‘m gonna make up for lost time for you, as your boyfriend.” He kissed your cheek.

Finally, now that label was something you enjoyed.

Jujutsu Kaisen Masterlist

2K notes · View notes

moonstruckme · 8 months

Note

Hi, what about a remus x reader, where they get lost in the forest after separating from their friends during a fight with death eaters and remus has to keep reader warm with his body heat.

Thanks for requesting lovely! This is sort of like my apocalypse au, except it's pre-relationship

Remus Lupin x fem!reader ♡ 1.3k words

Remus is limping something terrible. Each step looks more painful than the last, and yet he’s only quickened his pace since you’d first noticed it about an hour ago.

You’ve been trying to think of what James and Sirius do when he gets like this. James would be kind but tenacious about it (“Everything alright, Moons? Hip bothering you? Why don’t we have a break? No, come on, we can’t have our best and brightest out of commission if something happens; they’ll kill us all if you’re distracted, Moony.”) whereas Sirius would probably just make something up (“Alright, the pebble in my shoe has worn me down. We’re stopping for the night.”), and you doubt either of those will work for you.

You were really mostly friends with Sirius before this…this whole thing (it feels a touch dramatic to call it the end of the world, but it has certainly felt like the end of your world), but you’ve become necessarily closer with the other boys over the past few weeks. Needing to rely on one another for survival will do that to you. Still, you’re nowhere near penetrating the bond they have with each other.

Without James or Sirius to help you, you decide to take your own, simpler approach.

“Let’s stop.”

Remus turns to look at you, bemusement warring with agitation on his face.

“It’s going to be dark soon, and we won’t find them then,” you reason. “We should set up camp.”

Some of the knee-jerk indignation in Remus’ expression cools, but he still seems frustrated when he says, “James has the tent.”

You know that. “I know that,” you say, “but aren’t we better off trying to get some rest and starting again in the morning than running ourselves ragged looking for them all night?”

Remus sees the logic in it, you know he does, but his worry for your friends is fighting against his better judgment. You can understand that; you’ve been trying to squash a similar anxiety all day. You’d seen Sirius and James apparate away from the skirmish you’d gotten into with some death eaters just a second before you and Remus had apparated yourselves, so you know that they didn’t get captured or killed. Not there, at least. There’d been some miscommunication in where you were all apparating to, though, and you and Remus had found yourselves on a bluff with no clue where the other half of your band had ended up.

You comfort yourself by thinking about how competent they are, that they’re too smart to die in the woods, and they’ve got all the supplies besides. James being the one to lug that heavy pack around has finally paid off; you’re sure they’re thinking about how you and Remus are managing without food or camping supplies, but you’d rather be worried about than worry.

You let your pack slip from your shoulders and kneel to start going through it. Remus is stubborn, but he’s too nice to argue with you if you make it clear that you’ve already made the decision to stop. You’re right; he drops his own pack beside you a second later. You pretend not to hear his tiny exhale of relief as he lowers himself to the ground.

You and Remus have been carrying the nearly useless, lighter stuff. Extra clothes, a tarp for when it rains, the line you all hang your clothes on if they get wet, a first aid kit. You dig to the bottom of your pack, hoping someone’s forgotten a bag of dried fruit or something down there, but no luck.

“Maybe…” You look around you. “Maybe we use some of the clothes to pad the roots of that big tree, and then we could use the tarp to block the wind.”

Remus nods. “That’s a good idea,” he says, the vexation fading from his features along with the pain. “How about I work on the protection spells while you grab some brush for a fire?”

“Sounds good.” You give him a smile, setting a hand on his shoulder when he goes to stand up. “You can do it from there.”

You don’t give him a chance to argue, moving into the woods to collect sticks and pieces of dried grass. When you return, the campsite is gone, and you force your breaths to even despite the feeling of wrongness as you push through the barrier Remus has put up. You find him setting up the tarp on the other side. He looks better already, you think contentedly, and you begin selecting the thickest clothes for your nest.

The silence between you isn’t easy, exactly; it’s bogged down with fear for your friends and of the death eaters that had already tracked you down once before. Still, you like that Remus doesn’t feel the need to fill your silence with chatter. Before long the two of you are curled up atop your makeshift beds, breathing frigid puffs of air into the night. You’d given up on adding more brush to the fire awhile ago. Short of sleeping with your head two inches from the flames, there’s not much you can do to combat the biting cold. It’s all you can do to keep your teeth from chattering as you press your knees tightly to your chest, huddling under the extra jackets Remus had found to use as blankets.

There’s no hope of sleeping when you’re trembling like this, but you pray Remus is better off. James always says he runs hot as a furnace, so you’re hoping his own body heat is keeping him warm beneath his layers. You’d hate to think of what the cold probably does to his stiff joints.

