#i don’t shower for a while and feel guilty about it

[merrybloomwrites]

You Can Start a Family (Extra: Dom/Sub Dynamic)

Summary: After much discussion, you ask Sarah, Mitch, and Harry to dominate you in bed, a decision you know you won't regret.

Word Count: 3.6K

CW: dom/sub dynamics, blindfolds, slight bondage, use of safeword (very minor and it's fixed right away), daddy kink, edging, overstimulation, oral sex (f receiving), p-in-v sex, aftercare (so much, so sweet)

AN: This is another one of those ideas that came to mind and won't leave me until I write it. There's a scene in chapter 9 of the main story that has Mitch & Sarah being pretty dominant, so I wanted to do another little something similar but now with Harry, and with proper communication from all four of them before they do a legit scene together.

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“Okay, let’s go over everything one more time,” Mitch says, causing you to nearly roll your eyes. 

But you refrain, knowing how important it is that you’re all on the same page. Trust and communication is key. 

Because for the first time, you’re going to fully properly submit to your two boyfriends and your girlfriend in the bedroom. While giving over control to them is not entirely new, this is the first time it’s been planned out this way. 

Though you’d slipped into murky territory, letting them have control of your body and your pleasure before, this was going to be more intense. 

And you craved it. 

The four of you sit around the kitchen table, to have one last check in before finally having your first scene with them. 

“You’re sure you want all three of us to dom you?” Mitch asks next. “Because Harry is more than willing to sub with you if it’d make you more comfortable.”

“I know, and I’d like to do that another time. But today I want to sub for all three of you.”

Harry, as well as Sarah, were comfortable being both dominant and submissive, and you know that you guys will explore all possible dynamics in the future. But for today, you selfishly want to be the only sub. You want all their attention on you. 

A part of you feels almost guilty about how self centered you’re being, but the larger part knows the others don’t think that way. Truly, they love showering you with attention and affection. And they love making you squirm. 

Which is exactly the plan for today. 

Since it’s the first time you’re officially giving up full control, the other three discussed every step of it with you to make sure you were comfortable with everything. 

“Tell me the safe word,” Mitch says. 

“Kiwi,” you reply immediately. 

“And that goes for everyone,” Harry adds. “Not just Y/N. If anyone is feeling uncomfortable or needs to stop for any reason we can all use that word and everything stops. Same for using the colors.”

You nod along and Mitch says, “Y/N, tell us what the colors mean.”

“Green means everything is good, keep going. Yellow means slow down or pause for a moment. And red means stop everything immediately.”

“Good girl,” Mitch states, causing you to blush and sending a spark of heat through your body. 

“Oh, a praise kink,” Sarah says. “Should’ve guessed that one.” You blush deeper, but she runs a gentle hand through your hair, letting you know she’s only teasing you. 

“I’m going to go through the plan one more time, and you’re going to tell me your color for each thing. First you’re going to strip for us and Harry will tie you to the bedposts. Color?”

“Green.” That was a no brainer for you. This was all about being open and vulnerable, so baring your body to them is exactly what you want to do. 

“And then we’ll put on the blindfold.”

“Green.” You’d never been blindfolded before, but you’d heard that it can make the sensations more intense so you want to try it.

“Then Harry, Sarah, and I will all tease you, rile you up, edge you until we’ve all come and you’re about to burst. Only then will we let you come. And you’ll come as much as we want you to. What’s your color for all of that?”

“Green,” you reply without hesitation. Mitch and Sarah had done something similar after one of the Wembley shows at the start of your relationship. You remember it being so frustratingly good and overwhelming, and you couldn’t wait to experience that same torturous pleasure again. 

“Ok, good. And are you still okay with possibly slipping into subspace?” Mitch asks.

“Yes, I am,” you state clearly. Harry had told you of the times he’d slipped, and you were curious about what it really feels like. You know it might not happen, but you hope it will. You want to experience that peaceful floatiness Harry described for yourself.

“Alright then, looks like we’re all set. We’ll start when we’ve finished our tea,” Mitch says, causing you to shift in your seat. This is it, the talking is done, and it’s nearly time to begin. 

While the other three calmly drink their tea, you shift in your seat, the nervous energy inside you needing to be expelled somehow. 

Noticing this, Mitch says, “Sit still until we’re ready.”

You immediately stop fidgeting, and he says, “good girl,” causing you to blush once again. You duck your head, not wanting them to see your reaction to those two words, but of course they notice. 

“Don’t hide from us, love,” Harry says. 

“We want to see your reactions,” Sarah says. “And body language is important so get used to us watching your every move during scenes. It will help us know if anything is bothering you.”

You look up and make eye contact with each of them, silently saying you’re okay with that. You don’t want them getting the wrong message and stopping this before it even gets to start.

Harry stands and takes all the mugs to the sink and methodically rinses them before loading them in the dishwasher. You know he’s going slow on purpose, but you don’t react, simply waiting patiently.

Finally he’s finished, and Mitch turns to you, instructing you to head to the bedroom, take your clothes off, lay down on the bed, and wait there for them. 

With three sets of eyes watching, you get up and walk from the kitchen to the shared bedroom. You begin to remove your clothes, folding them nicely on top of the dresser. As you get down to your bra and panties, you can’t help but think about how shy you were at the start of this relationship, how you were scared to so much as take off your shirt in front of the others. And now you’re laying in the bed, completely naked as they walk in, all still fully clothed. 

You love the contrast of it. How open and vulnerable you are, the attention they’re giving you, the trust you place in them. This has barely started and you already know you’re going to enjoy it so much. 

And then Harry walks over, a soft rope in his hands. The two of you had chosen it together the other day, making sure you’d be comfortable with it. He starts with your wrists pulling your arms gently straight above your head. He ties the rope to one wrist, loops it through the wooden slats of the headboard, then finishes by attaching it to your other wrist. 

Though it’s your first time using ropes, the position is not unfamiliar. Your partners do enjoy holding your wrists above your head, and you know you like the feeling. 

And then Harry moves to your legs. This is new, and you feel exposed as he ties your ankles to the bottom corners of the bed. But before you can become self conscious, Sarah leans in and says, “You look so beautiful like this.” Warmth spreads through you again, not because of embarrassment or lust this time, but because of the love you feel from your partners, as the boys now add in their compliments too. 

You watch Harry step away and grab the silk blindfold, checking your color one more time before he loops it around your eyes, effectively taking away your sight. 

It’s an odd feeling, knowing the others are there but not seeing them. You can hear movement, and you assume they’re removing their clothes but can’t be sure. 

At one point there are no hands on you, and you admit to yourself it makes you feel a bit uneasy. Not being able to see them is fine, so long as you can feel them. 

And then suddenly it goes from no hands to six hands. Which feels like too many. Your mind is messing with you. Instead of the nice, intense feeling you’d read about, this feels like ants crawling across your skin. 

Noticing you tense, Mitch asks for your color. After taking a moment to collect your thoughts, you reply, “Yellow, but I think it’s just the blindfold. Can we take it off?”

Before you even finish asking, Harry has started to remove it, and you blink at the low light in the room. You look at your three partners, giving each of them a soft smile. 

“Do you want to stop?” Sarah asks. 

Shaking your head, you reply, “No, definitely not. I just need to see you guys.” 

“Okay. Ready to start again?” Mitch asks. 

“Yes, I’m ready,” you reply. 

They once again trace their fingers along your bare skin. The press kisses along your body, taking turns to capture your mouth in passionate kisses. Your hands flex against their bindings, wanting to touch the others but getting more turned on each time you’re reminded that you’re at their mercy. 

Their teasing touches continue, and you feel them everywhere except where you want it most. You try to tilt your hips up in an effort to wordlessly show them what you want, but the ropes make it nearly impossible. 

Not totally impossible though, and Harry realizes what you’re doing. 

“Stay still, baby,” he says as his hands grip your waist and hold you against the bed. He adjusts so that he’s seated on the bed next to you, one hand splayed on your lower stomach to keep you in place. As always, the show of strength paired with the sight of his large hand spanning your entire midsection sends another wave of lust through your body. 

Sarah moves between your legs, and finally runs her tongue along your core, the direct stimulation shocking after they avoided it for so long. You cry out in pleasure and Mitch murmurs, “Just like that, nice and loud. Let us hear how good our girl is making you feel.”

Back when you were planning this scene, you had brought up gags, but the others quickly turned that idea down. They like listening to your sounds of pleasure far too much. 

Which is why you don’t hold back as Sarah begins eating you out. Her tongue and fingers are like magic, and in no time the pleasure builds and you’re at the cusp of your orgasm. Knowing the signs, Sarah pulls away, stopping just before you can come. 

Your moans of pleasure turn into whines of disappointment, and the others just smile down at you. When you’ve caught your breath and your body has calmed down they start again. 

The three of them take turns going down on you, and you quickly lose count of how many times they stop just before you come. 

It’s maddening, and frustrating, and yet, feels so good. They keep praising you, saying how well you’re doing, how pretty you look all flushed and flustered beneath them. 

“Time for the next step,” Mitch says. He must see something on your face because he asks, “You good baby?”

“I’m good,” you say. 

“How do you feel?” Harry asks. 

It takes you a moment to think of an answer, your mind is a bit fuzzy, so you tell him that. 

“Yea? A little floaty? Does it feel good or bad?” Having been in subspace himself before, he knows it can be scary sometimes. If you are slipping, he wants to make sure it’s a good experience. 

“Good. I like it. It’s like,” you do your best to put it into words. “It’s like there’s nothing but the three of you. Like our own little world.”

“Just how it should be,” Harry says. “We’re gonna keep going. If you’re green, Mitch will give you the next instructions.”

“I’m green,” you reply, knowing that they’ll want verbal answers especially as things get more intense. 

Mitch leans down and presses a kiss to your lips, a sweet gentle gesture that has you melting beneath him. “Now, Sarah has been so nice to you, eating you out so you feel good. I think it’s only fair that you return the favor.”

You nod, very much wanting to do that. 

“Can I sit on your face, love?” Sarah asks and you say, “Yes, please, yes.”

An object is placed in your hand, and you recognize the clicker. Mitch has you demonstrate how to use it to color if you can’t speak, and then Sarah moves to straddle your face. She hovers, still teasing you, and it pains you that you can’t grab her hips to pull her down. 

Slowly she lowers herself, and you begin to pleasure her. You have to get creative, since you can’t use your hands at all, but she seems to be enjoying it. Soon you hear her cry out as she comes, her hands tangling in your hair, which should be painful, but for some reason turns how on even more. 

After catching her breath, Sarah gingerly climbs off of you and lays beside you instead. She uses her hand to wipe the wetness off of your face, and the contrast of that sweet gesture after the rough way she had held your hair has your mind spinning once again.

After cleaning off her hand, she uses it to gently draw shapes on your skin and Mitch says, “My turn, baby girl. You ready for me?”

“Yes, please,” you reply, feeling so empty now. You sign in relief as he slides inside, loving the feeling and the connection this intimacy brings. He starts slow before gradually picking up the pace, thrusting in harder and deeper. He used to be so soft and slow with you, like you were made of glass and he didn’t want to break you. And he often still is. But every now and then he’s rough, and you absolutely love it. 

Harry leans down and nibbles at your ear before saying, “Tell daddy how good he’s making you feel.”

Your eyes roll back in your head at his dirty words, but you follow instructions and pant out, “Feels so good, daddy, I’m so close.”

You regret being honest because moments later Mitch pulls out, leaving you empty once again. 

“No, don’t go, please,” you beg, now growing desperate for release.

“Need you to take a breath for me,” he says, his voice low. “That’s it, baby. Now Harry’s gonna fuck you, real nice and hard.” You whimper, knowing you won’t be able to hold back your orgasm any longer. And because Mitch can read you like a book, he knows this. Knows you’re about to reach your limit, which is why he then says, “And you can come whenever you want. But remember, once you start, we’re not letting you stop.”

You let out another whimper at this, needy this time instead of frustrated. 

Harry lines up with your entrance and checks your color before sliding in fully. He immediately sets a brutal pace, and in no time at all, you’re finally letting go.

You let out a loud cry of pleasure, as intense waves roll through your whole body, all the way from your core to the tips of your fingers. Harry continues to thrust, until he’s coming inside of you, and it feels like you’re having a never ending orgasm. 

He pulls out but is quickly replaced with Sarah’s fingers. She doesn’t let up, fucking you with her skilled fingers until you’re coming again. She removes her hand but she’s not done with you, and she begins rubbing her core against yours as she leans down for a dirty kiss. You lay there, unable to move, just simply taking the pleasure she’s giving you. 

“Come with me, love,” she says, and as though your body is made to obey, you do just that. 

She lays on one side of you, Harry on the other, and Mitch kneels between your legs. He slides his hand up your thigh until he’s pushing three fingers inside of you. He leans down, curling his fingers just right as he sucks you clit into his mouth, tearing yet another orgasm from you.

Your body feels tired and heavy, your mind pleasantly fuzzy. Sensing you’re reaching your true limit, Mitch hovers over you. “Hey baby, you still with us?” he asks quietly. 

It takes you a moment to process the question, but you finally answer, “‘M here.”

“Think you can do one more?” he questions.

You’re not sure you can, but you absolutely want to. Because Mitch hasn’t come yet, and you have a feeling this last orgasm would be courtesy of him inside you, and you crave that more than anything. So you slowly nod your head yes.

“Words, baby girl,” he reminds you.

“Yes, daddy, I can do one more,” you reply, not even realizing you let the name slip. You’d never used that title before today, and now it just feels so right. 

“Alright, daddy’s gonna make you feel so good. Nice and gentle this time,” he says as he slowly slides his length inside of you. As promised, instead of the rough pace from earlier, he’s now rocking in and out of you so tenderly, gradually building up both of your orgasms. 

You get lost in the feeling, letting your mind slip more into the floatiness that has been threatening to take over for the last few minutes. Harry’s hand finds your clit, rubbing just right, bringing you to your final orgasm of the night. You clench around Mitch, sending him over the edge as well. 

For the first time all night, you really pull against the restraints, and knowing what you’re trying to do, Mitch tells Harry to untie the ropes quickly. As soon as your legs are free, you wrap them around Mitch, wordlessly telling him to stay inside you, needing to feel him after such an intense scene. 

“I’m here, baby. I’m not going anywhere,” he says, pressing kisses on your neck and face. Once Harry releases your arms, he and Sarah both massage out any soreness and carefully stretch them to work out any lingering kinks in your joints and muscles. 

You lay there, surrounded by the three of them, completely at peace. You know they’re all talking to you, murmuring praises and telling you how well you did, but you’re too fuzzy to fully understand. 

It isn’t until you start to fall asleep that they decide it’s time to clean up and do the rest of your aftercare. Mitch carefully pulls out, kissing away your whines of displeasure at being separated from him. 

He picks you up and heads towards the bathroom, and you hear Sarah say she and Harry will meet you in there after changing the sheets. Mitch places you down on the toilet, a silent instruction for you to pee, and he turns to start filling the tub.

It’s comically large, essentially an indoor hot tub, but perfect for when all four of you want to bathe together. You finish up your business and move to stand, but your legs are wobbly. Luckily Harry is there, and he scoops you up to carry you over to the tub. 

Mitch and Sarah get in first, and Harry passes you over to them before he too climbs in. The water is nice, perfectly warm and soothing. The scent diffuser in the corner is filling the room with the relaxing fragrance of lavender. Mitch methodically washes your hair, while Harry and Sarah work together to clean your body, paying special attention to your wrists and ankles to make sure the rope didn’t hurt you at all. 

The fuzziness in your head dissipates, replaced by the normal peaceful feeling you get when with your three favorite people. After Mitch finishes rinsing your hair you open your eyes, and the others can see the clarity there. 

“Back with us, hm?” Sarah asks.

“I am,” you reply bashfully.

“How was it?” Harry asks.

“So good. All of it, just. I really liked it.”

“That’s good,” Mitch says. “We’ll talk about it more in depth tomorrow so you can tell us what you really enjoyed and what you might want to change if we do this again. But for now let’s dry off and get into bed, okay?”

“Okay,” you say, wanting nothing more than to be in your cozy bed surrounded by the others.

Even though the bath revived you and you’re fully capable of drying yourself off and getting dressed, Sarah does it for you. She gently towels you off before helping you step into a pair of boxers. She slides a large t-shirt over your head and then brushes out the knots in your hair. 

When she finishes the task she goes to move back into the bedroom, but you stop her, pulling her in for a hug. You see the boys watching and signal for them to join in.

Once the four of you are standing there in a group hug you say, “Thank you for today. I really enjoyed it, and you all made me feel so loved and cared for.”

You all hold each other close for a minute before making your way into bed. You and Sarah are in the middle, Mitch behind you and Harry on Sarah’s other side. All of you are touching in some way, loving that contact right now. 

It had been a day of firsts, and as always, this new experience has brought you even closer to Mitch, Sarah, and Harry. 

With warm arms surrounding you, you drift off to sleep, but not before telling the others once again how much you love them.

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AN: Thank you for reading! I currently have 2 more extras planned but requests are open if there's anything you want to see!

[gregmarriage]

the weird faceless ableist talking in my head being like ‘you’re lazy. just move. just walk!’ when i physically can’t do either of those things. like i would loveeeeeee to walk to the bathroom without fear i’m going to fall and injure myself. i would love to move even two inches without injuring myself. but okay <3

[screampied]

DI☆MOND BOY. g. satoru

☆ sum. if there’s anything more scarier than a special grade curse to gojo, it’s coming home to his pretty ‘lil wife who’s got a sizzling hot temperature of baby fever.

wc. 8k

warnings. fem! reader, housewife! reader, fluffy smut, unprotected, mention of kids (2), baby fever, brief láctation kink, bóob obsessed gojo, cėrvix mentions, body worship, cunnīlingus, this is where you’re weak right, r has stretch marks, dad! bod gojo, breęding, sqúirting, spitting on it, fingęring, filthy pússy talk, implied multiple rounds, petnames.

an. this is kinda rawdogged, im ugly sobbing to sza, and i think … im a gojo girl now (・・?)

“sweetheaaart?” satoru steps through the doorway, doing a quick scan around the semi-tidy living room that he’s greeted with. turning to lock the door, the heel of his shoe nearly steps onto the edge of a squeaky teething toy. he picks it up, putting it in the basket of other toys with a contempt smile—remembering the kids were staying at your grandparents ‘till the weekend.

still - silence.

satoru scratched his head once you didn’t reply like usual whenever he announced himself. pulling off his coat, his husband instincts kicked in instantaneously. what if - what if, the same questions repeated through his head as he made his way upstairs. his heart’s racing, and as he’s speeding through the narrow hallway, he just hopes his wife’s alright.

but as he twists the croaking handle of the bedroom door, he’s met with you lying on his side of the bed. with a towel underneath you, you’ve got a cute scrunched-up look of frustration as you rub a vibrating wand up and down between your legs. you’re sprawled open—and as you’re whimpering repeatedly, it takes you a long second to realize satoru’s just stiffly standing in the doorway with the dumbest lopsided grin.

“s- satoru!”

“hey, girl,” his eyes avert toward your pretty thighs that trembled, occasionally leering back toward the drenched white towel that sat underneath you. stepping closer, he tossed the bag of toiletries you asked for, hearing it flop near the nightstand. “hey to you too, pretty.” and you pouted, watching as he slowly took the active buzzing toy from your hands.

leaning in, he greets your ankle with a delicate kiss. “ ‘m home, ‘toru’s home.”

his touch, it was forever gentle.

satoru’s lips softly planted against your skin, tilting his head to get a closer look at you - the epitome of looking like a guilty deer in headlights.

cute.

“how was um.. work?” you murmur, trying to ignore the quickening beats of your active heart.

thump after thump after thump and it’s just so loud that you were even starting to hear each pound sound out of your chest and through your ears.

satoru sits up, sliding a part of the blindfold to lift over his left eye.

right away - he’s staring at you with icy-blue eyes that resemble calming waves of crashing tides. long lashes of his flapped prettily as it took in your exposed figure with a single glance.

“was alrigh’,” he hoarsely mumbles before staring at the toy that was propped between your legs just a minute ago—gripping it in his palm. “are we gonna talk about this though?”

“i thought you’d be home later,” you shyly replied, feeling satoru gingerly rest his chin against your bare tummy. your voice sounded so smooth, especially whenever you were a tad bit nervous. he could listen to you all day. “and i never have time to um..”

“play with yourself?” satoru raised a snowy brow, kissing the centre of your stomach.

“mhm.”

“sweetheart, you have me y’know,” he flips a thumb over one of the pink buttons that were on the button, switching it off. the buzzing noise gradually dies down with a ‘powering off’ sound before he sets it aside.

god - you felt so fuckin’ hot.

as he laid close between your legs, showering your skin with ‘i missed you’ kisses — you let off a soft, contempt sigh.

“yeah, but- like, when you aren’t here. i would call you but i don’t wanna do that while you’re working, ‘toru,” and satoru places the edge of his wrist on the side of his cheek, intently listening to you.

his eyes softened - pupils dilating with love, nearly forming into hearts as you spoke. as your sentences continued—you could see tiny dimples forming at each corner of his crooked pink lips. he’s trying so hard not to smile. “. . what?”

satoru sits up before pressing a three-second kiss against your lips. “sweetheart, you can call me while ‘m at work, you know. i don’t mind if it’s you,” and he surprises the left side of your temple with another peck. “even if it’s a text. you’re the only thing that keeps me sane when i’m out trying to save the world.”

“okay,” you replied, cupping his face.

satoru stares deeply into your eyes, and you can already visibly see that smug grin preparing to tug across his pink-glittery lips.

there was something else though.

with the kids away ‘till sunday, you found yourself pondering a bit.

you’d be watching some random show on tv them out of nowhere — you’re hit with a commercial for diapers.

it’s like the universe was trying you.

it’d happen at least more than once a day, and you’re just thinking . . . what if.

satoru and you joked about having another baby sometimes but now - it had you thinking.

just imagining the pure imagery of you walking around with a plump, swollen tummy, again—having satoru carry you almost anywhere, hearing him lovingly brag about his oh-so-perfect wife that’s expecting in the background of a phone call.

ah.

you had baby fever,

again.

that much was apparent, and satoru noticed how you were spacing out mid-conversation.

“heeey, what’s goin’ on in that pretty mind?” he pouts, his face still cupped with both of your palms. “earth to mama gojo.”

“satoru,” you’d sigh, a breathy gasp trying to tear its way through your lungs. you felt like you were burning up—and the more he pressed sweet kisses against your tummy, the more you started to feel your temperature rising. “i.. i feel hot.”

his eyes widen, placing a hand on the back of your forehead. “is everything okay?” and as he starts to get into his ‘protective husband mode’,

satoru sits up, white brows twitching in concern. “stay here, baby. let me get a thermo-”

“no, no- not hot in that way, ‘toru,” you shake your head, grabbing his wrist.

satoru’s a bit dumbfounded and it takes his empty brain a bit to fully register what you meant. leisurely, your thumb circles around his hardened knuckles before you give him that look.

he knew that look all too well.

