#i don't get pressed when it's my fault

[sylvieons]

I'm on two medications that make it dangerous for me to get overheated so in response I completely ignore this and get overheated anyway but every time I do I'm like….ohhh you fool……never again……….

And I look like an idiot, because last time it was at the gym, and the first physical symptom I get that something is wrong is abdominal cramps, like it literally feels like menstrual cramps, and it gets worse and worse and the only way to stop it is to drink a ton of water and get some electrolytes because I'm fucking up my lithium levels and since I don't have any electrolytes I just crawl up to the little smoothie bar they have there and ask for salt packets which I just dump into my mouth and crunch on. 0/10 don't recommend.

I'm gonna keep doing it tho

[neverendingford]

.

[luvcaleb]

I'LL BE GENTLE.

nsfw (18+). includes first time, virginity loss, unprotected sex, porn with feelings, caleb is a virgin loser who pretends he's a sex god but is actually ready to cum the moment he slides it in, cunnilingulus, lots of nicknames, belly bulge because caleb is huge, creampie (because i firmly believe he's into breeding). likes and reblogs will be very helpful !!

”Hng... is it all in yet?”

The question almost sounds silly, reminiscent of the times you went on trips with Caleb and you'd ask him if you were there yet every five minutes. But you can't laugh now because you feel like your body's about to split apart, filled to the brim as Caleb breaches your cunt as slowly as he can manage.

He's gripping each side of your waist, his restraint felt through the faint trembling of his fingers. Be patient, he chants in his mind, sweat dripping down his temples. If you're not careful, you're going to hurt her.

But all that leaves his mouth is, “Just half. You're too tight, pipsqueak. Feels like you're about to cut my dick off.”

“Half?!” you exclaim in disbelief. You do know for a fact that Caleb is quite... big. Not that you have a frame of reference — this is the first time you've seen one, most definitely the first time you've ever taken one, but knowing you only have half inside you when you feel full is. Kind of making you crazy. Just a bit.

You hit him in the chest with a loose fist. “This is your fault. You're too big.”

Caleb laughs weakly, sounding like the wind is knocked out of him. “You're blaming me for something I can't control now?”

“Yes, I am. How do you even— walk around with that thing? I don't think that's a normal size.” You're blabbering. All you've said thus far is probably the most unsexy thing Caleb's ever heard, nothing like the dirty talk in the porn DVDs under Caleb's childhood bed that he insists were from his high school friends and he didn't watch any of it.

Even so, the desire in Caleb's eyes doesn't dwindle. He leans down to caress your cheek, the softness in his expression making your heart race. “Well, too bad. This is the only one you're getting.” He traces the line of your jaw, peppering kisses over the column of your neck. “You can't do this with anyone but me, right?”

It isn't a question, and Caleb certainly won't take no for an answer.

“...Caleb, you say the craziest things someti— ?!” You squeak as Caleb starts rubbing your clit in tight circles, sucking new marks onto your collarbone. You loosely grasp his flicking wrist, conflicted between pushing his hand away or pulling it closer. “Don't— do that so suddenly— ah!”

“I know you can take me in. You just have to try harder,” he murmurs to your skin, feeling your walls spasm around his cock with every flick of his fingers. Watery noises soon follow his motions, embarrassingly audible along with the whimpers you try and fail to hide. His heart squeezes in his chest when you hold onto his back tighter, letting out small ‘ah-ah-ah’s that send heat directly to his cock.

“Caleb...” you mutter weakly, dazed eyes staring at the ceiling. “Caleb...!” you gasp with more urgency when he changes the rhythm, rubbing faster as he slowly slides another inch inside your pussy.

“Just a bit more, baby...” Caleb hisses as you engulf him in your warmth, walls clenching around him wetly. “Yeah, that's it... just like that... mn, good girl...”

Finally, you feel his pelvis press against your skin, the entirety of his thick cock inside you. You let out a shuddering breath, fingers running through Caleb's sweat-matted hair, attempting to adjust to the new sensation of fullness.

The feeling of being full is indescribable; it feels new, perhaps a bit uncomfortable, and yet it's also fulfilling, knowing you're connected with the person you've always longed for in the most intimate way possible.

Caleb's panting with the exertion of holding back, his hand cupping your cheek, tenderly swiping over the soft skin with his thumb. “Do you feel any pain?”

You shake your head, leaning to his warm palm. “No, I just feel... a lot right now.”

Caleb smiles in relief, pecks a kiss on your forehead, and sucks in a breath when his gaze trails lower on your body. His hand on your waist moves to splay on your stomach, the direct pressure evoking a sharp “ah!” out of your lips.

“N... no way...” you stare at the faint bulge in both mortification and arousal. “Is that— your—”

Your stomach is... not supposed to look like that. It isn't, right? But Caleb is looking at you with such awe and wonder, tracing the highest point of the bulge on your stomach, the tendrils of desire swirling in his gaze darkening further.

Slowly, Caleb pulls out until only the tip remains inside, and you watch as your stomach flattens with his movement. “Fuck,” he says with feeling. “Please tell me I can move.”

No, you can't, you want to say. Just the sight of him filling you up — in the literal sense of the word — is overwhelming. But you know Caleb is holding back for your sake. Always has been.

Has held back probably before you could even remember, playing the role of an older brother figure looking out for his reckless sister to suppress the feelings he's long learned to ignore. Has held back every time a boy looked at you with lovestruck eyes in high school, staring at the love letter on your desk but never commenting on it. Has held back whenever you told him you were going to a mixer your friends cajoled you into joining, zipping up your dress for the night and reminding you to call him when you were done so he could come pick you up.

He has been holding back even just a while ago, patiently stretching you open with his fingers as he kissed away the apprehension in your eyes, often asking you if it hurt and if you wanted to stop. And if you said yes, he really would; he'd wash you up, carry you to the dining table, and cook up a midnight snack for you before cuddling to sleep. You know that because Caleb would do anything for you.

So now, with the veins on his arms pronounced from the strain of gripping the sheets, his eyes attentively looking at your expression for any signs of pain, you can only say one thing. You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him down to give him a chaste kiss on the lips.

“Fuck me, Caleb.”

There's a hitch of a breath. And then he slides home.

Each thrust of his hips is pronounced with wet plaps, obscenely loud while slick dribbles out of your cunt, pooling into the sheets beneath you. His cock is covered in your arousal, glistening in your wetness, and he pounds into you again and again, watching your cunt cling to him every time he pulls out.

“You seriously...” Caleb groans, his loving gaze tinted with hungry desire. A delighted thrill runs through him each time you call his name sweetly, nails raking down lines on his back, the cutest noises leaving your mouth. “I wanted to treat you gently, but I can't hold back if you say it like that.”

He's dreamed of this for a long time, as far back as a teenager hitting puberty. The prettiest girl on his bed, disheveled by his doing, clinging around him as he pounds her to the mattress, able to take her however he wants and allowed to whisper the overflowing affection he feels without needing to hide it anymore.

It was once a fleeting dream. Just something he knows will never come true, so long as your relationship doesn't change. At one point, your relationship even almost seemed irreparable.

But you stubbornly pulled him back to you. Even when it hurt you. Even when he was content to look after you from a distance. Even when he accepted that no matter how much he wanted you, his love would never mean anything if you didn't love him back.

But you allowed him this much. You allowed him to be in such close proximity, to shower you with affectionate kisses, to lick up your tears. You gave yourself to him, your firsts, your heart, your love.

It's more than he ever hoped for.

“Mine...” he mumbles to himself, kissing at every expanse of skin he can reach. “You're really mine...”

Caleb's hands roam over your curves, caressing your body with care, plucking away at all your sensitive spots. A smattering of red marks appear with every press of his lips, and he never gets enough of seeing them bloom.

“C-Caleb, don't suck there... Everyone's going to see them,” you whine, trembling with the pleasure. His hips never stop driving forward, aimed at the spot that makes your toes curl, your walls squeezing down on him. It's hot, wet, and so damn good to feel you gushing around him, soaked in your warmth.

“Let them see.” He sucks another mark beneath your jaw. Satisfaction curls deep in his chest when he thinks how it'll peek through the collar of your hunter's uniform. “It'll drive away the pests.”

It's not something he'd say on an ordinary day. But restraint slips from his fingers each time you indulge him, and this time is no different.

“Ah, mmh, haa...!”

“Does it feel good when I thrust shallowly like this?” He presses insistently against a spot that has you writhing, clawing at his back. “Or you like being fucked deep?”

He sheathes himself in one go, the sound of his balls smacking against your ass absolutely filthy. Squealing, you cream around him, fresh spurts of slick soaking his cock. “Fuck,” you gasp, grasping at his broad shoulders for purchase.

Caleb grins. “Yeah,” he breathes out, feeling your wetness drip down his thighs, “that's what I thought.” And he does it again.

Plap, plap, plap. The slap of skin on skin continues to ring out, each time wetter than the last. You're trying to bury yourself under the covers, but Caleb certainly doesn't mind the mess. Revels in it, even, watching the glistening slick coat him further.

“Come on, now, don't hide your face,” he coos, picking up the blanket you've taken to hiding your face with. “I want to see you.”

“Mmgh... no way...” your voice is trembling, teary eyes looking up at him in a show of upset. “I'm— ah— making a weird face right now...!”

“No, you're not.” He presses a kiss on your forehead. Your closed eyes. The tip of your nose. “You're so cute. The most gorgeous woman I've ever laid eyes on. So don't try to hide, yeah? Let me see you.”

“Ah, hn, Caleb, that's— !”

“Feels good here?”

“Yes, yes, right there! Ohh...”

Caleb groans, “You just squeezed me so tight.” He licks a stripe up the valley of your breasts, tongue swirling around a nipple, all the while never leaving his eyes on your pleasured expression. When he grinds against a spongy spot, you jolt underneath him, a loud cry of his name spilling from your lips.

So cute so cute so cute, the desperate chant in his mind continues to say, his hips tirelessly driving forward to plunge into your warmth. You sound so sweet, gasping and moaning uncontrollably, crying out for his cock.

“Caleb,” you sob, trying to string together a coherent thought. “Is it just me or, mmph, you became even bigger?”

Caleb laughs, almost apologetic. A peck lands on your jaw. “Sorry, sweetheart. I can't help it.”

You hit your fist on his back. “Help it! I think I'll split into two if there's even just an extra centimeter in me...!”

“Even if you tell me that much...” he hisses through gritted teeth, trying to keep his head clear in spite of your walls spasming against him, hot and wet and so slick he hears every move he makes. “Mm, fuck... You feel too good inside, baby... I've been trying not to cum since we started...”

He buries his face to your neck, breathing in your scent. You shiver, his warm breath tickling your skin, thrusts slowing but hitting deep all the same. “A-are you close, Caleb?”

“I'm doing all I can so I won't be, pips.”

“Well, I...” you swallow, weaving your fingers through his hair. “I don't mind if you... cum first.”

“No.” His hands find your thighs, gripping at the soft flesh to spread your legs wider. Your folds are an enticing color, sucking around his cock, and he has to bite his lip to avoid letting out a pathetic moan. “This night is about you. I want to make you feel good.”

He sits up, and you almost protest when he pulls out, the gaping emptiness nearly leaving you cold. “Wait—”

“Shh,” Caleb leans down, hooking your legs over his broad shoulders. “Leave everything to me.”

He pools saliva at the tip of his tongue, letting it drip down your cunt. He smears it messily around your clit with his thumb, rubbing and prodding, watching your face twist in pleasure with a hooded gaze.

“Caleb, you— haa!”

Whatever you're about to say is interrupted by a scream when Caleb begins to lick, his tongue lapping at your pussy almost hungrily. He swirls it around your little bud, encloses it around with his lips to suck. You begin pulling his hair when he dips his tongue inside your hole, drinking up the juices that overflow and drip down his chin.

Caleb has never looked so disheveled before, sweat dotting his skin and almost looking feverish. He looks drunk between your legs, utterly intoxicated by your taste, lapping up everything he can collect on his tongue. He doesn't mind suffocating like this, his nose buried in your scent, sucking your essence. He certainly doesn't mind it when you start grinding on his face, pulling him even closer, nearly leaving him with no room to breathe. His cock feels close to bursting at the sounds you make alone.

“Ohh, that feels so good, Caleb! Mm...!”

“Shit, you really like this, huh...”

Caleb doubles his efforts, plunging his fingers into your cunt alongside his tongue. He spreads your hole, digs his digits deep, thoroughly pleased when your wetness never stops leaking. It just keeps coming out, soaking his fingers and the bottom half of his face.

“Caleb, I'm close,” you whine as you shake, hips grinding back to his skilled mouth, “I'm gonna cum, I'm gonna cum, cumming—”

You moan high and reedy, back arching as you lose yourself to the pleasure. Yet at the first spurt of cum that lands on his tongue, Caleb quickly sits up and pulls out his fingers.

He pins your legs to the mattress and thrusts back inside in one go, your pussy still spasming from cumming.

“Fuck!” you scream, nails scratching down his back. “Wait, I'm still cumming! I just came!”

Caleb doesn't stop, fucking his cock deeper with each splash of your cum soaking his skin. “You're so fucking tight when you cum, fuuuck...” he hisses, hastening his thrusts, hips having a mind of their own. Everything feels so good that his mind is getting dumbed down from your delicious warmth. “Baby, give me one more, I have to feel you cumming around me.”

He pounds you to the mattress relentlessly, every trace of restraint gone in his body. The only thing in his brain is the single-minded focus of making you cum again, pulling out more sweet noises from your mouth. He delights in each spurt of arousal that comes out when he presses against a good spot, and he knows it's good because you squeeze around him so nicely.

“It feels so good,” you sob to his shoulder. “Caleb, ohh, ahn!”

“Feels good for me too, princess. You're perfect, fuck!” Caleb snaps his hips, almost reaching completion. “I'm gonna cum soon. Where do you want it, princess? Where do you want me to cum?”

You wrap your legs around his waist, causing him to slide even deeper inside you. “Inside! Cum inside!”

He swears under his breath, cock pulsing. His hand travels south to toy with your clit again, rubbing incessantly to make you cum faster. Clear liquid squirts out of your cunt and he fucks you through it sloppy, holding your legs steady while you writhe from the overstimulation.

“I'm going to cum inside you, baby.” With one last thrust, he stills inside your cunt, releasing his cum deep inside. “Ohh, princess, I'm cumming— take every last drop, fuck, shit—”

He crushes you to the mattress, squeezing you in his arms as his cock shoots out strings of cum. “You did so well,” he murmurs, kissing everywhere he can reach. You lean more to his touch, tired yet fulfilled. “Sorry, that was too much, wasn't it? Does your body hurt?”

“I'm fine...” you wince when you feel cum drip out of your cunt at the slightest shift of position. “...Caleb.”

He's still kissing you all over your face, hands cupping your cheeks. “Hm?”

“You're still hard.”

Another kiss on your brow. “Don't mind it, princess. I'll handle it myself.”

“Oh...” you fiddle with the tag on his necklace, gnawing on your lip. “I was going to say I could help out.”

“...”

“Caleb? ...Did you just cum a little?”

“No, fuck, just— come here.”

[nanamiskentos]

WHAT HAPPENS IN THE PRISON REALM STAYS IN THE PRISON REALM ! ★ gojo satoru

prologue ⋆ ★ just your luck, getting sealed in the prison realm with the strongest sorcerer of this day and age. well, he's typically the strongest. unless it comes to you.

pairing ⋆ ★ gojo satoru x reader genre tags & warnings ⋆ ★ afab!reader, sorta crack 😭 — use of blindfold, incorrect use of jujutsu, óral (f), pànty-fúcking, desperate and FERAL gojo, màting press, brééding, cérvix kissin' and creàmpiés lmfao, óverstim...

word count ⋆ ★ 4.7k! a/n ⋆ ★ gorgeous art by the amazing @baobei-bu 💖 highly recommend checking out their twt 🤭

"are you in the prison realm because ya' got sealed, or did you get sealed because you ended up in the prison realm?"

you grind tired molars together, willing your hands to stay put instead of wrapping around gojo satoru's wretched neck, "the fuck are you talkin' about?"

gojo just clicks his tongue lazily, sprawled out on the unsettling, clattering bones of the prison realm, "jus' musing. it's getting real existential here."

"it's been, what, two hours? and you're already losing it." you wrap your arms tightly around your knees, pulling them to your chest in some effort to combat the cool chill of this...prison. "you realise that this is literally all your fault though, right?"

gojo's eyes flutter open, sky-blue hues that glint with outrage, "what?" he's squawking, undignified, "don't start this again."

"oh, i will," you're jabbing a finger towards him, scowling, "i didn't have any beef with geto. not even after he went off the rails with all that murder shit. didn't do a damn thing to get stuck in here as well."

"oi," a shadow flickers over gojo's face, "whatever that thing is, it's not suguru. y'don't gotta' trust me on much else, but trust me on that."

eyes narrowing, you catch some truth in the sorcerer's defensive tone. whatever. not your circus, not your monkeys. you know better than to pick at gojo satoru's old wounds, "whatever, it's got his face. and you had one job last year when —"

gojo interrupts you with a faux, hacking cough that quickly melts into a groan. throwing his head back as though your tirade is a mere inconvenience, or a tiresome lecture. arms stretching upwards, long limbs unfolding as he arches his back.

phew. a sliver of pale skin peeks out from underneath the dark uniform of his jacket, smooth and taut over slabs of toned muscle, flashing just long enough to derail your thoughts.

"heh. no lookin', pretty," gojo snickers with half-lidded eyes, "what if i'm shy?"

a skull's clattering against the floor as you wrap your hands around rough bone, chucking it at gojo with all the force you can master. he's dodging it effortlessly, ugh. of course.

you don't hate gojo satoru. in fact, it would be a bold-faced lie to claim even a shred of dislike. far from it. your co-worker is...bearable in some circumstances, and it doesn't hurt that he's awfully easy on the eyes.

but nowhere in your grand master plan to bag the strongest sorcerer of the modern age did you imagine being sealed with him. there's a faint worry in the back of your head, wondering just how badly the world is falling apart outside. what, with that geto look-alike still running amok. tokyo? in flames. shibuya? well, you hope it's not rubble.

but it's hard to focus when gojo lounges in front of you, long legs stretched out and muscular thighs spread obnoxiously wide. he's absently tracing patterns on the eerie bones, "wanna' play rock-paper-scissors again?" sounding oddly chipper despite the dire fate of the world teetering on a knife's edge.

"we already did that. and you cheated."

"did not," gojo drawls, blue eyes disappearing to the back of his eyes in mock offense, "yer' just a sore loser."

a beat of silence, and then, "how about i spy?"

you raise a brow, glancing around at your five-star accomadation. the infinite expanse of dull bones and dismembered skulls, "fine. i spy with my little eye...an endless pile of bones. and an overgrown furby sitting right in front of me."

gojo whistles, low as he scrunches up his blindfold, tossing the black silk at you, "touché," head leaning back, groaning, "i'm jus' so bored."

"hah. if you were in here alone, you'd go mad," you mutter, scooching just a bit closer without thinking. this prison realm seems colder than it should be, and it's better to stay close for warmth, right? yeah. right, that's exactly what you tell yourself.

"probably. but it's not like we can crack this stupid place," gojo scowls, "trust me, spent the first hour givin' it my all. wasn't exactly expecting it either."

"yeah, i know," you sigh, avoiding the bright cerulean gaze that's currently resting on you, almost as though it's determined to take in the sight of you, "time doesn't pass in here, right? we're gonna' have to think of something."

the corner of gojo's mouth twitch, candy-pink lines curling up, "time stands still," and then, the man's giving you an odd, focused look that's almost sheepish, "besides, you're in here too, so i can't — y'know."

"you can't what?"

gojo snickers, whistling as he makes a quick, pumping motion over his abdomen, jerking his hand up and down, "you know."

you gape at the white-haired man, the sudden thump-thump of your heart rattling in your chest. it's ringing in your ears, "you're shameless," you mutter, dragging your gaze anywhere but him. the floor, the ceiling of this accursed place, anywhere but the faint amusement painting gojo's face.

"i never skip arm day."

you make a face, a faux-grimace, wondering how on earth you're attracted to this man. a charade and a pretense that you're keeping for yourself, because your neck is burning and heat creeps up your skin like a slow, curling flame. oh, you're a lost cause.

the laughter's melted from gojo's face, and the teasing spark in his eyes has given way to something suddenly more embarrassed, and flushed. expectant even, as there's a dusting of pink suddenly mottled on his cheekbones.

your gaze drops to his lap, mouth going a tad dry at the sudden, thick curve straining against his pants, "oh, y'serious. i mean, really, now? here?"

gojo scrambles backwards suddenly, folding his long legs beneath him like a panicked deer caught in the headlights, "hey. okay, wait! 'm stuck in here w'you and you're always looking so pretty and — don't make that face, hear me out." his ears are tipped with pink, just as obvious as the flush climbing up his neck, "and you're sitting so close, what am i meant to do? 'm only a simple man, sweetheart."

you swallow, as though there's a rough cotton ball caught in your throat, "this is really how you wanna' pass the time? i mean, we got eternity in here."

gojo's lips curl up again, maddening and cocky, as though he already knows the crass scenarios passing through your head, but theres a softer flash of vulnerability in his eyes. his gaze drops to your mouth, darkening with an expression that you've never seen on him before, "who's gonna know?"

your resolve snaps, and with it, all thoughts of the outside world. fuck it.

you're clambering forward, a sudden urge of want pushing you into his wide lap. not even giving him a chance to jest, and tease, or to say one more insufferable thing. your hands balance on gojo's broad shoulders for balance, pressing your mouth to his.

it's firm and certain, tasting the heat of his surprise and the faintest laugh that dies between you. you can taste something else as well, like cool and sweet mint. and blood, still hot and rearing from earlier fights.

gojo makes a muffled sound, somewhere between a gasp and a heady groan, and his hands suddenly come alive, rough palms sliding around your waist, pulling you so much closer. like he's holding a dream that might still disappear.

"heh, someone's just as needy," gojo murmurs, teeth grazing against the hot shell of your ear. the large expanse of his palm grazes at your chest, and a moan falls from your lips, arching your back into his touch, "s-shut up. i wasn't the one who h-had their legs spread, waiting for someone to climb on."

your groan leads gojo to make a sound like he's been wounded, desperate and tight against your skin. glossy mouth pressing at the curve of your throat, as fangs nip into the thin skin. leaving marks, this you know. cool hands slide under the hem of your own uniform, brushing gently over bare skin as his lips continue to chase your own.

sucking, and nipping at wherever his teeth can find, gojo's tugging at your top, pulling it off so you have little choice but to curl into him from the cold. chilled air hitting your bare skin, as he laughs, "aw, cold got to ya', eh? 's not to worry, i'll keep you nice and warm."

blue eyes that glow practically trained on the soft swell of your chest, reverent as though he had all the time in the world to take you in. which, at this point, gojo did. slicked lips pressing a gentle kiss to your cupped chest, white strands of hair falling over his face as he buries himself in, "i can take this off, right?" voice raspier, like rock against stone, in a lower register than you've ever heard it.