“You awake?” Remus’ breath should be hot against your neck, but by the time it crosses the space between you it feels as frigid as everything else.

You roll over to face him. “Y—yeah.” Your breaths are shudding, lips so cold you can hardly feel them moving. “Are you okay?”

“I’m alright,” he promises, the gentleness back in his voice now that he’s had a chance to rest. “Cold, though, so I imagine you must be even colder.”

You try to shrug, but movement only makes the chills worse, your body quivering violently against your will.

Remus makes a soft pitying sound. “You want to share our coats?”

He means your makeshift blankets. “I do—don’t want—to make you colder.”

“That’s not how bodyheat works, love,” he says, sounding almost like he could laugh. He shuffles toward you, dragging his share of the spare clothes with him. “Come on.”

You move towards him obediently. Remus brings you under the big coat he’s using for his torso, and you almost sigh at the warmth in there. You let your legs uncurl, getting as close to him as you can.

“Oh.” It’s a surprised sort of coo, Remus’ arm wrapping around you to draw you closer. “Sweetheart, you’re freezing. Here, roll over.”

He helps you turn with a hand at your hip, drawing you up against him. He really is emanating heat, warmth seeping from his front into your back and spreading from his arm around your waist to your entire midsection. Remus reaches over you, adjusting one of the jackets over your face, and you breathe hot air into the space, warming yourself. Your shivers die down as he begins to stroke slow, soothing circles about your navel.

“Better?” he asks, once you’re nearly motionless against him. You hum, and you feel the quiet chuckle that reverberates through his chest.

“Yeah,” you say, each exhale fanning hot against your face. “Thanks, Remus.”

“I know what you were doing earlier,” he says, embarrassment quieting his voice. “I can look out for you too, you know.”

You’re thinking of responding, but Remus’ body is so warm, and his hand on your stomach is so comforting, and you don’t get a chance.

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rainba · 1 month

Text

Behind the Building ღ

A/N: Hi :3 Wrote this so that I could practice writing Ace some more... Getting his personality down and stuff. ( ´ ꒳ ` ) Very self-indulgent...

CW/tags: face fucking, semi-public sex, GN reader, smoking…?, Ace being Ace

Kind of porn without plot.....? A little bit of plot.

18+, NSFW, MDNI.

The summer air outside was terribly hot and humid– almost to the point of being unbearable.

But within the venue, everything was just right. Gathered inside the building was a crowd roaring with energy, dancing and jumping to the sound of the fast-paced beat, tapping their feet and bouncing with the rhythm.

And up on stage was nobody other than Ace, the one who carried the entire band on his shoulders.

Sweat trickled down his skin as he passionately screamed the lyrics of his newest songs, his pale hands working an electric guitar as he looked out into the crowd. Everyone standing before him… Or at least most of them… They were all his fans. Fans of his work, fans of his personality, fans of everything he had to offer. It was addicting.

Being accepted by so many people was addicting.

His guitar pick moved faster still as he continued playing his metal tunes, grinning even wider as the crowd cheered louder. The energy surging through the room was palpable. But alas, as with everything, it all had to come to an end. The hours and minutes passed in the blink of an eye, everyone was coming down from their highs, and the show came to a positive end.

Tonight was yet another success.

“Hell yeah, that ruled!” Ace gave his singular other bandmate a high-five as they exited the stage, their hearts pounding within their chests as they went to pack their things. The way everybody screamed their names was so exciting, intoxicating, thrilling– but… There was something bothering Ace.

As he went backstage and returned his guitar to its case, he couldn’t stop thinking about one person in particular: you.

During the entire show, he had been subconsciously looking for you. Were you hidden in the back? Were you listening to him while hanging out at the bar? Were you hidden behind some random, inconveniently placed pole?

Did… Did you even show up?

These thoughts plaguing Ace’s mind were overwhelming– and far too negative for his liking. He needed to step outside for a second.

“Yo, I’ll be back soon! I’m gonna go out for a smoke.” Ace waved at his fellow band member, to which they smiled and waved back. When he stepped outside, Ace noticed that there was a large crowd forming near the entrance. There were whispers among them– as well as laughter.

“Dude– somebody knocked over the porta potty! Someone was still in there!”

“Whaaaat- no way dude! That’s hilarious!”

“Woah… That’s sick and twisted.”

…Intriguing. But Ace didn’t have time to come take a look– he needed to smoke and get the stress out of his system.

Sneaking out back, Ace pulled out a white lighter and leaned against the dark brick wall of the building, sighing while running one hand through his soft hair. He tried his best to ignore the heat.

Ace knew smoking was bad– but he couldn’t help himself. It was one of his only bad habits… And everyone should be allowed to have at least one bad thing that they do, right? Right…?