“oh! oh, you’re …. horny. okay!” he dryly laughs, his look of worry slowly faltering.

satoru grabs your wrists, giving each of them soft open-mouthed kisses before speaking warmly. “i should’ve . . . figured, hehh-” and his eyes flicker down between your legs that were shamelessly dripping from each thigh with dewy drops of slippery slick. “was the new toy treating you well?”

“no. you sort of interrupted me and i didn’t finish.” you huffed, and satoru cheekily grinned.

“well pardon me for thinking somethin’ happened to my beloved missus,” satoru sneaks another kiss against your lips.

he tastes sweet - his lips, were always naturally glossed and his lashes lowered once you let off a cute, impatient sigh.

“but, my poor poor girl,” you moaned as he continued to hoarsely tease you, feeling him sneak a big hand between your already cracked-open thighs.

“girls,” he corrects himself, bringing the pad of his thumb near the opening of your drenched clit. you’re whimpering, hearing a single wet slosh sob from between your legs once satoru gives your entrance a single sparing second of his attention. “she’s as wet as ever, huh.”

“s.. s- ‘toruuu-” you’d gasp, watching as his head trails down low low low until it reaches just below your abdomen.

satoru’s hair gently grazed against your skin, and you were desperately holding in a deep exhale that you didn’t even know you were clinging onto for the longest.

“let’s see how much she’s missed me..” satoru gravelly coos, giving your nub a gentle kiss. it’s a wet ‘mwah’ that sticks against his lips like paste.

your legs were already struggling to hold still, and satoru couldn’t help but hum. as he swirls the flat of his palm around your twitching pussy in sloppy circles, you could already see him hungrily licking his lips through your blurred peripherals.

lying fully back, your back hits against the cushioned pillow that flatly plumps itself out against your weight.

your breaths started to sound more and more labored the closer he pursed his puckered his lips..

wetly, satoru brings a lanky middle finger towards your entrance before gradually sinking it inside. you’re moaning, feeling the lengthy tip of his tongue before he treats the top of your clit with a few beginning kitten licks.

“f- fuuuck,” your brows curled together, feeling him cup his mouth around your pussy. it’s a damp, wet pop! that resounds from between your legs, and it’s all because of his finger that easily disappears between your folds. “more, ‘toru- pleaseplease.”

“ ‘m gettin’ there,” he purrs huskily, grunting once he swirls his middle finger around inside of you. it’s so looong, stretching all through you as he feels you tighten around his digit for a few split seconds.

“atta girl, bare ‘round it for me jus’ like that baby … fuck.” as you’re slowly wetting his middle finger with your slickness, that’s when you feel him preparing to stick another in.

it’s so slippery yet again - loudly, it pops its way inside, echoing out a pretty noise before he eases his index finger inside. satoru’s fingers were just so damn long that it didn’t take him long to locate your g-spot at all.

with a ‘c’mere’ motion of his fingers pulling back and forth inside of you, he’s flicking both fingers you’re already spasming out. he’s reaching you good, and he’s drinking every melodic moan that left from your lips.

“f- fuck, riiiight there,” you’d continue, your hips squirming a bit. parched breaths from satoru fanned against your pussy, and he’s groaning right with you.

you’re just so wet - drowning in puddles of your lustful filth, and like the doting husband he was, he just had to clean you up. proudly, he does so with nothing more than a few flicks of his tongue.

“s.. satoruuu.” you’d whimper, biting the inside of your cheek once the pad of his index finger’s starting to ruuub its way against your g-spot.

your scent - satoru went feral for it every time, and he’s starting to lap his tongue against your clit at a much more erratic speed.

he’s forming slow yet steady stripes in an up ‘n down motion, occasionally smearing a thumb across your cunt to hear you whine. satoru’s low groans were muffled—sounding husky and all, and he’s just merrily slurping you while you writhe uncontrollably against his face. he even had the goofiest grin on his face the entire time too.

he had to admit, being between his wife’s legs or even being in your presence alone was far better than fighting some ugly special grade curse.

your grabby hands found their way to your full, jouncing breasts and you gave them a nice squeeze before whining again. even that made you sensitive.

between the wet thrusts of his long tongue—satoru’s giving your heat sloppy, sloppy kisses, even making sure to give your pussy a few pecks also. he left no area unattended.

satoru’s eyes shined bright, even brighter whenever when he was between your thighs.

in a way, the colors of his blue eyes had parallels to the shade of sapphire or any jewel, really.

as his eyes occasionally met against your own— you’re always staring at a vibrant, luminescent shade of cerulean that was forevermore fixated on you and only you.

his wife.

“mhh, hearin’ her cry for me is just the recharge i need from work, sweetheart,” he groans, cautiously pushing his twinned digits in of your cunt before pulling them riiiight back out.

not all the way, but just to where the glossy tips of his fingers showed. you’re clamping down on them both well—and he made sure that you felt every inch. you were indeed loud though, especially between your legs.

as satoru’s counting each vulgar squelch in his head, tittering to himself at how you just couldn’t help but pop out slosh after soddened slosh..

he’s paying attention to certain spots inside of you, and he’s stickily hitting all tender spots inside of your pussy - treating each one like a target.

bullseye after bullseye - he hits you in all the right places, and if it was one thing satoru’s long fingertips didn’t do, it was that they never miss.

ever.

your back’s just arching like a stretching feline, and your unsteady irregular breaths were far more than labored by this point. satoru’s tongue glides its way across your pussy before he takes a moment to spit right against your sopping entrance. you’re moaning, peering down at him, and he’s so focused on the mess taking place between your cute, shuddering thighs..

“haah-” he breathes, pulling out his fingers briefly to suck on them for a taste. “missed her so bad. she’s missed me too - fuck, can’t . . help but clench all ‘round me,” he whispers, prying your legs even more apart.

satoru’s taking his precious sweet time, savoring each honeyed drop that dribbled down your thighs before he feels your hand gripping his hair. as his head abruptly yanks forward, satoru looks up at you while sliding a tongue over his lower, slick-covered lip. “hm?”

“ ‘toru, m- my stretch marks,” you hesitate, your thumb gently digging a path through his scalp.

pausing, his dripping lips rested near the crevice of your thighs before he kissed the inner corner. “yeah. what about ‘em?”

truth be told, you were never so fond of them.

you knew your body would change after pregnancy, even more after the second time but still -

it had you feeling a bit iffy sometimes, pouting whenever you looked in the mirror and peeking down to glance at the stained marks reminding you of your visibly changing body.

“its just.. so-”

“beautiful, perfect, gorgeoussss..” he lowly whispers, kissing your thighs after each compliment that sang from his twitching lips.

satoru always knew the perfect time to cut off your sentence that he just knew was gonna be something negative.

with him—he’s listened to you express about your stretch marks, or anything new appearing on your body, and every single time, he’d remind you of just how flawless you were - to him.

you moaned, looking down to see his crimson-pink lips halting from your aroused entrance, pressing dozens of wet kisses down each striping mark that stretched against the inner parts of your thighs.

his lips were so zealously soft, and each impact of the kiss had your heart fluttering in the same way a butterfly flapped its wings. satoru’s fluffed ivory tresses were still gripped tightly in your hand, and he could feel your hold lessening by the second.

“even if you may not like your body, i love it,” he murmurs lowly, closing his eyelids. “and i love you.”

your skin was burning up, probably hotter than before and your heart felt like it was about to burst out the middle of your rising chest. each beat was more powerful than the last, and you started to feel a tingle in your toes.

“but baby-” he continues, bringing the back of your hand toward his lips before giving it a chaste kiss.

“i hope you know that you’ve gifted me two children with this beautiful body,” satoru sighs, guiding his lips down the bottom of your tummy to shower a kiss there too. “i’ll remind you every day of why i love you ‘n your beauty marks if that’s what you want. besides! i’m growing some too heh-”

“ ‘toru-”

“starting now,” he coos hotly, trailing his kisses back down between the valley of your legs. “such a perfect body, can’t believe i get ‘ta call you mine,” and with one concluding kiss against your marks, he brings an eager closing kiss against your drooling cunt. “can’t forget ‘bout her too, my other pretty wet girl.”

whining, you felt an impatient heat pooling its way around inside of you. your legs started to quaver again, and you were feeling your jaw tighten before slacking. “sa- satoru, ‘m gonna .. cum,” you rawly mewl out, your grip on his hair tightening again like before.

pursing his thin lips into a straight line, he brings them back toward your pussy, sluuurping everything out of you whilst you’re nearly dragging his head back and forth against your dripping heat.

satoru’s stubble tickles against your folds and it cutely makes your legs twitch. with your ankles having a mind of its own, they wrap around satoru’s neck — keeping him in a lock.

“mmgh-” his white lashes remained shut as he cupped his lips with such intensity.

satoru’s chin was getting drenched with your mess, and he couldn’t care less. his head moves and moves, swaying frantically between your legs while forgetting to take a single breath.

you tasted like candy - equivalent like honey, and the tip of his tongue was adamant on slurping up any ‘n every single drop of nectar that dribbled from between your puffed slit. satoru’s always had a sweet tooth, and your cunt was the only treat he’d happily feast on all day long if he could.

“c’mon, pretty,” he huffs breathlessly, the button tip of his nose swiping its way down your clit. you’re so so close, and your orgasm’s just sitting on your maddened tastebuds.

as his head continues to ferociously bob between your shaky legs, you’re whining with those same sweet babbles and babbles of his name, begging for him to not stop. his tongue’s just covered with his sugary-tasting saliva—sticky webs gluing against the bottom part of his chin as he’s now buried nose deep.

“toru, satoruuu,” and its more of a pitiful battle cry.

the edges of his teeth softly nip against your cunt before his tongue lazily circles around your throbbing frenulum. an incoming prolonged moan gets caught in your throat as you feel his head tilting for a better angle. “cum- ‘m cumming, fuuuck!”

as your release was coming to its teetering demise, you were shrieking at the top of your lungs in overwhelmed pleasure.

satoru’s giving your labia its final sweet ‘lil wet sucks before feeling your legs weakly releasing its temporary lock around his head.

heavily, he’s panting sharply against your pussy before bringing a thumb toward the top part of your puffy nub.

satoru’s sloppily spreading it apart with a single finger, staring at the cute excited pulse that occurs from the very inside of your pussy.. “haah- good girl.” he praises, feeling you arch further once his drenched stubble scrapes against your crying entrance.

you’re wetter than ever - and satoru’s lips shined even brighter thanks to your treacly juices. passively, his reddened tongue chafed ‘n twirled ‘round inside of you, and as you’re still riding out your eye-boggling finish on his face, you grab him by the hair. “s- satoru, just.. hah- came.”

“mhm~” he clumsily falls face-first against your cunt, giving your teary folds a wet kiss.

smugly, he looks up at you with a slick chin before whistling against your clit. “phewww. did ya?” he grumbles, creeping a plump thumb near your puckering hole.

you clench at that, and he ogled as your tummy sinks inward. “fuck, s.. sooo damn pretty,” and as he gives your pussy a few departing french kisses, he sighs. “mmch-” he smacks his lips, and you stared as he swiftly removed his blindfold with one hand.

as you’re panting yourself, your legs remained spread.

still lying on his stomach, satoru brought his black blindfold up to his sneering lips before wiping it side-to-side, using it as a handkerchief.

“hah- wifey tastes as good as always,” he snickers, closing the gap between you two with his own body. as satoru’s towering figure falls against you, he brings a longing, silky peck to you before groaning against your trembling, kiss-swollen lips.

satoru awkwardly moves against you before mumbling out a few ‘f… fuck’ ‘s once he feels a certain something poke from the middle of his boxers.

he’s … hard.

you felt the bulge stick out of the cloth, pressing against your bare cunt — its hard to miss, and your hands instinctively reached for the knotted string of his pants.

“baby-” he bites his lip, feeling the tent prod wider. its almost painful, and he’s even starting to grind against your leg to ease the throbbing. “mmgh-” he goofily grins, his expression shortly switching to a look of lustful panic.

he’s been so focused on you that he didn’t even realize all this time—he’s had a raging boner that’s been aching for any sort of crumbs of attention.

“baby, were you working while being this hard?” you timidly murmur, watching as satoru’s face flushes with a burning tint of strawberry red.

“h.. heh. no silly,” lie.

satoru had a bit of a bad habit of randomly thinking about you - his adorable, sweet ‘n perfect wife while he was out fighting enemies.

sometimes, the longer he thought about you - the longer his problem got.

satoru brings a hand toward your right breast, and you gasped once he gives it a loud ‘popping’ suck. frosty-white strands of his hair drag against your skin as he’s slooowly running his balmy, hot tongue around your sensitive nipple.

you were still tender - not just anywhere but everywhere.

it’s fully marked a year since you had your second child, meaning that of course, your body would still be a bit sensitive in some places. places like your soft, rounded breasts—especially.

you moaned, feeling the tip of his drooling, wet tongue criss-cross its way around your perked areola. every suck suck suck pops out from his lips louder, and you start to play with his hair.

“s.. satoru,” you whined, a pout starting to display against your lips as he tended to each breast lovingly.

“i know.. i hah- know,” he breathes through rushed exhales, turning you on your side. “jus' wanted to make sure my favorite girls got some attention too.”

you felt the cool air whoosh against your skin at each second he released each nipple from his lips. it's brief - but quick, and satoru’s already got you pulsating. he’s flicking his tongue while fluttering his lashes at you, allowing clear driblets of saliva to drizzle from the cracks of his mouth.

you’re biting your lip the entire time as you held the back of his head close—hearing a bit of shuffling before satoru’s eyes trail down your fidgeting body.

so cute.

there’s a shiny sparkle in his eyes, it’s glimmer never faltering and he’s just falling in love all over again.

every moment he spent staring at you or your body, he felt that same lump forming in the back of his throat.

“ ‘s this comfy?” he wantonly purrs, caressing the bare flesh of your ass. you cling onto the pillow beside you before giving him a nod.

the slight shuffling you heard was from satoru. his sweats fell to the carpet floor with a loud thud, and his boxers shortly followed afterward.

finally - he could breathe.

his boner was just crying weakly, the tip feeling so hot as it had pearly-white globules of pre-cum wetly darting from all veiny sides.

sighing, satoru wraps a palm around his hardened cock before clicking his tongue while continuing to tease you. “ah- words, sweetheart. y’know how ‘ta use ‘em.”

“y- yes.” and with how whiny your words came out, you mentally slapped yourself.

satoru’s skin was just so close to yours - radiating hot waves of heat against your thighs. within seconds, he’s already enveloping you gradually with his embracing warmth.

pouting and all, you were steadily impatient, and he heard your cute ‘lil sighs of agitation repeating ‘till he lifted your leg.

sideways.

he was gonna take you sideways, and the single thought alone brewed up a flittering feeling of butterflies in your empty tummy.

“haah- missed you all day, have no idea.” satoru inhales through each nostril, bringing his cherry-capped tip towards your weeping entrance.

so … damn … soaked..

as he gawked, he could still taste the sugary-sweet remnants of your essence in his mouth, coating his lips like a natural gloss.

as you’re on your left side, your tits end up smushing against each other. it’s such a pretty sight too, ‘cause not even seconds later, you heard a raspy ‘ohhh fuck’ draw from satoru’s lips.

your pussy was just profusely leaking, and satoru’s holding back all hearty grunts the minute his swollen tip smacked its way against your lustrous-coated slit.

as it sops with nothing but runny molasses of your own colorless slick, your chest sucks in. “ ‘toruuuu, baby- fuckk. don’t tease me,” you’d whimper, quietly huffing at each commencing pap sound of his tip gently hitting against your folds.

he hums, hearing his wet you were - how sloppy you sounded.

satoru’s tip’s an angry red, fuming with a carmine flushing shade and he’s groaning once his vast thumb sinfully brushes past a prominent throbbing vein.

pulse after pulse after fuckin’ pulse, and you’re just making him harder.

“s… shit, you’re right. if i tease you, ‘m just gonna end up makin’ myself finish early, princess.” satoru diffidently chortles, and you hear the pathetic squelch of your pussy begging for him to just shut up and ease his way inside already..

finally - satoru’s making his way inside, ploddingly sinking a few inches inside.

with a few wet ‘fwop’ sloshes, he’s disappearing into you. like always, you’re hugging him tight - dependent on never letting him go.

your pussy’s warmth makes satoru’s glitzed lashes flap shut for a moment, and he’s kissing his teeth. your wetness was taking him to a whole new world almost. it’s almost entirely satisfying at how you’re just swallowing all hefty nth-inches like it was nothing.

as satoru’s trying to carefully fit his way in, he runs a hand down his tummy that’s growing a bit of a pudge. he was starting to develop a dad bod himself.

satoru was still very much fit, but as the years went on—he was eventually starting to get plump, more . . soft.

overtime, he liked being the little spoon in bed. he was really soft - identical to a teddy bear with strong arms wrapping around you. his favorite position to sleep would usually be with his head resting between your chest or on your stomach.

he’s got a trail of white hairs that sprinkled all across his chest like paint splattered on a canvas. a few hairs even made their way toward his chiseled v-line, dashing just below his pelvis. all over his body, he still had multiple scars—scars from countless battles, and he himself always found them unpleasant to look at.

but just like he did for you - you made sure to kiss all of his scars that decorated his skin.

you still felt his sharpened natural abs - they were just a bit softer though.

satoru grunts, stuffing a hand underneath the crack of your bent leg before he’s juuuust about bottomed out.

his rotund base was as full as it’s ever been, and he heard your cute gargled whines trying so hard to conceal themselves.

“hng- pretty mama, don’t . . do that,” he takes stingy puffs of air, gripping firmly against your skin. satoru’s brows come into a furrow, and with the final gushing ‘plap’ alerting you both that he’s stuffed balls deep, satoru phews. “i wanna hear ya, let me- hah- hear that pretty voice f’ me.”

“f- fuuuck.” you moan out, your entire steady body becoming unstable, wriggling like jello with just a single rigid thrust.

satoru’s tip is always nice and wide, and it curves its way around your insides before expanding further and further.

with your leg bent at a near-perfect ninety-degree angle, he’s got you right where he wants you.

his dick’s sliiiiding in and out, and fuck- you felt it all.

satoru’s leaning, still holding up your leg before grunting. your cunt’s oily wetness nearly drove him mad, and you’re just coating him with your slick through and through..

the achy muscles in his lower thigh muscles quickly clench, and satoru’s already starting to feel himself break a sweat.

fuck.

“ngh- ‘toru,” you’d whimper out rawly, the chords in your throat struggling to maintain their natural pitch. he’s just hitting you so deep, swabbing the tip of his cock around your pussy like a q-tip.

it was just so sloppy at how it swirled its way in a circle, leaving you nothing but goosebumps from the inside everytime. he’s deep, stuffing you full with all capped inches of his stretching cock.

as he’s sideways right with you—satoru’s skewing his hips a certain way just so you could feel each delicious pound.

if he kept jackhammering into you like that, you were sure you were gonna start drooling against your fleecy pillowcase within no time.

satoru’s sweaty fingerprints were practically glued in between the crevices of your held-up thigh, and he was letting off sharp raspy breaths after each stroke.

he’s full, groaning as his base thwacks its way back ‘n forth into your dripping pussy. the lewd sounds rang through the four thin walls of the bedroom, and you’re just faintly nibbling on your numbed tongue. “s- so full, mngh- right there baby. keep.. hah- fuckin’ me there.”

“god-” satoru leans in, his chest flatly pressed against yours. he helps you sit upright, and you can now crane your head slightly just to see him through your bleary peripherals again. “right here, princess? right .. fuckin’ .. here?”

he’s sloppily punctuating each thrust with his words that coarsely flew past his lips.

satoru’s shaft had the right kind of lean that made you gasp. the lazy, hanging curve of his cock dragged its way through your cunt and had you whining loudly, filling his ear with constant cacophonies of your cute ‘lil ‘pleaseplease’ ‘s, ‘yesyes’ ‘s, and his personal favorite, ‘satoruuuu.’

with your head vaguely turned, he leans in to kiss you.

it’s barely a kiss - more like a bumpy battle of teeth clashing, because with his delirious thrusts, you could hardly reach against his lips.

between kisses, you heard the mixture of wet moans and hearty ‘i love you’ ‘s fall past both shared lips.

satoru’s sly smile stretches across the corners of his mouth as he’s still pounding you into straight oblivion, making sure every single orifice of yours remembers any incoming inch of his.

“hngh- feels.. so hah- good, baby,” you’d babble, taking a few hastened milliseconds in between to breathe.

it felt like you were racing with your breath, forevermore losing.

satoru’s just ruthless - stretching you wholeheartedly as the bed underneath you both grunted in horror. its creaking competed with the headboard from above which was probably older than time itself.

with this particular angle, he’s hitting you even deeper, and you feel the buds on your tongue preparing to sodden with pools of rich, cloying saliva.

“sato- ah!” you squealed, growing cross-eyed for a second.

right there,

as satoru’s hand still clings onto the opening of your drooping thigh, his tip kisses a direct path near your cervix before that kiss turns into a thrusting smooch.

your mind’s just blank - fog surrounds it, and your voice starts to pitch higher. he’s hitting you there, and satoru hissed at the familiar spongy texture that was trying hard to clamp around him oh-so tight.

the feeling of melting-hot pressure from the very inside of your sopping core makes you let off a cute, ‘oooh’ as he shimmies his hips.

“toru don’t s- stop hittin’ there, please.”

“mng- there she is. found it, didn’t i?” his guttural voice murmurs.

panting harshly—satoru snakes a free arm around your waist, and he gently presses his palm against your belly.

sliding up up up, he adds just a wee bit more pressure to near the exact area he’s reaching inside of you.

his cock’s stupidly long, and it’s continuously locating all the right spots before your mind tirelessly shot blanks. as his dampened fingertips warily graze circles around your heaving tummy, he brings his glimmering lips up to the searing lobe of your ear.

“here, princess?” satoru huffs darkly, his breathing almost animalistic as he lifts your leg even higher.

as you’re sideways, you felt multiple inches of his cock steadily continue to bruise your cervix with a plethora of heart-felt, mean tip-kisses.

your eyes were bulging, lashes batting, mouth dangling wide open. “this is- hah- where you’re weak riiiight? this.. fuckin’ .. spot where ‘m hitting, oh fuckk-” he pauses, his nose wrinkling from the immense sliding stimulation.

“y- yes, there- fuck! ‘toruuu-”

it’s just soooo slick inside you, and satoru’s groaning all up against your ear.