"wan' you too," you rock your hips sharper this time, more insistent, agains the hard bulge straining against his pants, "no-one's gonna' see, right?"

gojo's fingers deftly unclasp the hook, "hah, if they do, i'd rip their eyes out, can't have anyone else lookin' at m'girl like that," the strongest sorcerer in the world's gently peeling the fabric away. leaning in to kiss you again as though he's entirely drunk on the taste of you, and only you.

pale lips curling around your pert bud, hands softly pawing at your breasts as you gasp, and writhe, suddenly far more sensitive with each second that passes of gojo's attentive ministrations, "s-satoru, 'm feeling so —"

"so, what?" gojo grins, sucking a violet bruise right over your breasts, white lashes fluttering up to look at you, "yer' looking just as ruined as me, pretty."

"take them off," it's more of an order on your end, but gojo complies and he seems to know exactly what you want, exactly what you're talking about, as his hands dip to the waistband of your pants, long fingers pushing over your hips to centre themselves right where you're getting desperate for him.

"i've got ya', just carefully, yeah, lean back," he's flipping the two of you over, so he's leaning over you now, gently resting you on your discarded jacket, "heh, 'm just gonna' — yeah, there we go," hands pulling at your pants until he's tugged them off you, and gojo's eyes are wide at the sight of your drenched panties.

if you thought gojo satoru looked needy and whiny before, nothing prepares you for the sight of him gnawing at his glossy lower lip, eyes aglow as he seems to shudder, "wan' me to put the blindfold on ya', sweetheart? think we could have a lotta' fun like that, only if that's what y'want."

you eye the black silk that he discarded and tossed at you, not so long ago, pawing and reaching for it as gojo chuckles, "ohh, atta' girl, y'not gonna' need to do anything, but just lay back and use ya' words."

the snowy-haired man's surprisingly soft with it, pressing a tender kiss to your waiting lips, as he loops the fold over your eyes, obscuring your vision, "gojo's right here for ya', just relax."

you can hear the sharp hitch rock his breath, his hand mildly pressed onto your thighs as he gently nudges your thighs apart, and you can feel the chill of the air sting at your hot, sopping folds.

"s-so pretty," the strongest is slurring his words, "yer' practically dripping onto my hand and i've barely touched her. barely even gotten a good, fuck, a good taste."

"i know we're meant'ta be getting outta' this place," gojo murmurs, breath hot against your slicked panties, "but i really would lose my mind if i didn't get to do this first."

'this' being gojo pressing a quick kiss to the soaked fabric, and you can feel him smile against your thigh as you whine at the sensation, with each movement being so much more electric and heightened with the blindfold covering your vision.

"heyyy," gojo mutters, feeling at your thighs clench and kick, "no need to get antsy, 'm right here." tongue ghosting and teasing at your cunt again, "pretty thing, isn't she?"

rrrrrrip!

the way gojo's been pawing at you, you should have guessed that he was forgetting that the prison realm did not have an unlimited supply of undergarments, and that damp and muffled screech all but confirms it. he's torn your panties off, and you can't see where he's got them now.

but you can guess. for you can hear laboured breathing, and whiny praises falling from gojo's lips, and the sound of a buckle being undone. gojo's leaning back up to kiss you now, to nip and suckle at your lower lip while his hand tugs continuously at something. you can't see it, but you can feel the heavy, fat tip prod at your thighs. the sound of damp fabric being slapped against skin, plap over and over again.

"hahh, i don't think ya' know jus' how much i've wanted this, pretty," gojo breathes into your mouth, the other hand coming up to curl at the nape of your neck, loving even, "can ya' spread 'em a bit wider for me? that's it, just let me through."

he's now slotted between your thighs, large palms spreading you open as you can feel your panties still looped and dangling around his wrist, like the most lewd, keepsake cuff.

"satoru, wan' you to just — oh! oh, fuck!"

gojo's already dived right in, as though you were his last meal, swiping a tongue in quick stripes over your drooling cunt. starting near your glistening entrance, slowly climbing his way to the top where he presses gentle nips at your clit.

every single legible thought in your mind turns to a glorious mush, a senseless babble quickly falling from your lips as your hands shoot out, desperate for something to hold onto. finding the nape of gojo's neck, and curling your fingers into his pale hair as he licks at your soaked heat.

thick fingers are bruising at your hips, hooked and deeply pressed into your flesh, all the while gojo's practically making out with your cunt, primal and nasty. it's messy, absurdly so, and you can feel hot thwacks! of slick flying out against your thighs. you can only imagine how it's painting gojo's face, rendering him pussydrunk and so glossy and pretty.

"sweetheart, you're so sweet, ya' know that, right? so fuckin' sweet, heh, i mean, you don't even know how i've been dreaming of this, but now that you're here," gojo thumbs at your cunt, pushing slick-tacked folds apart to view his handiwork, "all spread so pretty for me, who woulda' thought?"

"m-more, please," you're practically mewling, jolting at the sensation of each sticky kiss that gojo plants on you, "more, fuck."

you can hear the crude smile in gojo's tone as he spits a thick glob onto your cunt, "what's the magic word, pretty?"

you don't even care to think, to pull a coherent sentence or plea from your mouth as he picks up the pace, "i d-don't know, satoru! but, god, fuck, fuck, please 'toru, i jus' —"

his grip on your hips tightens, "what?" a cutting, sharp sound as though he's been struck dumb, "what'd ya' just say, sweetheart?"

you don't even know how to form syllables now, such is the effect of gojo munching at your slick heat, "wanted more? huh, 'toru?" grinding your cunt against his face, rocking your hips sharply so you can feel the beakish point of his nose brush against your clit.

"toru, ya' called me," and you can hear the desperation and want painting gojo's words, drawing his voice out into a whine, "never thought hearing that from your lips would fuck w'me so much."

safe to say that gojo satoru would have a hard time letting go of you ever again. wind, hail, fire or prison realm — the strongest was going to have his way with you. his pretty girl, all spread pretty and dewy for him to feast on.

gojo's fingers are long, splitting you open as he begins to slide the digits right up into you. scissoring you open at a bullying pace, so you can only cry and squirm from where you are, "faster, f-fuck, your mouth too, 'toru!"

"whatever ya' want from me, 'm all yours to give," gojo murmurs, pressing a soft bite into the fat of your thighs, pushing his tongue into your entrance too, teasing at the outer edges of your gummy walls, "s'so tight, and 'm only using m'hands and this mouth," the tip of the muscle being sucked in by your pretty, sopping folds.

two lengthy fingers still pushing through your walls, exploring every crevice and sticky orifice that he can find, before rough pads brush past a spot that makes you scream, "oouh, m'girl's sensitive there?"

"s-satoru," you try to take in heavy swathes of air into your lungs, feeling much of the world fall away as gojo's nose grinds at your clit, each brush making you jerk your hips up and up, till you're seeing stars.

and oh, you're definitely seeing the whole damn night sky like this. you don't know what it is that he's doing, that sharp buzz faintly running in your ears, that faint crackle of energy that makes you jolt, but you can guess, "hah, 's not fair, using j-jujutsu, 'm gonna cum, m'really gonna cum!"

"now," it's a command, and you can hear it in gojo's ruined tone, that he needs to see you fall apart like this, needs to taste your release on his tongue and you writhe, as tears prick at your lashes underneath the blindfold, your orgasm washing over you in pulsing waves that leave you limp and boneless.

gojo's hands are trailing up again, leaning upwards to gently pull the blindfold from your eyes, and oh, what a sight! the white-haired man looks breathless, as though the air has been stolen away from him. eyes glowing with running cursed energy, a bright light in the dark that has your thighs clenching at how feral he looks. glossy lips dripping syrup over his chin, and how utterly pleased he looks.

"thereee you are," gojo murmurs, pressing his lips hotly to your own, "can ya' taste how sweet y'are?" each sticky kiss leaving you dizzy, but not as giddy as you feel when your eyes drop lower.

your panties still wrapped around his wrist, uniform sleeve pushed up so you can see where your slick has dampened the pale dusting of hair on his arm. and there, well, eyes on the prize as they say.

he's bigger than anyone else that you've ever seen. it seems fitting that gojo satoru's cock is just as girthy, and beefy as he is. curling upwards in a thick shaft that's kissing wet smears of fluid over his jacket, staining it.

"that's not gonna' fit," the only logical thing you can say right now, eyeing the pink, swollen head of his cock and how it glows.

the sorcerer's tilting his head, "we can make it fit," hand reaching out to run gentle strokes across your knuckle, "we got allll the time in the world to make it fit, don't we? and, heh, i don't think our audience really minds, do ya'?"

you scowl at the reminder of the clattering skulls still chittering away, mindlessly thrumming in the walls of this stupid cube. but you're never one to complain when faced with a site such as this, gojo wrapping long fingers against his cock to glide the head through your syrupy folds. the wide, throbbing head snagging at the sopping walls of your entrance. all while you pull him in closer, nails already beginning to tear lightly at his back.

"kiss m-me, 'toru."

gojo looks up from where he seems mesmerised, taken by the sight of your glossy folds seem to welcome his cock's touch, "what was that, sweetheart?"

"kiss me," you gasp, feeling him press further against you, the tip running circles right over your clit, "when ya' put it in, please."

despite the fact that he was previously nose-deep in your cunt, not five minutes ago, and the fact that he's been pawing your clothes off in a cursed prison realm with no shame, now it seems like you've truly stumped the man. rendered him speechless and flushed, as he ducks his head into the crook of your neck.

"awh," gojo murmurs, "pretty girl wants me kissin' her, fuck, ya' don't know what you're asking. or how much y'ruin me," he's taking your mouth into a heart stopping kiss, searing before he breaks away to press light pecks to the corner of your mouth, "hold on, biiig stretch for m'now, but i've got ya', just — ohhh."

gojo feels his own thoughts dissipate as he's pushing into your cunt. every previous subconscious worry of what on earth he had gotten himself (and you, when that fuck-ass clone showed up on the train platform) falling away as he's left with only you. just you, and this maddening cunt that he's ready to call home. forever.

"s-s-so tight," the strongest stutters, "fuck" his hands already pulling at your thighs to spread them wider, so he can bully more hot inches in, just so he can hear the smack! of skin against skin.

you're squealing, digging sharp tips of your nails into faint lines that are definitely gonna' paint his back, "eeh, it's b-big, 'toru." it feels like he's truly split you open, and well, fuck, you'd be lying if you said that you weren't pleased at how you finally got the strongest sorcerer spitting cuntstruck praises into your mouth.

you whimper, the sound falling softly from you as he bottoms out, and chuckles, swiping a slick thumb over your chin, "see? we really did it together, heh," like he's awarding you some participation in a teamwork exercise, "i'm all up in ya' and her," he's patting at your abdomen, right where you know there's a soft divot, a bulge that curls upwards.

the thick, hot tip of his cock pressing messy kisses to your inner walls, throbbing and pulsing. each vein bulging within you, "y'gonna cum in me, right, 'toru? gonna' finish right in —"

gojo stares at you, bewildered for a split second, like you've truly shocked him. blue eyes wide and expressionless for a second, before something far more pained crosses his face, tongue poking out of red, kiss-bitten lips.

"satoru?"

the strongest sorcerer snaps, pushing himself upwards, and dragging you up along side him, rough palms coming up to tug at your thighs, your calves. pulling them over his shoulders, a reverent kiss pressed to your ankle as gojo snarls, "ya' got no idea, do ya'? talkin' out of your slutty cunt, not even knowin' what you're doin' to me? huh?

gojo's now pressing down into you, with such force that it makes your thighs ache and smart, but you can't even bring yourself to care. practically folded in half neatly in a brutal mating press as his cock rummages inside you at a snappish, crazed pace. as though he's desperate to find where he can push into you the most, to have the leaky head kiss at the entrance of your womb.

and oh, gojo's enjoying the view. thinking that he's content with being faced with the bounce, and jolt of your chest against his, the way that your lips part and flutter around each muffled whine and cry of his name. the hazy glimmer that falls over your cockdrunk expression, like he's the only one for you. his own thighs ripple and bulge with each snap, cock pulsing into the depths of your core. kissing your cervix over and over in pleasurable stings.

"sweetheart, fuck," gojo's gasping, tugging at your lips. you don't miss crystalline droplets pooling on the edges of long, white lashes. the shuddering breaths that he takes into his lungs as you've practically snatched his mind and rationality away with the tight heat of your cunt, "n-never felt like this before. ya' drivin' me mad. fuck, fuck, oh, this pussy was jus' made for me, hah."

in the dim glow of this accursed place, the sheen of his eyes seems all the more intense. storm clouds gathering and parting all at once, striking electric sparks that leave you breathless. he's moving at a pace so feral that you can feel tight, heavy balls smack against your ass. desperate to empty themselves into you, just as you had begged.

"gonna' cum, pretty," gojo whines into your panting mouth, eyes fluttering shut as a tear or two streaks away from his waterline, "jus' snatching me so fuckin' tight."

you hammer your hips up to meet his, to feel that delicious tack of his sticky groin against yours, every kiss of pre-cum glistening in your cunt, "don't miss."

"when have i ever m — ohhh, fuck. fuck, 'm -"

yeah. you don't let him finish. clenching around him tight enough just to remind him who's got who wrapped around their finger. sending gojo hurtling towards a heart shattering climax, pumping every divot of your drooling pussy with shades of white and cream. endless streams of milky, translucent seed making its home deep within you. all while you cry out, harshly digging into his back and pulling the strands of his silver-streaked undercut.

"takin' it all, 'm pumping you s'full, sweetheart," gojo whines, mewling as he slaps a hand between you two, roughly pawing at your thigh to push your leg higher up with one hand, giving him enough space to rub tight, tremouring circles over your clit. slapping and sloshing the mess around even more as your mouth falls open.

he's still shooting into you, and you don't have to look down to predict the sticky, glossy mess that must be painted over your cunt now. right where gojo's hand must be dripping in your release, making you sink your teeth into the side of his neck. stars streaking across your vision as all goes black momentarily, but he doesn't let up on your poor, throbbing clit.

"hah, 'm so full, satoru," you groan out, pressing a limp hand to the bulge right over your groin, right where gojo's eyes are trained, his cock still sputtering out the desperate release of his cum into you, and the white-haired man moans. loud, like you've truly undone him.

the overstimulated sting is giving way to another shattering, sharp climax that washes over you once more, as quickly as it came, leaving your heart thumping and your lungs weak, locking your ankles once more around gojo's neck, wresting on his shoulders.

you limply paw at his jacket, tugging at the stiff collar as gojo sighs, content like a cat that's finally been able to bask in the sun, "feelin' more alert now, huh? got any fresh ideas on how to break this thing?"

gojo gives you a lazy, droopy look. eyes half-lidded as he barks a faint, incredulous laugh, "fucked any smart thoughts right outta' me, sweetheart. besides," and now he's flipping the two of you around again, so you're perched once more in his lap.

smacking and squelching in the pooling mess of your shared release, as gojo grunts, lifting the jacket from his torso. revealing an expanse of delicious washboard abs, and mouth-watering, flushed pectorals, "i don't think we're runnin' outta' time here, may as well make the most of it."

[poguehearted77]

Winter's Chance

Summary: It's Rafe's turn to have your son for the weekend, but it seems the weather wants you to spend the holidays together.

--Finally some Baby Daddy Rafe

With delicate rubs to your son's tummy, you desperately tried to get him to calm down with soft pleads and overeager soothing. He'd been fussing all day, so much that you'd called the doctor to make sure everything was okay.

They simply reassured you that it may just be a prolonged stage of fussiness. Most babies grow out of it around 4 months which is exactly where Max had just reached a few weeks ago.

Just when he was finally beginning to calm for a moment your ears are filled with the chime of your doorbell. Max picks up his crying as if he had never stopped. Your eyes roll, already knowing who is on the other side of the door.

You gently scooped him up to rest over your shoulder on top of the little binkie you tend to have thrown over your shoulder at all times for moments like this. He was cute, but the spit-up was never pretty and you were always prepared.

Opening the door from a distance you weren't expecting to see Rafe step in partially covered in snow. It distracted you momentarily before Max's cries cut through the shock.

"I know, I know." You whine, gently rocking him, backing away from the cold air that swept against your feet. "Hurry up, and close the door." His eyes roll, "Hello to you too." He closes the door and stomps off the snow from his boots before stepping out of them and hanging up his jacket.

"Woah, woah, what are you doing? This is just a pick-up, then you can have fun trying to calm him down at your place." Rafe stands still, his thumb gesturing to the door behind him, "You haven't seen the news, have you? They're closing the roads, so we're snowed in. The only reason I made it here is because of the suspension on my truck."

Your face turns sour and Max continues to cry.

"So why did you come in the first place if you knew you wouldn't be able to make it back?" He ignores your question for the most part, "Relax, baby. As excited as you are to see me, I didn't come for you. I came for my son. There he is," Rafe's expression lights up as he reaches for Max and takes him out of your hold.

"Rafe you can't just take him and expect him to calm-"

For the first time in seven hours, silence consumes the room. No more screams and tearful cries. "You've got to be fucking with me," You don't say it loudly, but Rafe still hears.

"Guess he was just missin' his daddy, huh? Isn't that right, Max?" Rafe's tone is playful as he pokes at Max's tummy which elicits tiny giggles and the brightest smile you'd seen all day.

You walk away, headed towards the kitchen. Not sure why you were moving so fast, Rafe was hot on your heels. "It's not your fault, it's probably just been a long day-" He finally shuts the fuck up with his smug remarks when he hears a soft cry, "Y/n," Your name rolls off his tongue, tender and sweet. "Baby, what's wrong?" Effortlessly, he supports Max with one hand while he reaches to turn you so you're facing him.

Your eyes are filled with tears, lips quivering ever so slightly and he knows what's coming. He's seen you like this more times than he can count. He takes you under his arm, your cheek pressed to his chest and you break down, muttering into the fabric of his hoodie.

He comforts you with a big hand rubbing your back, soothing you the way he learned from those parenting books that he swear he never read. "It's so hard, Rafe." Is all you manage to say through broken cries for the first five minutes before you're pushing off him, expression more angry than upset? "He was crying all day, and the second you walk in, he's perfectly fine."

Rafe's lips frown, puzzled. "And that's a bad thing?--"

"Yes! Why do you get to be Superman?!" Earlier, the sound of a pin drop would disturb Max from calming, but now even your exclamations left him unfazed, as long as he was in Rafe's arms he was unbothered.

As a matter of fact, with a second glance, you notice he'd actually fallen asleep. Just Perfect. Another win for Superman.

He chuckles, leading you both to have a seat on the couch. Your son sleeping soundly in his father's hold. "Well, I think I've got the abs for it." His shit-eating grin spreads across his lips.

"You try carrying a baby in your stomach for nine months, and you tell me if you still have abs after." Subtly, his tongue wets his lips at the memory, "All I remember is how good you looked pregnant. Shit, wanna do it again?" You'd never wanted to hurt someone so badly.

"You're lucky you're holding my son." He scoffs, leaning in slightly as if to speak away from the baby. "I seem to remember the two of us going half on the conception, and a few times after that." You air-swat him and stand, making your way for the stairs. "I'm going to take a nap."

The hours flew by as you finally had your first uninterrupted nap in what felt like years. By the time you woke up, the sun was long gone, and there was a thick layer of fresh snow sitting on your window pane. You headed downstairs and stopped at the bottom of the steps to appreciate the view.

Nothing melted you quite like the sight of Rafe taking care of Max. You hated to admit it, but he was a good dad. A really good one. Hot, too. Rafe held the bottle to Max's lips, murmuring some undistinguishable babbles with a soft smile. Surely speaking a language only the two of them can understand.

"I hope you warmed the bottle before you gave it to him." You say, and he finally notices you standing by the stairs, stalking your way over and sitting beside him.He ignores you, knowing that you're just trying to get under his skin. "You look well rested." He remarks and you sigh with a soft nod. "Yeah, I am actually." He grins to himself, "Must be a miracle to sleep well on that cheap-ass mattress you got up there."

"Sorry, we can't all have premium mattresses." Rafe pulls the bottle back once he realizes Max has had his fill. "Y'know my money is your money right? I give you ten thousand a month but everything I have is yours, too." Standing him up on his lap first, Rafe holds the baby over his shoulder, gently patting his back.

"Well, I don't need to live in a fifteen thousand sq ft house to be happy unlike you." He shakes his head slowly, his gaze falls on you, somber. "I seem happy to you? I don't give a shit how big my place is. It's always going to be empty without you two in it... " He trails off, alluding there's more to come.

"Rafe.. What are you saying?"

"Move in with me, again." Your head shakes before you sputter profuse denials, "No, Rafe, we can't we tried that before remember? We don't get along. Technically, we're not even together." The conversation is briefly interrupted by a small gurgled burp on Max's behalf.

Rafe leans down to place a drowsy Max in his rocker in front of the couch before sitting back up. "Things were different then, we were eighteen. I can't do the back-and-forth anymore. Don't you wanna wake up in the morning, see that Max is taken care of and I'm making you breakfast, then we go back to bed and I take care of you? Huh?" He hums, his voice igniting sparks along the length of your neck as he nosed along it.

"Rafe.." your voice is shaky, feeling the heat from the discussion.

"Whadd'ya say, hm?" You reflect, having Rafe stay with you today, in just a few short hours you'd been able to take a break, he held you when you cried like he always did. You'd hardly even fought. Though that was no surprise, the two of you fought considerably less ever since Max came into the picture.

"Okay, yes." You can feel the lines from his smile stretch against your jaw just before he begins to pepper kisses on your cheek. "Y'know, we made the world's cutest baby ever right?" You smile, both your gazes focused on the little one before you.

"He's got your eyes, for sure." Rafe states and you giggle, "You're just saying that because they're brown." He sits up straight, heartfully disagreeing. "I'm not. They're the same eyes that I fell in love with when I first laid my eyes on you, and the same ones that humbled me when they looked up at me for the first time in the NICU."

His words were touching. You're seeing a whole new side of him. Not the usually hot-headed and impulsive man you were used to. This one was sweeter, softer, and more sincere.

You reeled him in for the first kiss, his lips soft as they pressed against yours, his hands confidently holding you at your waist. "Ah, I see you're taking me up on my previous offer. Let's go for a girl this time, yeah?" He grins, and you pinch him.