With yet another sigh, Ace lit the cigarette and put it to his lips, closing his eyes for a second.

And in that short second, someone snuck up on him and scared the life out of him.

“Ace! What did I tell you about smoking!?”

Ace yelped as you ran up to him and took the stick from his mouth, gripping it between your fingers. At first, he was shocked and angry, but those feelings quickly faded as his eyes met yours.

“Woah– y-you came! You actually showed up!!”

Ace grinned and laughed as he nearly tackled you over, his arms wrapping around your body while he forced you into a tight embrace. The cigarette was quickly forgotten.

“Uhh… Of course I showed up. Why would I miss one of your shows?” You gently pushed him away as you stepped back, the humidity in the air making any and all physical contact uncomfortable. But Ace only stepped closer.

“I… I dunno! I just…” Sheepishly, he scratched the back of his head.

“W-well, anyways. Did you like it?! Did you have fun?” His eyes looked to you for approval, putting his fragile heart in your hands as he asked for your opinion. You nodded.

“Of course I had fun– I always love your shows!”

Your words of praise– that’s all he needed. Honestly, that’s all he ever needs. Once again, his arms spread out wide as he pulled you into another warm hug.

“Awesome!! I can’t wait for you to come to my next one too!”

Without realizing it, he had you pinned against the wall, trapping you between himself and the building. There was nobody else around- they were all too distracted by the incident out front.

Nobody would be able to hear you two.

“And the one after that– and the one after that!” He was giggling so innocently, so sweetly. “How’d you like that one song I performed? Y’know– my most popular one–” Ace’s hands grabbed yours. “The one I made for you.”

Ace continued to push you for more and more compliments; he was addicted to hearing them, after all. Constantly seeking your approval. It was cute.

Perhaps Ace truly was a little innocent and oblivious, or perhaps he was just purposefully ignoring it, but… He was incredibly hard. And his bulge was pushing directly into you.

How easy it would be to mess with him…

“I loved all of your songs,” you spoke softly. Ace opened his mouth to reply, but you quickly cut him off.

“Actually. Can you sing one more time for me tonight?”

Slightly, he tilted his head to the side. “Huh? You want me to sing again–?” Ace looked confused as you switched positions with him. Instead of you being pressed against the wall, it was him leaning against it. He still didn’t catch on to what was happening… Not until you started getting on your knees.

His face turned a dark shade of red.

“W-woah– woah– What are… What are you doing?”

Ace’s breathing grew heavier as you started to unzip his baggy pants, your half-lidded eyes staring hungrily at his bulge. He couldn’t stop the way his hands reached up to cover his mouth.

“You performed so well tonight! And you tried to smoke again– so… Clearly you need something to take the edge off. How about I help you?”

Slowly, teasingly, you stuck your tongue out and licked his length from over his boxers, and he whined loudly. “Ah–ahh–! Wait, wait… Hold on, slow down!” His hips bucked and twitched against your lips as you teased his cock. “W-what if… What if someone walks back here and catches us?! Shouldn’t… Shouldn’t we, um, go somewhere private?”

Despite saying that, he looked as if he didn’t want to move at all. In fact, his hands moved over to the back of your head, pushing your face closer to his crotch. He was so hot; so sweaty and needy. His body ached to be touched even more.

Instead of answering him, you grabbed the hem of his boxers and pushed them down, his length springing free from its restraints. Precum was already leaking from the tip.

Ace needed to be sucked off so badly.

With a small wink, you began to tease the head with your tongue, licking it while your hands reached out and massaged the base of his length. Ace nearly stumbled and fell backwards as he used the wall for support.

“O-oh— Oh… Oh fuck…”

A shakey whimper escaped his throat as you went to work on him. God, he was now happier than ever that you showed up to his performance. All those sleepless nights of writing songs for you and practicing them was entirely worth it. You looked so perfect as you gave his body some much-needed love and attention.

“Tastes so good…” You murmured as you put more of him inside your mouth. “Want more.”

Ace’s length was almost too big– but you were willing to take it. Just for him.

And Ace was so happy that you could. He couldn’t help but roll his hips and gently thrust into your mouth.

“Fuck, f-fuck, fuck…”

Ace could barely form a coherent sentence as his body began to melt under your touch. Your mouth was so damn tight; so warm and hot and wet. He bit down on his bottom lip as he tried his hardest to let you have control. But…

But it was too much.

“I– I’m s-sorry– So sorry–!”

Roughly, Ace shifted your all’s positions. Instead of him being pressed against the wall, it was you– but with one his hands, he made sure that your head wouldn’t hit the bricks.

“Please, please… Suck it more, please…” He begged and whined as his pace slowly began to pick up, your saliva dripping down his skin as he pushed himself all the way in and out of your mouth. Over and over again.