“dirty girl. mngh- pussy can’t.. help but talk back. god, jus’ listen to her, she’s even singing for me ‘n everything. wettest lyrics of a song i’ve ever.. hah- heard,” and as if on cue, the sloshing sounds slosh even louder after each overzealous jam of satoru’s pivoting hips.

you’re stammering on your own words, choking on every shrilling whine and whimper that dared to tug away from your worn-out voice.

satoru’s dick knew each pressure point to hit too.

every. single. one.

after all, if it was anyone who knew your body - it was him.

that included bedaubing his crowned tip near erogenous places. satoru’s easing his way in and out, making not only your heart flutter but your insides too..

it’s one wet whack of skin against each other after another, and all you could do was clamp around his cock and take it like the good girl you were.

with your tummy heaving consistently, it’s doing nothing but sending a horde of nerves all through the axons and nerves that run through your body.

it’s sending staticky signals that are more than enough to make your brain lose a few circuits.

satoru’s berserk-like thrusts were at damn near lightning speed, and he was snickering at each whine that flew past your trembly-glossed lips.

“ ‘toruuuu,” you’d drag out his name, moaning once you felt a few of his thin fingers wisp down your back that’s starting to perspire with tears of sweat.

he’s stretchy, molding the inside of your cunt with each pump of his stiffening cock that’s drilling into your very core.

panting like a greyhound, you’re stunned for a second once satoru lets off a rough groan against the shell of your ear.

his mushroomy tip faultlessly smashed its way against and into your flittering cervix that felt almost heart-shaped—zigzagging its way down before smashing against that pulsating spot again.

he feels it and you feel it too.

“ngh- ‘m gonna cum again,” you’d mewl out, feeling the sliminess of both sweaty bodies slick against each other in raw harmony.

his ramming hips naturally arched into yours, deepening the steep angle even more before hearing you squawk out a tiny warning sob. “cum- ‘m gonna cum, sato—mmngh!”

as satoru’s still holding you from your side, you’re hit with a multitude of elated emotions. you’re clamping down on him tightly, feeling your legs grow limp within seconds.

sloppily, your pussy squeaking wetly between your open thighs as you cream all down his shaft, creating nothing more than a miry, slippery mess..

your cheek presses against the middle part of your pillow as you’re spasming underneath him, whining out the same ragged, incoherent babbles.

“satoru, s- satoru,” you’d coo out, hearing his huffing puffs of air from behind you.

satoru slows himself down, wrapping soft arms around your torso as you ride out your orgasm.

with your hips still feebly stuttering back against him—it left the sweetest taste in your mouth.

all over, you felt overly sensitive - and satoru could feel your body succumbing in pleasure and defeat within his firm hold.

he held you close, brushing a thumb around your navel before whispering murmurs of, ‘there we go’ ‘s or, ‘i gotcha,’ ‘s.

“fuck, such a good sloppy girl,” he flips you over, still entirely buried inside of your clenching cunt. satoru brings his quivering lips toward yours, giving you kisses before speaking in between rushed, humid smacks. “hah- you okay, princess?”

“mhm.” you nod, crawling your way on top of him. satoru has a sheepish grin, and he does a quick peer down at your body.

damn.

the first thought that would always pop into his mind whenever his eyes landed on you—his wife’s perfect body.

they’d trail down down down, stopping at your plush thighs before darting right back up towards your face. his thumbs gently caressed near the familiar marks that creased faintly against your thighs before he sneaks a kiss near your relaxing jaw.

“heh- think the missus is gettin’ a bit cocky today, no?” satoru jibes a toothy smile once he watches you straddle him, bringing an open palm to the left cheek of your ass, grabbing a bit of skin.

you nearly slipped off a sultry-sounding moan at his sudden touch but cutely grumbled, making him lie back with a flick of your finger before attacking the crook of his neck with wet kisses.

“oh.. my, aren’t you a frisky one today.”

“shut up, ‘toru.”

“hmph. you’re kinda mean when you’re horny, princess.. sexy.”

☆ ☆ ☆

it’s probably been hours - satoru’s had you in any and every position possible, showering every part of your body with its favorite combination of kisses ‘n compliments.

he just couldn’t help it.

especially when you just looked so effortlessly pretty like that underneath him.

currently, he had you in a mating press and oh-

as he’s on top of you—satoru gets lost in your lust-filled gaze. your eyes, they were like some sort of maze he could never find the exit from.

he’s much slower with his rhythm this time, cupping two palms underneath your thighs as he’s gradually feeding your cunt stroke after stroke. both pounds of skin ricocheted against each other, noisily papping as the clashing of grinding bodies continued.

your cunt’s just drooling, leaking with endless amounts of buttery clods of his sticky, hot cum. it dribbles out of your gummed slit, creating a frothy white ring around his base as his hips continue to wedge into your sopping wet pussy.

“ ‘toru- oh, satoru—ooh!” you’d squeal out, digging the edges of nails into his bare shoulder.

satoru’s grunting lowly against your neck, using a hand to bring both knees up to your chest. “haah- c’mon, princess. ‘m still not done fillin’ ya yet, gotta get this tummy nice ‘n plump,” and as his kiss-bitten lips hover against yours, he’s pouting.

satoru squeezes one of your tits before huffing. “these too. n- need to see ‘em full again, so fuckin’ full.”

satoru’s competing pitchy moans with you, each sound laced with nothing but lust and utter carnal desire.

from the inside, you had a sticky grip on him that had him utterly whipped.

satoru’s crimsoned tip spiraled its way around your cunt before sloppily thrashing its way against the convulsing nub of your pulsating clit.

leisurely, it batters its way toward that spot repeatedly until you’re just short-circuiting on his cock once again. “hngh- satoru, ohmygoddd,” you’d hysterically sob out, feeling his big hand cup underneath your chin.

your chin’s slick, and you were messily salivating a bit as he continued. moments later—satoru slips his middle finger inside of your mouth and you moaned, sucking it without a single given thought. “m- mhm.”

“good girl,” he groans, his thrusts becoming sloppier and sloppier as his rickety pace picked up its quickening speed.

satoru’s hips were just downright rude, and he was just trying to savor each clasping clap of skin that he possibly could.

you looked so pretty with half-lidded eyes and webby clear strings of your saliva damply cascading down the sides of your lips.

“ ‘m gonna cum, sweetheart. you’re gonna . . hah- make me fuckin’ cuuum-” and you could hear solely from the tone of his voice, it was turning shaky.

each gasping syllable - it’s struggling desperately to hang on, faltering at each delivery of the next word that spills from his sleek lips.

“mng-” your moan, and satoru hummed before snatching his digit back from between your lips. he leans in to kiss you, delving his hot tongue straight into your mouth.

he’s hungry, demanding access as the tip of the pink muscle circles its way around the inside of your mouth.

it brushes against your flat tongue before his teeth greet your lips once more—giving it a needy ‘let me in’ gnaw. you part your lips so he could have more access, and satoru moans into your mouth.

“satoru, ‘m gonna cum too-” you breathlessly admit, briefly seeing splotches of white once your eyes mindlessly roll back on their own.

he’s so biiiig, stretching you to the very fullest ‘till the very end.

as your legs sporadically shook, you’re letting off sweet hurried gasps once you felt his cock expanding through your guts yet again.

you’re feeling butterflies scatter inside you everywhere, and not once did that familiar pool of heat sensation subside.

instead, it grows stronger and hotter, and you’re mentally fanning yourself as his engorged tip surprises your cervix for the umpteenth time.

it's constant - it happens more than once and it always always always feels like the first fuckin’ time.

his cock’s still leaking from his recent non-stop releases, and blood’s starting to rush to satoru’s head.

raucous, fast-paced breaths wafted against both opened mouths as satoru’s cock attentively drills into your inviting cunt at a more weakened speed.

he’s literally drowning in your pussy, your slick wetness his ultimate weakness.

as weak arms wrap around his neck, you brush a thumb down his undercut — earning a soft whiny, “h.. hey,” snatch from his lips.

satoru’s body was damn near smushed over yours nearly crushed you with his soft squishing weight.

still, though, he’s making sure to hover to where he wasn’t crushing you fully - having his rounded tummy grinding back ‘n forth against your body. as his body rubs its way onto yours after each stroke, you felt satoru’s noticeable happy trail tickle against the outer entrance of your cunt.

“ugh-” satoru sucks in a delayed breath, pressing his forehead against yours.

weakly, his knees began to fatally buckle as his nearly-drained cock’s still pushing its way through your squeezing pussy.

the build up of it all was just utterly blissful.

satoru’s shallow breath gets taken away from him like that, and he could feel himself going limp the microsecond his dick’s starting to spray inside you. “oh fuck, oh f- fuuuck.”

he grumbles, delicately sinking his teeth into your neck. he’s swallowing hard, losing all sorts of composure as his limbs start to quit functioning as if it was some sort of machine.

your finish shortly comes after too, but you end up gushing this time - and not just between your legs.

satoru hears your sweet surprised yelps before looking down, noticing your perked nipples were a bit more hardened than usual. they looked swollen - more plump than usual, and shiny.

you’re squirting down his cock, hearing the lewd squelches confirm that very fact as you even leak a bit from the centres of your nipples.

“holy shit-,” satoru blinks, and embarrassment interrupts your high almost right away.

your first instinct was to cover your face, and satoru leans in between the valley of your chest. your orgasm was so powerful that you ended up getting milked out yourself - literally.

cautiously, he slides his tongue around one of your nipples that’s dribbling with treacly dewdrops of white sweetness. it’s not even a lot, but it’s just enough because he purrs against your skin once the creamy taste hits the buds of his tongue.

“mmng-” and as he’s still pumping probably the fifth load into you, your cunt ends up clenching around him - wringing him so damn dry.

satoru’s taking turns sucking both of your plump tits, savoring the taste before his half-open eyes land on you.

he’s sloppy - encircling the tip of his sticky tongue over the ring of each tit before ‘popping’ one nipple after another from his lips.

satoru’s sweating, and he’s panting even more after your cute ‘lil outburst.

a gooey ring of cum bubbles around the thick base of his cock as he’s still stuffed inside you deep, but he wasn’t even thinking about that anymore.

sighing, he rubs the back pad of his thumb against one of your nipples that was still slightly leaking before he laps it right up, staring at you intently the entire time. his cum’s still spilling out, splattering on your tummy with his tip a fiery red.

“mmh, that’s hah- new. didn’t know you were still ah- leaking, princess. i have that much of an effect on you?”

“s.. shut up-” you moaned, your body still trying to get over its recent climax.

between the arc of your chest — you’re covered with sweat too. satoru hums to himself, tending to each breast before gently grabbing your chin.

“ ‘m guessing that’s a sign that you’re havin’ your seasonal baby fever again, yeah?” satoru smugly grins, feeling your body faintly twitching underneath him. “uh oh.”

his tongue against your tender nipples felt so good that it took you a while to generate a response in your brain that was just short-circuited completely.

deadpanning, you let off a grumbling, “obviously, satoru.”

“sorry, sorrrrry!” he huffs, pressing a kiss to your lips. you whimpered against his lips as his thumbs still tickled against each spurting nipple while his tongue curled around the inside of your mouth.

his touch was always soft, leaving you breathless every time.

your cunt’s overflowed with cum though - and even as his lips glued against yours, you could feel the slippery milky masses stream down from your slick, foaming against both pairs of stilled skin.

everything feels so hot - but satoru’s breath colliding against your tongue felt even hotter.

he’s just so enamored by you, and he can’t help but softly reach for your wrist.

“mng- satoru..” you whined against smacking pairs of lips, strings of loose saliva threatening to tear apart slickly.

“shh,” he whispers, breaking away from your lips to grab onto your hand.

he turns it around, bringing it toward his lips before pressing a single wet kiss against the back of your index finger.

there - your wedding ring beamed bright, brighter than any gem as his lips stamped against the tiny individual diamonds that made up the pricey rock.

you felt your heart flutter, watching silently as he starts to kiss your wedding ring again, again, and again, and again. .

“hah- that’s how many more babies we’re gonna make.”

one … two … three … f-

as you were trying to count in your head, satoru cheekily hummed before cocking his head. “heh, better get started.” and you moaned for a final time, hearing his cock wetly slide its way from your cum-filled cunt.

filthily, such creamed amounts ooze out of you and he hears the pretty sloshes commence not even seconds later. satoru then presses his silver wedding ring against your bare stomach before giving you one final kiss.

glancing up at you teasingly, satoru smacks the swollen crown head of his cock against your folds.

“now.. c’mon, mama gojo. upsie hah- daisy,” satoru throatily grunts, pushing your knees right back up to their initial position.

he just wanted to kiss the cute pout off your lips.

your thighs still shook—and satoru huffs heavily, bringing one hand to squeeze your breast, another easing his fat crowned tip inside of your sobbing pussy.

“let those legs stretch for me one more time. attaaaa girl. tha’s my girl-”

and as gojo leans in to press a soft kiss against your tummy, he hums.

“heh- we’ve got a loooot of mini gojos to make, mommy.”

[preserve-or-raze]

my tags got out of hand

i keep thinking about hobbies and how i often spill over myself to pick up new ones. i have adhd, i end up trying something for like a month and then just getting far enough in it that i move on, satisfied.

and that should be fine; but it's never fine.

i am a pretty decent artist; but i can't just make art for my dnd campaign, i should be selling dnd maps and character designs and scene setting pieces. i can't just make my friends matching earrings, i need to get an etsy and ship them internationally and take bulk orders. i make pretty good props and decorations and use them to throw my friends parties - but i should be running a party planning business and start taking paying clients and networking and putting my skills to actual use.

for some reason, i never figured out the specifics of pottery. it was a fun class and i enjoyed myself - and still, i'm embarrassed, years later, that i put in all that useless effort. everything i make has to be stunning. stellar. i should have applied myself more. maybe i'm too lazy. maybe i'm broken and selfish and needy. actually creative people would have kept going; they would be bettering themselves at every possible opportunity.

we find ourselves in this trap, even accidentally: we need to commodify our time, because it is a commodity. if we spend our efforts and our time not earning, isn't that the same thing as burning free money? and god forbid you ever take up a hobby that ends up being more expensive than you thought. you sit in your car and you look at the receipt and in your head you hear a conversation that isn't even happening - your mom or your friend or your partner all saying oh great. not this shit again. it's always something with you, and it never actually means anything.

i have realized this horrible thing, recently - i'll get excited to start a project, pick up a new hobby. and then i just... stop myself. i start thinking about the amount of time it will take, and how it'll look in my monthly budget. what if i can't even produce a good enough final product. sure, it's exciting to think about how i could make my friend her own custom dice. but i'm just polluting the earth if i don't get it right. better not bother. better not try.

restless, i get caught in the negative space. the feeling that oh god, i want to create. and that horrible sense - yeah, but i don't have the time to just put to waste.

[yanderenightmare]

Bakugou Katsuki

♡ TW: boyfriend Katsuki's strange guilty pleasure, harassment, nasty online comments, noncon ideations, online pervs

♡ FEM reader

“I’m borrowing your laptop, Kats!” you call. 

He’s in the bath, so you’re not sure he heard you, but also, you don’t think it’s any big deal. You’ve been a couple for years now, and living together has only brought you closer. Besides, it’s not as if you’re going to snoop or anything—you’re just going to check something real quick while you charge yours.

You rethink it when you have to write in his password. Maybe it would be better to just wait for your own machine to get ready—it’s not as if you’re in a hurry or anything. But then again, at the same time, it doesn’t hurt to give it your best guess.

Right on the first try—your name and birthday. Though you appreciate the gesture, he really should see into getting something stronger than that. The information he is privy to through his work is quite sensitive, after all.

But anyway. Onto the task at hand. You click into the browser. It’s already got some tabs open. 

You don’t mean to let your eyes wander, but it just can’t be helped. Katsuki sits before this thing, sometimes for hours during the day. Of course, most of it is surely work-related, writing incident rapports and profiles and the like. But this page right here… you don’t know… something about it seems strange.

“Some type of forum…” you mutter to no one but yourself. Katsuki had never struck you as the type to neither read nor partake in other people’s banter. Again, you’d promised yourself you weren’t going to pry, but it only takes a few seconds to read the comments—it’s over before you can stop yourself.

I bet she’s a squealer, like a really cute squealer

I wanna tie her up in an abandoned building somewhere no one will hear her scream

Same, but not on the bed though, on the floor and take her like a bitch

I‘m sure dynamight fucks her every day, i know i would! 

Dynamight’s such a lucky guy I hate him

You blink reading through the comments—completely having forgotten what you were doing in the first place. Who are these people? What are these comments about? You keep scrolling, eyebrows knit, and then you see it—your name. 

She looks like the type of girl that lets her man fuck her anywhere he wants whenever he wants

I’d literally kill for an hour of having her alone. And I’d make good use of that hour. Make her dump that blond asshat to be with me.

If she were my girlfriend, I’d keep her leashed to the bed with a collar. Can’t have other guys looking at her when she’s mine.

I’d only feed her cum. Trust me, she wouldn’t go hungry.

You’re eyes are fully wide now. Are all these chats about you? What’s Katsuki doing in a place like this? Reading all these sick comments as if he isn’t your boyfriend.

“Hey!” A shout knocks you out of your trance—and startles you enough that it very nearly even knocked you off balance.

“What’re you doin’ on my computer?” he asks in accusation while taking hurried and thundering steps toward you—still wet from his shower, wearing nothing but a white towel around his lower half.

“Uh,” you struggle to find your voice, heart hammering in your chest, head spinning—feeling both caught red-handed and the exact opposite. “Uhm, nothing—I just—”

He rips the laptop off the desk, angry eyes staring at the screen—then quickly going round.

His face pales. You can practically see the goosebumps as they rise in a rush across his skin. 

He swallows thickly, jaw-locked—doesn’t even dare look at you as he asks the question, “Did you read?”

You almost consider saying no but decide against it. This wasn’t something you could just ignore. No, you needed an explanation. Who knows? It might be completely innocent.

“Some of it…” you confess.

He shudders, and then he places the laptop down again, slowly, soundless. He rests his hands on the table and leans his weight on them, head bowed, voice small.

“I just… I… It’s, well…” He scratches the back of his neck, looking for the words.

You’ve never seen him like this before. Katsuki is nervous. But you suppose it’s for good reason.

“It’s not what you think, okay?” he declares, finally looking at you. 

His face is something unfamiliar—riddled with this guilty anxiety you’ve never pictured before—frazzled. It’s completely odd.

“Okay,” you say calmly. You don’t know if you’re angry or not yet. You know you probably should be, but the look on the man’s face is making you feel sorry for him.

“I don’t agree with any of this,” he insists, gesturing to the laptop. 

“Well, yeah, I sure hope so,” you say, although the question still remains, “But why are you on there then?”

“It…” He’s blushing—profusely—bright vermillion-tipped ears and apple-red cheeks. He looks away again. “I don’t know…”

I don’t know is an excuse you’ve never heard come out of his mouth. In fact, excuse or not, it’s a phrase you didn’t think him capable of. But look at him now, using it the same childish way a kid would after being caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

“You better not lie to me, Katsuki Bakugou—or I know someone who’s sleeping on the couch,” you finally find your strict tone. He’s crazy if he thinks this is something you’ll just forget about.

He sighs and then he falls into his desk chair, back hunched, hiding his face, wrapping his arms around your thighs and pulling you close, nuzzling his head against you, mumbling under his breath, “It’s sick, and it makes me sick…”

You wait, giving him the time to figure it out.

“But it…” he continues. You feel his hands tremble just a bit before he confesses, “It makes me feel good.”

You’re not sure you understand, and so you ask for clarification, “What makes you feel good?”

He sighs again, and this time, his voice comes out dark and lusty, leaving no room for confusion, “To know that I have something everybody else wants.”

♡ BAKUGOU KATSUKI masterlist ♡ BOKU NO HERO ACADEMIA masterlist ♡ FEM x M INSERT masterlist ♡ GN x M INSERT masterlist ♡ ALL masterlists

[jinxvex]

HIII!!! girl your sevika x reader bartender fic was so hot her talking them through it omg 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫 if you take request could you do sevika x reader established relationship nsfw head canons or sfw head canons anything that make you comfy :333

♱ gf!sevika (established relationship) headcanons!! ♱

omg!! first request!! thank you anon, i'm so geeked rn omg 😆

i'll do both sfw & nsfw because i'm seated 4 both 🤭🤭...

cw: smutty shit, dirty talk, pet names, that shimmastrap, roughness, daddy kink (DON'T BE AFRAID IT'S NUN WEIRD), vulgar language, just plain smut LOL

SFW:

♱ she loves taking care of you! she loves when you can’t reach for something and you have to ask her to get it for you (it’s canon that she’s tall asf). she definitely has a smirk on her face when you’re struggling to open something for a while and she comes over and opens it in on the first try… + trust, you wouldn’t even have to ask her to carry your bags/things because she does it unprovoked (ahhh!! 🫠).

♱ to stem off of that, she loves buying you shit with her poker money + providing you with anything you need. 

♱ you always catch her staring at you! it makes you so flustered that you always look away + she turns your chin towards her so that you’re looking into her eyes and goes “don’t be shy, baby, it’s just me.” and “what? i can’t look at you?” with a cocky smile on her face (cuz why u playinggg LMAO). 

♱ loves to train with you and humble you by pinning you on the floor after your attempt to take her down. 

♱ calls you all kinds of sweet nicknames (even early on in the relationship, she doesn’t gaf.) “baby,” “babe,” “princess,” “angel,” “sweetheart,” “mama,” “doll,” “love,” “darling,” “beautiful,” everything you could possibly think of! 

♱ oh she’s not even looking at other women and she gets hella possessive/jealous if anyone looks your way as well (literally just wrote about this lol). 

♱ sevika is very protective of you in public and always has an arm resting on your shoulder and waist! (also so people know you’re hers).

♱ when you both go out to eat this woman always has to sit by you and rest her hand on your thigh because she’s literally OBSESSED with you. she would rest her hand on your thigh in the car as well! (she’s driving WBK). 

♱ she’s hesitant at first! but she eventually lets you craft her a skin and body care routine. she’s very set in her old ways and has the whole “use what works” attitude when it comes to skincare/shower routines. BUT! she does love watching you get excited when you talk about what ingredients in skincare will help with what.

♱ like i mentioned above, she’s more of a listener and prefers to listen to you talk.

♱ sevika feels SO guilty when she makes you upset. she will literally get down on her knees and look up at you, eyes asking, NO, BEGGING for forgiveness. “i'm sorry, princess. forgive me, please?” 