[partiallysame]

I'm sorry if this is a weird request, I love your writing a lot and you bring me great comfort, and I've been binging ur stories after my ex cracked me in the face (enjoy jail Ryan)

how do you think poly 141 with a civilian s/o who comes home from work, not expecting them to be home from deployment, with a bloodied lip and black eye, a tear across her forehead that slowly oozes blood. Maybe her own knuckles are bruised and split from where she had fought off the two men who jumped her. Her pants were torn at the knees from where she grappled on the ground. Johnny's jean jacket he let her borrow was nowhere in sight left in dust as she ran for her life.

I love your writing again, I hope ur safe and please eat well and rest ❤️❤️ don't let anyone get away with putting their hands on you.

First and foremost fuck you Ryan rot in jail and hell bitch

The adrenaline had finally started to wear off as you pulled your car into the driveway, only to start to panic again when you realized your husband and your boys were home early. Like two weeks early. You sat in your car for a few moments trying to wipe the blood from your face, your hands, your knees, trying anything to look like what just happened didn’t actually happen. But the second your car pulled in they all made their way out, too excited to see their Missus to wait for her to come inside. Johnny was the first to reach the car, always so eager to see you. You sat still in your car. He tried to open the door but it was still locked. Crouching down to motion for you to open the door, maybe you were on the phone or something and that's why you hadn’t gotten out yet. But as he lowered himself to see you, only to be met with a nightmare sight. 

“Sweet’art open the door.” Voice serious in a way you had never heard before. His hand reached behind him to wave the rest of the men over, not wanting to yell for them and scare you more than you already seemed. You shook your head no. They weren’t supposed to see you like this. You were fine. You made it home, you were safe now, you were gonna fix up all your wounds and be healed before they got home. But here they were trying to coax you out of the car as tears streamed down your face. Fingers slowly pressing the unlock button, both the drivers and passenger side doors were swung open. Johnny reached over you to unbuckle your seatbelt and scooping you up out of the car. 

“Bring me my wife.” It was an order that MacTavish was not going to follow until you were pulled from his arms. “M’sorry’s” poured from your mouth between sobs as you clung to your husband and were brought into the house and set so gently on the kitchen counter, allowing the four men to get a full view of your beaten body. You sat, body shaking slightly from the adrenaline and pain that was starting to set in as they stared. Stared and the dark purple forming around your eye. Staring at the gash across your cheek and your split lip. Drops of blood on your torn shirt, jeans shredded at the knees, wet bloodied fabric stuck to the scrapes on your knees. They were all looking at you so differently. You thought your husband was going to cry, Johnny too. Kyle looked so broken. You had been working so hard for Simon to soften to open up to you and he was, but the look on his face scared you. 

Working in perfect unison the men started to undress you, removing your bloodied clothes. A first aid kit was set next to you as they each took a portion of you to care for. Apologizing when you’d wince at the pain of being cleaned up. Johnny was holding an ice pack up to your eye as Kyle took off his shirt for you to wear. None of them were willing to leave your side long enough to just grab new clothes from down the hall. Another “I’m sorry” fell from you and your husband felt like he was going to snap.

“My Love, please stop apologizing. It’s not yer fault honey. Can ya tell us what happened?” You nodded and recounted how two men had cornered you after work, wanting your purse. How they thought you weren’t handing it over fast enough. 

“But I’m a captain’s wife you know? Not just gonna take it lying down now am I? You should see the other guys.” You tried to joke and motioned to your split knuckles that Simon had so carefully wrapped up for you. 

“Where?” Simon’s voice came out harsh and the men snapped their heads toward him, a warning to calm down. (They’d find who did it later but rn the focus is on their Missus)

“I’m sorry Johnny.” You turned toward the large scot still holding the ice pack. He lowered it because he wanted you to see his face when he told you there was no reason to apologize.

“But I was wearing your jacket. You know the jean one you left for me. The one that smells like you. The one you look so handsome in. It came off and I left it there.” Your breathing picked up again, tears threatening to spill at losing his favorite jacket. You barely finished your confession when he was pulling you into his chest, strong arms feeling so warm and gentle around you.

“Don’ care about a fuckin’ jacket. You came home lovie. That's what I care about.”

[dollfacefantasy]

kinktober day 20 - size kink jason todd x fem!reader cw: nsfw (18+), smut, p in v, size kink, tummy bulge

"That's it, baby. Take it all. Oh, look at you go. Being so brave for me."

On the surface the words are soothing, but the tone of Jason's voice fills each syllable with condescension. Not in a bad way. The sickly sweet lilt strikes the perfect chord that has you wetter than any body of water on this earth.

Your hips rise and fall in measure rolls, your cunt embracing his thick cock with every motion. You have to take it slow. Otherwise, you feel like you'll tear yourself in half.

"Jay…" you whimper, lip wobbling and eyes gleaming with the need for him to coddle you, "You're so…"

A sharp whine from your throat cuts off your own words. Your head tilts back and then hangs forward. His tip brushes your sweet spot every time you sink down on him. It makes it nearly impossible to remain coherent. You'd never met somebody who could make you malfunction like this.

"I'm so what?" he coos, prompting you to finish your statement. He already knew the words on the tip of your tongue, but he still wanted to hear them spoken into the drafty air of your apartment.

"You're so big," you choke out.

Another moan falls from your lips before you grit your teeth. Your face scrunches up in tandem with your walls clenching around his length. Vaguely, you hear him chuckle. He then pulls you close and cradles you against his chest.

"And you like that, don't you?" he whispers.

He slumps further down on the couch. His feet press hard against the smooth wooden floor beneath the two of you. The muscles in his thighs flex as he begins to pump his hips up and down. You whine and clutch at his meaty bicep, melting against his warm skin and letting him do all the work right now.

You nearly forget he asked a question at all until he continues speaking.

"I know you do, doll. You like that when you're with me, you're helpless. Don't have to think. Don't have to move. Don't have to do anything but let me use this sweet, little pussy till I'm satisfied," he says.

Your toes curl, your thighs clamping around his own. The pressure doesn't stop him from moving though, not in the slightest. You inhale sharply before nodding against his neck. Of course, you like this. You love it.

You could never get enough of Jason's body. You'd study it forever if he let you. Your pupils felt magnetized whenever they had the chance to drift along his chiseled torso or mentally map the pathways of his scars. Adoration wasn't a strong enough word for how you felt in regards to his figure. Obsession seemed more appropriate.

Fortunately for you, Jason behaved much the same about your body.

In the mornings when he thought sleep still had a strong hold on you, he'd run his fingers over every curve he could find. He'd knead the swell of your ass and press tender kisses between your shoulder blades. As you'd start to wake, he'd wrap his hands around your waist and nearly pop a boner right then and there from how large they looked in comparison.

His favorite thing in the world after a long grueling patrol fast became coming home to you. Not even thirty minutes with your delicate body washed away all the stress caused by hard and rough people he dealt with beyond these walls. Some nights he'd prop your dainty legs over his broad shoulders and dive into your slippery cunt. Other nights he'd get right down to it, shoving his fat cock inside you and watching your belly bulge with the intrusion.

Tonight hadn't been either of those. He'd been home for a change. But having you curled up to his side and pressed against him while he read a book got him worked up pretty fast. It wasn't his fault the two of you just seemed to fit so naturally together.

"My good girl. Soft and sweet all for me," he praises as he continues fucking up into you. His heavy balls lightly slap against your ass with each thrust.

Your nails dig into his shoulder as the repetitive strokes start to build on one another. Small, whimpered expletives drip from your lips like a leaky faucet. He knows you're getting there. All he has to do is ramp up his efforts a little.

His hands lock around your waist like they do on hazy mornings. Just like then, he's obsessed with the way your skin dimples beneath his digits now. He boosts you back and starts bouncing you up and down in addition to his thrusts.

Your eyes roll back at the sensation and you take your bottom lip between your teeth. You don't have to do anything in this position still. He's strong enough to hold you upright all by himself. The only thing you had to do was like he said - stay still and let yourself be used.

"Can never get enough of you, baby, fuck," he grunts. His head falls back against the sagging cushion as he keeps working himself into you over and over. He glances back up at you slightly. "Is it feeling good?"

"Mhm," you whine, "So fuckin' good. So deep. All the way inside."

Your head bobbles around with the way he jerks you up and down on his lap. He smirks at your words and the airy way you say them.

"I know. I can see it," he responds, eyes flitting down to that faint and familiar bump. Evidence of his place inside you.

You only whimper in response. He drops you back down against his chest so one of his hands can slot against your center and rub your clit in fast, tight circles. The flickering feeling draws even more noises of pleasure from you.

The edge sneaks up on the both of you fast. You fall over it first. Your body spasms and seizes between his hands, but his strong grip is enough to keep you in place. For him, it explodes in a muted burst of ecstasy before burning into a brighter one. He wraps his arms around your smaller frame and keeps you flush against his sweaty skin as he fucks his load deep inside.

The both of you stay there while you come down. His chest puffs up and down with deep breaths. Even with all his exertion, his hand rubs soothing stripes along the column of your spine. You lie against him completely motionless, limp against the muscles of his chest. A little pleasure doll all for him to play with.

[lxnarphase]

━━ ❝ come and put your name on it ❞

special treatment : lap edition

☾₊‧⁺...ft. : gojo satoru + geto suguru + nanami kento + fushiguro toji + hakari kinji

☾₊‧⁺...cw : cockwarming, somnophilia, dirty talk, grinding + dry humping, fingerfucking, overstimulation, praise kink, edging, oral fixation, satoru's silly pet names, suguru being smug, kento being a desperate man, toji being toji, kinji being a bully

✧ g. satoru : sometimes gojo knows he fucks you too good to the point you can't think after, something he brags about to you all the time. but when you snuggle up to him, still stuffed with his cock and warm with his cum, he can't help but run his hands all over you. and when he realizes you fell asleep on his dick, his heart squeezes and his cock throbs hard.

"pretty angel, did you fall asleep? oh, that's just precious...you're making my heart squeeze, i wish i had my phone, you look so cute like this." "did you say my name? dreaming about me? god, you're so precious, i could just fuck you like this...shit, don't fuckin' squeeze on me like that, are you having a wet dream right now? god, i love you so fucking much." "aww, my little mochi is so cute! look at youuu, you're gushin' all over the place. messy fucking pussy too small to keep my cock and all my cum inside you." "mm, fuck, pretty thing. you wakin' up? hi pretty girl...oooh, fuck, d-did you just cum? holy fuck, c'mon, baby, on your back, lemme fuck you, princess, let 'toru make you cum again, yeah?”

✧ g. suguru : suguru's softly cooing at you when you sleepily walk into the living room, whining to him that you had a dream and you wanted him to 'fix the problem he caused.' all he can do is just chuckle at how childish and bratty you can be as his hands are moving up and down your sides while he grinds up into you.

"you're such a brat, you know that right? always blaming me for your dreams. it's not my fault you can't stop thinking about how good i fuck you." "hmm? ooh, i see...you keep having dreams of me cumming inside you, hm? are you trying to say something, princess? d'you want me to start breeding you?" "i didn't say stop moving, did i? or do you need me to do all the work? heh, so spoiled, i've spoiled you absolutely rotten." "i know, but just cum once like this, won't you? if you do, i promise i'll fill your cute pussy with my cum, okay? mhm, promise, princess, i'll give you what you need."

✧ n. kento : nanami loves having you close to him, especially when you sit in his lap. it lets him nuzzle his nose into your neck, pressing little kisses where he can while your legs are spread over his strong thighs, his thick fingers leisurely pumping in and out of your needy hole, chuckling against your skin whenever you jolt.

"honey, have i mentioned how gorgeous you are? you look so beautiful like this...spread open and wanting, just for me." "you're sucking my fingers in so well. look at that...do you think you can take a third?" "it's so messy. look at what you've done to my fingers, honey, they're soaked. clean them off for me, i want you to taste yourself before i put them back in. maybe tonight we can make you squirt, hm? do you wanna try, darling?" "you think you're going to cum again? poor thing, your little cunt is so greedy, she just wants to cum over and over again on my fingers...is my cock not good enough for you, mm? aww, don't pout, i'm just teasing you, darling." "i know, i know, it's too much, but you can take it. be my good girl, just take it and keep cumming until you can't anymore."

✧ f. toji : sitting on toji's lap is, in his mind, an invitation for him to run his hands all over you. his cock is already hard in his sweats, but he's subdued the second you get comfortable and slowly grind against him, groaning when you press sweet kisses into his neck.

"tch, are you gonna let me fuck your thighs t'night? pretty please? yeah, that's right, i'm askin' nicely. why? don't play stupid, doll, you know what they do to me." "shit...keep moving those hips, sweetheart, you feel so fuckin' good like this." "god, i can feel that pretty pussy leaking through my sweats. big bad toji make you that fuckin' wet, mama? y'like grinding that clit on my dick through my pants? dirty fucking girl." "mmh, you keep tugging my hair like that and I'm not even gonna take you to the bedroom, i will fuck you into this damn couch, woman.” "listen here, wifey, I'll wreck your cunt until you can't think about anything but me inside you. hell, I'll ruin this stupid couch in the process, i don't give a fuck about stainin' it."

✧ h. kinji : when you sit on kinji's lap, it's when he's watching a fight on tv. you can tell it's not going how he wants it to go, the toothpick between his teeth being gnawed on. when you make eye contact with him, he just raises an eyebrow, one of his hands squeezing your hip.

"cupcake, do me a favor and get on my dick before i get up and give us a reason to get a new tv." "hey, hey, don't move yet, let me see if he lands this punch...don't whine like that before i put my fingers in that pretty little mouth t' shut you up." "you always squeeze so tight when i press down on your tongue like this...pretty thing likes that shit, doesn't she? go on, fuck yourself on my dick while you drool all on my fingers like a slut." "mm, shit, baby, i can't focus on that bullshit fight, lemme help you. yeah, thaaaat's it, let your boy fuck you nice and deep, make ya cream, juuuust like this."

all rights reserved © lxnarphase | do not repost, copy, translate, or alter my work

[suksatoru]

𝝑𝑒 katsuki finds out what you've been drawing in your sketchbook all the time...and to say he's surprised is an understatement.

"y/n."

"hmm?"

your boyfriend lets out a sharp growl, his hands practically itching to reach out and snatch the sketchbook out of your hands

"let me see."

you don't respond, brows pinched together in concentration as you alternate between looking at the charcoal in your hands to katsuki's adorable pout

"you need to wait a little longer...not my fault you're so pretty."

he lets out an embarrassed groan, dragging his calloused palm down his face as he flops face first onto your bed. you let out a whine in protest, slapping his arm

"ow!" you huff, silently scolding yourself for hitting the hard, packed muscle beneath his shirt. he smirks a little bit at your reaction, rolling onto his back and making a show of flexing his muscles as he stretches his arms with a loud yawn

"ya took forever. now, show me what you made." he demands, sitting up expectedly with narrowed eyes

katsuki had been dragged from the common room all the way up to your dorm in a matter of minutes. he'd gladly be dragged by you to the ends of the earth, but he was beyond confused when you ordered him to sit down on your bed and stay still. all until you pulled out your sketchbook.

the light bulb in his mind switched on, and with a quiet "ah", he complied, listening to you quietly chat about anything and everything that came to your mind as you scribbled away in your sketchbook

katsuki has seen you carrying it around a lot. you always kept it tucked under your arm even as you travelled from class to class—never apart. it had, simply put, become an extension to your body at this point

of course he's wanted to take a peak in there. and about a dozen times katsuki tried to—but each time ended with him getting beat with your pillows and plushies as you shoved him out of your dorm, slamming the door on him as he laid in the hall, rubbing his head and silently cursing himself for getting caught once again.

he had kept still and quiet for you while you drew because this was....out of the ordinary. you never really did open your sketchbook in front of him—but here you were now, fingers smudging the paper as you smile sheepishly

"promise you won't laugh?"

he rolls his eyes, trying to keep his usual facade up so you don't detect even a hint of the nervousness he felt

"course i won't. now, either you show me—or i'm taking that damned book from your hands and—"

he's cut off when you suddenly raise it from your lap. pages rustle together as you flip it towards him, hands gripping the edges of your most prized possession as you squeeze your eyes shut and await his reaction

katsuki, was for once, stunned into silence. his eyes trailed over the strokes and marks on the paper, your finger imprints pressed all over the paper from the charcoal—

but what you've drawn is undeniably him.

it's not what he'd expected at all. it's him but...it's not from katsuki's view. it's not the mean face he saw in the mirror everyday. the usual scowl that seemed to be a permanent resident on his face was replaced with a soft smile in your drawing

his eyes were lighter, softer. his cheeks were round and full of boyish youth as he smiled. it was beautiful. he was. he feels his heart stutter in his chest as he slowly takes the sketchbook from your hands, eyes glued to page

"hold on suki—"

he begins flipping. flipping and flipping and flipping and it's all him. katsuki sleeping, katsuki yelling and a frightened little izuku scribbled into the corner of the page—katsuki cooking, katsuki in his hero suit, katsuki—

you suddenly tackle him, and with a yelp—both of you tumble off of your bed and onto the floor. unfortunately, his grip on the book loosens for a mere instant, and you're able to snatch it out of his grip and throw it onto your bed from where the two of you laid on the floor

his lips are parted, but not a sound comes out. his eyes are like the drawing you had just made—soft and gentle and round as he stares up at you.

you're so embarrassed you can barely stand to look him in the eye, resorting to tucking your face into the space between his neck and shoulder with an embarrassed groan

"asshole...you weren't supposed to flip..." you murmur, and katsuki thinks you look pretty with your cheeks flushed and tinted like this. his chest falls and rises slowly, and he made no move to get up off the floor as you caged him there—refusing to let him get up.

"i....gah say something you jerk! you can't humiliate me like that and then get all quiet!" you whine, your voice embarrassed and pitched and katsuki can't even stop himself from grabbing hold of the back of your neck and crashing his lips into yours

he pulls your entire body against him, wrapping a single arm around your waist before he rolls the two of you over and flipping your positions—he hovers over you, pulling away from the kiss just to press another one onto your forehead

"you fucking dumbass...why'd you go and waste so many pages on me..." he mumbles, grabbing your charcoal covered hands as he presses a soft kiss onto your finger tips. you smile bashfully at the smeared streaks of color on his face

"you're my muse." you state simply

his eyes are lined with tears, and his grin is wide and toothy—you want to capture this moment in your pages, the shine in his eyes and the way his lips curled, all of it.

you decide you'll have to draw this particular katsuki later, because he's suddenly launching an attack on you—a flurry of kisses being pressed all over your face and neck and just about any bit of skin he could find as he laughs at the sound of your sweet squeals—music to his ears.

[nanaslutt]

JJK men's reactions to you starting your period during sex

incl: Nanami, Choso, Gojo, Geto

note: anon who sent this, this just happened to me too, you’re not alone

Contains: fem reader, period talk, period sex, blood, choking, multiple positions, mirror sex, spanking, creampie, ass play (geto’s part), dirty talk, teasing, rough sex

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ

Nanami:

Nanami had you in a mean mating press, your legs up to your shoulders as he drilled his cock inside you, the angle making him perfectly hit all of the most sensitive spots inside you. "Shi-t Kento, right there!" You whined, the words coming out broken from the roughness of his thrusts. "Yeah? Feels good honey?" He asked, smiling into your shoulder before he pursed his lips to leave soft kisses on your neck and shoulders.

"Fuck yes- please don't stop-" you cried, feeling your legs start to burn from being stretched over your head for so long, but the pleasure Nanami was bringing you was more than enough to make up for it. Nanami felt the telltale sign of your high, your cunt clenching tighter around him, the pulsing of your cunt around his cock coming more frequently as you got closer and closer to your orgasm.

He knew you needed clit stimulation to cum though, so without a second thought he squeezed his hand between your bodies in search for your clit—which he found with ease as he began rubbing small circles into the bud. He felt his own stomach start to tighten with the need for his own release, his thrusts getting sloppy as he fucked his cock inside your warm cunt, working him up to his orgasm.

"You gonna cum pretty girl? Gonna cum all over my cock?" Nanami whispered, feeling a gush of your arousal around his length. You nodded your head, your nails digging into his shoulders as you babbled and whined his name, relishing in all the pleasure he was giving you. Nanami leaned back slightly, easing the stretch of your thighs as he looked down to where the two of you were connected, nothing unusual—he loved watching his cock disappear and reappear from your cunt covered in your slick.

Only this time, when he pulled his hips back he could clearly see there were streaks of red coating his cock, making him panic, his thumb coming down to scoop some of the slick that was slipping down the underside of your hole as he kept the pace of his hips up, just slower—not wanting to alarm or embarrass you. When he brought his thumb back up it was just as he had thought he saw, his thumb was coated in your arousal, mixed with some of your blood.

While your eyes were screwed shut and you were waiting patiently to feel Nanami's thumb on your clit some more, he stopped his thrusts, keeping his hips flush to yours. Nanami leaned back, grabbing your ankles he slowly dropped your legs down from the side of your head, resting them atop his thighs. You cracked your eyes open slowly, wondering why he had stopped. "Kento? Something wrong?" You asked, trying to catch your breath, your eyebrows furrowing in confusion.

He sighed before showing you a small smile, his hands coming to rub along your thighs, making goosebumps arise on the skin there as he caressed you so gently. "It's my fault really, I saw you were supposed to start your period today on the app I have. I should've taken it easier on you." He said, a faint blush spreading on his cheeks. Immediately your face was covered in a dark crimson blush, your whole body heating up in embarrassment at what his words meant.

"Wait- Did I-? On your-?" You asked, covering your face with your hands but spreading your fingers apart as eyeholes so you could see him still. Nanami chuckled, his hands coming to pull your wrists away from your face, facing some resistance from you at first. "Nanami I'm so sorry, oh my goddd." You pouted, looking away from him you tried to turn your body away, which didn't result in you moving far as Nanami's cock was still snugly inside you.

"Why are you sorry my love?" He giggled, leaning over your body he placed his elbows by your head, moving your hands away from your face he caressed your cheek softly, your eyes still looking anywhere but his face. "This isn't something you can control. On the other hand, I saw you might start today and decided to have sex with you anyways, please don't feel embarrassed." He reassured, kissing your cheek softly.

"So.. what now.." You asked, feeling how his cock still throbbed inside you, his orgasm being stripped away after being so close must have left him with a dull ache. "We can do whatever you want my love, I can keep going and finish us off, We can stop and I'll clean you up, I can pull out and get you off with my fingers, whatever you're comfortable with," Nanami answered, smiling at you softly, his other hand starting to caress through your hair.

"I think I want to uh.. finish.. both of us." You replied, looking back at him bashfully. Nanami nodded, pressing a kiss to your face before he leaned back and kept your thighs around his, not wanting to put you in an uncomfortable position again. "You sure you're not.. grossed out by this?" You asked, fiddling with your hands over your stomach. Nanami laughed, shaking his head down at you before he pulled his cock out a couple inches and humped it back inside you, making your mouth open in a moan. "No part of you could ever gross me out." He replied, making you blush furiously.