His body trembled as his pace randomly switched between fast and slow– rough, then sensual. The entire time he fucked your mouth, he stared down at you with pure adoration and love in his eyes.

“I love you,” he sang as his thick cock abused the back of your throat. Whenever you choked and gagged, he’d slow down, only to immediately pick up his pace again.

“I’ll… I’ll write my next song about you, too! And the next one… And the next… Hahh…”

Ace’s fingers dug into your hair as he grew even rougher, your mouth nearly becoming a fleshlight to him. He couldn’t think straight; you were so fucking sexy, and your mouth felt so good.

You moaned sweetly as he fucked your face even faster, vibrating against his sensitive dick. The more you did it, the closer to the edge he became.

“F-fuck, more! More… Please!” His voice cracked.

“Whatever you do… Don’t… Don’t stop.”

Ace pushed his cock impossibly deep into your throat, your nose pressed firmly up against his glistening body. Tears pooled in the corners of his eyes as the heat of his orgasm was catching up to him. He spread his legs further apart as he sandwiched you between his hips and the wall, one of his hands still providing cushion for your skull.

“P-please, let me cum, and… And I’ll… M-make it up to you later. I promise!”

At this point, he truly was singing– his moans were so sweet and loud. He didn’t care if the two of you got caught anymore. Besides… If someone were to see, then that would just mean everyone knows you belong to him. Right?

Right…

Ace pulled out for a split second before thrusting slower, wanting to enjoy your love and attention for just a little bit longer. With his one free hand, he reached down and lovingly stroked your cheek, smiling widely.

“You’re so, so amazing.”

And with a few more powerful jerks of his hips, he felt himself coming undone inside your throat, lovingly crying out your name all the while. His cock twitched as thick, hot ropes entered your mouth– but Ace didn’t expect you to swallow.

However, when he looked down and watched you do so, his heart stopped in his chest.

You truly were… Perfect.

Ace was quick to pull you up to your feet, catching you off guard as he passionately kissed your lips.

“I– I love you!” He proclaimed loudly. “I… I promise…” He kissed your lips again.

“I promise I’ll return the favor!”

#ace posting #yandere oc #yandere male #yandere x reader #yandere oc x reader #yandere #ace being ace #he's a little cute and silly #baby girl even #yandere x you

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mischiefmaker615 · 3 months

Text

Go Away

Summary: Enemies to Lovers

Rating: R

Requested By: Daddy_Dracos_Slut (wattpad)

Note: Sorry for the long wait, real life stuff can be a pain sometimes but i hope the length of this one makes up for it *sweats*

i curse under my breath as the elevator seems extra rough going up the floors today. my hand clutches the rail while i keep my eyes closed, focusing my energy on my breathing rather than my stab wound that left a pretty nasty gash on my side. What happened?

SHIELD loves to throw me into fights they know they don’t have enough man power for. Why? “Your training should be enough to help you handle it just fine” okay dip shit- not against HYDRA! The mission was successful but of course they had to throw in a rookie for me to bring along as well. Result? Saving their ass cost me the next couple of days to heal.

“you should go to the medical bay-‘’

‘’it’s fine, I’ll just have Loki heal it.’’ the biggest lie I’ve ever told.

There was no way in hell i wanted to get near the psycho that attacked New York, but i hid my resentment well for SHIELD to buy my answer and not force me into a pointlessly long medical appointment.

Ironically as soon as i arrived back at the tower, the ‘not so bad’ wound in my side decided to give me a lot more pain than what i was originally feeling earlier. i probably just needed to clean it and it would be good as new.

Finally the elevator granted me the mercy of reaching my floor and i got out, my body crouched and hunched as i took a deep breath and looked around. No one around.. good. i didn’t like to show weakness, even though in this business you all get hurt, its nothing new, but my stubborn ass still tried to tough it out. Which is why as soon as i heard someone coming, i sucked in a breath and straightened up to my height, making sure my jacket was hiding my blood-stained shirt while Loki turned the corner, and we both shared the same expression. Of course, he probably didn’t enjoy my company just as much as i did for him, but he still took the opportunity to tease me whenever he could to get a reaction.

‘’why are you walking like that?’’ he asked, just a question, no concern in his voice.

‘’why do you look like that.’’ i say as i took a scrolling pace down the halls while he pressed the button to the elevator. i didn’t even look back at him but i felt his eyes on me.

‘’you’re hurt.’’

‘’and you care?’’

Loki’s eyes narrowed as i cast a glance over my shoulder at him in annoyance. ‘’I wish to make sure you are in proper health so you can get out of my way in a sufficient pace.’’