♱ she loves doing arts and crafts with you IDC!! she may try and act like she hates it but she loves it deep down! she’s the same way when you ask to do her makeup. the only way she’ll tolerate you doing it is if you sit on her lap while you do while her hands rest on your waist/ass. (what if i said she would be feeling herself in the mirror after you’re done) 

♱ as much as she loves solitude, she gets more clingy as the days go by! every single day she falls deeper and deeper in love with you and would do anything if it meant making you happy. don’t get it twisted though, she hates rollercoasters/amusement parks full of people so if you wanted to go, go with some friends girl…

now... *mariah carey voice* it's timmmmee 😫😫😜

NSFW:

♱ to start strong, DARE I SAY, sevika has a thing for titles during sex. *ahem* daddy kink (don’t kill me!!). i headcanon she didn’t bring it up first though! you may or may not have let it slip out while she was fucking you hard into the mattress. a single “f-fuck, daddy! right there!” and she’s pressing you deeper into the mattress as she slowly (but ROUGHLY) strokes her cock inside you. be prepared to repeat yourself when she asks, “huh? what did you say, baby?” + “what did you just call me?”. she calls you a “dirty fuckin’ slut” for wanting to call her daddy (she loves it).

♱ also, be prepared for the “who’s your daddy?” jokes because she thinks they’re HILARIOUS + refers to herself as “daddy” in the third person.

♱ eating you out is her favorite pastime! + loves the way you taste and cannot get enough. 

♱ SHE 👏🏽 IS 👏🏽 AN 👏🏽 ASS 👏🏽 WOMAN. not to say she doesn’t love the rest of you but you’re always catching her staring at your ass and she is not ashamed! she will have that same “can’t look at my woman?” attitude. she will also come up behind you when you’re doing the dishes or laundry and will grope your ass and bury her head into your shoulder to inhale your scent. 

♱ a giver!! she prefers to give instead of receive because she’s giving dom!top but… who said she would refuse you giving her pleasure? never that. sevika loves it when you ask to touch her! she pushes your head down when you’re eating her out like she’s throatfucking you. “fuck, baby, this mouth feels so fuckin’ good.” + “love this slutty fuckin’ mouth” 

♱ makes you suck the strap before you take it… nothing further…

♱ she loves seeing you in lingerie and tells you to give her a “show” (stripping your clothes until you’re in your lingerie and giving her a lil dance 😵). she’s all like “this all for me?” + “bend over.” when you show her your little outfit that leaves nothing to the imagination. 

♱ eye contact is important to her! she will force you to make eye contact with her as she’s fucking you and if you don’t…. “gonna stop if you don’t look at me, dollface.” + “look at me when i fuck you.”

♱ the dirtiest dirty talker of all dirty talkers OMG. it’s insane how nasty she can get with you but it makes you so needy for her! ↓

♱ “fuuuck this pussy’s so good to me, baby.”, “shits so fuckin’ wet, you’re dripping all over me.”, + “look how i’m stretching this fuckin’ pussy out”… and the list goes on.

♱ the dirty talk gets even more vulgar when you ask her to cum in you. breeding kink goes CRAY TO THE Z. ↓

♱ you’re all like, “yes! yes! c-cum in me, please, daddy!” + she’s like, “gonna fill you up, baby. gonna give you all this cum.” and “you gonna let me put a baby in you, angel?”

♱ she LOVES it when you’re rough with her. scratch your nails down her back! pull her hair! mark up her neck!

♱ sevika does love soft sex as well. she is a softie at heart DO NOT FORGET! as much as she loves to degrade you and throw you around, she loves to worship your body and kiss you all over! she loves to praise and tell you how gorgeous you are. “you’re so beautiful, baby, you know that?” + “you’re always so good for me, my good fuckin' girl."

hope you like anon!! thank you for the request! had fun writing this 😘

[eowynstwin]

peristalsis - ii.

selkie!soap x reader. depression. suicidal ideation. strangers to "lovers." . Running away from life to the Scottish Hebrides, you meet a man who won't leave you alone. . Masterlist. Ao3.

previous

You sleep long enough that, when you wake up, you have enough energy to cry.

It’s a big one. The kind of cry that threatens to turn your throat out, with how hard you sob. Alone in the cottage, far away from anything resembling civilization, you wail like wounded animal, choking on your own tears and mucus, losing track of your body buried underneath the covers—

But it happens at a remove. You watch yourself implode from someplace deep inside, not entirely sure why it’s happening at all—but long past trying to figure it out.

This is how it’s been for a while. There’s nothing special about it anymore. Nothing urgent. Most of the time, you are a blank space of a person, a vacuum where joy or rage or fear should be, but occasionally some maelstrom or another kicks up to fill it in, and your only course of action is to ride it out until it ends.

You’ve stopped trying to fix it. And you’ve stopped hoping anyone else can, either.

So you cry, until at last, you’re empty again. Or you’re too tired to continue. The difference is negligible, but functionally irrelevant. Once it’s done, you get out of bed.

The pressure in the shower is as weak as Johnny reported, but the water is indeed warm when you turn it on; you stand naked under the flow, arms hanging at your sides.

The day stretches itself out before you with nothing to occupying it, just as you’d planned. Nothing to work towards; no effort to put forward. Nothing, thanks to your choice of locale, to feel guilty about not seeking out.

A day of peace and utter quiet.

Suddenly—violent banging, somewhere in the cottage. It startles you; you jump so sharply at the noise that you smack your wrist on the soap caddy attached to the shower wall. The banging comes again—annoyed, you realize with no little bemusement that someone is at the front door.

You wrap yourself in a towel and hobble out of the bathroom to answer it, a piece of your mind on your tongue, dart-shaped and ready to fly—

Of course it’s Johnny.

Johnny, big and burly in a sweater, kilt, and pelt once again, two paper cups balanced in one large hand and a grocery bag hanging from the other. Whose dark brows shoot up his forehead as his eyes travel with surprise, and blatant appreciation, down the dripping length your body.

“Well, good mornin’, bonnie,” he purrs.

“What,” you grunt. A cold breath of wind chooses that moment to force its way through the door, gasping across the shower water still running in rivulets from your hair to the rolled edge of your towel. Goosebumps erupt from your bare skin in millions of simultaneous pinpricks—you flinch bodily at the chill.

“Ah, hell’s bells, don’t just stand there,” Johnny says, following the wind. “It’s freezin,’ go on, let me get in, hurry.”

You let him step inside, for some reason, and he shuts the door behind him with the heel of his boot. He wastes no time after that, heading to the kitchen to set down his things.

“Brought breakfast!” he says cheerfully. “There’s this bakery on Barra I thought you’d like, fresh doughnuts and coffee. Dunno how you take yours, but there’s sugar in the pantry and cream in the fridge.”

“I don’t want breakfast,” you say.

“What? ‘Course you do. I’m no’ takin’ you seal-watchin’ on an empty stomach.”

He starts unpacking the grocery bag and setting things on the counter while your jaw hangs open. Several things occur to you to say—I never agreed to that and what the hell is wrong with you, for starters—but your stomach growls at him before you can. The aroma of fresh-baked pastry wafts through the kitchen when he opens one box, and he turns to grin at you, cheeks dimpling.

“Do you get dressed, bonnie,” he says. “It’ll still be here when y’get back.”

It is less polite than he perhaps intends it to be, given that his gaze travels appreciatively across your bare shoulders. You cross your arms fruitlessly over your chest and, nothing else for it, retreat to the bedroom, feeling his eyes on you the whole way.

You return to the kitchen after having pulled on wool leggings and the same fleecy sweater from the day before. Johnny, one hip set against the counter, has a cup of steaming coffee in one hand and a half-eaten cruller in the other, crumbs at the corner of his mouth.

“Got anythin’ heavier?” he asks around a chewed-up mouthful. “Gets cold out there.”

You look down at his bare calves, broad and taut and covered in a down of dark hair. “You seem alright.”

“I’m used to it,” he says, shrugging—the muscles flexing under your gaze.

You purse your lips. “I don’t have anything.” You hadn’t intended to leave the cottage overmuch.

You approach the counter. Johnny does not move a centimeter, forcing you to stand close as you pick through the two boxes of doughnuts and feel the body heat radiating off of him, displacing the scent of fried dough with his musk.

“That’s all right,” he says. You’re close enough to hear the way his voice hums deep in his chest. “I can keep you warm.”

You snatch a plain glazed from the box and take two very large steps away from him. The hair on the back of your neck lifts as you press against the sink behind you. If he notices your reaction, it doesn’t seem to bother him in the slightest—he lifts the cup to his lips and drinks, eyes sliding closed with simple, obvious pleasure, dark lashes curling against his cheek.

You take the brief respite from his gaze to stare at him. In the morning light, on a full night of sleep, you can almost believe that whatever you’d seen in him yesterday had been nothing more than a misfire of exhausted synapses. An overlay of a dream; a circadian prompt to rectify nearly seventeen hours of sleeplessness. You’d been cold, and tired, and hungry. That was all.

You bite down on your doughnut, not really tasting it. The nerves along your spine twitch and contract around the memory of his flashing gaze.

His eyes open again, and he smiles at you. “Good?” He flicks a look at the single bite you’ve taken, looks at your mouth, and then waits for your reply.

“It’s fine,” you grumble. Then, “How did you get here? I didn’t hear the truck drive up. Do you live close by?”

“Sometimes,” he says. He looks pleased that you’ve asked, that you’re interested at all, and you immediately regret inquiring. “Live on a boat, me. Moored in the cove right now.”

“A…boat,” you say.

“Aye.” A wisp of dark hair, something he must have missed when he gelled his mohawk this morning, flutters as he nods. “Nice and cozy. Not as grand as all this, mind.” He gestures around with coffee and doughnut at the less than five hundred square feet of the cottage. “But it’s still a sight nicer than some other places I’ve slept.”

He’s likely hinting at his military service. “Okay,” is all you say, unwilling to entertain it.

He smirk—undeterred. “We’ll take her out once you’re ready.”

“I never said I was going.”

Dark brows lift. “Got somethin’ else planned for today?” he asks, incredulous, as if he never imagined you wouldn’t want to hang out with him.

“No, I—”

You wrack your brain. You have no intention of explaining to this complete stranger that the last thing you’d wanted to do, when you booked this trip, was really anything at all—and in fact, you hadn’t even considered that that might be something anyone else would care much about.

Much less proactively address.

“No,” you repeat, sulking.

Johnny considers you, chewing. His eyes do not stray, this time, to places they don’t belong; but there’s an insight to them. A sharp awareness. A perception in his gaze that is just as undressing, as if whatever is going on with you is visible to the naked eye.

“I figure,” he says, slowly, as if to coax, “you put your wee shoes on, an’ I’ll pack this back up, and we take it along.”

“You don’t have to do this,” you grouse. “I don’t need you to, like—be my tour guide.”

“Aye, but that doesnae mean I don’t wanna,” he retorts, smiling.

He shoves the last bite of cruller in his mouth and gazes patiently at you as he works it with his jaw, the muscles flexing along his temples as he chews.

Exhaustion, your constant companion, stares you down alongside him. It would take so much more energy to fight him than to go along with whatever he has planned. Energy you just don’t have anymore. And going along doesn’t mean you have to pretend to enjoy yourself—it’s not like you care enough about Johnny’s self-esteem to conjure up a happy face to show him.

You can go, and be a bitch about it, and once you do maybe he’ll realize you’re not at all worth the effort he’s making, and then finally leave you alone.

“Fine,” you say, which is how you end up on a fishing trawler headed south toward, ostensibly, a colony of breeding seals.

It’s an old vessel—that much is obvious. Its edges and corners are dull with the passage of time and constant maintenance, scuffed by innumerable passes-over with cleaner and cloth. Mildew competes with the aroma of fresh varnish as Johnny leads you onto the bridge, which is mercifully closed in from the ocean wind.

The interior is mostly wood of a warm, orangish variety—you can’t tell if that’s a decision made with aesthetics or function in mind. The space comprises a kitchen, surprisingly well-appointed with a stove, sink, countertop, and fridge, and a small sitting area with both couch and booth seating. Surrounding windows allow in the grey light of the morning.

“Bought it off an old bloke on Lewis,” Johnny says, taking his place at the wheel, which is in a little alcove off the kitchen.

If you’d thought steering a boat would have curtailed his chatting, you’d have been wrong—he seems to have no trouble with that and talking, incessantly, at the same time, as he pulls the vessel away from the cove and into the open water.

“All his family moved to the mainland, he told me, an’ this is after generations fishin’ these islands, even makin’ it through the Clearances! No money in it anymore, he said, not like you could make in some office somewhere countin’ someone else’s money.” He checks something on the dashboard in front of him, but it doesn’t distract him for long. “Held on for a while, but people just kept leavin,’ an’ he was gettin’ too old to go out on his own. Got such a good price on it, I think he was just happy someone else was gonna take up the tradition.”

“Did he sell you the cottage too?” you ask, and then dig your nails into your wrist for encouraging him.

“Yup,” he says. “No one else wanted it, but me? I saw somethin’ special about it.”

He turns to smile at you—no doubt pleased you made the connection. You avert your gaze.

“Imagine someday I’ll have my own family here,” he continues. “Good place for it. Nice and slow, not like city living. Can hear yourself think out here. Perfect place to have a few wee ones.”

“If people stop leaving,” you mutter.

He turns to you again. “I’m no’ worried about that,” he replies. He’s still smiling. “You came here, after all.”

You have nothing to say to that.

The trip is a short one—Johnny brings the trawler alongside an island he informs you is called Mingulay, a square mile smaller than Vatersay’s tiny dot in the North Atlantic. Unlike the latter, he says, this island has not been inhabited since 1912, and has been completely reclaimed by the ocean and its wildlife.

After he drops anchor offshore, Johnny disappears down a steep flight of stairs below deck, which he had not offered a tour of, and emerges a short time later with a large, bulky coat.

“Didn’t I tell you?” he says proudly, holding it out by the shoulders. “Here, turn ‘round.”

You pause in the middle of reaching for it. You don’t know exactly why you comply—it occurs to you that if you grabbed for the jacket, he could simply not let go of it, and you would end up exactly where he wants you anyway. So you lower your arm and, resigned, give him your back.

He steps up behind you. Warmth pours off of him, more than you think any human body should be able to generate.

You hear him inhale, deeply, as he brings the jacket to your back. As you slide your arms into the sleeves, you feel his exhale on the nape of your neck, teasing through individual follicles of hair.

“There w’go,” he murmurs, much closer than you expected.

You can hear the low hum of his voice in his chest; his hands linger on your shoulders far longer than they need to, heavy, big enough that his index fingers brush along your collarbones.

When his hands make to slide down your back you step away from him and fumble to zip the jacket up; he chuckles lightly behind you. When you turn to face him, his lips are curled—smug.

“Alright then,” he says. “Let’s get out there.”

He rows the two of you to shore in a small kayak, two pairs of binoculars in your lap as you huddle away from the wind. You’ll be walking to the haul-out, he says—getting too close to the breeding grounds, which he calls a rookery, would spook them, possibly causing a stampede.

“It’s grey seals we’re gonna see,” he explains as the two of you pick your way across the rocky landscape. “Not the biggest haul-out you could see, some colonies get into the thousands, but we’ll have it all to ourselves.”

He insists on taking your elbow every time the two of you cross particularly uneven terrain, even though you don’t need it. You think he takes your attempts to shake him off as proof of your lack of balance, because he grasps you all the tighter every time.

“I’m not a child, Johnny, I can walk on my own,” you finally snap at him.

“Just bein’ a gentleman, bonnie,” he replies nonchalantly. He does not let you go.

As you get closer, you hear the seals before you see them, and when their voices reach you across the open island, you stop dead.

Groaning, grunting, hissing in a cacophonous chorus. Some part of your hindbrain double-takes, reshuffles itself—some ancestral instinct always on the lookout for predation. If you’d been given a chance to guess what a colony of mating seals might have sounded like, you’re not sure you could have guessed what they sounded like.

Certainly not like what you hear now—

Like people.

Johnny grins at you when he notices. “Aye, it’s a right ruckus, innit?”

He leads you up a small rise, where he has the two of you settle belly-down over the machair to overlook the wedge of rocky coast that the colony has claimed for its own.

And when you finally see it—it’s underwhelming.

Perhaps two hundred long, fat bodies, in varying shades of brown and grey, lay indolently along the rocks, in groups of three or four, some heavily galumphing from one place to another while others roll occasionally from side to side. The shifting winds catch their scent and blow it uncaringly into your face; you nearly gag at the admixture of dead fish and ammonia.

It doesn’t escape you that this is a rare thing to witness; you are not wholly immune to the fact that you are only a hundred meters away from something most people only encounter on a screen. It’s just that without a swell of awed music in the backdrop, or a narrator’s breathless wonder at the miracle of pinniped life, what’s left for you to observe is a population of wet, stinking animals, shitting where they lay, vocalizing without cease while they laze about doing basically nothing.

Johnny does not seem to notice your disillusionment; he hands you one pair of binoculars, and directs your attention to activity along the shoreline. You follow to where he’s pointing; one larger seal is hassling a smaller one, which snarls at the aggressor as it thrashes around with its substantial bulk.

“Little one there—” Johnny says, “that’s a female, probably obvious. Big one knows she’s ready to mate, can smell it on her.”

The female bares her teeth and lunges at the bigger male, which flinches back but holds his ground.

“Doesn’t look like she agrees,” you mutter.

“She’s just givin’ him a hard time. She’s all in heat, see? Just makes her cranky,” Johnny says. You feel his eyes on you, and lower your binoculars to look at him. “She’s got to fight to feel all in control.”

You flush. “Right.”

“You don’t think so?”

“No,” you say. “He’s—he’s just bothering her.”

He gazes at you for a moment, contemplative. Corners of his mouth quirking upward. He does not reply for a long moment, long enough that you have to avert your gaze from his.

“Nah,” he finally says, and you don’t think you’re imagining the low, sultry note in his voice. “She wants it bad as he does.”

You scowl, uncomfortably perceived, and return your binoculars—the pair is still facing off, gurgling and growling at each other. The female is slim, almost sleek, unlike most of the other seals populating the rookery.

“Is she sick?” you ask.

“Hm? Oh, no, she’s alright. The mums lose a lot of weight when they nurse. Takes three weeks, and they don’t eat in the meantime.”

“Jesus.”

“Be nice if the dads ever brought ‘em a bite, aye?” Johnny agrees. “Deadbeats, the lot of them.”

The two of you survey the colony in silence for a moment. As the morning wears on, the cloud covering thins overhead, allowing cool sunlight to filter through. The temperature doesn’t rise in response; begrudgingly, you tug Johnny’s jacket a little tighter around you.

Then, suddenly, his hand lands on your back, between your shoulder blades.

“Got some pups over there,” he says. “Look, by the kelp.”

You find them; smaller bodies, white dinged with wet sand and dirt, lounge near their mothers or wriggle with aimless difficulty. They’re fluffy and round as plush toys, with shining black eyes and noses, and once Johnny’s pointed them out you can differentiate the higher, sweeter pitch of their cries from the overall cacophony.

“Sometimes,” Johnny murmurs, “search and rescue’ll get called out because someone thought they heard a baby crying. Some kid stranded or lost, right? Turns out to be a baby seal.”

“That’s kind of scary,” you say.

“Aye,” says Johnny. “Always makes me think that’s where the old legends come from, about seal people or mermaids.”

A small ways away, some of the mothers lay with their pups far into the surf, letting the waves break over them. You watch as one mother thunks her large head overtop of her pup’s as the water rushes toward them; the pup wriggles, and then, as the wave engulfs them, it begins to thrash, whipping up a panicked froth.

“Time for swimming lessons already?” Johnny muses. “Seems early.”

You’re horrified. “She’s going to drown it!”

The hand still on your back pats you consolingly. “Just watch,” says Johnny.

The wave reaches as far up the shore as gravity allows, and then begins to recede. The pup’s thrashing calms as the air meets its face once again; the cow allows the pup to lift its head, and after a few sputters, the pup seems no worse for wear.

“They’re hardier than they look, bonnie,” Johnny says.

His hand, heavy and warm even over his borrowed jacket, slides down from your shoulders to your lower back, and then he rubs, slowly, side to side, as if to comfort you—but the knobs of your spine contract at his touch.

“Last of the births this season, looks like,” he says. “Mum’s getting ready to leave—probably not the only one.”

Something hard drops into your stomach.

“They leave their babies?” you ask.

“Aye. Once they’re done nursing, they mate, and then they go.”

You look back at the other cows with their pups. One baby has its muzzle to its mother’s belly, quivering and suckling, while she lays with her head on a patch of grass. She looks uninterested—more, she looks disinterested. As if how voraciously her pup is nursing has nothing much to do with her, and she’s bored of even having to think about it.

Bored—and already looking forward to the next part of her life without a baby in it.

“That’s horrible,” you say.

“They’re solitary animals, bonnie,” Johnny says, not ungently. “The only time they’re really all together is for this.”

A line tightens between your stomach and throat, and you feel it start to build between your ribs. A tremor—foreshocks. The wind picks up, bringing a sharp chill off the ocean and up the rise that cuts into your stinging eyes, abrades the naked skin of your hands and the exposed part of your neck.

When you look through your binoculars again, you wonder how many of the pups you see have already been abandoned.

“Aw, bonnie,” Johnny says. There’s a kind of pity in his voice that has your hackles raising.

“I want to leave,” you say, yanking away from his touch and shuffling down the incline. “Take me back to the cottage.”

“Bonnie, it’s okay!” Johnny protests, rolling to his back to look at you as you stand. “The pups make it, they figure out how to fend for themselves.”

You glare at him, vision blurring. “All of them?”

Some part of you knows you’re being irrational—knows that nature is a cruel home, and that many children face worse fates than the seal pups. Abandoning the young, the needy, is no aberration; it is, in fact, far more the standard than the human practice, which lingers for decades—

Most of the time.

Johnny has no response. He holds your angry gaze, brows drawn low, mouth pressed into a thin line. It’s the first time that cocky aura, which seems to rest in every fine line on his face and every angle at which he holds his body, is completely absent.

He isn’t reflecting your anger back at you, though—he’s internalizing it. Letting it hit him, you think, and trying to use it to figure you out.

You do not want to be figured out.

You scoff again. “Take me back,” you repeat, and then you start walking in the direction you came, without waiting for him to follow.

Johnny drops you off in the cove, and thankfully does not linger this time before he departs—he bids you farewell after rowing you to shore, contemplation on his face, and then leaves you to yourself.

You retreat, seeking the cottage’s empty quiet.

As you perch on the couch you listen to the radiator hum—the wind blow over the reeds in the thatch roof—your own heart beating a drum in the arteries of your neck.

Percussive. Quick and hard. Like heavy knockers on a door. Pounding as if to burst through.

You realize you’re still wearing Johnny’s jacket, and you throw it off, disgusted with yourself. You get up and pace, and try to ignore it lying in a heap on the floor.

You do something you swore you wouldn’t do the moment you set foot on the island—you turn your phone back on.

True to Johnny’s word, there’s no signal. You picked this island, this part of the world, for a reason; for the past several years, a slow exodus from the British isles has vacated the need for dedicated cell towers or satellite or internet access, especially given that the only ones who remain are too old now to want it or need it or know how to use it.