Choso:

"Ngh- so tight-" Choso moaned when you squeezed your cunt around him on purpose. His hands were reaching up to play with your tits while you straddled his hips and rode his cock. You bit your lip looking down at your handsome boyfriend whose face was screwed in pleasure. "Does it feel good Cho?" You asked, pausing your up and down movements to rock back and forth on him, your clit bumping against his abs and sending delicious pleasure throughout your whole body.

He kept his hands on your tits, squeezing them almost painfully when you started grinding on him, knocking his cock into your sweet spot inside you. This was a different kind of pleasure than when you were bouncing on him, and it was making his toes curl. "So good- so good b-babe." Choso whined quietly, almost whispering out the pet name in embarrassment. His eyes were rolling back in his head, his chin tipped up toward the ceiling as he laid his head back into the pillows, relishing in the feeling of your warm cunt around him.

"Good, wanna make you feel good Cho." You responded, placing your hands on his abs you pulled your hips up, laving just the tip of his cock inside you before you slammed back down on him, sending waves of pleasure through your body. Choso groaned out the moment you dropped your weight down on his cock and started fucking him again.

His chin fell back down to his chest so he could watch you get off on top of him. A blush covered his cheeks while he watched you throw your head back as you bounced on top of him, your hand coming down to play with your clit while he continued groping your tits, pinching and rolling your nipples between his fingers. Choso was in absolute heaven, nothing could make this moment better.. so he thought.

Choso dropped his gaze to your cunt to watch your pussy swallow up his cock hungrily when he noticed each time his cock disappeared inside you when you raised back up before sitting on him again, the strings of your arousal that stuck to your inner thighs and the base of his cock were a deep red color--you were bleeding. Choso opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. He wanted to tell you that you were bleeding, in case you were in pain, but you didn't seem to be in pain at all.

He truly was enjoying the sight, his cock twitching inside you at the revelation that the warmth that was coating his cock wasn't just your cum, but your blood. That same thought repeated over and over in his head every time you bounced on his cock, making him feel dizzy.

After lots and lots of back and forth in his head about whether he would tell you about the blood; in fear, you would want to stop; he decided to tell you--it was the right thing to do. Hesitantly his hands dropped from your tits and gripped your waist hard, stopping all your movements. He was partially grateful he had stopped you at this moment because after seeing the blood, he didnt think he was going to last much longer.

"Cho, something wrong? You close?" You asked, tilting your head at him as you rubbed your hands over his abs, noticing how heavy he was breathing and how flushed his face was. Choso swallowed hard, he tried to gather the words in his crowded head carefully before he spoke. "Its okay baby, you can talk to me." You assured, smiling softly at him, one of your hands coming to rub at his large shaky hand that held your waist with an iron grip.

"Y-you..You're bleeding." He finally said after so much thought, making you furrow your eyebrows together. "Huh?" You replied, looking at your body for signs of blood, the crimson color below you being hidden from how you were sitting flush on his lap, his cock snugly inside you. "Um, down there..you're bleeding." He answered, doing his best to keep his eyes on yours, even though the words he was saying was making him feel incredibly embarrassed for some reason.

You looked down, moving your hands away from his abs you laid them on his knees. Leaning backward you lifted your hips as bit, noticing the blood that was smeared all over his pelvis and your inner thighs, the crimson liquid also coating the base of his dick that you pulled out of you. Choso saw the gears in your head turn, noticing that you were starting to panic. "I like it." He blurted out before you could apologize.

You shut your mouth briefly, registering his words you opened it again, looking at him in astonishment. "I uh.. I don't want to stop. I.. I really like it, but if you're not comfortable we can.. we can stop." Choso knew very little about humans and how their bodies worked, but he did remember you kept little cotton devices in your bathroom, and you had rejected his advances before because you were on your 'period'. He had Yuuji explain what a 'period' was, and the boy had told him that "girls bleed once a month" adding he didn't know much else about it.

Had Choso known what that had actually entailed and how hot it would be, he would've pushed for the two of you to have sex when you were on your period way sooner. You looked at him incredulously before you burst into laughter, covering your mouth with your hand. Choso blushed, your cunt twitching around him while you laughed, making him feel needy. "You're something else Choso." You giggled, blushing at his confession.

"Sorry, I wanted to be honest. I don't know much about.. periods but if it hurts we can stop too." He smacked himself internally for not asking you how you were feeling sooner. You leaned down to kiss his chest, the few inches of his cock you had slid out of you to see what he was talking about sliding back inside you, making him inhale softly. "It doesn't hurt but I'd be lying if I said I wasn't a little embarrassed.." Choso had no idea why you would be embarrassed about something so hot, did other humans think it was gross? How stupid.

"But, you seem to really like it so.. I guess it'll be okay for now." You finished, making his face flush red, his whole body heating up at your consent for him to keep going. "I do, I really like it, promise." He babbled, shaking his head, his hands smoothing up and down the sides of your body eagerly. "Please keep going, please fuck me now," Choso begged needily, making you giggle. "Okay, okay, but this is a one-time thing okay! Don't get too excited." Choso was long past that, 'one-time' thing? Yeah right, Choso was good at begging, and Choso happens to be your one and only weakness.

Gojo:

"You look so prettyyy~" Gojo cooed, sitting on his heels behind you in the mirror while your ass sat on his pelvis, the skin rippling every time he fucked his cock back inside you, creating loud squelches to echo throughout the room. You blushed at his compliment, your eyes averting away from the mirror in embarrassment from how intensely he was looking at you.

"Awww, you gettin' shy on me?" Gojo giggled, grabbing your jaw in his strong hand he pulled your gaze back to the mirror, making you watch yourself get fucked. "Don't be shyy~ After all I'm going through all this trouble to put on a show for you, don't be mean~" He cooed, pouting his lip at you in the mirror, watching your eyes rake over your body.

"Yeah, that's it, look at how good you look when I fuck you." He moaned, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth, his chin coming to rest in the crook of your shoulder while he watched your body move and bounce from his ministrations. "Gojo- too fast-" You whined, reaching one of your hands back between you to push weakly on his pelvis, trying to get him to slow down.

There was a dull cramping in your stomach, making you wince when Gojo fucked into you a little too hard. You chalked it up to the angle being intense combined with the sheer length of Gojo's cock, he was probably hitting your cervix--being the reason for the cramping.

Gojo had one hand wrapped around your torso, keeping you flush against his chest, the other still holding your face, making you watch your pleasure-contorted expressions in the mirror. "Huh? 'S it too much? Can't take it?" Gojo teased, making his voice whiny and high-pitched. "Y-es t-too much- too fast nghhh-" Gojo slid his hand from your face down to your neck, gripping your throat slightly he tipped your head back towards him, making your body arch into him.

"Nah, you can take it, mama." He whispered in your ear, making you whine. "You always take my cock so well, don't you?" He cooed, encouraging you. When you continued to mindlessly cry on his cock, he tightened his grip on your throat, "Don't you?" He repeated, emphasizing his words with a mean thrust. "Toru-" You whined, tears forming in your eyes as he fucked you spiraling towards your high.

"Oooh fuck- you gonna cum? S-squeezin' me so tight pretty- fuck-" Gojo grit through his teeth into your neck. He felt your cunt squeeze tightly around him, making his eyes roll back in his head. When they returned to their rightful place in his sockets, he dragged his gaze between your legs, ready to watch how your little hole squeezed around him as you came, but something else caught his attention. A red streak of blood was slowly dripping down the inside of your thigh, coming from your cunt. It was then he noticed the base of his cock was red as well.

It didn't take him long to figure out what was happening. You always took him with little to no complaints. Your hand had been pressed to your pelvis like you were in pain when you told him to slow down, and now you were bleeding--you had started your period, in the middle of sex, all over his cock. Gojo knew you, he knew you would be embarrassed and make him stop if he pointed out what was happening.

He couldnt do that to you, after all you were so close to your orgasm. He smirked to himself, the hand wrapping around your body slid down to your cunt to rub circles into your sensitive little bud, getting the crimson colored liquid on his fingers as he did so--not that he minded in the slightest. He sort of found it endering, it was very intamate. His ego also spiked at the thought that he had literally fucked your period out of you--or he chose to see it that way.

He kept his hand firm on your neck, keeping your face pointed to the ceiling to avoid you opening your eyes and seeing the bloody mess between your thighs, turning your off. "Toru- T-toru-" You whined, gripping his wrist as he continued to rub your clit in circles with his middle finger, his cock hammering into your g-spot. "Cum for me mama, cum all over my cock-" He groaned into your ear, watching your body in the mirror.

"Yeahhhhh- fuck- thats it-" He smiled, feeling your cunt constrict around his cock, your jaw going slack as you were pushed over the edge. Your eyes squeezed shut as you came, your orgasm hitting your so much harder than usual, probably thanks to the angle he had you in. "Fucking- godddd~" Gojo groaned, feeling his own cock twitch as spurts of his hot cum filled your cunt, mixing inside you with your arousal and blood.

He bit his lip watching the fluids leak out around him, his eyes fighting to stay forward as he wanted to watch how your body jerked and spasmed while you came. "Take it baby, take my fucking cum-" He whispered breathily in your ear, slowly humping his hips to the hilt of your cunt, making sure he fucked every last drop of his cum inside you.

He giggled, watching your body weakly twitch in the mirror. He could see your eyes open once more, staring at the ceiling. Gojo kissed a trail from the crook of your next to your ears before he giggled, "Don't freak out~" He said teasingly before he let go of your throat, allowing you to get out of the uncomfortable arch he had you in.

"Wha-?" You were about to question what he meant when you instinctively looked between your legs, your eyes taking in the bloody mess on your thighs and the base of his cock. You slapped a hand over your face instantly, the need to curl up in a ball and hide coming over you--as well as the need to kill Satoru for not telling you you had started your period during sex. "Satoru!!" You yelled behind your hand, the hand on his pelvis smacking against him a couple times in frustration.

"I didnt want you to be embarassedddd~ I wanted you to cum before you-" "Satoruuuuu." You groaned, interrupting him as you covered your face with both hands, cringing at your own body's horrible timing. He laughed, embracing your body with his larger one he wrapped his arms around you, engulfing you entirely. "Baby, it's okay," He giggled, kissing the hands that covered your face. You felt so hot, and it wasn't from your arousal. "One shower and it's like it never even happened~." He said, trying to comfort you.

"It's probably all over the floor, ughhhh.." You moaned, your words coming out muffled from behind your hands. "I'll clean it up mama, it's my apology to you." He said although he would clean it up no matter what, Satoru always took such good care of you after he finished blowing your back out. "Bet your cramps are gone now too, huh?" He added, making you tip your head up, looking at him through your fingers.

"How did you know I had cramps?" You asked, taking a second to notice that he was right, the ache in your stomach was gone. "Dumb question, I know you better than I know myself." He said smugly, kissing your hands again. "They do say orgasms take away period pain," Gojo added, wiggling his eyebrows at you.

You groaned, trying to force down your smile before you dropped your hands to his thighs and rubbed the skin there, sighing. "Whatever you say.. just.. clean me up please, I feel gross." You cringed. "Anything for you princess." Gojo smiled, pressing a string of kisses to your face before he pulled his softened cock out to clean you up.

Geto:

The dark-haired man stared down at your ass, mouth agape as he used a large hand to grip your waist, the other pulling your pussy lips apart so he could get a perfect view of your cunt sucking in his cock. He shook his head, groaning when you slowly sat down on him, repeating that process, up and down, up and down, teasingly fucking yourself on his cock while you faced away from him, your feet hooked on his thighs.

Geto groaned as he relaxed into the bed, his hand that was holding your hip coming up to cradle his head, laying it against the pillows behind him. You turned your head back to look at him, he looked so sexy. His hair was pulled half up half down in his signature smile, a faint blush was dusting on his cheeks as he stared at where the two of you were connected with a smirk.

His eyes darted up to yours when he noticed you staring at him, making his smile grow, his head tilting to the side. "Whatcha lookin' at baby?" He asks, pulling his hand back to leave a loud smack against the fat of your ass, making you wince at the painful pleasure. "You're 's handsome sugu~" You praise, humping your hips back against his pelvis faster.

Geto shows you his teeth, a pretty smile gracing his features. "Thank you, baby, you're pretty cute too, takin' my dick so well~" He cooed, his eyes darting between your cunt and your face screwed in pleasure. "'S it feel good right there?" He asked, noticing how your eyes rolled back in your head when he humped his hips up into yours, his dick slamming into your sweet spot. "Mhm." You said softly, your head falling back as you sat on his thighs, bracing yourself on the strong muscles as you bounced up and down on him, the new angle pressing his fat tip right against where you needed him most.

"Oh shit," He groaned, both of his hands flying down to grip your waist at the new position. "Fuck- feels like 'm so deep like this." He says, his jaw dropping in a small o as you do your best to bounce through the burn of your thighs. "Sugu~" You whine, turning your head once more to look at him through your peripheral vision, "Help me," You whine, your bouncing growing slopy at the increasing burn in your muscles.

"You gettin' tired baby?" He asks, soothingly rubbing his hands over your hips. "Yeah.. Fuck me Sugu, please." You beg, squeezing your cunt around him, causing him to let out a drawn-out groan. "Ohhh- fuck- okay baby, yeah, I'll help you." Before you're able to register what's happened, Geto has you face down on the bed, your arms pinned behind your back as he restrains you with one arm, the other softly teasing the rim of your puckered hole as he ruthlessly pounds his cock into you.

"Ngh- S-s-uguuu-" You whine, being able to do nothing but cry into the sheets as he bullies your cunt with his thick cock. "What~" He cooes, "Wanted me to help right baby? I'm helping. What do you say?" He teases, pressing his thumb harder against your tight hole. "T-thank you t-thank you Sugu- fuck!" You cry out when his thumb breaches the tight ring, his fingers resting on the slope of your ass while he slowly thrusts his thumb in and out of you.

"Fuck, you get so tight when I play with your ass baby, you're so dirty." He teases, picking up the pace of his cock. You continue to cry into the sheets, taking all the pleasure he gives you with no complaints. Geto smiles down at you, watching your eyes roll back in your head repeatedly every time his dick thrusts inside you. His eyes drop down to admire the way you're taking him, but his hips freeze when he notices blood on his cock, some of it starting to drip down the back of your thigh, making him panic.

"Fuck, you're bleeding." He says, pulling his cock and thumb out. He notices then that his entire cock is coated in a light pink liquid, the color thanks to how much arousal you were leaking out of your cunt. You whipped you're head around, a panicked, "What?!" leaving your lips as Geto used his thumb to spread open your folds, wondering how deep the bleeding was. Had he been too rough? Fuck, he felt so bad.

"I'm sorry, fuck I think I was too rough, are you okay? Does it hurt?" He rushed, soothing his hand over your ass as he waited for you to speak, his cock hanging in the air between you, still hard. It was then that you realized the ache in your tummy--the unforgettable feeling of period cramps. "Shit." You mumbled while Geto sat back on his heels, apologizing profusely. "No baby, It's, fuck it's okay you didnt do anything." You said, sitting up from the position he had you in to face him, a hand coming down to cup over your cunt to prevent blood from leaking onto the sheets.

Geto looked at you with worry still in his eyes, his hands shaking. He wasn't afraid of blood, but his biggest fear was hurting you, even unintentionally. You placed your hand on his thigh, looking into his eyes. You took a deep breath before you spoke, "I uh.. I started my period.." You said, your face turning a deep crimson. "My app said I was supposed to start in a couple days so I thought I was okay but.. fuck.. this is so embarrassing." You sighed, laughing nervously as you looked anywhere but at Geto.

Geto felt like he was ten pounds lighter, a loud sigh of relief fell from his lips before he leaned forward, his forehead landing on your shoulder. "Thank god," He heaved, his hands wrapping around your body, your arm cupped underneath your cunt being awkwardly squished between the two of you. "I know you're okay, but maybe we should stick to.. softer sex for a while. I think I almost had a heart attack thinking I hurt you." He admitted, keeping his head on your shoulder.

You giggled, your free hand wrapping around his shoulders. It made you laugh how you were comforting him in this situation, but the lack of attention on yourself took away a lot of the embarrassment so you were happy to baby him. "Whatever you want baby, sorry to scare you." You laughed, your hands starting to thread through his hair. After another long sigh, he raised his head from your shoulder and dropped his gaze briefly to your covered cunt before looking back into your eyes.

"So.. you're not in any pain?" He asks, to which you nod. "Yes, promise, I'm fine." You respond, your hand sliding down the side of his face to caress his cheek. Suguru thinks for a moment, looking around the room before he looks back at you. "So... wanna keep going?" He asks, making your jaw drop as you staired at him wordlessly.

Honestly, your first instinct was to say no.. but after you thought about it for another half a second you figured, fuck it. Geto's cock still hung erect between his legs, still coated in the pink liquid, and your own arousal was still very much prevalent between your legs. It was also very clear to you that Geto did not mind the blood, and he was certainly not the kind of man who was clean in bed. "Yeah, why not." You responded, crashing your lips to his.

[dilf-docs]

My Baby's Fit Like A Daydream

husband!pedro pascal x younger!reader

summary: your relationship is finally out to the world. now, pedro and you will explore what it feels like to have your love out in the open.

warnings: 18+ (minors dni), age gap, smut, FLUFF, the empire of bad humor strikes again, hurt/comfort bc all roads lead back to angst, a brief mention of bodyshaming, this is lowkey pwp my bad, dirty talk, fingering, p. in v., bathroom sex ijbol, exhibition kink (they be fucking everywhere but in a bed), degradation kink (he calls her a slut twice), the one and only creampie (twice), so naturally: breeding kink, ALSO pls stop the husband!pedro reqs, i beg. a delulu girl can only take so much 💔

word count: 10,991 words

side note: not one but two requests to be fullfilled! this is as a sequel to call it what you want. also, spam time: i happen to write in wattpad as well, and i have a pedro pascal social media fic going on :) but it's on spanish tho. if u speak the language and would like to tune in, read it here AND spam again but speaking of the ptwt dynamic, why don't we become moots? check my (new) stan twitter account here (i had one in 2022 that i had since 2016 but entered a crisis and deleted it lol)

part: prev | masterlist | next

The news had spread like wildfire.

As soon as you hit the red carpet, hand on hand, rings finally on display―shining under the spotlight, your phone had been blowing up nonstop: every show, podcast, tabloid, news outlet and social media had been talking about it. California had turn into an easter egg playground; everyone was eager to know it all.

(They had found the church where you married, the dress boutique, jewelry shop where Pedro bought the rings―the employees ratted him out, even sharing pictures of the moment, your husband posing with them without knowing of the future treason. They too had found the place where the reception took place, and even the name of the priest who had married you, but he refused to give the hungry press any details. God Bless)

In short, it had been a hell of a week. You figured dissapearing for a while was for the best, but with some interviews still left, that option had been discarded. Still, doesn't mean you couldn't retreat for a couple of days to the tranquility of your home while it was time to show up again. Well, as peaceful as it could get, since reporters were camping near your house and roaming around Hollywood Hills like vultures; the neighbour's nagging was just another layer of problems in your shit cake.

"I'm sorry, Louis. Walks will be postponed for a while" you talk to your cat, but the lazy bastard just stretches and lays down again. "Yeah, I can see you're affected. Don't cry"

"It's not the cat's fault" Pedro emerges from behind, "don't take it out on him"

He takes a sit next to you, two mugs in hand. He gives you the one with a chocolate steam, a souvenir he bought when you visited your home country last summer. You wonder if that's a trip you'll ever be able to make again.

"I'm not. Just- It's horrible that I can't even go outside my own house and walk the same roads I've walked in four years because the press is hidden with cameras in, I don't know, bushes!" you exclaim, quiet rage carried within your words. "It's unfair, really. All I want is to walk my damn cat without a flash up my ass"

Pedro nestles his face in your neck, nose carressing the skin. Giggles leave your lips, the sensation ticklish.

"It'll pass. It always does" he says, voice assuring, probably because he's used to the violation of privacy, but you're not. Getting bigger, is this the price to pay for making a name for yourself and claiming out loud who you love?

"I hope so" you murmur above the quietness of your home, a sound as eerie as fake, devoid of it's tranquil nature as a world of invasion awaits outside.

"Do you trust me?" Pedro speaks, voice unwavering. He holds your gaze, steady brown challening your shaky orbs.

"I do" you speak up, yet you wish you could believe it. You believe in him, there's no question to that, but do you believe in yourself? That the love you'd put out to the world would be treated with the same care and respect you have treated it in secret? For a fleating moment, you miss the secrecy.

"Then trust me this will be over sooner than expected" he presses a kiss to your lips, soft and sweet, feeling remanents of chocolate he licks away, as you mockingly yell ¡Qué sucio! but it's devoid of malice. "In time, this will become another anecdote we'll share with our kids, and laugh with our grandkids when we get older"

You smile, feeling tears in the corner of your eyes. Oh, doesn't he turn you into a pathetic sappy wife?

"Well" you sniffle, giggling to push back the tears away. "About the old part..."

He playfully kicks your side. "Uno ya no puede ser romántico, que le salen con estas cosas. Your generation could use some respect, you know?" (one can't simply be romantic anymore)

Pedro gets up, picking the mug from your hands as both rings brush together, the gold shinning under the morning Californian sun.

"And your generation could take a joke" you quip, lips curled up like you hadn't in weeks.

"Very funny, y/n. Thought you loved me" but then he's pressing a kiss to your temple like kissing you once isn't enough, promising to return after washing down the mugs.

"I do!" you shout to his dissapearing broad frame as he enters the kitchen, and he playfully makes a dissmissing move with his palm.

The laughing dies when your phone chimes next to you.

You shouldn't really, but the curiosity that draws you in is as intense as a magnet. The phone burns on its position, screaming for you to open it, despite being told by your husband that the best was choice was to ignore it until the buzz had died down, but you're afraid the turmoil isn't nowhere to be finished. Comments can be mean, he'd said, they can hurt you. Pedro said he'd learn with time to ignore it, but he was experienced. You weren't, so naturally, as your husband and protector, he wanted to shield you from the pain.

Although, both of your fandoms had been pretty supportive of your relationship, some user even claiming to suspect it, making threads full of easter eggs and connections that validated the theory which was now a reality. I've connected the dots, followed by pictures of you sharing wardrobe, slips on interviews, similar backgrounds in your posts across social media, and of course, the two Gladiator Ii interviews. Many resorted to making edits or screaming over your pictures in the premiere, demanding for more content you had yet caved in to share (there was a gigantic carpet of evidence sitting heavy in your cloud).