‘’oh, you do care.’’ i say in a sweet voice, placing a dramatic hand on my heart for effect which only revealed my bloody shirt where his eyes flicked down. i could have sworn his gaze changed to something else.. but for a split second until he looked like an asshole again.

‘’you’re bleeding.’’

Now, a sarcastic comment would have just proven he was right. Not that he would tell anyone, he probably didn’t care. this was all just probably going to be used to call me a weak mortal or whatever who doesn’t know how to properly fight. So the only unfortunate answer that spilled out of my mouth was ‘’spilled ketchup.’’ Smooth.

His eyes slowly traveled down to the ‘ketchup stain’ again before they flicked back up to mine. ‘’hmm.’’ He hummed, turning back to the open doors now for the elevator before his gaze could get a chance to make me nervous- wait what?

I make sure I walk as casually as possible, regardless of how painful it may be until I heard the elevator doors close before I hunch over again and draw in a sharp breath and resist the urge to clutch my side. Judgy bastard.. looking at me as if I’m scum in his way.. but what was that split second look? Never mind- just need to get the first aid kit and see exactly what I’m dealing with.

After it seems forever until I get into my room, I shut the door behind me and throw my jacket to the side, glad to have it off before I fold the end of my shirt up so it was over my chest, almost like a make-shift crop top. Damn.. it’s pretty deep, going to need minor stitches.. clean it up..

I slowly make my way now to the bathroom, my balance thrown off with the lack of blood and I could already tell before my eyes hit the mirror how pale I am. Nausea comes in mild waves as well but anger and frustration takes over when I open up the cabinet to find my first aid kit was missing. What the hell! I used it a couple days ago and I’m to OCD to not put things back..

I run a hand through my hair as I think about what I need to do. We have vodka at Tony’s bar downstairs, it’s the best thing we have currently to clean a wound. Another first aid kit in the kitchen, not to far from the bar cabinet. Not to bad- if people weren’t awake. I check my phone, it’s 8pm. Its usually quiet and people head to bed in 30 minutes do to the fact that we need proper rest in this field.

Grabbing a small towel, I run it over warm water and nearly cry out as I begin cleaning what I could, pain shooting through my body as I push through until I feel like I would faint. Setting the towel aside, I carefully.. carefully manage to change my shirt but put on an actual crop top so nothing had its change at touching my new body scar soon-to-be. Only 10 minutes pass.. 20 might be to long as I stay on the bed trying to control my breathing. I’m stupid, I know..

Once I check the time and hear more doors close in the hall, indicating people are hitting the hay, I go over to the door. No point in hiding the wound if everyone is in bed and the less clothes I ruin the better. However I nearly woke the whole house if I didn’t shove a hand over my mouth to find Loki waiting outside my door, leaning on the wall with a now smirk by my reaction.

‘’the hell are you doing here like a creeper?’’ I hiss at him but realize hiding the wound was to late as his eyes dropped and so did his expression as he straightened.

‘’norns Y/N- how did you manage that?’’ somehow there was no emotional indication in his voice, let alone his expression so I shrugged to see if he was actually concerned or about to laugh.

Figured there was no use hiding as I walk around him with a hand on the wall to support myself. ‘’comes with the job sometimes.’’

‘’and I’m sure they taught you how to properly take care of it- which is why it’s strange that you find yourself here’’ he says and walked along side me, making me raise a brow in wonder at why he was following.

‘’I can take care of myself, thanks.’’ Sarcasm was potent as I side eyed him, indicating I wished to be left alone before my body jolted at a wave of pain, making me practically double over with my nails digging into the wall.

‘’you need a doctor-‘’ Loki started, his hands quickly returning to their sides as I took a sharp breath and looked at him.

‘’I said I’ll be-‘’

‘’Y/N!’’ Barton greeted as he turned the corner, his smile fading as he glanced at Loki before he smiled again at me. ‘’you should have been here hours ago- I thought he would have healed you by now-‘’

‘’I don’t know what you are talking about-‘’ I panic, giving him a sharp look to shut up while Loki raised a brow.

‘’earlier when you said you’d just ask Loki to-‘’

‘’I’m handling it Clint, I’ll see you tomorrow though good as new’’ I fake smile, looking like I’m about to punch him as I feel Loki’s eyes on me in amusement.

‘’don’t you worry Agent Barton, she’s in good hands.’’ He said gently, lacing his fingers behind his back as Barton gives him a hard look.

‘’I’ll see you tomorrow then Y/N’’ he says, never really registering Loki whenever they did have to speak and brushed past him on his way to his own room. Most of the time that type of rude contact would have earned an almost-fight between Loki and Clint, but I suppose Loki found himself to busy smirking at me to really be concerned about it.

‘’so what is it exactly you wished to ask me Y/N?’’ Loki said sweetly, milking the opportunity to tease me as I roll my eyes and make my way down the halls towards the elevator before I could be any more embarrassed.