It’s isolated. Cut off. Left behind by anyone with better options, and only clung to by those trying to preserve the only way of life they know.

Some kinder part of you belongs with that demographic; the part that was telling your mother the truth, before getting on the plane.

The rest of you holds your phone up and starts walking around.

In the furthest corner in the bedroom, you find a single bar of signal. A tiny chip of connectivity—a thin, frayed thread. Something you lied to yourself about cutting.

It’s a weak connection. Unstable. It could take a while—you stand there, waiting.

The screen dims. You tap it again.

Blank.

You unlock it, look through your apps. Wonder if maybe your notifications are bugged by your new SIM card.

Nothing—

No one.

You whip around and, with a cry, pitch the thing at the far wall—it hits the stone with a crunch, falling to the floor in pieces.

You’re out of the cottage then in a mad dash, door slamming behind you, driving yourself back into the wind. Far away—you want to be far away, far from everything, so far that nothing could possibly reach you. You trudge down the path toward the beach, banding your arms across your chest, shivering in the cold, and yet you hardly feel it.

Not worth it. No point. Waste of your time. Energy. All of it. Stop trying. Stop wanting. Nothing. Nothing. You want nothing.

You’re halfway down to the shore, not really knowing what you’re going to do when you get there, when you catch sight of a body on the sand.

You gasp, a sharp breath down your larynx, and freeze in a dead halt.

The body is completely still.

A swimmer? A diver? It’s dark, like it just pulled itself out of the ocean—or washed up—

Then, it moves. A twitch, a ripple across its bulk, and your chest rapidly decompresses.

A seal. It’s a large seal, lounging alone on the beach.

You stand motionless. You’re very close—much closer than you and Johnny had been at the rookery. You hadn’t contended with the sheer size of the animals, tucked safely up and away from them, but there is no illusion of distance now.

It’s the biggest one you’ve seen today, you’re sure of it. Bigger, you think, than most adult men. Its pelt is a riot of every shade of grey, splashy, like liquid paint thrown across a canvas. Black speckles scatter overtop of marbled white and cool slate, and down the center of its back is a broad, dark line, soft at the edges, which reaches all the way up to the top of the seal’s head.

The bull—it must be male—turns over. It lifts its head, and opens its eyes—

Fear suddenly zips up your spine as it looks right at you.

You stumble backward and trip on your own feet, landing hard on your ass. Johnny’s care with keeping enough distance from the colony rushes back to you, along with the warring couple’s bared teeth.

They can’t move that fast on land, right? They aren’t interested in people, right?

You scramble backward. It’s so much bigger than you ever would have imagined. If it got to you—threw itself over you—it could crush you with its weight alone—

The bull watches you placidly. Unperturbed.

You pause.

Its small eyes are dark and glossy—watchful and focused. The whiskers on its muzzle twitch a little as it takes you in. It breathes, deeply and evenly, huge body expanding and contracting at a slow, calm tempo. Its—his—nostrils flex, widening and narrowing, as he blinks docilely.

Unafraid.

If anything—curious.

Then he snorts, and wriggles in place. It startles a laugh out of you, more reaction than humor. Still watching you, the bull lowers his head back down, resting it again on the sand.

Your heartbeat abates. He doesn’t move again—nor does his attention leave you. Slowly, you sit up.

Wary. No sudden movements.

He doesn’t react; only continues to watch you.

You draw your knees up. Wrap your arms around your shins, and dust a bit of sand from your leggings. Rest your chin in the crevice between your knees.

There’s an intelligence in the bull’s eyes that is fathoms deep. There is a massive gulf between his experience of the world and yours, millennia of evolution separating your species from his—and yet…as you hold his gaze, you recognize the look in it.

Him, seeing you. And seeing you see him. The pendulum swinging between awareness of each other, and recognition of that shared awareness.

An empty space in the cloud cover passes overhead; sunlight touches the earth, warms it briefly before disappearing again. You wonder a little why this bull isn’t with the other seals.

Johnny would probably know.

“I didn’t come for you, you know,” you grumble at him.

The seal blinks. Awareness notwithstanding, you don’t share any language.

You sigh. “I guess you didn’t come to see me either,” you say.

But you don’t move away.

And you stay like that for a long while, you and he—regarding each other as the wind breathes out across the shore.

next

a/n: follow for more seal facts™

Also huge thanks to Lev for trawler listings/info. Didn't explore it much this chapter but Soap's boat will show up more soon :)

[ywuji]

Omg so like I want to hear your thoughts on perv!Megumi like finally after so long of Gojo teasing him for being in college for two years at this point and being single, he’s finally procured a pretty girlfriend who’s unfortunately (for her) so naive and sweet??🩷💕 Idk I got shy but I know you’ll do something good with this lol

ik i told u id post this after my wips but i started on it n i couldnt stop i liked the idea too much LOL im sorry for being so confusing D; tysm for the ask though!!! :o i rlly enjoyed writing this!!! (n don’t be shy ahjwhs you’re so lovely T_T♡)

perv!megumi !!! please i feel like he’s the type to be a pervert that’s kinda embarrassed n self aware about himself—especially bc gojo kept teasing him all those years n he was kinda just jacking off to whatever x-rated video that came up first (i feel like perv!megumi is highkey into hentai too but he’s taking that to the grave!!)

n when gets a pretty little girlfriend who acts so cute and who he loves so much, when he gets hard he can’t help but let some of that side of him slip out from time to time...

i think he’s also the type to take lots of pictures,, like pictures while you sleep, peeking through your door while you shower, in clothing store changing rooms while you change, upskirt pictures… he’ll make you his little model!! some of them you know about but some of them you don’t, he’s so lewd.

it’s not just pics of you he takes, it's some of himself too. i feel like one of the things he’d love to do to you is when you tell him to come with you to some random uni event, n he’ll randomly disappear in the middle of it, only to go to the bathroom to take pictures of his hard leaky cock to send you with some casual caption like he didn’t just do that ?!?! he’s crazy (more under the cut)

it’s not megumi’s fault he’s so in his head about you, he still just doesn’t really know how he managed to get someone as pretty and doting as you are as his. 

he sometimes feels guilty for being so obsessed with you—your body clad in pretty little outfits that you show off to him with a twirl, the way you’ll always show him your shiny new sparkly nails when you get them done, how he’s always the first one you’ll pick to talk to about something new you’ve found to love—it’s all that seems to be on his mind recently.

maybe it was gojo’s accidental doing, those feelings of guilt. unintentionally planting a little growing seed of shame in him the first few times he started teasing him for not having a partner yet at his ‘big age’, borderline lecturing him with the ‘when i was your age’ stuff—maybe that was the logical reason why he felt so attached to you, the reason he couldn’t help getting fully erect even when he only saw as much as a pair of your flung-away panties lying at the edge of your bed when coming to your room one day.

but when he recalls back to those nights where you’re innocently cuddled against him, watching whatever movie, a quiet ‘megumi?’ leaving your lips as a sign to tell him you’re falling asleep, and he finds himself shifting in his seat, carefully adjusting your head to let you rest comfortably on him, pressing a soft kiss to your hair as he strokes it and tells you a ‘sleep now, angel’, he knows that’s not the reason.

nevertheless, he’s always been worried about it, thoughts of ‘am i doing too much?’ or a ‘would she not like this?’ clouding his mind. but for every single thought like this he has, he’ll always have two more memories where he’s coming up to you, his sweet-faced little girlfriend, waiting for him with open arms and open heart. and to him, it means more than the world.

and as his cheerful sweetheart girlfriend, you’ve never really minded of course.

you know he’s at least a little perverted, asking to take those pictures of you trying on your new swimsuits, or bras, or skirts, or those times when he pulls out after spilling his load into you, and the first thing he does after making sure you’re okay is to go face-to-face with the trail of cum seeping out of you to snap a few photos.

honestly, you’ve gotten used to it at this point. you just take these moments, seeing what you do to him, as a way of reassuring yourself that he really does just love you that much. and he really does. really!! :(

no matter how innocent or dirty the context, he’ll let you know whenever he gets that warm little feeling in his chest.

“i-i love you,” he pants, head coming up from sucking marks on your neck, languid thrusts coming to a gentle stop as he peers up at you with flushed cheeks. it feels like he’s admitting it for the first time again.

when you stare at him with his same love-drunk look, brows furrowed and eyes pleading, whispering out an “i love you too, gumi”, he’ll pause a moment to study your expression before gently raising you further up the bed, hooking his hand under your leg and repositioning it around his waist.

he’ll drop down to press a kiss to your cheek before resting his chin on your shoulder and picking up the pace again, now only determined to make you cum.

when he thinks of times like these, despite what you’re doing together, it’s innocent in his head.

a time where that’s not so much the case though is when you persuade him to come with you to some uni exhibition event, looking up at him with hopeful, doe-like eyes and as many ‘pleeeaaase, gumi’s and ‘please, guuuum’s as you could muster—cause it’s not like he could say no to that, right?

at first he put up an act of feign stubbornness. but eventually he agreed—only when he knew you’d excitedly hug him and press your soft chest to his as a thank you for it though.

he’d tour the hall with you, watching you gaze in awe at everything with your cute, simple curiosity, occasionally pointing out little things in the pieces he liked. before the artist began their talk though, he got up from his seat, pressing a quick kiss to your cheek before muttering a “‘m g’na go to the bathroom.”

in an empty stall, he’ll sit atop the lid and pull down his jeans, freeing his stiffening cock from his underwear. he quietly groans as he pumps himself a few times, a slow trickle of translucent white leaking down from his tip.

he silently curses, throwing his head back, thinking about how you let him flip up your pretty skirt before you left, letting him take a peek at your cute ass in the frilly panties he bought for you.

he reaches for his phone, fumbling to send a picture of the sight to you, adding a casual caption of something like ‘hi pretty girl’ or ‘u look so pretty today, angel’.

he pauses, realising that maybe you won’t see it for a little while. he’s imagining you so obediently listening to the artist speaker to notice the ping of his notification—he enjoys that thought too, but he can’t say why.

he’s careful not to thrust up into his fist, not wanting to make too much noise, but it’s futile—he’s too hard staring at the lewd shots of you saved in his secret hidden album—the way you act so innocently, the way you have no clue what the true extent is of what you do to him. he can’t help but let a few breathy whines slip.

he won’t let himself cum though, thinking he’s too good to be letting himself release over some scrunched up, bathroom tissue when he’s got his own pretty little girlfriend waiting for him a few halls down.

he sighs. cleaning up and tucking himself back into the band of his briefs, leaving the stall and washing his hands, walking back out like nothing happened.

[rinhaler]

Uf!Sukuna pulling reader into the shower with him after winning a match 😮‍💨

Writing this bc I don't wanna deal with writing the follow up rn LMAO idk if I wanna count this as canon or not but I guess it doesn't really matter either way. Enjoy hotties!

warnings: 18+ MDNI, fem!reader, underground fighter!sukuna, blood/injury detail, pet names (princess, sweetheart, baby), daddy kink, spanking, pussy eating, male masturbation, hair pulling, showerhead usage (iykyk), oral fixation, praise, mutual pining??, vaginal sex, creampie.

words: 2.6k

It doesn’t take you long to jump out of bed and rush to the front door when you hear a knock. You already know who it is. As you open the door, you see him looking down at your welcome mat, and he’s closer than you’d expected him to be. His arm resting on the door frame and the way his body is hunched over makes it seem as though he’s already inside.

He looks up at you, grinning widely, and the sight makes you gasp.

“You’re bleeding.” you say, doing all you can to stay quiet and composed so you don’t disturb Megumi while he sleeps.

He spits on the ground, a bright red glob soon washed away by the rain almost as quickly as it lands. His chest rumbles with each breath, you’ve never seen him like this before.

You’ve never had to worry about him before.

“You stood me up.” he chuckles darkly, body becoming drenched by the downpour the longer you stare at each other. “Why didn’t you come? Wanted you to see me win.”

“I—” you stop yourself, shaking the explanation away as you look at his features. The way blood perfectly frames his teeth as a bloody cut from his nose continues to pour and trickle into his mouth. “I’ve seen you fight, how did this happen? You’d never let someone land a hit on you like this.”

He moves to come in, but you block his path instantly. And at that, he rolls his eyes. It’s what he likes about you, your stubbornness. It drives him crazy. He knows you aren’t to be taken lightly and you aren’t the type of girl to yield to him without reason.

“You were meant to come watch me win tonight, princess,” he reminds you. There’s a twinge of guilt in your eye that he doesn’t miss, it even gives him an opening to let himself into your home.

He knows better than to raise his voice or do anything to make you worry. He knows how badly you strive to be a good influence to your little brother and how you only want to do right by him. He knows how guilty you feel for continuing to see him behind your brother’s back.

But he can see in your wanton stare as you look up at him so meekly, you feel even guiltier for disappointing Sukuna.

And that is why you decided not to show up tonight.

“I did win, sweetheart, don’t worry.” he tells you, putting your mind at ease. Though it’s hard to feel fully comforted knowing the state his opponent has likely been left in after giving your lover such a gnarly injury. “I did let him hit me a few times.”

“Why would you do that?” you ask him, quietly. “Why would you do something so stupid?”

“’Cause you weren’t there tonight.” he responds, a wicked grin on his face as he tells you. “Wanted your attention tonight, and look how worried you are. Do you feel bad you didn’t come and watch daddy win for you?”

“A little.” you nod. “Your face looks fucked, they really got a good hit on you. You should really get that checked out.”

“And why would I do that when I know the best doctor in town?” he raises an eyebrow. He points at his face and scoffs lightly before speaking again. “This is nothin’, princess. Don’t worry. Think you owe me after you bailed on our plans. And I don’t mean I want you to patch me up.” he smirks as he takes your hand.

You’re a little ashamed that Sukuna has been here enough times to know where everything is, now. He pulls you along to your bathroom like he lives here. Like he’s always lived here. He closes the door as you enter it, locking it behind you as he pushes you against the white painted wood.

Your breathing quickens and your lungs expand. The deep breaths you take are enough to make you lightheaded, but you can’t lose yourself when you’re around Sukuna. He demands your mental presence as well as physical, no matter what you’re doing.

He needs to know you’re with him the way he’s always with you.

“We can’t.” you shake your head. “Megumi will hear.”

“I know.” he nods, holding your chin between his thumb and forefinger before he bends down to kiss you. And you don’t resist, you never do. You never can. And he knows that. “I want to shower, ‘n I want you to come in with me, darlin’.”

He pulls away just a little so that he can lift his vest over his head and toss it aside. His muscles ripple even in the darkness of the bathroom. Your hand instinctively searches for the light, eager to see him properly. But he does it for you, easily flipping the switch so that the room fills with a cool blue light. It makes you shiver, although that could just as easily be him.

He's so imposing, so intimidating.

“Megumi will hear us, we can’t.” you remind him, and you’re met with a string of shushes before he kisses you again, the coppery taste of blood stains your tongue, but you don’t mind. You barely even notice as your own blood seems to rush to your head. He’s already pulling at your pyjama top, and you’re letting him. He strips you of the material before threading his fingers through your hair, his tongue tangling with yours as you moan into his mouth.

“I don’t care if he does,” he laughs lightly before kissing you again. “And I don’t think you do either, I think you want to fuck a winner tonight. And I want my prize.”

You don’t answer, you just kiss him again. He laughs into it as he picks you up with ease, encouraging you to wrap your legs around his torso before he carries you towards the shower.

“He’s gonna kill me for this.” you laugh too, a little breathless as he puts you down.

He yanks down your sleep shorts and lifts you into the tub. You watch him as he removes his joggers and climbs in after you, spinning you around so your back is to him. He gropes your tits roughly, lips sucking harshly into your neck as he pinches your nipples.

“Turn on the water.” he breathes into your skin, your back arching from the sensuality of his whispered tone and almost aggressive touches. You yelp as he spanks you, covering your mouth quickly when you realise what you’ve done. “Now.”

He drops to one knee as you do as you’re told, grasping the fat of your ass while you fiddle with the shower head and water settings. You try to supress another yelp as the cold water hits you first, but you’re soon distracted as Sukuna begins to grunt against your soft skin as he kisses you fervently.

“You’re perfect.” he muses, gripping your hips and prompting you to turn and face him. He looks up at you like you were heaven sent. Like you’re a gift from designed to perfectly suit him. It makes you feel like a Goddess, and it makes you moan as he places a hand under your thigh and guides you to rest your foot on the edge of the tub. “Daddy’s perfect fuckin’ pussy.”

He kisses your clit repeatedly before he begins to make out with your cunt. You throw your head back against the tiled walls, moaning louder as you watch him take hold of his length and begin to play with himself. He moans into your folds as he strokes his length calmly.

It makes you heady.

To see him so nonchalant as he touches himself, getting off to your pleasure rather than prioritising his own. You know how good he is in bed. You’ve known what a good fuck he is from the day you met.

But you’ve never been as turned on as you are now.

When he said he wanted to claim his prize, you assumed he meant he wanted to cum. You assumed he wanted to use you so that he could achieve that. But you were wrong; you misjudged him, as you often do.

He isn’t an immature fuckboy who only wants one thing from you. He’s already had it, and he still comes back to you. He wants more. He needs more. You aren’t an object to him, and you certainly aren’t an easy screw.

Fucking you has never been his prize.

It’s you.

It’s always been you.

You tug his hair roughly as your body begins to shudder, overcome with the realisation that he cares for you and not just your body. He releases his hold of himself as he once again decides to prioritise you. He grabs your hips and buries his face even further into your cunt, his licks and laves unrelenting as he torments your clit until it can’t take anymore.

“S-Sukuna!” you cry out, convulsing as your thighs clamp around his head. He doesn’t even mind. He spanks you, but there’s no intent to it. The water makes the slap louder than you’d have liked. But, again, neither of you seem to care.

He continues to moan as he devours your release, humming into your core greedily before he finally frees you. His face shimmers as he looks up at you, a look of contentment as his features are doused in a combination of the water and your arousal.

Your arms wrap around his neck as he kisses you again, and you’re soon caged between his body and the wall. You can barely think straight as water rains down on both of you, the shower doing all it can to wash away the evidence of Sukuna’s bloody brawl from his pretty face.

“You taste so fuckin’ good baby,” he mumbles clumsily against your lips, offering you praise to consume before kissing you again. “You make me fucking crazy y’know? Think about you all the time…”

“Shut up.” you laugh.

“I mean it. Don’t laugh.” he smiles down at you as he withdraws from the kiss. “You think you know everything, don’t you?”

“We’re just fucking. You’re so—”

“You talk too fucking much. You know that?” he smirks. He turns you around with ease, pressing your cheek into the damp tiles as he sucks your neck and bites your shoulder. “Think I better bury my cock in you, might stop you from thinking so much.”

You don’t say another word, allowing him full control of your mind body and soul as you succumb to his will. There’s nothing for you to grab onto despite aimlessly searching as his cockhead teases your entrance. He notes your desperation, tugging your wrist into the small of your back as he uses it for leverage while he slowly pushes into you.

He snickers as you emit a resounding moan from being stretched to your limit. It doesn’t matter how many times you do this, you’ll never get over how truly monstrous his length is. So thick and heavy, so long and suffocating. With each slow rut of your hips, you can’t help but think his cock is closing your airways.

You feel him so deeply, so intimately, you can’t stop yourself from whimpering as he fucks you harder.

Harder.

Harder.

With no desire to rush, each stroke is slow and purposeful. Your body feels weak, and weaker still as he begins to pepper your bare skin in adoring kisses. It’s almost as if you could slip down the drain and wash away with the rest of the water.

“What are you thinking about?” he asks, gruffly, grabbing your jaw to angle your face so that you’re looking at one another. “Tell me.”

“Y-You,” you answer, pathetically, and he doesn’t allow you to say another word. Not before forcing his tongue into your mouth, silencing you with a searing kissing.

“Do you want to cum, hm? Do you want to cum on daddy’s cock?”

“… Yes,” you reply, your voice nothing but a desperate rasp as you long for him to make you feel good the way only he can.

And you’re taken aback as he begins to move, you both do. Suddenly you’re facing the shower again, and you hunch forward as he reaches above you to pull it off the hook. You don’t see the grin on his face as he observes your bewilderment. You watch the metallic head lower with the intensity of a hawk.

You know what he’s doing, but you also can’t help but think you might be imagining things. He’s doing what you had done to yourself for so many years before you knew about sex toys, before you even knew why it felt so good when you let the water massage you there.

But he is.

He shoves the showerhead between your folds, the stream of water assaults your clit in a way you’d almost forgotten could be so satisfying. The pressure makes you scream, but he’s quick to cover your mouth. The shock of the showerhead had distracted you from the fact he’s still pounding into you. His pace quickens and your mind goes blank.

“Thought you didn’t want Megumi to hear? Am I making you feel too good, princesss? You wanted to cum, so you’ll cum like this.”

You nod, pitifully, too eager to finish again to think of a clever retort.

Two fingers penetrate your mouth in a bid to silence you. And you never disappoint him, it’s like he has you trained. You suck, humming contently around his digits as his thighs slam against yours again and again and again.

Your knees give in, finally, as you cum for him. He does his best to hold you in place, careful to not let you fall as your body quivers. You’re weary, he knows.

But he’s more determined than ever, now.

He puts the shower back in its place, the water becomes a blanket for you as you still continue to tremble through little aftershocks.

His movements are quicker and harsher. The warm water contrasts how you feel, how he’s holding you. He’s a behemoth of a man, without really trying you know you’ll be bruised tomorrow. Especially your thighs. The way he’s ramming into you with one goal in mind makes you heady, but all you can do is drool around his fingers.

“Fuck,” he grunts, somehow still finding the energy to fuck you harder. His fingers dig into your hips, and his breathing becomes jagged. He cums hard for you, moaning loudly as he does. It comes deep from his lungs and gives no attempt to stifle himself, it’s almost like a roar.

A beast claiming its kill.

A king claiming his prize.

“Good girl, good fucking girl,” he murmurs, once again decorating your cold skin in loving kisses.

You feel empty as he pulls out, but he doesn’t care. He pulls your body into his, wrapping his muscular arms around your frame. His lips are on yours and you feel like this is your reward. Feeling so safe and loved in his hold despite knowing what you know.

He isn’t the type of man to hold affection for, and deep down you know what you are to each other. No matter what he says you aren’t stupid. You aren’t foolish enough to think this thing between you is anything more than sex.

But right now, you don’t care.

You do feel love from him and for him.

“Will you stay?” you ask sheepishly. Despite immediately regretting asking, you can’t help but stare into his eyes as you await his answer.

And instantly, he nods. “Yeah, princess. I’ll stay.” he kisses your forehead. “Let’s get cleaned up first.”