So, in a way, this support made it hard for you to truly dimension the hate Pedro warned you about: all you saw was fans being happy and showering you with love, making paparazzi to be the only problem as for now.

That's it.

You cave in, turning the phone on as you bite your lip, searching first your Instagram: a bunch of new followers, many with variations of ispunk on their usernames, as well as a swarm of comments on your recent posts. There's a small voice in your head telling you to turn away, but your thumb moves without thinking, clicking on pictures of the red carpet―a carrousel of you and then a picture of you both at the end, one fans had been gushing about the last couple of days, rings on display, practically up their noses. You were smiling, and Pedro was looking at you fondly, his other hand holding Lux but his gaze never leaving yours; he was too perfect to be real―yours.

You unconsciously smile at the captured moment, love obvious on your faces, so you open the comments, thinking it would be the same support or love radiating of the comment.

But boy, weren't you wrong?

It was all the same, support lost between waves of hate. Variations of bodyshaming, age shaming and even gold digger claims were on full display across the comment section. "She's ugly" "In it for the money, am I right?" "I thought Pedro had better taste, lol" "She got the role in Gladiator II because of nepotism. Or cocksucking" and then a cruel answer that read "Right, threesome with Ridley. Ew, what a whore!"

Worst of it all, some even had Pedro profile pictures, or usernames and accounts dedicated to him.

Your heart was beating like crazy, chest heavy and hollow, face red with emotions you couldn't quite place (embarrasment? fear? rage? sadness?) as you kept searching across Twitter*, doing a quick skim of the trendings that included you. The same hate speech pattern was all over the timeline, some betting for divorce in a couple of years (even months!), while others took their time dissecting your looks and relationship. As if they knew. Long gone were the edits and harmless threads: the hate wave was here to stay. Some where even being a bit racist, the irony of it all, being Pedro himself was latino and didn't shy away from it, rather proud as he didn't miss an opportunity to shot out his dear Chile. Or any social issue, as a matter of fact, very vocal on his political beliefs.

This was fucking ridiculous, and if the cameras were an issue, this swarm of negativity is what really took a toll on you, the flashes as you went grocery shopping now barely a scratch. No, this was worst. All you wanted to do was cuddle in a blanket while wearing one of Pedro's shirts and dissappear. Too much noise. Too much hate. You can feel it creeping up your body, tainting your soft curves, wrinkles, acne scars and face. It's like rough hands, tugging harsh, ripping your vocals because you can't scream; no words to express this pain.

You knew one day it would come, but never imagined the hurt and to what extent people were capable of. Cruelty. Dissecting your life and body like it was a show for them to be entertained: your marriage was a circus and your body a joke.

It hurt their condescending dismiss of your love, questioning as if the gap were only numbers and not a pillar of your relationship that made you and Pedro closer, despite the bridge in age. You were reduced to a middle-age crisis, and he to a filthy man pinning for a younger girl. Your body was turn apart, despite no real flaws existing. Humans are meant to be so, not perfect, but real, and that was the problem: you had turn into an object―a target for their dards to pierce through.

Your body shakes violently with cries, deafening your ears that you don't hear when Pedro walks in.

"Why are you crying?" he rushes to your side, panic on his voice. "What happened? Are you hurt?"

You barely manage to shake your head, and then his eyes scan all over your features, until they land on the phone on your hands. The worry turns to anger as he asks:

"You looked at them, didn't you?"

He isn't yelling, but it would be better if he did. This contained fury, fading into dissapointment, as if you were a naive child scolded by their parents makes you feels small and stupid, as if you knew no better.

"I'm sorry-" you manage to choke out among tears, "I know you told me-"

"I told you" he interrupts, words laced with wrath, "so this wouldn't happen. See what happens?"

"Why are you talking to me like it's my fault?" you yell, and Pedro sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose in irritation. "I didn't ask to receive all this! Do I deserve the death threats, shame and hate?"

He walks past you, and it's like a slap to your face. Was he going to behave like this? Didn't it matter how you felt, or was it something childish that could be brush to the side like nothing? Insecurities you hadn't even think of come crashing down on you, doubts creeping up and attacking you from all sides. It's horrible. You try to hold onto the good memories, praying you don't loose him. You can't. You just can't.

"Answer!" you demand, tears spilling like a broke dam.

"I was just closing the windows. Or do you want to fuel the talk, huh? Give the hungry hoard more to bite?" Pedro then stands to hold your gaze, and you hate that you can't place his emotions. Anxiety corrodes your brain: was this really the beginning of the end?

"Do I?" you dare to speak up, and even if its loud, it comes out drowned, the exhaustion from the emotional turmoil taking its toll on you. "Do I deserve it?"

"No, you don't, carajo!" Pedro bursts. "You don't deserve any of that, which is why I didn't want you looking at those things!"

He sighs, realizing the anger is misdirected.

"I'm sorry"

Your broken wails are the only thing to be heard. He hates himself for being a part of it, even if not the biggest.

"No, I'm sorry for being so stupid" you sob. "I-I just wanted for people to be as happy for us as I am with you"

"Come here" but he's the one cutting the space to embrace you.

His scent calms a part of you, body still rocking with violent shakes.

"You're not stupid. Nor ugly, or any of those things people are calling you. No, mi amor. You're beautiful, smart and talent. They fail to realize I'm the lucky one. So please, don't be hard on yourself, yeah? I can't bear to see it. Less if I know it's not true. You didn't ask for it; you don't deserve all that bullshit"

He presses a kiss to your temple, arms that hug you tighter holding you close close up to the point his heartbeat melts within your own.

I won't let you go. You won't fall as long as I got you.

"We'll get through this, yeah? Think of the future, and what's to come. It's hard, that I know, but let us enjoy the moment. Life is too precious to waste it away" he brushes stray tears with his thumb, softly and full of love that words aren't enough to express. "I'm here" the out loud, "and I'm not going anywhere. That's a promise"

Later that day, Pedro posts a carrousel of unseens, even one of your wedding (a video of your first dance), telling people to leave you alone. That he loves you, and that no malicious news, fans or comments will ever change that―suck it energy laced within his rageful statement.

Safe to say, in the next weeks, hate is barely a small voice whispering in the back of your neck, one that hushes down with each kiss and/or words uttered by your one and only devoted husband.

mandoshoney: y/n protection squad pull up, we ride at dawn starlightt180: unhing3dprincess WHERE ARE U??? PTWT IS IN SHAMBLES AND NEEDS U MY SHAYLAAAAAAAAAA elysyannemimi: i feel like a kid scolded by their dad. pedro has achieved the ultimate daddy status bobgirlll: is no one going to talk about how rageful/protective pedro sounded in that story????? NEED MORE FERAL PEDRO RN GRRrrrr ps. photos so cute, wish that was me lol pyramiidsf: i hope y/n is okay, ppl can be so cruel sometimes but at least she's got pedro on her side <3 he's such a perfect man :,)

It had been days since your fight.

In an sweet attempt to cheer you up, Pedro had taken you out for dinner to a fancy restaurant you can't remember the name of. If they'll snap pictures of my wife without my permission, I might as well show you off. So, per his petition, you had wore a little black dress that hugged every curve of your body perfectly and pushed your tits to the top. Stunning, he had growled, and it had been hard to push him off as he devoured your mouth in your house's doorstep.

"Let's give them talk" you had agreed.

So now you sat at the restaurant, Pedro filling your cup of wine for the third time in a row, talking about all and nothing: about politics, the weather, your siblings, Louis the cat, upcoming gigs around your home you wanted to go to, how support had risen and the hate had dwindled, the numerous calls of job offers and interviews to keep on milking your relationship... life had never been more hectic.

"You know, maybe the dress was a bad idea" he takes a bite of his meat, tone nonchalant.

"Yeah?" you challenge, cheeks flushed with alcohol, "why's that? I thought I had to look good. What changed your mind?"

"Turns out" he looks at you, gaze piercing through your body, brown warm eyes darkening, "I figured something"

You know your husband. It's still fresh in your mind the first day you took a notice of it: jaw clenching, gaze fixated at nothing and white fists balled up on to the sides, arms swinging while fingers itched. A vein on his forehead would pop, and brows would melt together in a furrow. It happened when you got recognized by a fan, on your early days, and he had taken a picture of you, uploading it to social media. Dating Pedro had been going on for little to five months, and the way this guy hugged you from behind, hand resting above your ass, had made your then-boyfriend see red. His posture stiffened, demeanor changed and face adquired all the characteristics above. There was only one correct answer: Pedro was jealous, so fucking jealous.

So here he is now, jealous to the bone, alcohol increasing the rage.

"And that is?" you push his buttons, something you normally wouldn't do, but you're drunk and God, so sex-starved. His possesive side was always hot, yet now? It had a layer of allure it didn't have before, the idea of calming him down long lost.

"You know what it is" he answers, but you tilt your head to the side, acting confused. Pedro growls, clenching the glass a bit too tight; you fear it'll break.

"No, I don't" you serve more wine in your glass, savouring the liquid. Some spills into your mouth, and you lick it while not breaking eye contact. "Enlighten me"

"Turns out" the words come out strained, a whirlwind of emotions burning in the tip of his tongue, "that I wanted people to look at my wife, but I looked their looks and realized I don't like how they look at her"

He rambles the words out, speech pattern slurred and ideas clashing into one another, clearly drunk.

"I see" you draw out, demeanor calm, but your panties have started to get wet.

"No" he hits the table, making your eyes go wide and people turn to your table. You should be embarrased, but you're only aroused. "You don't see what I see. And I hate it, I fucking hate it" he seethes, words spit out over your unfinished meal.

"Dessert?" the waiter appears from seemingly nowhere, menu on hand.

Pedro doesn't even look when he answers, "Sure. Bring your best"

"The chef's suggestion is Soufflé, a classic dessert from his country"

"That'll do" Pedro looks at you, but his brain seems to be somewhere else. Like he's thinking. "How long will it take?"

The waiter ponders the answer, yet doesn't think any weird of it.

"About twenty to thirty minutes. Would that be alright? Or would you prefer to switch to one of our quick-fixes? They're as delicious as our fresh and-"

"No" your husband interrupts, eyes shinning with something akin to dangerous. "We'll take the soufflé. Just want my wife to eat the very best"

The waiter smiles. "Sure, will be back in a few. More wine?"

Pedro stops the action, removing the bottle's neck from pouring more red liquid in your glass.

"Won't be needed"

They excuse themselves, leaving both of you alone. The restaurant bubbles with chat and instrumental music from a band playing on a corner, but all you hear is his heavy breathing and your heart.

"I wanted more wine" you pout, not even knowing why you said it.

He smiles devilishly. "I'll give you something better than that"

How does it happen, you have no idea, but then Pedro gets up with a brash move, chair making a sound that draws attention. He smirks, his auburn reflecting on the candle glowing in the center with a light that's menacing.

"I'm going to the bathroom" an announcement that feels like a threat that runs through the newfound tension; it could be cut with even a butterknife.

You sit there in silence, too stunned to speak. Your phone chimes in what feels like an hour (it's been a few minutes, probably three). You open the notification, a single text from Pedro.

I'm waiting.

So this was his plan all along, huh? Maybe he's gotten bored of sex on a bed and room like normal couples, because ever since that time you sucked his dick in his trailer, Pedro has shown an appetite for public sex. Well, more like just shown but never done. Guess that changes as of tonight.

I'm coming.

Truth is, after the reveal and fight, you hadn't had sex since that time before the London premiere. Press tour hadn't finished, and the movie was still playing in theathers, but it feels much longer the time you had gone without having his dick rearranging your insides. That changes as of tonight.

You practically leap out of your sit, rushing to the restroom, which is too fancy for your liking. You're unsure how to proceed, and it should be because you realized how stupid and reckless this is, but it's more because you don't know which door Pedro is behind: men or women.

You knock softly on the ladies room first. "I'm here" you speak, voice small.

After a few seconds, a muffled voice from behind replies: "Me too"

You giggle as he pulls you inside, mouth devouring yours in a hot kiss.

"The lock!" you squeal, yet Pedro is busy buring his face between your breasts, pulling the dress down until he's nipping at the skin before licking the spot with his tongue. Your back is pressed against the tiled white wall, cold meeting your now heating skin.

"Mmm, missed this" he mumbles in a drunken state. "Needed my girls so bad"

His words elicit a moan out of you, a way to comunicate that your body too had been aching for this.

"Please, Pedro-" you whimper, trying to get rid of the pretty dress. He doesn't say it, but his movements command for power, big hands dragging your dress down until the black cloth falls to the floor in a sound filled with grace, it feels merciful.

"Black panties? But I thought I was a man with a plan" he groans, calloused digits ghosting over the wet patch in the middle. He smells your arousal off his fingers, and this is so nasty but you're so into it.

"Two can play" is all you answer, eager fingers unbuckling his belt as you unbutton the formal pants and pull them down to his knees, so with his underwear.

"Sure thing" he chuckles darkly. "Just look at you, baby. So loud, but you gotta be quiet. ¿Quieres que alguien entre y te vea así? Fucking slut, begging for my cock" (do you want someone to come in and see you like this?)

He's always been sweet-talking you through sex, and you know he doesn't mean it aside from being lewd words, but you also didn't know you could be aroused by it. Change is welcome, to say the least.

His hard dick is immediately stroking at the apex of your thighs, like he's got no time to loose, kissing you roughly like he hasn't eat and your mouth is his meal.

"Twenty minutes" he grumbles, groaning.

"Or thirty" you add, whining when his cock brushes dangerously close to your dripping folds.

"Can't believe you're this wet already" he chuckles, but it sounds more like a breathy sigh, lost in the inside of your mouth.

"I've been wet since before we left the house and you kissed me"

"And I kissed you" he adds. "No sé ni por qué putas te traje si sólo quería quedarme en casa y comerte" (i don't know why the fuck i took you out if all i wanted was to stay at home and eat you out)

You moan at his dirty mouth, clicking your tongue as a way to say so.

"You dirty old man-" it dies in your throat when he glides inside your folds with ease, a finger slipping in, then two, as he curls them. Your head rolls back, landing against the door with a hollow thud.

"Dirty? But you enjoy this, don't you?" his fingers buried up your hilt. Your eyelids flutter, whimpering drowned by your lips, bitten so deep you think you start to taste blood. "Bad news, mami. You're as dirty as me"

You choke in your words. "No-"

"No what?" Pedro mocks, sliding his digits out of you and shoving them inside his mouth, sucking on them while looking at you. You whine at the display and loss of them, knowing he's tauting you for fun. "Don't tell me you don't want someone to come in here and see you acting like a dirty slut? To see you almost coming here and now with just two of my fingers"

"Fine. What if I want to, huh? Just give me your damn cock already and quit teasing"

Words were lewd, but Pedro smiles with adoration.

"That's my girl"

His length springing free to slap against his now smooth stomach, your mouth drooling.

"Sit"

He glares back, "in the toilet?"

"Well, do you happen to see a couch or bed?" you quip. "That's right: you were the one who chose the bathroom, desperate old man. So needy, aren't you?"

You see your husband turning around, ashamed, and you laugh. "I didn't think it through" and you avoid to add a that's quite obvious snarky type of reply.

"Want me as much as I do?" Pedro doesn't protest anymore, grunting some spanish curses before sitting on the cold surface. "Good. Then comply"

You swing a leg over his lap, not afraid if the thing breaks, dragging your wet folds against his cock. He moans, gripping your thighs hard, biting at your lower lip to hide a growl that seems to erupt from deep within his chest.

"Gonna ride you, baby. Is that okay?" you take the lead, and Pedro gets frustrated that you're taking up a plan that was originally his. Despite such, he just finds himself nodding wordlessly like a fool.

You line up, desperate to have him inside of you. But you go slowly down, taking his size, maybe because you're drunk or because you'd never fucked in a bathroom before. Because, really, how will you even try to explain your PR team a broken bathroom?

You gasp as he bottoms out, struggling to catch your breath with the relentless push. His strong arm cages your waist, as he moans in your ear, bodies going up and down in sync. His slides are smooth across his length, helping you find your pace.

"Fuck" you whimper, legs starting to shake. "I think I-"

"I know" he interrupts you, a quick kiss to your earlobe. "It's okay; I've got you, linda"

He thrusts upwards, toilet creaking as Pedro keeps you in place.

You bury your teeth into his shoulder to muffle your moans, skin slapping against skin loudly, his movements becoming faster. The pressure keeps on adding, until the tightness on your walls is too much, and you're collapsing over his chest, folds spasming as he empties his load inside of you, seed deep in your walls, dripping down your legs.

"Oh, shit" you gasp, "Pedro!"

"Perdón!" he shouts, then covers his mouth. "Mierda, no quise ser tan ruidoso. Ay, carajo. Didn't want to spill all over you-" (sorry! didn't mean to be so loud. oh, fuck)

"There's a sink" you start, "and toilet paper. We'll manage"

"Right" he looks at his watch, "we got about ten minutes"

You smile, cheek resting against the warm skin of his neck. "If the chef took the whole thirty"

"There's only one way to find out" he gasps for air. "Pero, ¿no estás llena? Still up for dessert?" his big hand finds it's way to your tummy, you still contentedly stuffed full of him. It lingers, and when you look into his eyes, he averts his gaze, ashamed of whatever he thought. (but, aren't you full?)

"After this, I need some sugar to make it home" your eyelids drop. "I'm starving"

He presses a loud kiss to your head, "that's my girl"

"Yours" you pull back to rest your forehead against his. "Just yours"

He jolts forward, capturing your mouth in a hot kiss, and you smile into it.

"Good. Now, I'll give my good girl what she deserves" he takes some toilet paper to clean his spilling load out of you, kisses running from your face to neck. Then, gently so, lets you dress in again, exiting the bathroom first to give you some cleaning up space. When you come back to your table, the Soufflé is there.

"Eat" he commands, voice thick and rough. You smirk, giving it a bite as you look into his eyes: hair disheveled, puffy lips and droopy eyes. The bite mark seems to shine, or maybe you need to lay down for a while. "Y no mires atrás, ¿sí? We got ourselves a crowd" (don't look back, yeah?)

That night, you upload a story with a picture of the dessert with a caption that reads: best meal I've ever had. The context is lost until news of your bathroom affairs hit headlines next morning, but you don't notice: your phone happens to be dead, and you're too busy getting railed in what could count as round two to charge it.

pompeiianbollockr: hello just woke up and saw the pictures WTF TMZ??? did they really do #that 😭 bring back public shaming unhing3dprincess: i bet my grandma they fucked in that fancy ass restroom ㅤㅤmostannoyingbillioner: unhing3dprincess QUEEN U ARE BACK 😭 BETTING UR GRANDMA AGAIN? OH IKTR WE WERE LOOSING THE ANCIENT TEXTS poppysplayground: ohhhhh they're so nasty (do u want a third) ㅤㅤann-gell: poppysplayground fr like INVITEN

The interview for Entertainment Weekly's behind the cover for Gladiator II was supposed to just include Paul and Pedro, but taking advantage of the free publicity and buzz your announcement made, they added you. Especially after the news about your restroom affair had hit, courtesy of TMZ; the rumor wasn't taken into account in the beginning, but now added gasoline to the gossip fire. Just what the movie needed: free promo.

You're sat in the middle of the two men, dressed in white as well, to match their attires with a flowy dress that loosely resembles that of Rome's. Then, Paul begins to speak.

"I saw the film for the first time when I was about 13 with my dad" he talks about the original movie.

"I saw it in the movie theater when it came out" you imagine a young Pedro lined up to see Russell Crowe's magnetic performance and let out a small smile. "I saw it twice, because of how emotional the movie was. Obviously it's incredibly visceral, and epic and the kind of movie you rarely get to see made, uh, these days"

You look at him, elbow resting on the arm chair as your body is all turned to his side. Truth is, you love listening to him, especially when he seems so invested, love for the subject rooted in each word.

Pedrito, you'd affectionally call. Ésto es una conversación, no un monólogo. And he'd blush embarrased, only for you to laugh it off, saying you would turn mute if that meant for him to continue speaking. (this is a conversation, not a monologue)

"It had an impact emotionally. I remember that, I guess, sadistically I was drawn to a second time go back again because, weirdly, it was very comforting. I remember it perfectly came out in year 2000. Right?" he asks, and Paul and you agree with a yeah. "I can remember what theater I was in and everything-"

"What theater was it?" Paul interrupts his passionate talking.

Pedro stops, "It, uh-" he rambles, before you all laugh.

"What about you, y/n? Were you even born?" Paul jokes, making you roll your eyes at his antics and deliberate desire to keep nagging you like some older annoying brother.

"I was like, born a year after you, Paul. But I didn't watch the movie until I was fifteen" you feel the gaze of both men fall upon you. "The first Ridley Scott movie I watched was Thelma and Louise, as you all know. Then my dad insisted I should watch it, and finally, at fifteen, when I had given up on my dreams to go on one last epic trip to the Grand Canyon, he played it. My eyes, they were, like, glued to the screen. I couldn't stop thinking about it for a while" you leave a small lingering touch on Pedro's arm, "just like he said: epic and emotional. Also, I had a huge fat crush in Joaquin Phoenix that lasted until I was twenty"

"That was like, seven years ago!" Pedro yells, making Paul snorts. "I feel deceived"

"Qué dramático. We're both married, you big baby!" you laugh, then make a joke before the next conversation starts: "You wouldn't think he plays an epic Roman General, would you?" (how dramatic)

They film some shots of you and the boys before moving to the next talk.

"I was doing a play in London at the time. I'd met with Doug and Lucy who are the producers of the film in LA, and then a zoom was set up and I spoke to Ridley for about 5 minutes about what Gladiator was going to be about. And then we spoke for the next 25 minutes about like, gaic football and dogs, and then I thought we'd do like camera tests and- but no, he just-" he shrugs. "I found out about two weeks later"

Now it's Pedro's turn.

"I knew that the project existed. I knew that Paul was doing it. I think it started with an actual like meeting with Ridley to go and sit down with him and I, whether or not the movie was going to happen for me or not, I was like I'm going to go meet Ridley Scott" he jokes, making you both chuckle. "It wasn't even about getting the job, it was like I'm going to go and sit down maybe five minutes, ten, twenty, as many minutes as I can"

"It was in LA" you speak up, "in his offices"

"Yeah, and thankfully he was willing to talk about all the things I wanted to know about, in terms of other movies, and that's what it really turned into"

"He's a wonderful Storyteller" Mescal compliments. "You could sit down with Ridley for-"

Pedro makes a joke, speaking over him. "Give me another one, give me another one-"

You still kind of hate the guy after his supposed comments on your husband's weight, but won't talk bad about a man who gave you work and your biggest role to the date yet, so you explain how it happened to you.