‘’go away.’’

Loki’s eyes narrowed as he watched me walk away from him but I busied myself with waiting for the damn doors to open. I heard nothing behind me, and I made the mistake to believe he had actually listened so to my annoyance, he slipped into the elevator with me before the doors could close.

‘’you were going to ask me to heal you?’’ he asked, no emotion indicated in his voice as I made myself busy by pressing the correct floor.

‘’I merely said that to have everyone off my back, apparently it seems to be doing quite the opposite.’’ I mutter and lean myself against the wall, drawing my eyes closed as I focused on my breathing.

Even with my eyes closed, I could tell Loki was staring at me. He’s annoying, but I’m sure he wouldn’t be half bad of a person if it wasn’t for the fact that he attacked new York. That’s probably where our enemy relationship stems from.. could I be nicer? Sure, he just.. draws something out of me.. he’s not a bad looking guy either, my emotions run different when I’m around him compared to the others. Tony teased me once and called it denial of something perhaps more I was feeling towards him, but there was no way I would have fallen for someone that attacked-

‘’if you would just let me heal you then perhaps your mind will stop being so loud.’’

My eyes snap open as Loki rubbed his temple as if he had a headache. If it wasn’t for the damn gash in my side, I probably would have killed him right then and there as I gawked at him.

‘’the fuck were you-‘’

‘’Y/N,’’ he starts, sincerity in his eyes and voice that somehow made me still. ‘’yes I’ve done those things in the past, I should hope that the time I have been spending here has given me a good chance to have changed and perhaps provided a door for a fresh start..’’ he starts, his eyes darting to the floor and slowly back at me as my muscles tensed by another wave and I hold my side, staying silent still. ‘’I do not blame you for your negative emotions towards me, and I am not asking for a second chance,.. all I’m asking is to just heal you.’’

My eyes slowly travel up to his after they had descended to the floor. God of lies, it was taught to tell if he was being honest or not. Though honestly, what did you have to lose? Nausea was already hitting your gut and light headedness was already reminding me how much blood I was losing. Yet the fact of the matter is,..

‘’..why do you care?’’

Loki almost genuinely smiled and I noticed his muscles were straining. Raising a brow, I noticed the elevator had not once moved since the doors had been closed. My eyes were next to narrow at him.

‘’what are you-‘’

‘’ask me Y/N.’’

I blink at him, knowing exactly what he wants me to ask but even now he’s being a stubborn ass??

He gave me a look at the name and I immediately just decided to focus on the pain instead to block him out. He was just as stubborn as I was, there was no point in asking him about the elevator, let alone avoiding the question. Taking a deep breath, I clutched my side and looked at him with all the dignity I was clinging on too.

‘’fine.. w-would you-‘’

My words cut short when my vision blacked out and all I remember is falling to the ground.

A cold hand pressed to my forehead, the temperature feeling cool where I practically lean into the touch before opening my eyes.

And then I want to die.

My cheeks heat up as Loki sat by my side as I lay in the bed located in our medical bay- aka Tony’s sometimes hangover room.

‘’how are you feeling?’’ he asked, looking a bit drained himself as I took in the scene.

I felt no pain.. something in my chest stirred, something that was hard to identify as I glanced down at myself. The gash in my side was completely gone- not so much as a scar behind! I look up at Loki wide eyed and he merely gave me a gentle look as I tried to speak but shut my mouth quick as redness heated in my cheeks.

How could I thank him? .. I never shared a kind word to him before, we had a sharp relationship.. and yet he still went out of his way to do this..

‘’Loki I- .. I.. I don’t know what to say..’’ I say pathetically as he chuckled.

‘’glad you are looking like your regular self again love.’’

Love.. that nickname.. why did it make me feel.. something? I glance at the clock, seeing how a couple hours have passed since I most likely had passed out. Leaving plenty of time to make sure it wasn’t a trick, a spell, or some type of cruel joke.. he really did help me..

‘’norns Y/N, I’m not that cruel to just leave you to bleed or taking your injured state into advantage for mischief’’ he sighed and leaned himself against the side rails of my bed, his body still sat close enough where I found feel him pressed against my side and I give him a tired, irritated look.

‘’before I thank you, I would request you stop reading my mind from now, call it an exchange for some future moments where I will take it easy on you.’’ I lightly joke, leaning back in the sat up bed as I hear him laugh.

‘’an exchange then? Alright, I will leave your thoughts be for some decent time from your kind heart,’’ he said with a tease. ‘’but is it hardly a fair exchange when our moments have been clearly even?’’

I sigh, knowing regardless of it all, he’ll always he so stubborn. ‘’and what is it that you want?’’