© 2024 rinhaler

[yasikeu]

Phone sex with jake

Just imagining that it's your ovulation week and your hormones are going crazy to the point where you can’t think about anything else other than sex

It was at the end of your ovulation week when Jake had just arrived in LA for kcon and he facetimed you as soon as he got to his hotel. To your disadvantage Jake had been too busy to meet with you all week so you saw this as your only chance. Even though the time difference was big you told him you would stay up waiting for his call. You were desperate. “Hey baby I miss you so much, I wish you could be here with me”

“Me too, it’s so boring without you here”. The whole week just consisted of you fingering yourself imagining it was Jake’s hand. But your small dainty fingers could never compare to Jake’s. He could literally make you cum multiple times with just his fingers alone.

When he would finger you it would send you into another universe, like your mind would go completely numb. He would shower you with dirty praises that would make your head spin. Jake always wore rings when he fingered you because he knew how much you loved the feeling. The cold metal from the rings on his long fingers brushed against your clit as he aggressively pumped them in and out of you. Waves of pleasure spread throughout your body to the point where you wouldn’t be able to speak properly.

After a while of you and Jake just chatting, your mind couldn’t help but notice how you could see the shape of his cock through his grey sweatpants. You felt so guilty and pervy for noticing that while you both were just having an innocent conversation over the phone but you couldn’t help it. Jake would have been considered an idiot to not have noticed the way you kept looking down at his cock. He would shift in his seat manspreading as leaned back giving you a better view of his lower body.

“You look so sexy right now, why don’t you stand up and twirl for me” You purposely wore his favourite lingerie pyjama set because you knew how much it turned him on seeing you in it. The laced shorts barely covering your ass cheeks and your nipples being clearly visible since you had no bra. “You wore that for me didn’t you?”. You nodded in response. At this point you couldn’t care less about how pathetic you seemed. “Has my baby been that needy without me?” he cooed

“Yes, I need you so bad Jake” you begged him, your eyes filled with desperation and need. Jake loved seeing you like this.

“Now be a good girl and strip for me”. You immediately obeyed him and took off your pyjamas slowly, wanting to tease him. Jake bit his lip enjoying the view of you stripping as he adjusted in his seat again due to his growing boner. “Show me that pretty pussy baby”

You positioned the camera to your lower body giving him a perfect view of that area as you slowly took off your underwear. “Fuck baby” he moaned out as he began to rub his bulge.

“Play with it for me” he demanded, which again you immediately obeyed. You slowly began rubbing yourself in the room that was filled with sounds of your wetness and quiet moans. Jake pulled his pants down to reveal his black calvin klein boxers, the ones you loved. You could see how big his cock was and when he pulled it out the tip was overflowing with precum. He slowly started fisting his cock, moaning with each pump. “Fuck, i wish it was your pussy instead of my hand” he groaned as he leaned back again trying to get more comfortable.

“I’m gonna cum Jake” you whimpered as you began rocking your hips to the sight of him fisting his cock while he told you all the dirty things he’s going to do to you when he gets home. “You can’t cum yet princess” he wanted to edge you until you couldn’t take it anymore. “You're gonna cum for me when I tell you to, understood?”

“Answer me”

“Yes” you could barely speak

“Good girl”

You and Jake were both panting as you both were getting closer and closer. “I’m gonna cum fuck” Jake said. “Cum for me now princess, you can do it” the pet name making you immediately cum without warning. Jake followed you as he came all over his hand, his strokes becoming slower.

[aouiaa]

hii can you please do an abby x reader where Manny throws a party at the WLF stadium and abby and her gf go and her gf gets quite drunk and when she gets drunk she gets clingy and it’s just cute and fluffy and stuff.

if not don’t stress 💐💐

❝ HOW ABOUT THAT OFFER ? ❞ — ABBY ANDERSON

warnings and disclaimers, dealer!abby, alcohol consumption, usage of pet names (babe, pretty), descriptions of types of drunks, abby being so mm (need her).

TAPE THE MOUTH SHUT, i couldn’t resist the chance to scooch in the amazing dealer trope. i meannn, who doesn’t love her? I DO, MUAHAHA. keep sending requests! i love getting requests, or asks in general. just read my rules AND don’t be weird. OKAYYAYAABYEYEE

A firm knock on the wooden, painted door interrupts the participants inside. the music, once a mere background noise, now assaults your ears as the door opens and manny stands there, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. after greeting abby with dab, the two of you step into the room, the space seems to shrink as groups of people mill about, mingling together. the thick air, laden with the combined scents of sweat and weed, assaults your senses.

The tension in the air calls for some liquid courage, barely letting abby mingle with her own crowd, you practically drag her towards the makeshift alcohol table, where you promptly pour a random assortment of shitty, cheap liquor into a solocup. abby, who’s barely registering how she even got it there, notices your witch’s concoction, and laughs, leaning close enough so you can hear her over the music. "you sure you wanna drink that?" she taunts playfully.

In response, you scoff, rolling your eyes as you defiantly pour the chaser into the cup. "i can handle my liquor just fine, abby." you assure her, unamused. she immediately leans back, putting her hands up in a playful gesture of surrender "alright, alright," she laughs, "just saying ‘cause last time..." her voice trails off into laughter as you let out a exasperated sigh.

As the night wore on, so did the consumption, making the atmosphere becomes more carefree. it was cup after cup as you soon feel that familiar warm, fuzzy feeling that signals your transition to “that type of drunk.”

Everyone knows there are distinct of drunken personas: the aggressive, rowdy, and affectionate. as for you, the affection is on full display as you shower the apples of the blonde’s cheeks with kisses, dispensing them like a sprinkler sprinkling a flowerbed.

Abby, taking on the role of the caregiver for the evening sticks by your side at arms length. seated on a couch in the far corner of the main room, you purchase a spot on her lap, head resting on her shoulder with your arm flung around her neck while your other hand gently holds a half-empty cup of tonight’s libations. one of her lean, strong arms is wrapped around your waist, acting as your anchor.

Occasionally, between conversations with manny, she checks on you. this time is no exception, a strong tingling feeling resonates down your body from the touch of her lips brushing against your ear as she whispers, "lemme know when you're ready to head out, alright, pretty?" pressing a kiss to your cheek which makes you whinge, burying your face into the crook of her neck, flushed.

The thought of escaping this crowded scene and snuggling into the warmth of your fluffy pajamas, ensconced in the embrace of your plush bed, was tempting. but a guilty pleasure at best. you knew that abby's presence was strictly for business, parties merely transactions for her trade.

Over the course of the past three hours, a steady flow of people approached the two of you, each one slipping her money before muttering a brief ‘thanks’ and disappearing into the masses.

When money talked, you wouldn’t dare silent it.

It’s why you haven’t confirmed your submission, maybe the booze was talking, but all you really wanted to do was be coddled by your gentle giant. it’s not anything different than what it was three minutes ago. from afar, someone shouted her name, summoning her services. abby acknowledged the call, quickly murmuring, "i’l be back." before waving manny over to keep an eye on you.

It should have taken no more than a minute, perhaps a minute and a half if the asshole was particularly awkward. but that additional thirty seconds felt like an eternity of separation from her. you shook your head, pressing your body against hers as if your proximity alone could make her stay.

“no, stay here.” you sulk, abandoning the cup within milliseconds and wrap your arms tightly around her neck.

She chuckles, enclosing your body in a warm embrace. "but, i’ll be gone for a minute, tops." she promises.

Frustrated, you give her your best puppy eyes, questioning. “why can’t they just come over here?” shortly adding the dramatic proclamation, "i’ll die in those sixty seconds." that she knows you mean. with a heavy sigh and zero hesitation, she looks up at the guy waiting for her, then shakes her head dismissively before returning her attention back to you.

“okay, okay,” she hushes you, “i’m right here, babe.” she says, kissing your forehead and shifting in more comfortable position to embrace you. resting her head on yours and utters the only good thing that has came out of her mouth tonight.

“how about that offer?”

requests are open, don’t be shy :3

PERMANENT TAGLIST, @dyk3ang3l, @elliesprettygirl, @les4elliewilliams, @r3starttt, @slut4mascss, @marsworlddd, @bready101, @abbysleftbicepp, @airenaa, @caraphernellie, @astralnymphh, @whore87, @kaiilectric, @sapphicontherun, @mikellie, @nihilisticangelbby, @be3flow3r, @ppuussyyy, @clairoscharm

[!] — PERCHANCE YOU WANNA BE ADDED TO MY PERMANENT, look here for more info!

[coichii]

SUNFLOWER - HAN

pairing - spiderman!bf!han ♥︎ fem!reader

genre: angst & comfort

word count: 1.8k

warnings: cursing, reader thinks Han died, shitty writing that I thought was good at first

summary : Han led a double life, being your loveable boyfriend to Spiderman in the blank of an eye, obviously always putting himself in harms way for the sake of Brooklyn. You knew this about him, doesn’t mean it doesn’t scare you to death whenever he gets hurt.

A tap on the window stops your thoughts.

It’s 10pm on a Tuesday, so a knock on the window of your 7 floor apartment building in the middle of a dangerous city isn’t very, well, welcoming.

Carefully, you stand up, not failing to grab the hard baseball bat laying in you closet for moments like these.

Slowly and quietly, you make your way to the window, opening it and putting your weapon into batting position before your eyes lock onto the man behind the glass.

“Woah woah, baby. It’s just me.” Han defends, holding his arms in the air as if he had just been wrongly convicted. “Why do you have the bat.”

“Damnit Hannie! How many times have I told you to stop doing that!” You huff out, dropping the baseball bat out your hands as he chuckles and climbs in.

“Hey, honey~.” He teases in a sing song voice, wrapping his arms around your torso after closing the window. You can feel the warmth of his body, but you’re still upset.

“I’m going to seriously hit you if you keep doing that.” You pout, turning your head from him in fake anger; it’s hard to be mad at him for long.

“Don’t worry, cutie. It won’t hurt anyways.” He winks, causing an even deeper pout to form on your lips.

“Hmm, you still upset? Lemme kiss that pout off your lips then.” He grins, then he’s kissing you.

It’s sweet and slow, saying words lips can’t. His hands move from around your torso to your waist, giving the flesh a tight squeeze. You love kisses like these with him so much that you can almost forget what you had seen on tv earlier in the day.

Keyword : almost

A highly wanted criminal had escaped the prison early in the morning, and Han— well, SpiderMan was tasked with stopping him, which he didn’t.

They had ran into eachother near the Brooklyn Museum, and things escalated from there. Spiderman was injured slightly, and while you know that he heals fast, knowing exactly who was under that costume made your heart ache every time he got so much as a scratch on his body.

You pull away slowly, and Han furrows his brows. “Baby, are you still hurt?”

He bites his lip, the look in his eyes turning almost somber. He doesn’t like when you worry about him, not because he doesn’t like the attention, but because it makes him feel guilty.

Sometimes he wishes he could take all the worry you have about him and bury it far away, but he knows that for as long as he wears that suit, you’ll be worried about him.

“I’m fine, y/n. Don’t worry about me, okay?” He consoles, giving you one last peck on the lips. “Why don’t you get some sleep while I finish some paperwork work, hmm, bubs? It’s late.”

You frown at this, studying the look on his face intensely before you move away and sigh.

“Okay. You’ll be in bed soon though right?” You look up at him, and he can’t help but put his smile back on his face.

“In no more than an hour, hun.” He assures, moving towards the bathroom to take a quick shower before starting. “I won’t be long”

You make your way to the one bedroom in your shared apartment, mind still caught up in the events of the day.

You knew that the one who had escaped was very dangerous and had hurt hundreds of people before he was finally locked up for good. The fact that he was now free formed an aura of uneasiness around you and the entirety of New York City, and it was evident.

The streets were quieter; a horrible sign in the city that never seems to sleep. You could feel it in the air that everyone was on high alert, including your boyfriend.

The paper work he was doing? All of it was connected to him. He was a serious threat, and it was scaring you. The last thing you wanted was for Han to get seriously injured.

It’s happened once before when you guys had already been dating for a while, right around the time he told you that he was Spiderman.

He got beat up pretty brutally, and it had struck a fear in you that you hadn’t even known existed.

The fear of losing him.

That night when he returned, you held on to him and cried for hours. He desperately tried to comfort you, running his hands across your back and telling you he was fine.

Even if he was though, you’d still worry about him.

How could you not.

◂—♥︎—▸

It’s 5pm now, and you had just got off of work.

As you walk through the city, the feelings of brisk, autumn air soothing you, you realize it’s been too quiet. Even quieter than it had been yesterday.

You hadn’t been on your phone since it’s muted during your work hours, and you like to keep it that way until you get to your apartment, but you’re starting to think you should check it.

Nevertheless, you keep your regular pattern, walking until you reach the familiar building and door, walking in.

The anxiety is still eating at you, so you’re not surprised when you find your self turning on your TV and going to your local news station.

What does surprise you though, is when you see a live video of Spiderman laying on the harsh concrete clutching his side.

The air leaves your lungs, being filled with something else. Something thin, something dreadful.

It’s fear.

Your fearful eyes are glued to the screen. You want to look away, but it’s as if there’s an invisible force forcing you to stare at the TV.

It’s your worst fear broadcasted on live television, and there’s nothing you can do about it. All you can do is let the tears roll pitifully down your cheeks as the reports ramble on and on about his health, but you don’t want to listen. All you can do is pray.

Pray that those days where he held you weren’t going to come to an end. Pray that the times where he would swoop you up and take you to the roof of various buildings wouldn’t come to a close. Pray that even while it pissed you off, he would still be crawling through that window in your bedroom at the dead of night. That’s all you needed.

Him.

◂—♥︎—▸

You don’t know how long you had been there, but you don’t flinch when you hear the apartment door crack open.

You do move when you see who walks through the door.

There, a very beat up Jisung makes his way through the door, bruises and scars littering his arms. Cuts are all over his pretty face, causing a red tint all over. That’s all you can see through his tank top and long pants, but you know it must be worse.

You don’t know how you process all that, because once you register that it’s him, your running towards him faster than you’ve ever ran.

“J-Ji.?” You manage to stutter out, touching his skin delicately as if he could shatter, and honestly, you were scared he would. “Ji! O-oh my god! I t-thought you d-died!”

He grabs onto your hips, pulling you into his chest and rubing your back to console you. It usually works, but today, it’s only making the tears flow harder.

“What? Sweetheart, I’m fi-“ but you weren’t hearing it.

“Fine..? FINE!? You were not fine! I watched you lay there on the ground almost dead and you want to tell me you were fine?! I don’t know how much longer I can sit there and watch you ALMOST DIE, just for you to come home and say you’re fine, Han! I can’t take it.”

Your rambling angrily, stopping when you read the look in hans eyes.

fear & despair

“W-what do you mean by how much longer. Please don’t m-mean what I think you mean.” You can see the tears forming in his eyes as he pieces together your words and your shacked with guilt, taking a deep breath before speaking again.

“No. I don’t mean that at all. I-I’m just emotional. Just g-give me a minute to think, and then we can talk.” You whisper that last sentence, turning around and walking out of the shared living room, leaving behind a very shattered Jisung standing there, hand out as if to reach for you, but missing.

Missing by a long, long, shot.

◂—♥︎—▸

It’s not too long until you find yourself walking out of the bedroom, finding Han laying on the couch, seemingly staring into nothing, and this only makes you feel more guilty.

“Hey.” You start, seeing as Hans head swiftly turns towards your direction, eyebags heavy.

Have these tears always been blocking your vision?

“Listen. I am so, so, so sorry for how I acted. It was so wrong of me to yell and scream at you when you were still injured, especially to the point you would think I would even ever consider breaking up with you. I don’t want you to think being Spiderman is a burden for me, I was just emotionally overwhelmed and I am sorry.” You start, watching as his eyes slowly start to twinkle with tears.

Have these tears always been rolling down your cheeks?

“I just…can’t stand watching you get hurt. The thought of you.. n-not coming home kills me. You mean the most to me that anything or anyone ever has in all of my lifetimes, and the thought of losing you? It fucking scares me. But I shouldn’t have yelled at you or pushed you away. I’m sorry, Ji.”

He’s sat up by now, grabbing your hands in his. His eyes are sunken, and he still has various scars on his face, but the bruises have faded by now. You wish you could kiss all his pain away, but it’s hard to when it’s the emotional kind now and you feel as if it’s your fault.

“It’s okay, I understand. But listen to me, that’s never going to happen. I’m never ever going to leave you here by yourself. You will always have me. Until we grow old and much farther, I will never leave you.”

His words fill you with the sort of comfort you hadn’t felt for a long time, settling the aching in your heart that you carried for longer than you care to remember.

You knew there was going to be countless times where he was going to get endangered in the future, and you were never going to stop worrying about him. But for now, you felt at peace with him, your Spiderman.

Your hero.

back to masterlist

A/N : oh my goodness… proofreading this day of post is hard. I write a story and think it’s hits, then I go back and read it and it’s horrible…

[rafeskiss]

imgonnagetyouback ! ᥫ᭡

pairing: matt sturniolo x popstar! reader

word count: 2.1k (holy shit)

summary: you are a world renowned popstar, and after a very public breakup with youtuber matt sturniolo, he can’t bare to watch you look hot on stage and know you’re no longer his. he’s determined to get you back.

warnings: smut obvi, p in v, fingering, swearing, use of ‘y/n’, nicknames (baby), overstimulation, unprotected sex (don’t be fucking stupid), matt calling reader ‘slutty’, probably more i can’t think of

authors note: I HAVE RETURNED!! i have come back from like a two month long hiatus (HIATUS??? DONT USE BIG WORDS MATTTT) to bring you guys the much requested imgonnagetyouback inspired fic featuring popstar! reader! in my mind i see popstar! reader as sabrina carpenter/madison beer type, not necessarily looks wise just their presence. anyways i love ya and thank u for all the kind words on pretty voice :(((

you walked around stage with more confidence then ever. you questioned if fake confidence still counts as confidence, but nobody seemed to know that you’re faking it. it had been 2 weeks since your breakup with matt, and you’d be lying if you said it didn’t wreck you. but you don’t want to ruin the fans experience while you’re on tour, so you maintained your confident-happy-seductive-popstar act.

you were considered the new it girl of pop music. even though you were at your worst, you were getting a lot of attention. most questions fans asked you were about the breakup, but you were trending on twitter for a week straight. fans were making sad breakup edits and update accounts were notifying everyone about the latest stuff regarding the breakup.

because of those update accounts, you knew that matt and his brothers were at your show tonight. you didn’t know why, and even though it made you sick, you got up on the stage and shook your ass and sang your little heart out.

you wore a short lilac skirt, the one that fits you like skin. it drive matt crazy; the way it matched your skin tone so perfectly and accentuated your curves. you were a humble girl, but there were times you knew just how hot you were.

you felt bittersweet about this being the last stop of your tour. you were excited you could rest and grieve and mourn your ended relationship. but you were sad because of the happiness you did feel at one point performing to your fans and the family you created with your band.

with it being the last stop of tour, your team is throwing a little party at some club nearby the venue in seattle. it was planned for weeks now, and at the time you planned it, you added matt and his brothers name to the guest list. and you didn’t have the guts to remove it after the breakup, you didn’t even think you needed to because why would he show up? you regret it as you look at him from your spot on stage. he’s standing on the balcony with his brothers, and he looks guilty and mad at the same time. you quickly look away before you became sick, like how you normally feel seeing his face anywhere.

you say your goodbyes to the crowd and walk off stage as confetti shoots from the ceiling. you make your way backstage where your team awaits you, showering you with compliments and praises. the usual ‘you did so great tonight’ shit. matt used to be the first one to compliment you after a show, whispering sweet things in your ear; odd compliments that nobody else would tell you but that’s why they meant so much. you shake the thought of him from your mind as you pray that he won’t attend the party later tonight.

standing at the bar like somethings funny, bubbly.

God didn’t answer your prayers, unfortunately. you stood talking to one of your best friends, madison beer, but instead of keeping eye contact with her as she talks to you, your eyes are on matt. he’s on the other corner of the room by the bar, with his brothers. chris is sipping on a pepsi, nick with a dr. pepper, and matt has nothing in his hands. he glances over to you and goes back to his conversation with chris. he laughs and you wonder what he’s laughing at, you brush it off and engage in your conversation with madison.

fuck. fuck fuck fuck. an endless stream of curse words run through your mind because knowing he’s in the same room as you, at your party, is driving you insane. you wander through the crowds, making small talk but never staying with the same people for long. you sneak a quick look at matt who seems oddly bubbly while he’s talking to some blonde girl. as if he can feel your stare, he looks at you and makes a face. not a disgusted face, but one that reads ‘i see you too.’

an hour or two passes and i see some blonde girl approach him, and i know he wouldn’t *dare*. while we technically can see other people, we were never *not* each others. the blonde girl, who had to have been someone’s plus one cause i know damn well i didn’t invite her, is so obviously flirting with him. how bold of her! he seems uninterested but he’s still talking to her, which makes me feel sick. i hate he still has that effect on me.

say you got somebody, i’ll say i got someone too.

i know it’s petty, but i just want him to know that i can have someone too. i walk up to the first boy that i see, making small talk and his eyes almost pop out of his head when he realizes who i am. i can feel matt’s stare from across the room. i have zero interest in this guy i’m talking to, i just want to piss matt off. i don’t know what the fuck i’m doing. i tell all of my friends that i hate him, but i go fucking crazy when i see him or hear anything about him.

part of me wants to yell at him and curse him out, and the other half wants to take him back to my hotel. your phone is tucked into the neckline of your dress, feeling it vibrate. you smile at the stranger and pull your phone out, matt’s name on your lockscreen. you look over and see him staring at you. it definitely worked, this man is furious.

ten minutes later, you wait in the gender neutral bathroom. you apply more lipgloss in the mirror when matt walks in, quickly locking the door behind him.

“you hate parties,” you mutter as you layer on more mauve lipgloss, looking at his reflection in the mirror.

he shrugs, “yeah, but i don’t hate you.”

you roll your eyes, “well, i hate you.”

he laughs dryly, “yeah? how come you’re here then? in this bathroom with me, with the door locked?” he says, walking up behind you. you can feel his bulge against your ass.

you sigh and turn around, less than an inch of distance between you. “i hate you.”

he nods, “for sure.” he brings his thumb to your glossed lips, smirking. “so pretty.”

before you could even think twice, you’re sitting on the sink, wrapping your legs around matt’s waist, making out. maybe if you were sober you wouldn’t be in this situation, but if you were sober you probably would have wanted it more.

“hate you so much,” you mumble in between sloppy kisses.

“i know,” he mutters. he taps your thighs, signaling for you to spread them more. and of course, you do. he reaches his hand under your dress, pulling your panties to the side. he does all of this without breaking your kiss, too. and to no one’s surprise, you’re soaked.

he looks up at you, “you hate me so much but you’re soaking wet? doesn’t make sense.” he says.