"I wasn't even planned to appear on the movie. As a matter of fact, my character was squeezed in last minute. Ridley is, just as they said, indeed, a storyteller" you smile. "The truth is, I worked with Cuba, his granddaughter, on a proyect together, a photography one. I was in London at the time, auditioning for a movie, when we met"

"London?" Paul asks.

"Yes" you laugh, ashamed. "I traveled to London with some of my savings, because you know what they say about not doing and then regretting. But I do regret it; I cried for my money to be back!"

"You didn't get the part" Pedro adds, barely containing a snicker.

"I didn't" you sigh, "Cuba saw me sitting alone on a café, eyes red with tears of failure and talked me into capturing such vulnerable moment. She didn't know me but made my day better, and she took some of the most beautiful pictures I've seen of myself. So, in a way, I won. I mean, she's the reason I got the role: my name came up on a phone call with Scott, as I had already made a name for myself, and showed him the pictures. He got in contact with my agent and I got the role after auditioning. Call that friendship nepotism"

"Didn't Pedro tell you about it? I find it funny that he was in the movie and didn't get you in" Paul comments, curiously.

"We were supposed to remain a secret, and the sudden connection when we had barely interacted according to the public, would've been weird. So no, Pedro rubbed his role on my face and then I came home with the new script as he received his. We both won our roles separately, and until we got it both, we realized just what it would mean"

"But now we're here" Pedro speaks fondly, taking your hand. "Rome conquers it all"

You can only hold his and stare back lovingly.

"Oh" the Irish man feigns disgust, "don't get all lovey dovey on me!"

The topic changes again, as Paul speaks.

"We meet early in the film, and this is again kind of Ridley's genius. He shoots it in a way that it feels plausible, but in like- the real action of that there's no way-"

They start talking ovwe each other excitedly about the process of filmaking, Pedro listing all the settings were the epic action takes place.

"We lock eyes" Pedro jests, "we lock eyes"

"All right" Paul plays along. "Three, two, one"

"i'm right here" you say, pushing your body to the front. "You got me third wheeling in my own marriage"

Paul laughs, breaking contact.

"Time for you to get a taste of your own medicine. You've made the rest of this press tour unbearable!" he protests, but his tone is devoid of complain.

"Marcus Acacius represents like-" Mescal then speaks about your husband's character, "he's a Roman general"

"No, he is the general of Rome" you correct, smirking.

"Be careful, princess. Don't let the emperor see you all over his General" the blue-eyed man next to you mocks, and you roll your eyes again.

"Will you ever let me live?"

Paul then talks about his character. "I'm like a lieutenant in the numidian Army. I kind of see Acacius as this, he- he represents everything that I hate about, uh, the Roman Empire"

"Well, the Roman Empire is expanding and expanding" Pedro takes the word, "and invading Numidia just to gain more and more power, and we realize that there really is kind of no ceiling to the lust of that power"

"And that's to do with the Emperors, right? Like, played by Joe and Fred who are wonderful" Paul adds, complimenting both actors in the process. "And let's not forget our Empress too"

You make a face at that, feeling in the need to defend your character.

"Empress Alba is tragedy. I think she embodies well the feelings of helpnessless all women felt during that time. She's an object, another shiny possesion subjected to her husband's amusement, so she drowns in all pleasure available to forget her existence. Lucius hates her because he sees all the filth of Rome in her, like, this whole debauchery and squandering while the people beg for scraps. But it's a pattern seen across history, isn't it?" you pause. "I think it's interesting to compare her to Lucilla, because she's loved by the people, seen as human- despite being noble. It's sad because it's until too late that Lucius realizes she's a victim of the system he hates"

Pedro smiles at your little intervention, loving the way you explain a character you'd play so graciously. One of your favorite movies is Marie Antoinette, by Sofia Coppola, so probably it felt personal to you in some level. God, hadn't you made him watch it at least ten times?

"It unravels through the film that I've kind of miscalculated who I think Acacius is, just as with Alba" Paul comments.

"His character misunderstands my character just like Paul misunderstands us" Pedro quips, making both of you laugh.

"Then it kind of culminates in a big fight that we have in the-"

"Doesn't it always?" you add. "Wouldn't be an epic without it"

"Do you want to talk about it?" Paul dares, jokingly.

"No we're not talking about it" he cuts him off.

"Who's the better fighter'" Paul asks after some silence. Pedro dares him with a go on.

"I would say I'm better the better share. What you think?"

"I would say Lucius is the better fighter"

"Lucius is the better fighter" Pedro repeats slowly, incredulous. "Do you want us to fight? Lucius is a better fighter than the general of Rome, who survived decades and conquered" Paul tries to defend himself but Pedro doesn't let him. "I fight four men before I get you, and I call it off!"

"Yeah, but I think if you hadn't called it off -"

"You don't think I would have do some sort of mature aged learning-"

They end up discussing a bit more until you clear your throat.

"Why don't you ask for a third party to break your tie?" and you point towards yourself, mouthing a cute me with your painted pink lips.

"No!" Paul immediatly opposes, "It would be biased, silence her!"

"Have you seen Acacius' arms?" you gauge Pedro's arms, biceps flexing under the white attire. "It definitely isn't biased, at all"

The conversation carries on after some more shots. In some, you pose seriously, but in between such, you laugh along with them, Pedro even hugging you and Paul from behind in one of both. No kisses yet, but you know fans will be rabid just with the lingering touches and flirty undertones in your interactions.

"We began together in Morocco, and I think seeing that set and the scale of the production so quickly, desensitized me to the scale of the of what- Malta was in the Coliseum, and Ridley moves at such a pace, which I actually think really helped me because you don't have time to kind of sit there and and kind of bask in the wonder of it" Paul talks. "Because you're shooting three or four scenes, build your expectations of how to meet the size of, it or anything 'cuz 'cause it's impossible" Paul looks at Pedro and asks: "and I think Ridley; did I tell you what Ridley said first day of shooting to me? He came out to the tent while they were dressing the set, thousands of extras, everything fire, camels and he comes in, and he's- he's smoking a cigar, and we're all stood around and he's like Are you nervous? and we're all like No and he slaps me on the back and goes Your nerves are no good to me, before we filmed anything. But I think it was like- it's funny, but it's this idea that this is your playground, and you have to kind of step into it and own it. So, I-I don't actually really remember my first walking into the Coliseum, 'cause I feel like I lived in the Coliseum for about three or four weeks"

"You lived in the Coliseum of your mind" Pedro quips, making Paul laugh.

"I do remember, you know, when I first walked into the Coliseum, you know. It- it gave me chills. Like, literally chills. Look! I still get the goosebumps" you point your arm. "Honestly, all of it felt just too real, and I couldn't help but for a moment, think I actually was in Rome- that I belonged to nobility"

Pedro takes your hand and kisses it gently. "That's because you do, princesa"

"One of the things that I have never experienced on a movie before, is that there was so little left to the imagination" Pedro expresses. "Me and the rest of the ensemble are together in the emperor's box, and there's this enormous battle that's taking place, and Ridley composed all of the off camera for us in the emperor's box, with Paul leaping from one ship to another taking two men down what would you call that?"

"A cloth line flying" Paul answers.

"Clothes line?" you try.

"A flying- a flying clothes line" Pedro decides, carrying on "just so that we could know what we were looking at. I couldn't f*****g believe it"

"That's true" you remark. "The result goes so hard- I mean, it looks amazing" you sheepily laugh. "The action, the violence, the epic... it all shines through. It just- it makes sense"

The conversation shifts again.

"The legacy of the first film is so profound, and has such a strong place in so many people's, like, hearts and minds, it's inescapable, but I was looking at it- and I was like" Paul shares. "The screenplay does a lot of that work for you in terms of like, the rubbing the dirt between the hands. the kind of DNA and the genetics that Lucius inherits. I remember reading the script and there's like, a moment in the script where it's Lucius puts on the breastplate and it's written like Lucius now becomes Maximus"

"But Lucius, despite being a son, is also a man" you counter. "He isn't Maximus"

Paul agrees.

"I kind of tried to park that to one side, because ultimately, where Lucius is coming from at the start of the film, he has a very different journey than Maximus does, and I was hoping that whatever DNA- and even just the physical gestures, was going to be one part of- a kind of small part of the performance" he explains. "What I tried to do is figure out exactly who Lucius was and where those differences lay between Lucius and Maximus"

"One of the things that I loved most about my character is that he's introduced in the beginning of the movie, in this very epic battle sequence, that I think in its own way homages the first film" Pedro shares. "But even better, because we follow him back to Rome and discover his direct connection to one of the only characters that is living and with us from the first movie, and I loved being a a kind of thread, an invitation, into what we know from the first movie by being Connie Nielsen's man"

Paul looks at you silently, before poking your side: "Someone is real quiet with that comment"

You narrow your eyes. "I have no idea what you're talking about"

"I am Connie Nielsen's man as Marcus Acacius, but as Pedro Pascal, I'm all y/n's"

Your face goes red at how easily you are to be understood, your husband answering just what you wanted to listen.

"Ha! Look at your face, I was right!" Paul ridiculises you.

But after such an embarrasing moment, he shifts the conversation again.

"There's a moment where Pedro has this, uh- it's so clever from a- from an acting standpoint, but also in the in the script like, you see this brutalizing Force come into Numidia, and there's this section where there's the burning of the bodies, and that it's one of my favorite shots in the film" Paul muses. "It's this closeup on Pedro, when he says Vae Victis to the conquered, and you feel like it's a really difficult thing to communicate in one line, that you see: Oh, this General is, kind of wearing this responsibility with great difficulty and shame"

"I wasn't doing that at all" your husband deadpans. You stiffle a giggle.

"You were very good in it" Paul argues back with a smile.

"That wasn't what I was playing" he insists, serious but Paul asks What were you playing? and you all laugh.

"If I had a favorite scene, I'd say it'd be naval fight" you mention. "The colliseum is filled with water, and it's this- it feels like a thing that has never been done before, and with the people cheering and the buzz, and the announcement and echo of the drumming, it's as if you were there, in the crowd. The tension is palpable, the violence is thrown at your face but the scariest one, is the one that lies underneath. Uh, Lucius character tries to attack the General while we, you know, the royals and especial guests, are sitting at our box, and he gets so close, it serves, I think the bottom climbing the ladder to bite the ankles of the top. Obviously, that before we know who Lucius actually is, but I think it's kind of cool"

The interview is ending, the last of your twelve-minute conversation being filmed now.

"I am really excited for everyone to see Paul" Pedro beams, making the younger one laugh. "I'm sorry but it has to be said. You are sensational in the movie" then adds, "and pretty easy on the eyes"

"Everyone in this movie is easy in the eyes" you quip, looking at your side. Pedro coughs a bit before speaking again, even if a faint blush is coating his cheeks.

"-And he worked so hard, and I got to see that happen like, in front of me, and on the day and just lead with Ridley, this enormous crew and this enormous cast... To get to see that, on the big screen, is really exciting and I think people are going to- they're going to love it"

"That's very kind" you exclaim softly with a smile, then add. "I'm sure of it, especially if you were a fan of the first. Both are very interwined, although each film is its own thing" you comment.

"For a lot of us, the actors, we haven't worked on a film on that scale" you violently shake your head "and I think, there's a little bit of trauma bonding that went on with, kind of having to- kind of feel like, total impostor syndrome within it all. But to see your friends operate at that level on a film of that scale, doing like incredible work. I think, across the board, I haven't seen a film on this scale for a long long time rhat's rooted it has the scale and the performances, and I personally think it's one of Ridley's greatest pieces of work"

senhoritamayblog: y/n was SO REAL holding pedro's arm and talking abt how he'd beat paul bc he's beefy ME WHEN moltisantiii: you know what i think ridley's greatest piece of work is? giving us this trio youlooklike-clarabow: y/n is truly a princess 🥹 i don't know if i want to be y/n to be with pedro or pedro to be with y/n ㅤㅤann-gell: youlooklike-clarabow well, she's the people's princess after all!

You haven't even left the room when Pedro is all over you, kissing your neck on that sweet spot of yours that elates a little breathy whine. Doesn't he know you well?

"What are you doing?" you manage to squeak out as his needy big hands grope your body, flesh soft under the flowy white dress. He grunts when he catches your panties, embarrasingly wet already at just a few sloppy kisses and eager touches.

"What do you think?" he whispers against your ear as you both try to walk away from where voices can be heard, and then Pedro is guiding you to a room, closing the door behind him. If he was able to walk to the room while kissing you, he must've seen it in a passing. Had your husband plan this all along? Greedy needy old man.

"What I think, baby, is you're forgetting something" you push him off, giggling. He makes a little pout, making it hard to keep your ground. "Now that everyone knows we're married and we suddenly both go misteriously missing at the same time, they'll just put two and two together. I mean, does it really take a smart person to figure it out?"

Pedro doesn't back down, still caging your frame against the locked door.

"So?" his annoyed and tense voice only makes you laugh more. That turned on was he? Pedro seems annoyed at your fit of laughter, his pants tight.

"What do you mean so? We almost got caught by Paul last time!" you chuckle amused. "And, are you seriously going to pretend TMZ didn't air our bussiness just about last week?"

"Well, maybe you should've thought about it before" he goes back at the task of attacking your mouth, words spewing in between hungry kisses. You mouth a little taunting innocent looking Before what? and then Pedro is talking while his gaze is glued to yours, tightening his arms around you, and the answer is just about that. "You should've thought about it before getting all flirty with me, grabbing my arm in front of the camera like the naughty girl you are. So fucking needy you can't hide it for a few hours, can't even go through an interview without touching me, looking at me, being possesive at a fictional marriage even" your face burns hot with embarrasment at that. Oh, was he being nasty on purpose? Why bring that up? "Haven't I taught you manners?"

It's hard to force yourself to hold his gaze while standing still. Taunting. Defiant.

"José Pedro Balmaceda Pascal" you chastise, "do you want people to know we are raw dogging in the dressing room? That's the manners you so badly talk about"

His face goes red, his demostrations stopping for a bit as he studies your now serious face.

"Wait, do you want to raw dog in the dressing room?" he gasps at the boldness in your words, which, to be fair, is kind of exaggerated, as you both have said worst stuff before. "That's not what I had in mind"

"That's not?" you arch an eyebrow. "Oh, no. Absolutely not. You can't just kiss my neck greedily and touch my body eagerly like a goddamn starved horny idiot, and then expect me to not act up on it, you old man"

There's silence before he speaks up again. "Y/n, you talked about manners"

You take a deep breath in, making sure the door is actually locked.

"Well, fuck them manners"

You capture his lips on a hungry kiss, same kind of force you had made fun of him, just minutes ago. He's pushing his tongue inside of you, as his hands move up to your shoulders and back down to your waist. You rub yourself against him, looking for some kind of friction, and his big calloused hands pulls your waist closer in an attempt to do the same.

"Manners maketh man" he's reciting, and such stupid proverb and line from one of his old works shouldn't turn you this much. Pedro lifts up the dress until your body is devoid of the cotton, murmuring about how unfair it was for you to taunt him with translucent cloth, tender flesh hiding under the white. So hard to focus on interviews, mami, when you're close to me or something like that, as you're too lost in the fire. No bra? Fuck, baby. Do you want to kill me?

"Sofa" you command, eyes darting to the furniture so you can show him where. "Now"

You take off your panties in a go, revealing the slick that's just a few seconds from running down your legs.

"I see, my legs won't be the only thing drooling" you mock his agape mouth. He takes off the blazer with shaking hands, sitting as you get on top of him. Pedro kisses his way down your neck, sucking on the skin. How will you get out of here without comfirming suspicions? Surely, there must be something inside here that could be of help.

"Well, I've wanted to do this for a while" he mumbles against the now red patches of before honey-ed skin. Again? you think.

"Have me or fuck again in public?" you ask out loud, and even if you're laughing, there's a layer of fondness in your voice. "I'm starting to wonder if you have an exhibition kink, papi"

He breathes a little no before biting right above your collarbones, his tongue then releaving the pain with a wet slick move over the flesh as you let out a whine.

"Busy schedule, mami. A husband's gotta find a way to make time for his pretty wife, even if it means fucking her in the goddamn dressing room" he says into your ear. Pedro had done more interviews than you, and between that and filming for his other projects, he's right. "So what if they find out? Need them to know who you belong to. I'm just a devoted husband, will you punish me for that?"

You caress his face, pristine hair now disheveled, the gel succumbing to the heat and sweat trapped in the room.

"Look at you, naughty boy. El burro hablando de orejas" you laugh, "but of course I won't. Need you too so bad" (look who's talking)

His finger wanders down to your pussy, big hand roaming around the area. His middle and ring finger run over it, the golden band starting to shine with your arousal. Fuck, that just made you wetter.

"Shit, baby. You're so eager... wasn't lying when you talked before"

"Needed you since you kissed me today, when you woke up" your teeth grit at his lingering digits. "Your dick rubbed against my bare thigh, fucking hard"

Truth is, you're always horny; being married to Pedro Pascal does that to you. But mornings? Waking up to that handsome face and girthy dick? You really be testing yourself sometimes.

"Jesus, mami" he whistles. "So fucking dirty, thinking about me all the interview because my morning wood grazed your skin, you dirty naughty girl"

Pedro finally slides his fingers inside of you, making you squirm under his gaze as your back archs. "So fucking beautiful, can't believe you're all mine" he moans and you squeeze his shoulders, nails digging and bruising his skin under the shirt that sticks to his skin, body heating up like a furnace.

"Please, Pedro" you plead, lip biting your under to supress a whimper. "Please curl your fingers, need to have you- feel you inside. Fuck-"

Your words cut off as he moves his fingers with learned ease, his thumb rubbing your clit as a treat.

"Mmm" you murmur with pleasure, back arched again, your tits too dangerously close to his face. Without much thought, he licks your nipple and then devours the whole breast with his mouth. All while looking at you, this absolute horndog. Your nails dig in deeper as you pronounce his name in a shaky exhale. Wanting more. Begging for more.

"Mmm? That's right" his palm on your waist squeezes lightly, more pressure on his grip. "Can't speak 'cause I'm making you feel so good, huh?"

You don't answer, instead throwing your head back, nails digging deep to the point he winces, making a face by the pain. You mouth an apology, but then he licks your nipple again, and teeth move to your nibble your earlobe―you're not sorry anymore.

"S-stop" you choke out, body shivering.

"What? Can't take what you asked for? No muerdas más de lo que puedes masticar, niña mala. Bad girl" (don't bite off more than you can chew, bad girl)

His lewd words elicit another moan out of you.

"I-I can. In fact, I want- no, need more. I don't want to cum on your fingers" you whisper in his ear, hot breath probably why he shivers. "Pull down your pants, pretty boy, because I want to cum on your dick"

"Fuck, mami. What a dirty mouth" he moans.

Eager hands try to lower his pants as your fiddle with the same feel, the borrowed wardrobe struggling to get off in the current position. His underwear goes next, and you squirm as he aligns his tip with your dripping entrance.

You moan and he grunts, as his dick enters your tight folds, sounds clashing onto each other as so do your bodies, fitting perfectly. His hands travel from your waist to ass, his head against the back of the sofa, your hands that were before on his shoulders now on his chest.

"Such a pretty view you're giving me, wifey" he tries to laugh, but the sound comes out strained along each powerful stride of his cock that buries inside of you, each bouncing harder, his hands pathethically running over your ass, back, hips, and legs, as his eyes devour the way your tits jiggle with each thrust, tongue burning with desire to suck on the skin again. "So beautiful, and all mine. Only mine. Mía"

His words drip with devotion and wordship; all the love in the world. Pedro calls you beautiful, goddess, and a string of spanish words crossed with adoration. Mami. Linda. Princesa. Diosa. Hermosa. It has your orgasm looming over, head spinning and pussy stretched, walls tightening.

"I'm close" you whisper, riding him with soft-paced movements as his turn sloppy.

You see stars, walls almost kicking his dick out as you coat it in your slick, arousal dripping down until it's coated his balls and smeared the white attire. Fuck. Now Pedro's moving his waist, hunting for his own orgasm.

"Me too" he breathes out, "stay with me"

His hands travel sloppily to your waist, lazily holding you still with his calloused digits.

"Quick, baby" you breath out, "I'm sensitive"

"I'm almost there. Just hold on a little longer" then a whine before shakily pleading. "Please, please, just wait for me"

You move your hips slowly, aroused by his needy pleads, robbing a moan out of him. "Cute" you praise, making his cheeks redden with sweat and blush.

He is cute: hair messed up, mouth red and puffy, and brown puppy eyes.

"I love you so much" Pedro let's out, and it sounds like a confession, despite being married for so long.

"I know, baby, I know" you reach for his face, removing some sweat beads from his forehead, and he leans on the touch, closing his eyes as another gutural growl erupts from his chest. "I love you too"

You keep on riding until you feel his dick twitch inside of your walls.

"We need to stop doing this" you pant out.

"Too late for that, bonita. At least no one found out this time" Pedro laughs. "But you like the talk, don't you? Gonna give 'em something to talk about" he pants, "will fill you up so good you won't be able to walk without my seed spilling from you" sweat beads from your face fall onto his. He obscenely licks the salty drops. "Te voy a dar tantos hijos, que no cabrán en la casa. That way they will know you're mine" (will give you so many kids, they won't fit in the house)

You moan loufly, folds now coated on thick ropes of hot cum, as his movements come to a stop, slowing down until all that can be heard is your uneven breaths trying to recover.

And on cue, there's a knock at the door. Shit. You both remain silent, as if it would stop, but the knocking turns persistent.

"Pedro, I know you're in there"

It's Paul freaking Mescal, again. You might just have to invite him next time if he keeps showing up like that.

"Should I go?" Pedro whispers, and you shrug, stating it would be weirder to pretend he wasn't if Paul knew he was. "How do I look?"

You eye him up and down, eye glistening with dissaproval, red cheeks giving away your thoughts as if the furrowed eyebrows and ashamed gaze didn't already.

"We are fucked"

"No" he giggles, "we just fucked"

"That's not funny!" you roll your eyes, playfully smacking his chest. "Please, look into the mirror and try to fix yourself a bit. If not, we're doomed to be remembered as a horny couple. Oh, we were going so well! Fans will make fun of us and the press will call us horndogs" you lament, exaggerating your voice.

"Oh, shush. We wanted to be able to be in public. This is what it feels like"

You blush. "Maybe we can reduce the public aspect a bit..."

Pedro snorts before doing a quick fix to his appearance, walking to the door where Mescal patiently waits behind. Oh, of course; that little fucker. After the TMZ news dropped, he connected the dots and know that whatever happened in that trailer when Pedro told him to fuck off, wasn't holy at all. Now, he's probably laughing or scheming.

"Paul!" Pedro opens the door. "W-what's up?"

The younger man does a quick scan of his friend, barely able to hide a laugh.