‘’a proper thank you.’’ he said calmly with a smile, it widening as I raise my brows.

I was half expecting a sarcastic, clever comment, but all he wanted was a true thank you? easy. ..or was it.. he clearly saved me from bleeding out to death, I’m pretty sure a ‘thanks’ wouldn’t be good enough as my fingers played with the fabric of my blanket mindlessly. ‘’..in what way?’’

‘’that is for you to figure out love.’’ He said gently, the mischief fading from his eyes as he seemed to stare at me like an honest man.

What? Buy him lunch as a thank you? a hug? A good word to Fury to help his probation at the tower? From his eyes, it seemed like he was just expecting words of affirmation, a from the heart type of thank you. yet why didn’t that feel like enough? My mind raced, everything seeming to be shouting things all at once as I tried to calm my emotions. What was this feeling? My mind paused as I felt him move and my eyes looked up to see him beginning to stand.

‘’it’s alright darling, you are tired and its been quite a long da-‘’

He stared at me with the same shocked expression as I had on my face as my hand grasped his before I even realized what he happening. He was still, his hand making no move to grasp back but remained still as I held on. My heart was pounding, and before I knew it, my arm was pulling him back and down.

His expression was now unreadable, as was mine I hope.. but something felt right about it- and I prayed I wasn’t reading the room wrong because despite his unreadable expression and closed off personality.. there was always something off between us, off where there was almost a secret enjoyment to our fights and banter.

So I took a gamble and pulled my hand towards me and his boots could be heard slowly moving towards me, allowing his hand to be guided before he came closer to my side on the bed. Our gazes never left each other, almost daring each other to look away but neither of us did.. not even as I pulled his hand a bit down to where he now slowly bent his height down and I lean forward. All movements were careful, my hand slowly releasing his as he moved it beside my arm and moved his other hand to do the same on the other side- caging me in.

As he leaned down, our eyes fell slightly closed, expressions relaxed as we seemed to melt in the moment. my lips slightly parted, our soft breaths could be heard as he leaned down and my hands moved to his shoulders to take over and guided him down finally so I could kiss him.

My lips brushed against his gentle, finding them soft and welcoming. He let me set the pace, my arms bringing him closer so I was able to deepen the kiss in which he eagerly returned with restrained gentleness. He gently moaned against my lips, as did I as we seemed to fit perfectly like a glove. My mind went still- relaxed, as if nothing mattered anymore, all quarrel forgotten and memories faded.

With my eyes closed, I felt his knee gently rest beside my thigh, followed by the other one as I felt his presence hover above my now. There was a strange temperature to him, not frost bite necessarily but a lack of human warmth. Well.. he’s not human anyway. His kiss became more needy as he ran his slender fingers through my hair and I couldn’t help but tangle mine in his. His locks are silky, not at all oily like one would think at the mere look of them. I hear a low growl as I tighten my grip on them, the mere vibration sending a wave of arousal through my body as I feel the need to close my legs.

‘’L-Loki.. I need.. we need..’’ I pant, staring up at him as he gazes back down at me, his pupils dilated with arousal himself as I feel his bulge just barely pressed up against me. If I were to raise my hips right now, I’m sure it would be like touching a boulder.

‘’I know darling, I know’’ he whispered, his thumb stroking my cheek as he lowered himself ever so slightly so our bodies were almost close to touching. ‘’are you sure you want this?..’’

My mind was in complete submission, my sharp tongue completely dulled to how I see him now. I wanted him.. this had all been denial.. but now I’m sure. I want him. my eyes gently looked up into his and my head nodded.

‘’use your words darling..’’ he held back a smirk but I knew it was there. Even now his personality didn’t change much, he probably enjoyed seeing me submit as my cheeks reddened as I look up at him.

‘’I want you’’ I whisper, eagerness being held back as my body began shaking in anticipation. That earned a small brush of his body lowering to feel mine, my hips rising for more of him but he raised up again.

‘’not yet darling, I don’t think you’re ready for me.’’ He sighed, almost as if saying ‘oh well’ and I look up at him in shock.

‘’no I’m ready-‘’

‘’you need a good amount of prepping first love, if you don’t want to be torn apart’’ that last part he whispered against my ear, I could feel his breath brush against my skin where it sent chills over my body.

‘’what are you-‘’

My words cut off when his hand gently began kneading my breast over my clothes, the action catching me off guard where a gasp left my lips and he took that opportunity to insert his tongue.

He was a skilled lover, one would assume so just by the mere sight of him but the thought was always shook off when I didn’t want to accept my true feelings.. any type of relationship causes me to panic, the mere doubt or thought of me messing up always just made me want to push all of it away.. but I suppose hate is what grew this connect. A sick, sad way of bonding but it got us here, it only took me getting stabbed for me to stop denying myself.