“stop talking,” you whine.

he plunges two fingers into your cunt, and your hand immediately flies to your mouth. while it isn’t out of the ordinary to have sex in a bathroom at a club, you don’t want people to know it’s you.

he uses his other hand and pulls your hand away from your mouth. “let ‘em hear you.”

he continues fingering you until he feels your walls clench down on his fingers, and he pulls them out.

“matt!” you whine.

he nods, “i know, baby.” matt loves to edge you, and it pisses you off.

you roll your eyes and push him away, hopping off the sink. “no, i really do hate you.”

matt rolls his eyes, “oh, here we go again with that bullshit.”

you’re about to unlock the door and walk out of it before matt stops you. he swats your hand away from the door knob and walks closer to you until you’re up against the door.

“off,” he says, tugging at the fabric of your dress. and even though you said you hated him 5 seconds ago, you obey him.

he helps you wiggle out of your dress, you step out of it and slide it across the bathroom.

matt takes his belt off and unbuttons his jeans, you slide his boxers down to his ankles along with his jeans.

you’re still against the door when matt says, “jump.” you quickly obey, wrapping your legs around his hips. he uses the door to help not drop you, and you’re sure your back will hurt and have some bruises after this.

his dick is firmly pressing against your clit, and matt uses one arm to support you and the other to slide his dick inside your entrance. you hadn’t had his cock in a couple months, and it’s like it’s the first time again.

“oh fuck,” he groans. “still so tight. none of the other guys can stretch you like i do, huh?” he whispers into your ear.

“shut up and fuck me already, matt.” you reply bitterly.

“if you say so,” he whispers before bucking his hips into you so hard you think you might have a bruise.

“oh!” you gasp.

matt maintains eye contact with you, “you miss this dick?”

you nod as he continues to fuck into you, the door rattling against you.

“i don’t believe that, use your words, y/n.” he teases.

“i missed— oh fuck, missed your dick,” you whimper.

he pushed you harder against the door behind you so he could use his other hand to rub circles on your clit.

“well, i missed this pussy too. know it missed me back.”

your hole fluttered at his words which made him let out a soft groan. you felt his dick everywhere, in your soul.

he moved his hand away from your clit, leaving you trembling.

“m’back hurts,” you whined as he slid his dick in and out of you.

matt looked at you with sympathy, “i know baby… but we’re in a bathroom cause you’re jus’ so needy, so there’s not much room for me to fuck you like i want.”

this was true.

he rammed into you harder and faster, causing you to let out an almost pornographic shriek.

matt dryly laughed, “sound so pretty. such a pretty voice.”

you knew how much matt loved your career. the most famous pop girl at the moment wrapped around his finger. he loved watching your shows and seeing how all your female fans would bring their boyfriends to a concert and he’d watch their intense stares as you pranced around on stage in nothing but a tiny dress and heels. everyone wanted to fuck you or be you, and he loved that you were his in every way. but after the breakup, he’s gotten angry so of course he has to make up for lost time with a very intense fuck.

he slammed into you and pulled out just as quick, repeating this until he can feel your walls tightening against his lengthy cock.

“c’mon, baby. know your close, give it to me.” he whispered in your ear.

“oh god,” you moaned.

matt stopped fucking you, “s’not my name, baby.”

you whined, “fuck me, matt.” you said, putting emphasis on his name.

he smiled and started pounding into you again. “good job, baby. love when you use that pretty lil voice of yours.”

your nails scratched artwork onto his back, maybe breaking skin but matt didn’t mind at all.

“you gonna cum?” he taunted.

you nodded, “matt!”

“cum for me baby,” he demanded.

“oh god! oh, oh matt!” you said it correctly this time as your orgasm ripped through you. the first genuinely good one in two weeks.

matt didn’t slow down, he stayed fucking you through your orgasm.

“can’t!” you yelled.

matt shook his head, “you can. jus’ gimme one more. one more.”

you shut your eyes tightly gripping onto his back as tight as you can. you start squirming as your next orgasm approaches.

“m’cumming! oh! matt, i’m cumming!”

he nods, “i know baby.”

after you come down from your orgasm high, matt helps you adjust yourself so you look presentable to go back out into your party.

you reapply your lip gloss and run your fingers through your hair, combing them out. you fix your dress while matt hands you your panties.

“well, it was nice seeing you.” you say sweetly, looking at his reflection in the mirror.

“very nice.” he says with a smirk on his face. he adjusts his hair too before unlocking the door and holding it open for you. you’re greeted by a long line of upset faces waiting to use the bathroom.

you and matt make side eye each other as you walk away from the crowd, giggling.

you and matt both know you were never not each others.

[puck-luck]

code-breaker | jack hughes

warnings: pining!, unprotected p in v, lots of miscommunication but it is resolved duh, lmao uhhhhh jack fucking his best friend's sister maybe? kind of a big plot point fasho, a lame excuse for a squirt, cum on da body (chest), eating come, lots of banter, tiny TINY bit of angst and insecurity on fem!reader's part pairing: jack hughes x zegras!reader request: cappy's "sister of the best friend, lake house, etc. sister makes the first move and the guy tries to turn her down out of loyalty to the other boy and she gets a little hurt and insecure thinking he's rejecting her and she's like "am i really that bad?" with her voice craking and he's like fuck then... smut!" wc: 4327

Jack is here. 

Jack, who you’ve been in love with since your twin brother started hanging out with him when they were in NTDP together. Jack, the New Jersey Devils’ prized star, the number one pick. Jack, the most annoying and most attractive brother of the esteemed Hughes family from Michigan. Yes, that Jack is here– ‘here’ being your apartment that you share with your brother in Anaheim now that Jamie has moved out and away.

Jack is here. You are here. Trevor is not.

“I didn’t know you were coming,” you tell him awkwardly, still holding the door open and blocking the doorway. You’re all too aware of your lazy, solo-movie-night outfit as you stand in front of him. You’re clad only in a big shirt, one that normally reaches the middle of your thighs but has ridden up since your hands are raised and resting against the doorframe, and your favorite pair of panties. You did laundry earlier and showered, your big exciting thing of the day being that you could but on your favorite underwear and be lazy as soon as you finished the chore of folding your clothes. “Trevor’s in New York right now.”

“I know,” Jack says, a hand on his suitcase. The other is clenched by his side. “I have a meeting in LA tomorrow so he said I could stay here while he was gone.”

“Oh,” you reply, feeling silly. It would’ve been nice if your brother had told you that Jack was coming and staying here while he was gone, considering you’d made plans to be alone all night tonight. Trevor always does shit like this– he makes plans and then forgets to tell you until someone shows up or he has to leave to meet them. It’s frustrating. “Come on in, then.”

You move to the side, gesturing for Jack to enter the apartment, and he does. His suitcase rolls in behind him, just a little carry on, and he leaves it beside the door where he kicks off his shoes. 

Your hands make their way to the hem of your t-shirt, tugging at it. “I’ll, uh, go change into something more–”

“No, don’t worry about it,” Jack interrupts, waving you off. He clears his throat. “You don’t have to change on my account. I’m interrupting your night of–” 

He looks to the couch and the coffee table, littered with a bowl of popcorn and a bottle of wine that you had been drinking out of, straight from the spout. Your movie is paused on the screen, a silly Disney Channel movie that had come out when you and Trevor were children and still hadn’t lost its touch yet. You’re hoping that Jack doesn’t recognize the screencap, but Mel’s Lemonade machine fills the screen and if he’s seen Lemonade Mouth at all, he’ll know what movie you’re watching.

“Disney Channel and wine,” Jack finishes, pinching his lips to hide the amusement in his voice.

You frown, even though you want to burst into laughter with him. It is silly, what you’re doing, but you were supposed to be alone and who are you to be ashamed of your guilty pleasures?

“Don’t make fun,” you admonish, crossing your arms with a pout. “I thought I had the apartment to myself.”

“I’m not making fun!” Jack denies, holding his hands up in surrender. “I think it’s nice that you’re having a me-party.”

He’s referencing the other time he’s interrupted when you’re having a movie night on your own, when you watched The Muppets (2011) at the lake house because the boys were out on the boat and you had gotten a nasty sunburn the day before, so you’d stayed in. Jack had come back early because he was hungry, making the boys drop him off at the dock before going back out, and caught you red-handed with his favorite kind of pretzels and a half-full bottle of margarita next to the blender. 

You blush, glaring at him slightly. “Shut up, Jack.”

“No, this is perfect,” Jack continues, glowing a little as his shit-eating smile builds. He walks over to the couch and plops down, grabbing the bottle of wine and taking a swig before wiping his mouth. “I’m already dressed for a lazy night in, I shouldn’t waste it.”

You roll your eyes. “You’re such a dick,” you complain. “You know you don’t want to watch this movie with me.”

“Why not?” He challenges, another tilt of the bottle pouring the fruity liquid down his throat. He spreads his legs when he sits as all the boys do, taking up as much space as he can. 

“Because you won’t like it,” you say. “And because I wasn’t planning on having you here.”

“Were you planning on having someone else here?” Jack teases. “Popcorn, red wine, a movie, no pants… I think I see the writing on the wall.”

“No, God, shut up, Jack!” You repeat with a huff, returning to the couch and curling up against the opposite arm, far away from the boy. “Just be quiet while I watch my movie. If you’re good, I’ll let you have some popcorn.”

Jack wiggles his eyebrows at you, sticking out his tongue. You pull at the bottom of your shirt again, making sure that your panties aren’t visible when he looks over. This is already humiliating enough– you don’t need your long-time crush seeing your underwear, too.

You hit play and turn the volume up loud enough to drown out any comments Jack might make. You’re lucky the movie is short, because he’s an antsy boy who loves to talk, just like your brother, and you can tell that he’s anxious to start another conversation.

As the credits roll, you mute the television and turn to him. “What?” You demand, sitting in criss-cross-applesauce and shoving your hands into your lap to stretch your shirt over the space between your legs. 

“You really didn’t have plans tonight?” Jack asks. “It’s a Saturday night and you live in LA. You’re in your twenties. You didn’t want to have anyone over?”

You flush, but it’s less out of embarrassment and more out of anger. “Judgemental much, Hughes? Not all of us have people throwing themselves at our feet any given day of the week.” You grind your teeth, clenching your jaw and taking a deep breath. You stare at him, refusing to break eye contact. Jack shouldn’t be allowed to form opinions on your life. You know exactly what he’s insinuating– why aren’t you out there getting laid, Y/N? and it’s frustrating because it’s the same question you ask yourself whenever your friends text about their recent hookups or whenever Trevor brings a girl back to the apartment. 

More than anything, you don’t want Jack judging you. You know that your Saturday night plans are lame, but that’s why you wanted to be alone. 

Jack falls quieter, your reaction diluting his crooked, toothy smirk that he reserves for the people he knows well. “I’m surprised you don’t have– people. Throwing themselves at you.”

He’s awkward when he says it, too awkward not to make you suspicious.

He’s avoiding eye contact, picking at his nailbeds. 

“Would you?” You ask, directly to the point. You’re making a point, too– you’ve known Jack for years and he has never, not once, implied that he thinks you’re desirable. 

Jack says nothing, running his fingers through his hair and looking down. 

You nod to yourself and stand from the couch, still tugging at your shirt. You’re pulling it even lower now, the neckline dipping and stretching as you cover your legs up as best you can. “That’s what I thought,” you say quietly, a cold feeling washing through your chest and pressing down on the skin that your heart beats beneath. 

“I would,” Jack calls, just as you walk away. You’re positioned right in front of the door that leads to your bedroom when he says it, head hanging towards the ground so that he doesn’t see the frown on your face. 

His silence was a rejection and his afterthought is even worse. Nonetheless, you turn to face him. This time, it’s your silence that rings throughout the space.

“I would,” Jack repeats. “If, y’know. You weren’t–”

“Trevor’s sister,” You say, filling in the blanks and finishing his sentence. You nod, a tight, close-lipped, and pointed smile on your face. “You don’t have to explain, Jack. I realized a long time ago that my world would always revolve around Trevor.” Your hand is on the doorknob now, twisting it and cracking your door open. Your bed is right there and you can collapse into it in mere seconds, able to let your tears leak into your pillow silently as you remind yourself that you’re not as good as your twin brother once again, just as soon as you get these words out. “I know I can’t do or say the things I want to with the people I want to because they’re always thinking about Trevor.”

You could add, And why would you be any different? You know him best. Of course he’s the one you’re loyal to, but you decide against it. It’s too petty. It’s too mean. It’s too– real. 

You look at him one last time to bid him goodnight, already craving the following day when his meeting is over and he heads back to Michigan, far away from you and your un-desirability. The tight smile returns to your face, trying to smooth out your upset yet resigned features. It’s always the same thing. It’s not Jack’s fault, really, it’s not. You’ve imagined this conversation in your head many times and each time you think rationally, you know that this is how it has to be.

He’s Jack Hughes, for God’s sake. You’re just Trevor Zegras’ less successful, lesser known twin sister.

“Trevor would kill me,” Jack says on a whim. “Really. He would. He would stand me up and punch me, right here.”

You’ve got one foot in your bedroom and one foot out. Despite the ice piercing through your chest, you can’t find it in yourself to be rude and close the door on him. You turn to face Jack again.

He’s sitting forward on the couch, hands clasped in front of him like a prayer. He moves them when he talks, lowering them and spreading them and gesturing with them. He’s always done that, ever since you’ve known him– it’s another way that he calls attention to himself and takes up space. It’s part of the reason why he’s so charming– he knows how to use his hands, how to touch someone to politely get them to move or to pull them closer or to playfully shoo them away. 

“If I had a sister, I’d do the same thing to him,” Jack continues. “It’s just– we can’t go for each others’ family. It’s against the code.”

You nod, slowly, exaggeratedly just to show him how nonsensical that sounds. “You realize it’s not up to Trevor to decide who you go out with,” you say. “That’s kind of your choice, Jack.”

“It’s not that simple.”

You shrug, then look away. Outside the living room window is a dark night, leaves blowing with the wind. 

“It could be,” you say after a moment. You’re not surprised to hear how resigned you sound. You learned to live with this a long time ago, so you know that pointing out how easily things could change is futile. You say it anyway. “If you wanted it to be. But, I get it. I’m your best friend’s sister. Maybe if I wasn’t, you’d consider–”

“I have considered,” Jack interrupts. “I’ve– well, you’ve seen it. All the guys have.”

You’re lost. It’s like he’s speaking in code. “I’ve seen what?” You ask, monotonous and silently yearning for your bed. Your patience is growing thin.

“You can’t be serious,” Jack responds with a laugh. He buries his face in his hands, muffling the noise. “Are you?”

“I’ve seen what,” you repeat, straight-faced and not entertaining this sudden bout of humor from the brunet boy.

“How I look at you when you’re in those tiny little swimsuits on the boat, or how I laugh when you make one of your stupid jokes that aren’t funny to anyone but you and Trevor,” Jack says. “You really never noticed?”

Now he’s just dangling your hopeless crush in front of you. You assumed he had noticed sometime over the years, but this is overkill. He’s never felt the same– that much is clear. It’s cruel that he thinks he can lead you to believe otherwise as a means to further tease you for being alone tonight.

You shake your head. “I never noticed because you never did any of those things, Jack. You’re just saying that to say it.”

He’s up in a flash, coming towards you and placing a hand flat on your bedroom door to prevent you from closing it and ending the conversation. “I can’t believe you don’t believe me,” Jack says.

“I don’t think it’s funny that you’re making fun of the little crush I’ve had on you since we were kids. You don’t feel the same way and I’m not an idiot.” You move to close the door again, but Jack pushes it open again. 

“You– I’m not making fun,” Jack stammers out, looking surprised. He leans forward, narrowing his eyes. “You have a crush on me?”

Your jaw drops and your face flames with humiliation. You thought he knew that you liked him and that he was making fun on purpose– and now you’ve accidentally revealed your massive, well-kept secret to his face. This was never supposed to happen. “You didn’t know?” You hiss, covering the lower half of your face with your hands. 

“You have a crush on me,” Jack repeats, a smile spreading across his face. He steps closer, prompting you to back away.

“No. No,” you moan out, feeling positively ashamed and destroyed. Tonight is not turning out as you hoped it would.

Jack’s still smiling, closing your bedroom door softly behind him as he follows you into your room. 

You knock into the edge of your bed and sit, sinking into the mattress. Your hands are still pressed over your mouth as Jack kneels in front of you, prying your hands away from your face and holding them gently. 

“You have a crush on me,” Jack says for a third time, his voice soft and subtly optimistic. The corner of his mouth curves up into the tiniest of smirks and you swear your face couldn’t get any more red.

All you can give him is a frown and a devastated wobble of your bottom lip. 

“Well, this changes everything,” Jack says, regaining his ability to joke, it seems. His next question is rhetorical and makes you swallow hard. “Who gives a fuck about Trevor when you feel the same way I do?” 

“You’re– you’re serious,” you say, still a thread of disbelief sewn into your words. “You weren’t kidding. You actually– thought about it.”

“Thought about it?” Jack asks. “Fuck, Y/N, I almost told you right before you left last summer, but then you said you were talking to that guy.”

You roll your eyes– that guy had only been in your life for about a month and you had only mentioned him because Jack had mentioned a girl he wanted to see. You tell him such– “I only brought him up because everyone was talking about their romantic interests and who they were interested in, I didn’t want to seem like a loser. You had some girl, too, Jack.”

“Some girl– that was you,” Jack reveals incredulously. “I thought I was being so obvious.”

“You weren’t obvious at all!” You deny, mouth open in a scoff. 

“I thought that you mentioning that guy was your way of letting me down easy!”

“Yes, Jack, because I was going to reveal my feelings for you in a room full of both of our brothers. Good idea. You fucking idiot!”

Jack laughs aloud, throwing his head back. His face scrunches up and he smooths his face with his big palm at the end of his amusement. He fixes you with a look of glee and astonishment– something only hindsight can bring to his expression. “We’re so fucking stupid.”

You shake your head, laughing with him for a moment before he swipes a thumb over your cheek, which stills you. 

“Fuck,” he sighs, smile still gracing his face. “I can’t believe–”

“Me neither,” you say.

“Can I–”

“Absolutely.”

Jack’s rising up, kissing you and laying you back on the bed so that he can completely cover your body with his own. One of his hands cups your cheek, while the other grips your hip, atop your underwear but underneath the big t-shirt that is now riding up your body as you move. Your hand is on his bicep and his chest, clutching his sweatshirt. The strings dangle down into your space, brushing against your clothes and tickling you.

His hands memorize you like a topographic map, clutching at your dips and curves and anything else he can get his hands on. 

“Wanna take this off,” You mumble against Jack’s mouth, tugging at the collar of his sweatshirt.

Jack pulls back immediately, reaching behind his neck to grab the collar of his top and bring it above his head. He balls it up and drops it somewhere on the floor. 

“That, too,” you tell him, about his t-shirt, before he can bend back down and kiss you senseless again.

Jack chuckles and pulls it off, too, leaving him half-naked just like you. His chest is tanned and swollen from his recent workouts in Michigan since his shoulder surgery, something that Trevor had told you about but about which you’d never checked in. You’re gentler on that side of his body, especially as he comes back down into your space and you get to touch him. You run your hands over his muscles. You feel out the ridges of his body, trying to match his own confident movements as he feels you up.

One of your hands makes its way to his v-line, something you’d seen over plenty of boat trips. You’d always wanted the opportunity to touch it, to trace it, to watch it bend and flex as he rolled his hips. You’re being afforded that opportunity now and it is sweet.

“I thought you might like that,” Jack murmurs. “Caught you staring once. Was the same day you wore my favorite red swimsuit out.”

“I still have it,” you tell him, gasping a little when his hand slides up to your chest. He tweaks your nipple, then his hand retreats. 

“Mm, a treat for tomorrow,” Jack says. “I’m gonna have you walking around in that thing all day just so I can look at you. For now…”

He trails off, pushing the bottom of your shirt up and leaving your lips to attach his to the freshly revealed skin of your torso. He kisses up your body with each inch he reveals, between your breasts and up your neck. He pulls your shirt off, letting it join his own on the floor, and gets his first proper look at your tits.

“Been waiting to see these,” he continues, eyes fixed on your chest like he’s being hypnotized. He places his hands on you and squeezes, feeling your supple flesh between his fingers. You moan out at the sensation, the noise spurring him on. “Wanna know a secret?”

“Yeah,” you agree, nodding and tugging at his joggers, hoping he’ll get the hint and remove them.

“‘ve wanted to come on these tits since I first saw it in a porno,” Jack reveals, still mesmerized by your chest. “Thought about it a hundred times.”

You can’t help but laugh. “Come on my tits all you want, but you have to fuck me first.”

“Guess your Saturday night wasn’t so boring after all,” Jack says before he stands from the bed and tugs his pants off. He joins you again, wrapping your legs around his waist and kissing over your face. He grinds against you, his clothed cock sliding against your damp panties in a way that has you both keening into each others’ mouths. 

“Guess not,” is your reply, cut short by another moan when Jack’s hand claims your chest again.

You move without speaking after that, fueled only by the desire coursing through your veins after years of pining and aching for the other. 

Jack feels you out and eventually discards his own underwear before removing yours, returning to the missionary position that you had assumed as soon as you had first kissed. It’s sweeter this way– and you both need to see the other’s face, to feel their breath mix with your own. Your chests are flush together, your nipples scraping against the defined and broad swoops of his skin. You grind against each other for a few minutes more, his dick sliding between the wet lips of your pussy with nothing blocking it. He groans into your ear as your juices coat his length, eyes closed in a grimace that is completely charged by his pleasure.

“Condom?” is the last thing he asks, with you shaking your head and replying, “Pill.”

He lines himself up, mouth agape with a choked breath as he thrusts into your tight, wet heat. Your head finds the mattress beneath you, your back arching up as he fills you. You can feel his veins sliding against your walls, the blunt and weeping tip of his cock poking at your deepest parts.

He moves like a man possessed and fighting the beast– like he wants to let loose but at the same time, restraining himself. When you tug on his hair, the subtle waves that he’s been growing out over the summer and hiding beneath his hat in every picture you’ve seen, and whine out his name, Jack’s control vanishes.

He starts to piston his hips into your cunt, burying his face into your neck and letting out ecstasy-fueled whimpers each time you clench down. He curses in your ear, voice a little higher than it normally is, and the intimacy and vulnerability of the moment has your heart clenching. 

“J– J–” You chant, mewling as his cockhead drives against the back wall of your pussy in hard thrusts that make your head spin. 

“So good,” he grits out, kissing over your neck and catching your earlobe between his lips for a moment before dropping it. One of his hands is splayed over your hip, the other securely planted next to your head. “So tight.”

“Coming,” you warn, your fingers finding his bicep and clenching, fingernails digging into his skin so much that you won’t be surprised if you break skin. Your voice is high, too, octaves higher because of the pleasure you’re experiencing.

“Fuck, yeah, baby, come on my cock,” Jack pants out, the hand from your hip coming to rub circles over your clit. 