"Looking radiant, my friend" he answers with a shit-eating grin. "They need to do some re-shootings. Have you happen to seen y/n? She just keeps dissappearing when you- oh, when you do!" he mocks. "Well, if you ever happen to find y/n, tell her you both need to get a good fix unless y'all want to show up on TMZ again. I'm pretty sure you can find something in this dressing room to cover those marks, yeah?"

He finally breaks down laughing in front of Pedro's shocked face.

"Ah, you guys are the absolute worst" he folds in a fit of laughter, "so fucking horny you end up fucking in bathrooms and dressing rooms!"

Your voice can be heard from inside as you growl, face red with fury and shame:

"Hijo de puta" (son of a bitch!), "don't make me bring Daisy Edgar-Jones into this!"

l-u-n-a-m: they're just milking their relationship atp for promo but i'm not complaining need more pictures of the photoshoot NOW vnightx: istg if they don't stop flirting in front of my single ass face. i need a gun at0michips: have i gone insane or does pedro have love bites ㅤㅤmybritishstyle: MI HIJO DOES NOT HAVE LOVE BITES. HE JUST FELL DOWN THE STAIRS

cr: divider @kodaswrld / gif @trashcora / *i'm never gonna call twitter as X. it's still twitter, and will always be. fuck that ugly bigot filthy billionaire hoe called elon-trump-cocksucker-musk.

[madamechrissy]

Pretty Please

Pairings- Yandere Caleb x F! reader

Warnings- MDNI/NSFW- a sick fic, you're literally sick from taking care of Caleb (based on the memory in the game) but Caleb knows just how to make you feel better. Don't read if not your thing- he's obsessive asf as we love him, oral sex (f receiving) low-key yandere behavior, Caleb being slutty for you even though you're the only girl he's been with, sweet and also freaky asf - 2k WC

Just me being actually sick ( I have the flu ughh ) and writing this as a completely self indulgent thing- comments and rbs appreciated if you enjoy

You're sick, really sick, after nursing Caleb during a really bad flu, now you've gone and caught it yourself. Ever the caretaker, Caleb is gently spooning some broth into your mouth, holding you up gently, his big hand supporting your head. You hate how good it feels, how good it felt laying against him when he held you all night.

You're both too close, you know that, childhood friends forever, fuck you are all each other even has these days, you never want to ruin it, but your flushed state and addled mind make it worse. You're too sick to ignore how good his cool fingers feel, too weak to pretend you don't crave him all over you.

You take a shaky breath as he puts an electolyte drink to your lips now, you wrap your mouth around the rim of the cup, sipping just so, lip print left on the beveled glass. "I told you, Pip squeak, you were gonna catch it, but someone is stubborn."

You manage a cute little glare, and he laughs at it, as he sets the drink down, running his fingers over your hot forehead, frowning a bit. Even with the medicine you were still running a pretty high fever, breaking just a little sweat that's shimmering on your skin. He can't help but think how pretty you are even sick, but fuck when weren't you?

In his bed, in his arms all night, like pure torture, trying to focus on caring for you instead of doing what he really wanted, to have you wrapped around him, to forget anyone exists but him. He is even taking the slightest pleasure with you depending on him so much right now, selfish but how can he not feel that way, when he's so desperately in love?

"I refuse to be sick." You inform him, making him chuckle, his dark lavender eyes lighting up just a bit, mischievous in their glint.

"Oh, yeah? Think you're so invincible." His voice is a comfortable taunt, a tease as he brushes a droplet off your lips, making you pause then.

"I am! I'll tell it to-" you cough just a bit. "To fuck off."

"I bet you will." He's brushing your hair back, so close now, you pause, looking up at him, breath so quick it makes your chest rise and fall.

Why are you wet while you're sick?

Fuck.

"It's all your fault, you know, playing doctor." You pout now, but your eyes flutter shut as he leans over you, pressing his lips to your forehead in a sweet kiss, eliciting a little whimper that makes him pause, kissing it again. "Feel good, honey?"

"Honey... not Pip squeak?" He chuckles again, looking at you as he runs his thumb in a circle over your flushed cheek, damn near burning to the touch.

"The noise you made," his voice drops to a husky whisper, straight nose damn near brushing yours, and your hands find their way to his soft blue shirt, thinking wildly he'd kiss you then. "It was as if... you really liked it, did the kiss make you feel better?"

You nod then, sighing, and he trembles in his grip of you, desire making him ache. "You can't kiss my lips, you'll get sick again."

"You want me to?" His whisper was shocked, you turn your face then, but he presses a kiss on your hot cheek now, making your grip tighten on his shirt. "You're sweet when you're sick. Look at you, weak like a little kitten."

"Jerk." He laughs again, pecking a kiss on your neck, and that's when Caleb loses control, the insane control he's always kept with you, when he brushes lips on your sweet flesh, and you cry out, and he can feel that heat between your thighs. "Caleb..."

"Yeah? Feeling better yet?" He kisses down your collarbone, tugging at the shirt you wore, swallowing you since it's his shirt, and he wonders if you're wearing anything else.

His bed.

His clothes.

His.

You're his, you're supposed to be his, fuck.

When his hand slips down, brushing your breast, he watches your nipple press against the thin white fabric, making him let out a shaky, heavy breath, and your hand slides up, palm over his racing heart. Caleb has an athlete's heart, but it's fucking racing like crazy, you feel it, eyes locking.

"Where do you need me to kiss it better, Pip squeak? You just tell me."

"Caleb..."

"Aren't I always here for you? Don't I always take care of you?" You swallow now, nodding, as his eyes get darker, plump lips parting, looking up under his dark long lashes as he kisses your nipple over the shirt, and your back arches, cunt throbbing again.

"You always take care of me." He moans again, hands sliding down to your waist now, then your hips.

"So let me make you feel better. Make you feel so fucking good."

"How?" Your innocent whisper almost ends him, he's never asked you outright but always hoped you would wait for him.

"Has anyone kissed you..." his fingers drift down until he finds your slick cunt, your gasp of pleasure making his cock throb and leak sticky precum. "Here?"

"No... you know I..."

"Never like anyone enough to?"

"You're... usually annoying me too much for me to notice anyone." He smiles against your skin, yanking the blanket off you and leaning back on his knees, looking down at you as he slips that big shirt up your thighs.

"Oh, is that it? Just annoying?" He bites his lower lip when he sees it, your bare glistening cunt, emitting even more heat than your fevered skin. "Fuck..."

"You're annoying and... clingy and... attention- ah!" He scoots down the bed, spreading your thighs, slipping that shirt up and pressing a hand on your tummy, breath so close to your cunt you can't take it, gripping the soft blankets under you. "C-Caleb!"

"So no one has kissed you... right..." His lips smack as they press a kiss to your clit, and you weakly jerk, body still aching from the fever now. "Here?"

"No one." Your answer ends him, he rests his head on your inner thigh, trying to fucking compose himself, rigourous military training couldn't prepare him for the scent or taste of you- of course he'd stolen many panties- but the source was even sweeter. "Are you sure it'll um... make me feel better?"

"Well if I kiss your other lips you think I'll get sick, right?" He asks casually, pulling your folds apart and breathing against your tiny clit, making it twitch as he smirks just a bit. "You tell me if it makes you feel better, I'll always make you feel better."

You nod weakly, and soon Caleb, the closest person in the world to you, is lapping his long pink tongue up your slit. Your thighs close, earning a firm smack to them that stings.

"Hold them open." That commanding voice, the military voice of his that makes you ache, you immediately agree. "Good girl."

Good girl!?

You're done, when Caleb slips his tongue up your slit now, juices gushing out of your hole, which he hungrily fucking laps up, as you're shaking, desperate for more. Your hands entangle in dark brown silky locks, just making him moan when your nails press his scalp, when you pull, and he flicks his tongue again.

"Ah!" You're shaking, weak and exhausted, like he's sapping the last bit of hydration from your body, but it feels so fucking good you can't take it.

"This helping, honey? Feel better yet?" You shake your head, earning his grin, you feel every line of his teeth against your plump lips, jerking your hips as he flicks the tip of his tongue up again on your engorged clit. "You need more, then ask for it. How do we ask nicely huh?"

"Pretty please." The words ruins him, fuck you ruin him, he grips your ass then, dragging you closer, and starts eating your pussy in earnest, in ways he's only ever dreamed of, better than lapping your soaking wetness off your panties, better than anything. The first time he's finally gotten the girl of his dreams against his face, and you're falling apart for him.

He feels so good, tongue slipping inside gummy walls that convulse as your hoarse voice echoes in Caleb's spacious room, and the sounds of him drinking you up are fucking obscene, lewd, the squelching wetness mixing with his moans as he laps at you. His fingers press into the plush of your thighs, leaving bruises he hopes stay, and so do you, as you're arching your hips up, weak but willing to give him all of you.

Caleb's grinding his cock against his mattress, aching to slide it in, and fuck he'd love that, to take you, make you fully his, but he knows you'll need energy for that. So for now he murmurs - "Cum for me, would you? You'll feel so much better, won't you? Let me take care of you."

You manage a nod, then Caleb sinks a finger in your tight entrance, the stretch and how full you are too much, he grins, sighing, eyes so dilated they're black with desire, damn near cumming as he presses up, finding your spot, and your body responds violently, you feel it all fall apart, almost hurting with how weak and sore you already are, the pleasure so intense you can't see.

"Caleb, m'gonna-"

"Cum, pretty, lemme drink you all up, hmm?" You're ended, cumming so hard you almost faint, as you feel lightheaded, ears ringing when he laps at your clit and presses a fingertip in that spongy spot, and when you do, you gush so much he has trouble drinking you all up. Dripping down his face, down to the dark sheets underneath you, screaming out so weakly the last of your voice is gone.

"Oh my god..." You're struggling as he presses one more kiss on your pussy now, then your inner thigh, running his fingers up and down your slit, smirking as you twitch, crying out with a voice almost gone.

"Feel better, don't you?" He asks, leaning over you, strong muscles of his arms tense and defined, and you feel it, his hard cock hot and heavy under his sweats, as it rests between you. "Answer."

"Y-yes. But Caleb we..." You swipe some of your glistening cum off his chin, flushing furiously, as he smiles, brows lowering, so dangerous then, he's so fucking dangerous. Your body has used so much you feel exhausted, eyes fluttering shut as he leans on an elbow, brushing your hair back. "We just..."

"I took care of you, I made you feel good. Didn't I say I always will?" He adjusts your shirt now, helping you sit up once more, and you eye his lips.

"Then kiss me."

"Kiss you hmm? You're so greedy, you're gonna get me sick again?" You just nod, energy seeping from your sick body, and he does just that, kissing you, and he grips you so tightly then, shaking with the effort it takes not to fuck into you. "God, taste yourself, don't you?"

"Y-yes..." You hide your face against his chest then, as he holds you close, stroking your hair.

"You're cute I swear, I'd give you anything you ask." He will give you everything, in time. For now, he knows what's best, pulling back and covering you again, brushing your hair gently. "You need to hydrate, you've... lost a lot."

"Oh my god." He's chuckling a bit now, eyes bright, and you feel yourself wanting to tell him everything, but for now he's helping you drink, and then giving you medicine, before holding you against his chest. You drift off quickly, and he smiles as he thinks of how you're going to have to extend your trip, he doesn't think you'll be feeling good enough yet, and he will take care of you, no one else can quite like him.

Had a few requests for more Caleb, I am in LOVE with him during this event my goodness, I am down to write more if you all want! Hope ya'll enjoyedd this was somehow cute and filthy lmao.

perm tags- @alt--er--love @nanasukii28 @cuntphoric @loafteaw @n1vi @miizuzu @beachaddict48 @honeybunnnnie @re-tired-succubus @gojosukuna2268 @waterfal-ling @1brii @wise-fangirl @moncher-ire @orikixx @uhnosav @baepsays @designerpvssy @orixxxana @airandyeah @nina-from-317 @evelynxxo @naammiii @soyokosuguru @espresso1patronum @tomboy-disaster @iam-souless @lanii-i @cristy-101 @doeeyestoji @cvixmei @mutsu422 @ivyvenus333 @g00seg1rl @suki91 @satoao-main @fairygardenprincesss @theonlyjuggernaut @huntyhuntycunty @lovelockdownff @ibreathesmut @s777athv @twinklywinkly @akiii143 @squeezyvalkyrie @cookielovesbook-akie @oinksa @grignardsreagent @raendarkfaerie @shokosbunny

[luvcaleb]

SHH... WE CAN'T GET CAUGHT.

nsfw (18+). includes fingering, breast play, dirty talk, huge cock, unprotected sex, creampie, fwb relationship (it's pretty obvious you like each other tho), mentions of your first time experience with caleb (and other times after that), having sex when another person is just a few rooms away, too much cum, slight praise kink. filthy, filthy, filthy smut from top to bottom. likes and reblogs will be very helpful !!

“Shh... you don't want Gran hearing us, do you?”

You're covering your mouth to stifle your whimpers, but there's no hiding the wet squelches beneath the blanket. You wrap your hand around Caleb's flicking wrist, his fingers buried deep inside your cunt. When he adds another digit, a loud cry of his name is pulled out of you.

Caleb presses a soft kiss against your nape. You're both turned on your sides, your back against his solid chest. “As much as I like hearing you say my name, it'd be a problem if someone came to interrupt us. Remember the last time?”

The last time he's referring to is your risky tryst from a few days back; Caleb joined you in your bath, claiming he wants to “wash your back” for you. As expected, 20% of your time was spent in a relaxing soak where he massaged your shoulders and washed your hair, and the remaining 80% was spent with his head between your legs, coaxing out wave after wave of cum with his fingers and tongue.

The tip of his cock was already inside you when a knock on your door interrupted you, your grandmother asking if you knew where Caleb went because he wasn't in his room. Needless to say, you had to stop what you were doing and Caleb had a difficult time sneaking out of the bathroom.

“That... mmph... and this... is all your fault...” you struggle to say while biting back your moans as he grinds his fingers against a good spot, his thumb flicking at your clit. Caleb has always been too good with his hands. “You always—ah!—do this even when there are other people around...!”

“You wanna know why?” Chuckling, Caleb leans closer to whisper to your ear, lips brushing over your soft skin. “You squeeze me so fucking tight when we're about to get caught.”

You gush around his fingers as he mouths on the shell of your ear, moaning into the palm of your hand. He hums in satisfaction, pulling out his hand from your panties to admire the stringy release between his fingers. “You always cum too fast, pipsqueak. You pent up these days?”

How on earth could you possibly be pent up when you've been fucking Caleb at every opportunity? Every time you're left alone at the house, he fucks you against any flat surface he can find—the door when he's too impatient to go to your room, the bathroom sink because he likes making you watch yourself in the mirror when he's fucking you stupid, and even ate you out on the kitchen countertop at some point.

But the thing is, Caleb is undaunted by the possibility of being caught. So even when your Gran is around, he sneaks into your bedroom to fool around, just like what he's doing now under the pretense of “we watched a horror movie today, aren't you scared to sleep alone?”

Evidently, Caleb has no intention of letting you sleep tonight. He fondles your tits beneath your shirt, the tent in his sweatpants grinding against your clothed ass. “Don't pretend like you're innocent,” he mutters, making you yelp when he pinches your nipple. “You strutted around all day wearing my shirt without a bra, bending down in front of me on purpose... Did you know how hard it was to hold back from fucking you on the spot?”

“T-that was...!” Your cheeks flush with warmth. Sure, you were kind of riling him up on purpose, but that was under the assumption you'd be alone tonight.

“This ass...” he rubs you above your shorts, groaning as he palms at the soft flesh. “...was in my mind the entire fucking day. I held myself back until now, but I can't hold back anymore, fuck.”

He strips you off of your clothes, only leaving his shirt scrunched up above your breasts. He pulls down his sweatpants, and you feel his huge cock slap against your lower back, his pre-cum smearing across your skin. He holds the back of your knee to raise your leg, positioning his cock to your soaked pussy.

“Been waiting for this for so fucking long... Oh, shiiit,” he moans, long and drawn out and dirty as he slides right home, the tip of his dick pounding at your cervix. You squeal into your hand, your cunt clamping down on his cock so tightly but it doesn't deter his fast pace at all.

He reaches so deep like this, hitting spots he normally couldn't when you're in missionary. His huge cock feels like it's carving its own space into your body, coring you out from the inside, and it feels so good that you can't hold back your voice at all.

“Nn... Don't do that,” Caleb pulls away your hand from your mouth when he notices you biting down on your skin to hide your moans. He replaces it by putting his fingers in your mouth, cooing softly to your ear, “Suck. You're going to hurt yourself.”

You suck on his fingers, eyes rolling back to your head as he continues to pound you, fucking your pussy so good. Only Caleb knows how to make you feel so much pleasure to the point you can't think properly anymore. Your fingers could never hope to reach the places his cock touches.

It's how this twisted relationship started in the first place, Caleb catching you touching yourself when you forgot to lock your door. He taught you how to make yourself cum because you didn't know anything, until all you knew was him and his cock. But he was too big the first time you took him in that he had to fuck you loose with four fingers, sucking and licking at your pussy to make you wet enough to accept his thick girth and length. Now, he could slide inside you easily, your body having taken his shape.

Caleb stares at your messy face, utterly endeared. “Fuck, you're so fucking cute...” He takes out his fingers from your mouth, using them to tilt your jaw to meet his lips. He kisses you sloppy, no finesse as you slide your tongue against his, moaning into each other's mouths.  “Mm... open your mouth more... yeah, that's it, baby... good fucking girl...”

“Ah, fuck, Caleb!” you sob, desperately rocking against his cock. “I'm gonna cum, cumming, I can't anymore...!”

“You're gonna cum?” Caleb stops thrusting, making you whine and attempt to move yourself, but he holds onto your hips and pushes you into the mattress, laying you flat on the sheets on your front. He settles behind you, using his weight to pound you to the mattress harder. “Then fucking cum.”

You moan uncontrollably into the pillows, completely forgetting you're meant to stay quiet. Caleb fucks his cock harder, faster, deeper, failing to hold back his own grunts as you tighten up around him, wet heat melting around his dick. “Shit, I'm gonna cum too... I'm gonna cum hard in your slutty fucking pussy... fuck, I'm cumming!”

You squirt around his cock as he fills you up with cum, your fluids making a mess between your bodies and the sheets. You don't realize you're crying out up until Caleb grabs your chin and kisses you once more, muffling the lewd moans you're letting out while he's still cumming inside you, hot and thick. He gives you tiny, slowing thrusts, cock still spurting out semen. “Oh, baby, you did so good...” he sucks on your bottom lip, staring intently at your orgasm face. “Such a good fucking girl for me...”

“So... full...” is the only thing you can say, feeling the sheer volume of one load of his cum in your pussy, warming you from the inside.

“Not full enough, baby.” Caleb peppers your face with kisses. It is then that you realize—with no small amount of fear and arousal—his cock hasn't softened at all. “I still have a lot to give you.”

[heeliopheelia]

𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐓𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐄𝐍𝐆𝐀𝐆𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐎𝐅𝐅 𝐃𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐀𝐍 𝐀𝐑𝐆𝐔𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓

genre: hurt/comfort, angst, fluff

word count: 4.3k

warnings: cursing, crying, neglect, tiny mention of bleeding

a/n: i think i win the contest of overusing commas with this one 🤍 tbh this fic is just yapping so pls deal with me... it's good to write some proper angst again tho, i missed it :(( hope you guys like it and don't find them too repetetive!!

masterlist

LEE HEESEUNG

It's been two weeks since you got the opportunity to take a proper look at Heeseung. And now as you do, you find it hard to recognize your fiancé who looks like he's about to collapse from exhaustion, to say the least. 

“I never asked you to mother me or worry about me so much. Stop getting into my business so much. I’m not a child, YN.”

It’s like he was blind to how hurt his words and actions were making you feel. It’s so unusual for him, so out of character and unfamiliar to you, that you can’t help but think that maybe it really is your fault for riling him up this much.

“I worry about you because I’m your fiancé and I love you, you jerk!” You scoff at his careless words and take a step back, the aching in your heart only increasing. “I only want to look after you because you clearly don't know how to do it yourself. I mean, look at yourself! You look as if you haven’t slept in a week and I know you haven’t been eating either. How can I not worry about you when all you do is neglect yourself?”

“Dunno, maybe find yourself something to keep you busy enough. You stay at home all day, do as much as nothing, no wonder you’re so damn nosy. I would be too with this much time on my hands.”

He’s so indifferent to everything you say, you try to recall where it all started going so wrong. All you did was ask whether he’s eaten at work or not, and now the two of you are snapping at each other as if you weren’t lovers, and trying not to hurt each other was a long forgotten thought by now. 

“If you’re so unhappy with our relationship – with me, maybe it’s best we take a break,” you say as you feel your throat tighten painfully. 

“Agreed. I never even wanted this marriage in the first place,” he scowls, silencing you, words rolling out of his mouth way quicker than his brain is able to process it. 

He bites his words back quickly when he watches your face dropping along with your shoulders, and fuck, you look as if you’ve given up on him right then and there. 

You walk away then, tears streaming down your face, muttering something about how ungrateful he was being, and all Heeseung could do was stand still as if plastered to the floor, in utter disbelief of his own, untrue, words.

After his cruel statement echoes through his head for the fourth time, he finally snaps out of the self pity and rushes after you to the kitchen where you’re leaned over the counter, head buried in your hands as you cry.

“Baby, I’m sorry,” he apologizes quickly. He walks up from behind you and wraps his arms around your waist, resting his forehead on your shoulder blade. “I didn’t mean it. I’m sorry for everything I said, sweetheart.”

He turns you around gently and feels his chest tighten at how fucking sad you look. He never wants to see you like this. He never wants to be the cause of this ever again.

And when he looks to the side, his throat closes and dries completely at the sight of your engagement ring laying on the counter right behind you. 

“Are you sure you didn’t mean it?” You ask, wiping the tears away with your hand pointlessly as another stream follows right after. “Things like that don’t come out of nowhere.”

“I didn’t, love, I swear I didn’t. I’m so fucking sorry,” he breathes out, pulling you closer to him by your neck again. 

Never again. Never fucking again. He keeps telling himself in his head as he lifts your hand to his lips and presses a kiss to your knuckles, just where your ring was supposed to be sitting snugly. Then he lowers it and places your palm against his chest, right above his heart, and covers your smaller hand with his.

That was too close to losing you, and himself, for that matter. Because he would never recover if you were gone from his life and all because of him. 

“Then why did you even say it?” You sob pitifully as you feel the warm tears dripping down the tip of your nose.

“I don’t know,” he shushes you gently, trying his best to not break you any further. 

You pull away once you feel calm enough, hands clutching his t-shirt. “It's not too late to call off the wedding, Seung,” you manage out breathily, raising your palm to cup his cheek. “I'd rather not take the step further than have you unhappy.”