He was reading my mind again, the feeling of like a poke in my brain as he pulled up my shirt to place his mouth over my breast to ease my thoughts away. I think to much, and this was a damn good distraction as he moaned against me, my back arching as gasps left my lips. His other hand gave my other breast attention, pinching and kneading before his hand and mouth switched to give equal attention.

‘’you don’t know how long I’ve been waiting for you Y/N..’’ he murmured against me, his lips navigating up my chest to suck just above my collarbone that was a promise to leave a mark.

‘’i.. I thought you hated me..’’ I struggled out as my hands gripped his shoulders, a tingling under my fingertips as I glanced down to see the remaining shimmer before noticing his armor was off, leaving him just in his leather and cloth.

‘’I went along with your denied feelings but I sensed the truth way before I decided to enter that naughty little mind of yours’’ he smirked, his eyes flicking up to my own as his finger tips played with the button of my jeans.

My cheeks heated up as my nails practically dug into his shoulders out of shyness, almost as if I was curling up if I didn’t feel his knee between my legs to prevent them from closing. ‘’how long have you been doing that?’’ I whisper, shuddering as he began rubbing his knee gently against my sex, even with the blanket still between us.

‘’whenever I felt like it. primarily when you walk away after using your sharp tongue and yet your thoughts betrayed you, thinking the complete opposite of me. I was able to glance into your true feelings just enough before you pushed them down.. but I think we both know the truth’’ he whispered, his lips caressing my neck now while his hand gently moved my hair away to give him more access while his other unzipped my zipper.

‘’it was only a matter of time but I couldn’t wait forever.. I was going to perhaps wait longer on telling you how I truly felt about you but after you got injured..’’ his movements paused at the memory, raising his head slowly to meet my widened eyes. ‘’I thought I wouldn’t have gotten the chance to tell you if I lost you..’’

Of gods.. norns I think I love him..

A small smile spread across his lips as I look away from him. ‘’stop that..’’

‘’as you wish darling, I’m sure things are clear now nevertheless’’ he chuckled, attacking my neck again while my head was turned, earning a squeak to leave my lips when I felt him begin to nip and his fingers slowly dipped passed my panties.

My lips part as my eyes flutter close, making no moves to stop him as his finger tips ghost over my sex ever so slightly to take my breath away. I feel his tongue against my neck and his teeth now and again before his lips begin to suck and mark. Just before I could even think to rise my hips to find more friction, his finger tips begin playing with my clit, causing me to shudder and the knot of pleasure to begin forming within me.

‘’so sensitive.. so responsive.. how long has it been since one has touched you properly..’’ he whispered, not asking a question and I probably wouldn’t have been able to answer it anyway.

He began rubbing circles, a slow pace that began picking up when I began rising my hips, practically trying to shamelessly hump his hand if his other didn’t grip my hip to hold me down. a silent gasp left my mouth as I raised my head back and my back began to arch. His thumb took over on my clit so his two fingers could tease my entrance, dipping ever so slightly in and pulling out when my hips strained to rise.

‘’patience darling, be a good girl and take what I give you’’ he practically growled against my ear before he began to nibble on my lobe.

Goosebumps rose on my arms and I began to squirm until he slowly inserted his two fingers, causing me to moan his name slowly and shamelessly. I didn’t even care where we were or who could walk in but I was sure somehow Loki would have used magic to somehow provide us with a bit of privacy. I could feel his rock-hard bulge against the inside of my thigh, rubbing himself against it to match his rhythm while his fingers thrust into me In a faster pace.

‘’gods Loki…’’ I moan, feeling my orgasm get closer and closer and my eyebrows furrowed with my eyes fluttering closed. I was so close..

‘’cum for me darling.. ‘’ he whispered, his pace quickening on my clit as he pushed his fingers into me to the knuckles, causing me to tip over the edge as I reached my orgasm.

‘’LOKI!!’’ I practically scream as I moan and hold onto him, my body fluttering and clenching down on his fingers in a vise grip that has him practically moaning while he presses his lips to mine once more.

His movements slowed down ever so slightly, helping me ride it out as I was a panting mess, my body shaking and my eyes drunk like before he slowly pulls his hand out of my pants, his mouth licking my essence with no shame and a smirk where my cheeks heat up again.

‘’shy not darling, you taste absolutely wonderful.’’ He purred and adjusts himself as he backs away down my body while a hand slowly removed the blanket.

I slowly sit up as I catch my breath, just seeing the mischief in his eyes as his hands grip my pant legs and I give him a smile.

‘’in fact, I think I should help myself to a proper taste..’’

#loki odinson #loki x reader smut #loki god of mischief #loki laufeyson #loki fanfic #loki x reader #loki #loki smut #loki fluff #lokifluff

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