It sends a shock up your spine and has your hips bucking up to meet his, your entire lower half shaking as your climax approaches. Your eyes roll into the back of your head and your vision goes spotty when you do come, just seconds after his groaned encouragement. Your entire body tenses, freezing with Jack still inside of you, making it damn near impossible for him to continue pumping his hips. 

He slides from your opening as you’re coming, bringing some of the slick with him in a feeble excuse for a squirt. His dick bobs, hard and an angry red that might be the most beautiful color you’ve ever seen in your hazy, post-orgasmic state.

Jack comes up to straddle your stomach, stripping his cock quickly with a tight fist, chest heaving. You know he wants to come on your chest, having already given him permission, but your mouth opens and your tongue lolls out in an invitation that Jack can’t deny. He shuffles up further on his knees, his whimper sounding pained as his milky cum spurts from the tip of his cock and lands along the flat of your tongue and your lips.

His spurts grow weaker, although he’s still stroking his dick in a fervorous pace, whining a little more at the oversensitivity. His cum makes his way to your chest, just dripping down the length of his shaft and pooling over your tits. 

You reach up with one hand and trace your fingers through the seed, causing Jack to sway a little on top of you at the sight. His cheeks are flushed and pink, eyes blue and clear like he can’t believe what he’s seeing. Your fingertips brush your nipple, spreading the cum over it before you bring your hand up to your mouth and suck the remaining liquid off of your skin, swallowing it with a hum.

Jack is off of you in a flash, pulling you on top of his lap and joining your lips. The last of his cum, painted across your tongue in a thin layer, mixes with your spit as he kisses you. He’s desperate, filling your mouth with his tongue until you can barely breathe, tasting himself on you until it’s indistinguishable– where you end and he begins.

It takes a long time for Jack to finally pull away, for you both to come down from your highs and take a breath.

In typical Jack fashion, he can’t stop himself from joking around.

“Trevor’s really going to kill me now,” he says. “There’s a chance he’ll never let us be in the same room again.”

You laugh, knowing already that neither of you will be willing to let this– whatever this is– go just because your brother has something to say about it. “In that case, we’ll just have to sneak away.”

notes: I WANTED TO NAME THIS "BFB" AFTER THE VICTORIOUS SONG SOOOOOO BAD!!!!! but alas. it's best friend's sister. maybe some other time. blahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh. well now wait that's a good idea...

[stargirlinterludefr]

1 STEP FORWARD, 3 STEPS BACK: rafe cameron x fem!reader

Based off of the song 1 step forward, 3 steps back by Olivia Rodrigo

Synopsis: It’s always 1 step forward and 3 steps back with Rafe, until you’ve finally had enough.

TW: Toxic relationship, emotional & verbal abuse, drug usage, references to sexual relations but no smut, addiction, heavy angst, small amount of fluff, guilt tripping for not having sex (I do NOT condone any of this, you should never be made to feel guilty if you don’t want to sleep with someone!), Rafe being an arsehole

Word count: around 3,500

‘Called you on the phone today

Just to ask you how you were

All I did was speak normally

Somehow I still struck a nerve

You’re laid down on your front, hand mindlessly plucking at your lilac coloured blanket as your other hand holds your phone close to your ear, waiting for your boyfriend to answer your call.

“Hello?” Rafe’s deep voice rings through the other end, cutting out the ringing sound that you’d been listening to whilst waiting on an answer.

You smile softly, “Hey baby, just thought I’d ring, not heard off of you in a few hours.” You say, still plucking mindlessly at your blanket as Rafe sniffles down the phone before he answering.

“Uh yeah, been busy with Barry sorry, what’ve you been up to?” He asks, and while deep down you know he’s distracted and probably doesn’t even care about what you’ve been doing as long as you’re not out flirting with other boys or…out doing anything at all.

“Barry? I didn’t realise you were hanging with him today, is he doing okay?” You ask sweetly, kind nature shining through despite how much you disliked Barry for continuing to get Rafe involved with dealings.

“Why you sound so mad about me hanging with Barry, huh?” Rafe snaps back and your heart plummets to your stomach as you pause your mindless ministrations on your blanket.

“Wha- I’m not mad, baby, I was just asking-“ You start but you don’t have the opportunity to finish as Rafe is quick to cut you off.

“Well fucking don’t! I don’t wanna deal with your bitchy attitude, it’s like you- you’re judging me or something so just cut it out a’ight? Get enough of that from my fucking dad, didn’t know my girl would be all up in my business to.” He says, voice agitated and slurred making it clear to you he’d been snorting up lines like there was no tomorrow.

You stay still in your place, eyes laced with tears that were on the verge of falling if you didn’t swallow the lump in your throat.

“What, you gone mute or something?” Rafe snaps and you jolt slightly, clearing your throat as you answer.

“M’ sorry.” You mutter, voice strained and quiet as though he’d zapped every inch of energy and happiness from you in a matter of seconds.

“Yeah, yeah whatever.” He scoffs, the sound of beeping ringing through your speaker signifying that he’d ended the call and as you slowly lower your phone from your ear, silent tears stream down your face and instead of picking mindlessly at your blanket you bury your face into it.

You got me fucked up in the head, boy

Never doubted myself so much

Like, am I pretty? Am I fun, boy?

I hate that I give you power over that kind of stuff

Parties had become something you dreaded immensely.

Rafe would usually leave you as soon as you arrived, seeking out people to sell his stuff to and snorting so many lines of it that you’d be left to deal with either his raging temper or his raging boner.

Despite that fact, you made sure you looked your prettiest each time. At the start of your relationship, Rafe showered you in compliments each time you’d get all dressed up but now he’d simply complain about how long you took and then he’d go flirt with some other look or touron making you seriously question whether you were even pretty enough anymore.

And at this particular party? You felt the burning pit of insecurity like it was etched onto your skin.

You were sat beside Rafe, two other kook girls across from you who were alongside Kelce and Barry.

Rafe was pouring out some coke from a small baggie, organising it into lines as he glanced toward you briefly.

“You want some?” He asks, pupils blown as wide as spaceships.

“No, I’m okay.” You say immediately, you’d never wanted to indulge in things like cocaine as you’d drawn the line at weed and alcohol.

“Oh my god, you’re like no fun are you? Live a little, girl.” One of the kook girls hanging off Kelce’s arms says, making the surrounding people laugh in response as their eyes dart to you.

And the worst part? Rafe laughs along with them.

“Alright then.” You mutter quietly, making the same girl holler in excitement as Rafe smiles, gesturing to the lines of cocaine he’d organised.

“All yours, baby.”

And as you sniff up the line of coke, you wonder when you’d let Rafe have so much power over the way you perceived yourself.

‘Cause it's always one step forward and three steps back

I'm the love of your life until I make you mad

The next morning you woke up to a regretful Rafe, the boy showering you with a million apologies for essentially forcing you to do something you’d never been comfortable doing in the past.

You’d assured him it was okay but he still preached his guilt, continuing to spend the remainder of the day spoiling you with a shopping trip and ending it with a walk on the beach.

The day had you feeling hopeful, Rafe had promised earlier on that he’d atleast stop doing cocaine around you so you wouldn’t be forced to.

This was progress…wasn’t it?

The hope you felt quickly diminished when you caught sight of your old friends, JJ and John B.

And JJ would be damned if he didn’t say hello to you, while you never talked much to the Pogues anymore JJ’s loyalty was impossible to extinguish. If the Maybank boy cared about you, he wasn’t ever going to let those feelings diminish.

“Ain’t this a sight for sore eyes?” A voice calls from behind you, making yours and Rafe’s heads whip around as you come face to face with JJ who is lightly jogging toward you both. John B trailing slowly behind as he adjusts two surf boards under his arms.

“How you been, y/n/n?” He asks, head cocking to the side as his messy blonde hair moves softly with it.

You open your mouth to speak but Rafe quickly cuts you off, hand tightening on your own “She’s good.”

JJ’s face immediately drops as he narrows his eyes, “Don’t think I was asking you, bro.” He says dryly as Rafe clenches his jaw.

“You gonna answer then?” Rafe spits out, making you look at him with pleading eyes, knowing by the look on his face that he was going to end this in a fight with you.

He simply gives you a glare and you turn to JJ, eyes not daring to meet his.

“Uh yeah, I’ve been good, you?” At your words Rafe lets out a scoff and you bite your lip anxiously, praying to whatever god that whatever has him mad will be resolved quickly.

“You know me, I’m always a’ight, you should uh come by the Chateau soon so we can catch up with ya…we’ve missed you.” JJ says, eyes trained intently on you as he ignores Rafe’s looming presence.

“Yeah, that sounds real nice.” You say, smiling softly and before you can say anything else Rafe is tugging you away.

“Yeah, real good to see you JJ, always a fucking pleasure!” He shouts sarcastically, ignoring how the blonde boy calls out your name when John B finally makes it to his side. You send an apologetic smile over your shoulder as Rafe’s hand detaches from your own.

“That sounds real nice?” Rafe parrots your words, eyes wild with anger as he scoffs to himself continuing his rapid walk back to the truck.

“What else was I supposed to say?” You ask desperately, running slightly to keep up with Rafe’s fast paces as he refuses to slow down for you.

“Rafe!” You call out when he doesn’t respond, the two of you now all but five meters from his truck.

That’s when he spins back to face you, face scrunched in anger as he points at you.

“I’ll tell you what your fucking problem is, y-you can’t be happy with what I’m giving you so you put on the sad kicked puppy act when Maybank is around for what? Huh? You fucking him or something?” Rafe shouts in anger, now towering over you as you all but freeze in your place.

“What? No I’m not fucking Jay, Rafe. I haven’t seen him in months, ever since you told me to stop hanging round with my friends!” You say, voice trembling as you attempt to hold back tears of frustration not missing the way Rafe’s eyes flash with more anger.

“You might as well be fucking him, you got nicknames for him and shit?” He states mockingly, letting out a dry laugh when you go to correct your mistake as a force of habit from your childhood, he spins back toward his truck before you can even respond. “Go hang with Maybank for all I care, prove how much of an attention seeking whore you are.”

Your brows furrow as Rafe rounds his truck, clambering into it as you step forward.

“Rafe?” You call out, listening to him start his truck and rev the engine. You begin walking toward the truck but Rafe reverses so quickly that sand flicks up leaving you to shield your face when he spins the truck around,leaving you stood there.

It's always one step forward and three steps back

Do you love me, want me, hate me? Boy, I don't understand

You receive an abundant of text messages from Rafe later on in the same night as your pacing the small space of your room, nibbling anxiously on your nails.

Rafe 💜: am sory baby

Rafe 💜: Pogue get me soooooo pissed

Rafe 💜: I lobe u so moch ❤️❤️

You let out a groan of frustration at the words, your mind spinning as though you’d experienced whiplash. You didn’t know how to keep up anymore, you didn’t understand.

No, I don't understand

You: I love you too 🤍

And maybe in some masochistic way

I kinda find it all exciting

Like, which lover will I get today?

Will you walk me to the door or send me home cryin'?

Your sat reading on the dock at the back of your house, one foot dangling into the water when your phone buzzes.

Rafe 💜: coming over.

Your stomach churns with an excited sort of nervousness, mind reeling on how Rafe is going to be today.

His emotional imbalance had made such an impact upon your own that you didn’t know how to feel anymore, whatever you felt was never right in his eyes.

you: okay, on the dock <3

When you hear Rafe’s footsteps drawing closer you don’t dare look up, pretending to be engrossed in your book to see how he would react.

Whether he’d be his teasing normal self that you’d fallen in love with or the coked up angry Rafe that you’d grown to hate.

Rafe steps grow dangerously near and his voice comes along with them, “That book so interesting it mutes your hearing?” He asks, voice boarding on teasing as you look up at him a few meters from you.

You smile and shrug, “It’s a good book.”

Rafe cocks a brow, coming to a standstill in front of you as locks down upon you.

“That good book better than my presence?” He asks, and some part of you sighs in relief at his calm demeanour and undiluted pupils.

“Not a chance.” You say, holding your hands out for Rafe to pull you up and as he does he picks you up into a tight hug and spins the both of you around as you squeal in delight.

It's one step forward and three steps back

I'm the love of your life until I make you mad

It's always one step forward and three steps back

Do you love me, want me, hate me? Boy, I don't understand

“Come on baby, please.” Rafe pleads with you, hands tugging at the waistband of your pants in the country club bathroom as you give him a pointed look.

“Not here Rafe.” You say softly as he groans, head on your shoulder.

“We’ve done it here before.” He says in response, lips suckling on your neck as you laugh, gently prying him away from you.

“Yeah, when we weren’t at a business party with your father here.” Rafe then stands to his full height, his jaw ticking and your stomach immediately drops at the quick shift in demeanour.

“My father’s never seemed to bother you before.” He says, referring to the abundant amount of times the two of you have fucked in the house while Ward was just downstairs.

You sigh softly, “We’re at a business party, baby, I promise when we get home-“

Rafe withdraws his hands from you and runs one through his bangs, “Whatever.” He mutters, moving swiftly toward the bathroom door as you reach out for him.

“Rafe, talk to me, what’s wrong?” The boy in question turn his head and rolls his eyes.

“What’s wrong is my girl is more interested in my father than me.” He says simply, shrugging as he goes “I didn’t even wanna fuck anyway, you make it to much work.”

And like a child who’d been refused his favourite toy, Rafe leaves you stood there swallowing the all too familiar lump in your throat.

No, it's back and forth, did I say something wrong?

It's back and forth, goin' over everything I said

It's back and forth, did I do something wrong?

It's back and forth, maybe this is all your fault

Instead it's one step forward and three steps back

Rafe had been giving you the silent treatment since you’d gotten to Tanny hill, only exchanging a grunt in response to you when you placed a kiss to his head as you sat beside him.

Your mind was raking over whatever it is you’d done wrong as you sit on his bed, anxiously waiting for him to come off of the phone to see if he’d talk to you.

You’d be a fool to yourself if you said this wasn’t a regular occurrence, Rafe constantly gave you the silent treatment in response to something.

And then he’d act like you were stupid for thinking such things.

You’re mind couldn’t pin point a thing you’d done wrong nor could it pin point anything you’d said wrong.

You should know by now that this is Rafe’s way, when he’s annoyed at everyone else he takes it out on you. When he doesn’t want to face his own emotions he pushed them onto you so you can face them. Like his own personal punching bag, you should know it’s not your fault yet you feel like it is every time.

When Rafe re emerges from the balcony, he lies down on the bed beside you as you remain sat up trying to find the courage to ask him the question that often leads to him essentially biting your head off.

“Are you mad at me?” You blurt out, turning to look at Rafe who sighs loudly in annoyance.

“Not this shit again.” He groans, rubbing a hand over his face as you fiddle with your fingers.

“I- you just seem quiet today s’all.” You point out and you can predict Rafe’s response before he even says it.

“What? I can’t be quiet now? It’s all good when you wanna be quiet but when it’s me I’m suddenly mad at you?” He asks rhetorically as you shrug half heartedly, avoiding his gaze as he sighs again bringing himself to a sitting position as he places his chin on your shoulder.

“Stop asking me stupid shit, a’ight?” He says and all you can do is nod numbly.

And I'd leave you, but the roller coaster is all I've ever had

As youre walking out of Tanny Hill, face wet with tears due to another screaming match with Rafe, a voice calls out your name from behind you.

You’re quick to wipe your cheeks when you realise it isn’t Rafe, it’s Sarah.

You turn, forcing a smile onto your face as she approaches you, and by the look on her face you know she heard.

“Hey Sare, everything good?” You ask, voice hoarse due to the amount of shouting and crying you’d done.

“I should ask you that, are you okay?” She says softly, brown eyes so kind that your heart nearly breaks to think of how much anger her brother’s blue ones hold.

“You heard, huh?” You ask, watching as she nods, “Look, he- he’s just had a long day and-“

“Y/n, he’s always either had a long day or he’s had a fight with our dad, that doesn’t justify the way he treats you.” She states, deja vu hitting you remembering the similar conversation the two of you had but in that conversation she’d been cautious with what she’d said to you but it was obvious now that caution had gone out of the window.

You stand silently, biting your lip as you look at your former friend “But he loves me.” You whisper, as if that justifies anything.

Sarah’s face breaks out in so much empathy that you swear you can hear both of your hearts break, “Love isn’t supposed to be that hard.” She says and you suck in a harsh breath, “He does love you but…not in the way you deserve.”

Tears roll down your cheeks once more as you respond, “How am I supposed to know what I deserve? I’ve never known anyone else’s love apart from his.”

Sarah immediately brings you into her arms, hugging you so tightly that you have no choice but to let yourself fall into the embrace.

Yeah, it's one step forward and three steps back

Do you love me, want me, hate me? Boy

I don't understand

You and Rafe sit silently together at one of Rose’s infamous parties, your eyes trained intently on both Sarah and John B as the Routledge boy spins her around whilst watching her with such a lovesick expression that it makes your stomach churn.

You don’t think Rafe has ever looked at you in such a way.

Not even Ward argued with the fact that Sarah was dating a Pogue, JB was so fiercely in love with his daughter that everyone with eyes could see it. He worshipped the ground she walked on making you come to realisation that Rafe had never been that way with you.

Your head turns to said boy as you speak up, “Do you love me?” You ask, making Rafe slowly turn his head toward you in return, the motion slow due to how high he is.

You don’t think he’s been sober properly since you got together, and you know he won’t be sober any time soon.

You’d helped him in every way you could, he threw it all back into your face.

He needed to figure his shit out for himself now.

“You really asking me stupid shit again?” He asks harshly, yet this time, you don’t waver in your response and you chose to ignore the lump in your throat.

“It’s a simple question, Rafe.” You state calmly, eyes twinkling with such a small amount of hope for whatever thread is hanging on in yours and Rafe’s relationship.

Rafe simply stares at you, as though he can’t bring himself to say the words he’s always eager to say when he wants to get you into bed.

You nod, hope dying out as the thread finally snaps and you unlatch the necklace he’d given you, signifying you breaking free of the prison he’d had you in for over a year.

“I hope you get better Rafe, but I don’t think you’re ever going to do that when you’re with me, I don’t want to be the thing that takes on all your shitty emotions…you need to face them for yourself.” You say, gently prying apart his clenched palm and placing the necklace there before you stand up.

Rafe is quick to follow, calling out for you as you walk away, ignoring the multiple gazes on you and the attention drawn toward you at Rafe’s desperate shouts.

Somewhere in the crowd, Sarah and John B watch with small smiles, happy you’d finally made the first step for yourself.

No, I don't understand

Two weeks later and you’re sat on the front porch at the Chateau, hair flowing softly in the morning breeze as you watch the sunrise.

Rafe had been non stop texting you during the duration of your split, words of love and hatred that you still couldn’t begin to understand no matter how hard you tried.

You did come to the realisation that he’d never even allowed you to understand him, despite how hard you’d tried.

He’d attempted to come to your house but you’d made the wise decision to crash at John B’s, rekindling your friendship with the Pogues as they welcomed you with open arms. Eyes filled with immense guilt for not realising how bad things had gotten with you and Rafe but also with so much love that you’d felt overwhelmed, you didn’t realise such love still existed.

You smile softly to yourself, eyes dancing over the colours coating the sky and you decided things would be okay.

You’d be okay.

[pablitogavii]

Her bikini

This being the first summer Gavi was taken, he was not caring about PDA at all giving all his affection to you.

Every picture paparazzi took inspired him to be even more touchy and show the whole world that Pablo Gavi is madly in love with a goddess.

“Amor..they’re hiding in the bushes” you say laying on the towel while Pablo was applying some tanning lotion on your back spending quite a few minutes on your butt.

“Let them see Princesa..I’m obsessed with our summer pictures” he said and you blushed hard as he leaned down and kissed your ass cheek shamelessly. You were both crazy..

As it was getting hot outside, he invited you to go swim together and you gladly agreed walking hand in hand towards the see.

“Aii cold water “ you said giving your boyfriend perfect idea as he grabbed your legs making them snake around his waist as he went inside making you scream and giggle afterwards.

“Estas loco Gavitoo” you say moving his wet hair from his face and he leans in for a sweet kiss on your lips.

“Loco por ti..que ricaaa” he said biting your lower lips and smirked knowing what that was doing to you right now.

“Stop torturing me amore” you whine and he kissed your neck before pulling away and winking letting you go so you can swim around together for awhile.

After getting out you wanted to shower and get salt out of your hair cause it always tangles. Gavi saw you walking towards it and swung you off your feet carrying you there.

“You just can’t be without me amore huh?” You tease as you both went under the shower giggling.

“Guilty..besame” he said kissing you while water cascaded over your tan hot bodies. Your hand caressed his hair(gif) while he kissed you having to pull away because you were not alone..and he needed to keep it pg in public.

“You’re right amor this is torture, let’s go back to our room..” he whispered and you giggled telling him to be a little patient and that you wanted to tan some more. He groaned slapping your ass as you walked past him.

While you were tanning, Gavi noticed some boys walking around seeing them eyeing your butt. That made you boy sit besides you on the sand pulling your swimsuit down.

“Que haces amor???” You look aside and he shrugged as you noticed the same boys clearly still looking.

You were uncomfortable so you stood up moving towards your boyfriend and straddling his lap. His hand covered your butt and you smiled laying your head on his shoulder.

“ Hmm I don’t like it either amor..” you whisper feeling him kiss your neck while squeezing your ass making be stupid boys finally look away.

“Hmm toda miaaa” he said and you blushed nodding your head kissing his lips passionately.

“Tuya amor” you whisper as he stood up carrying you in one hand and bag in another. You quickly came home after that.

“They kept staring at you culito mi vida..but only I can touch it like this..and spank it..hmm and bite it..aii que rica” he said biting your skin and you whined pulling onto his shirt as you both ended up on bed naked in each others arms.

“Aii porfavor Pablito..make me your good girl again” you moaned while he kissed your breast sucking on them and sending your mind into frenzy. Fuck he was good at this!!!

“ you’re my best girl..you sitting on my lap when you saw them looking..hmm chica tan buena deserves a good reward” he said slowly lucky around your sensitive core while you moaned when his tongue finally found your aching area.

“PABLO!” You were whining mess not caring how loud you were in that moment since you were chasing your high when he pulled away and sushed you with his lips.

“Shh mi amor..” he said before slowly slipping inside you and making your back arch. His strokes were driving you mad as he pulled on your hair and you both moaned loudly.

“Si…si I’m gonna..” you moaned as you both came undone moaning each others name loudly. You held onto each other for the rest of the night before falling asleep peacefully in each others arms

The next morning, Pablo walked in the room with breakfast in his hands and blushed cheeks as you were still naked in bed waiting for him.

“Amor..look at this” he said giving you a note

“Keep it down love birds ;)” and you were now a blushing mess too…you two were really crazy!!