“Darling, no.” Heeseung bends down to minimize the distance between the two of you and peppers your face with loving, warm kisses. He just wants to erase those atrocious thoughts out of your mind as quickly as possible. “Please, there's nothing I'd ever want more than to make you my wife. That was stupid of me to say. I'll never be happy if I'm not with you, my love.”

“I just don’t want to force this marriage on you. You need to want it as much as I do, otherwise it’s pointless.”

Heeseung almost chokes on air when he rushes out his answer even before you can properly finish your sentence. “I do want it. Please, you have to believe me.” 

“Really?”

Heeseung smiles at you softly as he wipes your wet cheeks with his thumbs. “Really. Scout’s honour.”

You breathe out, feeling relief, and look up at him with squinted, puffy eyes. “Sometimes I just wanna strangle you to death, Lee Heeseung.”

He chuckles lightly before pressing one last kiss to your cheek. “Aren't you just so adorable? You should add this to your wedding vows.”

“Maybe I’ll add this to your eulogy instead if you pull shit like that again.”

Heeseung clicks his tongue with a grin pulling on his lips. “Touché.”

PARK JAY

The atmosphere in the living room is so heavy that your chest starts to hurt. You’re standing barely two steps away from the man you love the most, yet you’ve never felt more far away from him than in this moment. 

His eyes – cold but still undoubtedly full of love, drill holes in the side of your head as you turn your face away from him to try and gather your thoughts.

Arguments with Jay were rare. You always tried to work things out immediately, keeping your heads cool. But something has broken over the last month and you can’t see each other eye to eye anymore. At the very beginning of your relationship you made a promise to never go to bed angry. To never leave things unresolved. Yet now Jay’s been sleeping on the couch for the past week, and you fail to understand what the fuck has happened to the two of you. 

And you can’t help but think that, maybe, sometimes love is just not enough. 

“You’re not even trying to find the middle ground anymore. All you do is snap at me the second I come home. I’m fucking tired of it! Would it hurt to give it a rest for a day?” 

The tension is almost palpable. You hate how you can’t seem to back away from any argument but only keep hurting him instead. 

“Put effort into our relationship first, then we’ll talk,” you spit out instead, against your better judgment.

“It’s funny coming from you who’s done nothing but put a fucking distance between us!”

“This doesn’t make any sense anymore, Jay. We need some time apart,” you finally speak into the dull silence, eyes casted downwards at the floor as your hand keeps twitching, only to finally grab for your ring finger and slip the silver band off of it. You didn’t think much of your action, hell, you didn’t even process it properly. 

Well, not until you hear the shaky exhale leave Jay’s lips. 

Silently, he presses his lips together and nods his head before turning on his heel and leaving the room. You listen intently to the shuffling, then ringing of the keys and eventually the door being shut. 

A moment of silence turns into minutes of you staring at the ring on your palm with tears burning your eyes mercilessly. 

With your heart falling low to your stomach, you drop down on the couch and tug on your hair slightly, cursing yourself for acting so mindlessly. 

You wallow in self pity in the dead quiet room. The shiny ring feels so heavy and burning in your clenched fist. You take in a deep breath, then quickly slide the band back onto your finger, feeling instantly shielded with it being on its righteous place again.

And just like that, you spend the next three hours on the verge of losing your sanity. With no word from Jay. He’s left your messages unread. He’s left your calls unanswered. 

You don’t know whether he’s okay or hurt or simply gone. All that combined is enough to leave you panicked and terrified, unable to have a second of peace. 

You never meant to take it this far. This – your words and rapid actions, that will forever remain as one of your biggest regrets. You don’t like the idea that you made your other half feel like you’ve taken him for granted. Or for what’s worse, like a person that you can use for unloading your frustration on. 

There’s this throbbing pain in your chest as you realize that maybe he’s not coming back because why would he if you can’t even love him properly?

Your fingers are bleeding from how hard you’ve been picking on your cuticles. 

And then you hear the jingle of keys and soon the front door opens quietly. You know that even after all of this he’s still being careful to not wake you up. It’s killing you how he thinks you’d ever be able to get a wink of sleep without knowing he’s safe. 

You’re quick to drop your phone on the couch and shoot up on your legs, rushing over to the door and throwing yourself on Jay’s neck. 

“I was so worried about you!” You gasp out, clinging onto your fiancé desperately as tears unknowingly make their way down your cheeks. “Please, don’t ever do that again!”

“Sorry, my phone died,” he replies after a second or two, bringing his arm up to wrap around your waist and keep you close to him. 

He’s still upset but he understands where you’re coming from, knowing well that if it was you instead of him he’d probably go insane from worry. 

He can feel your heart hammering against his chest, so he lifts his hand and strokes your hair to help you calm down. But then you start crying, feeling his gentle touch even after everything you said, that was enough to push you over the edge. You clench your trembling hands on his sweater as you burst out with choked sobs, slouching against his warm and comforting body. 

“I’m sorry, ‘m sorry, ‘m sorry,” you weep into his chest like a mantra and Jay can quite literally feel his heart cracking at your miserable state. 

“It’s okay,” he whispers, hot air hitting your ear before he presses a soft kiss to its tip. “Don’t cry anymore, honey. We’re okay.”

“I don’t deserve that. I don’t deserve you,” you whimper quietly. “Please, don’t leave me.”

“Don’t say that,” he scolds you with a frown. Your whimpers twist his guts even more than your harsh words from before. “It’s not the first nor the last time we’ll have an argument. It’s not worth losing your pretty head over it, okay?” 

“I’m sorry,” you repeat one last time. “I promise I'll never take it off again. I’ll never lash out on you like that ever again too.”

Jay grabs your hand and runs his thumb over the thin silver band, the same one he was picking so carefully for weeks, and a small smile tugs on the corners of his mouth. He hates how shameful you sound. 

He’ll never tell you how the sight of you pulling your ring off your finger made him physically sick to his stomach. He can't have you feeling even worse than you already do. So instead he brings you close to him and rests his forehead on yours. 

“I’m so stupid,” you whisper quietly as you close your eyes, your heavy eyelashes letting go of another few droplets of crystal tears which Jay’s lips soak up instantly. “I don’t know what I’d do if you actually left.”

“You know me better than to think I’d let us break it off over such a petty fight.” And, yes, you do. But your lip wobbles with silent agony at the sole thought of that. “Hey,” he tries again as he presses a loving kiss to your red nose. “I’m not leaving, okay? How could I ever?” 

“I love you.”

With his thumb caressing your burning cheek so tenderly, you feel at peace again.

“I love you too,” he replies without skipping a beat. “No one can handle you as well as I do. And no one sees me for me like you do. We complete each other. We belong together.”

He kisses you silly then, until there’s no more tears left in your body and you’re barely able to breathe anymore. He kisses you until your legs give in and he swoops you up to carry you into your shared bed for the first time in what seems like forever.

He kisses you until it engraves in your mind that there’s no other person for him in this world but you.

SIM JAKE

“Baby, I already apologized.” A groan lingers at the back of his throat but for his own sake he stifles it inside. “I don’t know what else you want me to do.”

You sit on the edge of your shared bed and clench your fingers on the silky duvet. “How about you start showing up to things we both agreed on attending to?”

He runs his hand down his face. “I know. It just slipped my mind, that’s all. You know how busy I’ve been this week.”

“This shouldn’t be my business only, though. I mean, for christ’s sake, it’s our wedding! I would really appreciate it if you participated in something for once!”

Flowers and cake. That’s literally all you’ve asked of him to go and pick with you for the wedding reception. Knowing his tight schedule, you picked the date carefully so that it wouldn’t meddle with his work and you could even go grab some dinner afterwards. But your plans all went out the window when he didn’t even bother showing up or giving you a heads up text, standing you up yet another time when it comes to your wedding preparations.

You’re honestly getting tired of it.

“I’ll be there next time,” he assures you quickly as he nervously taps his fingers on the doorway of your bedroom. 

“You said you wouldn’t do that,” your voice wavers as your shoulders drop with resignation. With the back of your hand, you wipe off the tears that made their way down your cheeks. “You promised to help, Jake. But you left me alone with everything, as usual.”

“It’s not even that big of a deal. This can be rescheduled any time. Baby, stop stressin’ so much.”

“But it is a big deal to me!” You cry out, palm reaching up to pinch the bridge of your nose. You breathe out heavily. “I don’t want to do everything by myself! We’re supposed to be in this together! If getting married means that I’m gonna be alone with all the responsibilities that you don’t consider important enough, I’m not even sure I still want it.”

To back up your words, your hand moves half-consciously to your ring finger and you twist the cool piece of jewelry in between your fingers. 

“No, no, no, no.” Jake moves quickly, nearly tripping over himself as he rushes towards you to desperately clasp your hand in his two and stop you from whatever the hell you were about to do. He drops to his knees in front of the bed, right at your feet. “Baby, you promised you’d never take it off.”

You’re at a loss of words as you look into his wide eyes, the seriousness of your actions only catching up to you now. You gasp quietly, eyes watering just like his, quickly relaxing your tensed hand in his and letting him slide the ring back down your finger, just where it belongs.

Silence envelopes the two of you, besides the sound of your sniffles. 

You feel awful. 

Jake feels even worse. 

Leaning forward, you press your face to his shoulder and melt instantly when he brings a hand to caress your hair. 

“I'm sorry,” you whisper, clenching your hand to feel the cool ring against your skin. “I don't know why I did that. I didn't mean to.”

“I know,” he soothes you just as softly. He stands up from the floor and carefully maneuvers the two of you so that you’re placed on his lap as he sits with his back against the headboard. “It's my fault. I'm sorry. I never meant to disregard your feelings like that.”

At the end of the day, both of you would rather set themselves ablaze than watch the other one hurting. 

You nod silently, heart pounding in your chest before you bring your arms up and throw them over his neck.

“I’m sorry I was so impulsive.”

“No. You did nothing wrong.” His soothing voice carries over the room, enveloping you with warmth. “I promise I'll be here whenever you want me to from now on. I don’t want you to feel neglected by me, especially now when you’re this stressed over the wedding. I won’t let you down, again.” 

“I just need a little help, that’s all,” you mumble tiredly into his skin.

“I know.” His warm lips press to your forehead lovingly. “I’m sorry for being an insensitive douche. It won’t happen again. I’ll take some days off next week, hm?”

The tears on your face dry slowly as your hold on him tightens. “I’d like that a lot.”

“Then it’s done. I'll be all yours and you’ll be all mine then,” he hums and noses at your cheek, finally bringing out a small giggle out of you. After all these years, he still melts at the sound. “I won’t let things get this out of hand again, YN. I promise.”

“Okay,” you whisper. Tilting your head up and bringing his down towards you, you join your lips in a kiss that you’ve been longing for for days. His movements are slow and careful as he tries to soak up as much of the moment as possible. 

His kisses slowly put your broken pieces back together. He never knew how much seeing you cry like this would hurt him. And he’ll make damn sure he won’t ever have to experience that again for as long as you're with him.

“If I have a life to spend, it'll only be with you, sweetheart,” he lowers his voice to match yours, cradling your cheek in the palm of his hand. “You're it for me. I'll never give you a chance to doubt that ever again.”

PARK SUNGHOON

“You’re never home! There’s always a hundred things more important to you than spending an hour of your time with me. Your fucking fiance! Are we really about to get married when you’re clearly so tired of me already?”

Your heart pounds in your chest as you finally voice out everything that’s been sitting on your chest for the past month. Things have not been working out well with the two of you, much to your despair. He’s been neglectful, always too busy to help you with anything – even the wedding related things that you should’ve gotten done weeks ago. 

And you know that he’s swamped with work and it's not his fault. You understand everything. But to ask him to spare you an hour or two of his day shouldn’t be too much. It shouldn’t make him snap at you unlike what he just did the second he came back home. You slowly begin to lose your hope.

“God, have you always been this needy? Why can’t you accept that I can’t always put you first? No matter how much I’d want to, sometimes I just can’t! Deal with this!”

“Fucking- Fine.”

Your hand moves quicker than your brain, and the next thing you know, your shiny ring is being pulled off your finger and resting in the palm of your other hand. 

You can see the disbelief flashing through his face briefly before it completely morphs into a scowl. 

“You really think that this will solve the problem?” He asks, eyebrows narrowed as he glowers at you from across the room. “Really? Does that ring mean so little to you that you go and throw it away with any minor inconvenience?” 

You try to blink away the frustrated tears, hand raking up to brush your hair away from your face. “No, fuck, I just- I don’t know what to do anymore, Sunghoon. I feel like I’m the only one in this relationship. I need you to give me something more because whatever you’re doing now is not enough for me.”

“Well, I’m putting out everything I have, YN! I love you! If that’s still not good enough for you, then maybe it’s not meant to be.”

The silence that falls in the room doesn’t last long as your sudden sob pierces Sunghoon’s ears quickly, making his stomach drop to the soles of his feet. His heart wrenches and twists as the anger simmers down and evaporates from his body within a second, and he’s quickly coming back to his senses at the sight of you breaking down right in front of him. 

“Can’t you just try?” You cry into your hands, shielding your face away from your fiance. “That’s all I’m asking of you. Is it really so hard to try?”

No, it’s not. Sunghoon knows it without a second of thinking. It’s not too hard to try, never if it’s for you. And his throat dries so quickly when he basks in the weight of his words that finally made you break as well. 

“You don’t know how much it hurts to feel like you’re too much for your partner,” you wail with a small voice, shoulders trembling and hands quickly getting damp with tears. “You’ll never know how it is to feel unwanted, because you’ll never have to when you're with me. Because I love you, asshole, but now I’m doubting if you’re saying it back just for the sake of it.”

With air getting stuck in his throat, Sunghoon looks at you wide-eyed before quickly crossing the living room and enveloping you in his arms. His warmth wraps around you in what you've always considered to be safety, but now it just makes you cry more. 

He finds it hard to breathe. The hesitation in your eyes feels like a stab to his chest.

“Of course I still love you,” he says, voice muffled by your hair. 

He hates how he made you feel the opposite. He hates how you’re right and he never had to worry about any reassurement of such kind from your side because you’re just that good to him. And his heart breaks with the realization of how much of a lousy partner he’s been to you when all you ever were was nothing less than perfect.

So he places his hand on the back of your head and presses you even closer to his shoulder as you cry, his own eyes burning with tears at the sound of your sobs and sniffles. 

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, my darling,” he apologizes with a heavy heart, fearful of what’s about to come next. “I didn’t mean to neglect you this much. I could say that I’m tired and the work has been a lot lately, but I know these excuses are not enough to make up for my actions.”

You’re mad and hurt, but you love him and would never want to give up on him, so you wrap your arms around his middle and hold him almost as tight as he holds you, burying your wet face in his chest. 

“I love you more than anything, YN.” He pulls away from you only to cup your face and make you look at him. His long fingers wipe away the tears with gentle touch, soothing your stinging skin instantly. “You could never be too much for me. I want all of you. I promise I’ll do better. I’ll love you better.”

And when you’re looking up at him with these shiny eyes of yours, he closes the distance and presses a loving kiss to your swollen lips, hoping to take at least some of the pain away. He doesn’t think he can hold you any tighter. He can’t love you any stronger than right now, and it messes with his head how easily he could’ve had it all ruined only minutes ago. 

He’ll never take your love for granted ever again. Because if he did, he’d never be able to pick up the parts of whatever was left of him, and put himself back together ever again. 

You can feel his warm hand opening your closed palm before he takes the ring you've been clutching so tightly and holds it in between his fingers. 

“Can I put it back on, baby? Please.”

You nod wordlessly while you try to tame your tears. You hold your slightly trembling hand up to him. He takes it, gently, and watches as your bottom lip wobbles while he slides the ring on your finger just like he did months ago. 

“I'll never screw up like that again. You have my word for it.”

You sniffle quietly when he kisses you right on the cool band adorning your skin. “You better not, Park Sunghoon.”

His long fingers caress your cheek, wiping the remains of the tears away. “Can you forgive me, darling?”

You don't need to think long of an answer. “You know I can never stay mad at you. Even if you're a idiot, I'll never stop loving you. You have my whole heart, Hoon. Please, don't ever make me regret trusting you with it.”

permanent taglist + taglist: @bambisgirl @arizejkt19 @luvmura @milisabunny @cathy-1997 @satoruskitchenrag @ramenoil @jenjnk @jaylaxies @yoongspi @nichoswag @s00buwu @dazzlingligth @goreconsumer @i4kt @heehoonsnemo @seongslutt @seongclb @iamnotalicia

© heeliopheelia 2024 // ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. DO NOT copy, translate or repost any of my works on any other social platforms.

[plethorawrites]

So, we all know Jason Todd would spoil the hell out of you, right? He'd know every detail, remember every important date, always do anything to make you feel special and wanted. The compliments would never stop, the random gifts always showed up, the physical affection never dwindled.

You loved it and he loved that you loved it.

But it was so normal (not to say it went unappreciated) that you almost didn't realize how lacking your own gestures were. Jason doesn't notice either, obviously.

However, he certainly starts to when instead of blowing a kiss to him from the couch when he leaves or comes home, you start getting up and draping your arms around him, kissing his cheek and lips. He'd never fault you for falling asleep when he's out on patrol in the middle of the night but feels a sense of warmth wash over him when you start leaving notes on his side of the bed telling him you missed him, or hope he was safe.

(+Bonus points if you told him his favorite food was waiting in the kitchen if he was hungry.)

You always match his energy when it comes to physical affection, holding him right back when he wraps his arms around you from behind or wrapping your legs around him while he holds you during the night, but realizing you almost never initiate it makes you reevaluate.

He notices, obviously, when you start asking him to join you in the shower or begin tugging him into your lap until his head is resting on your thighs and you can play with his hair. When you start smoothing out the few wrinkles on his shirt for him, or kissing his shoulder from behind while he works, sliding him a snack and telling him to eat.

It eventually all comes to a head when he's reading and you randomly start massaging his shoulders out of nowhere. Not that it doesn't feel good, because he always loves your soft hands on him, but he starts asking why you've been so affectionate lately you have no choice but to admit that you feel like you've been taking advantage of him.

"I never seem to give you the same kind of attention you give me," you confess, your hands softly kneading at the knots in his neck as he reads.

His head turns, one of his hands covering yours to get you to stop. "Is that what you think?" He asks, his voice much quieter, almost disappointed when you nod. He sets his book down on the table, dragging you around the chair and into his lap. "I give you attention because I like to," he explains, stroking your hair. "I don't need you to fawn over my every move."

You were his partner, not his parent. He didn't need to be watched over or fed and worried about to the extent you'd started leaning into. He needed your love, your support, your respect. Your honesty, kindness, compassion. Your smile, your laugh, your kisses. You, as you. His best friend and the love of his life.

Your lips pull into a tight line, arms wrapping around his neck. "You don't feel neglected?"

He almost laughs, shaking his head. "No," he states. "Never. I feel grateful as hell that you love me despite my past." He fusses with your hair for another moment before cupping your face. "I like showing you how much you mean to me."

You press your forehead against his. "I just don't ever want you to think you don't mean the same to me," you tell him, your voice barely above a whisper. You had always had a similar problem to him, struggling to accept love, let alone show it. He knew that.

His lips pull into a small smile. "I know. Believe me I know," he replies. "You don't need to follow me to the door every day or rub my shoulders for me to know you love me." He pauses for a moment, his voice getting a bit more playful. "But if you want to keep inviting me into the shower I won't complain."

[toothfa-1-ry]

WON'T YOU HOLD ME, CONSOLE ME ?

You don't expect your boyfriend to hold you or console you when you find out your pregnant, but you also didnt expect him to leave you without a trace either

Has no correlation to the other preg!reader fic i posted !!

GENRE: angst

PAIRING: Choi su-bong x preg!reader

"Fuck" thanos groans with his head thrown back, his hands covering his face while he steps away from you

Your hold around your stomach tightens as you don't look up, keeping your gaze at the ground

"I thought you were on that shitty pill?" Thanos glanced at you before letting out a prolonged sigh

"You know that it doesn't mean a hundred percent protection" you argue, eyebrows furrowing slightly "it's not my fault! You were the one who-"

"I know geez!"

"Then why are you getting so agitated!"

"Because" thanos spluttered "because this is a kid we're talking about"

You pause, not being able to think of anything to say back, instead retreating your eyes back at your stomach

"And it's my fucking kid. Mine" thanos points at himself in the chest

"Is that why your mad?" You hate the way your voice trembles "because it's your kid and not some random bastards on the street?"

"Watch your mouth" thanos snarls "you know it's not like that, do you want me to say that it is?"

"Ah fuck" your voice a few ratios higher than it usually was, you could feel the lump in your throat forming

Thanos sighs again, his eyes softening as he glances your face and your stomach

"Aish your fucking kidding me man, your the one who started arguing first" he grumbles annoyed, but approaches you with his arms open anyways

You push against his hold at first, anger still flaring inside of you but you end up giving in pretty fast, so desperately wanting to be held

"Are the pregnancy symptoms already kicking in?" Thanos asked while pulling your head to rest in his shoulders "what a pain" muttering under his breath

"You asshole" you sob while your hands ball into a fist

"Hey your carrying the asshole's kid, i don't think your one to speak" thanos adds in quickly, frowning "Don't make this harder than it already is"

Despite Thanos holding you in his arms, you hit him with your balled fist, your face streaming with tears

"Hey stop" thanos frowns "stop before I seriously get mad" he grips your hand "im not mad right now, but if you don't stop i will"

You sniffle softly, your head laying on his chest as his eyebrows are still furrowed with concern over the recent news of your pregnancy

"What are we gonna do?" You ask amidst sniffles

Thanos allows you to lean against him, staring at the wall of the cramped room the both of you lived in

"I dont know" he mutters "we could go to the hospital? Try for a..." his voice trails off. You knew what he was referring to

This just makes your sniffles louden even more causing him to inwardly groan, he never knew how to handle emotions as such, most of the time just shutting up and holding you or something along that line but that didn't seem to be the brightest thing to do and even Thanos knew that

"Su-bong" you whisper, your hands snaking around his waist, pressing yourself closer towards him as if to shield yourself

Thanos winces softly when he hears you call his real name, he always winces when he hears his real name.

He let's out a rough grunt of acknowledgement "What?"

"I don't think I want a abortion"

"Well fuck baby, we can't afford it either way. It was stupid of me to suggest" he lazily responds, while resting his face above your head

"We can't afford to raise it too" you murmer causing Thanos to shift uncomfortably

"I know" he snorts "fuck"

"So what will we do?"

Thanos hears the imploring tone of your voice. Most of the time he was the one asking you that question. In your relationship you were the one who took on the role of the logical one, but here you were, asking Thanos something that you both didn't know the answer to

"I'll-" thanos breathed "I'll figure something out"

You look up at him, moving your face away from his chest, your eyes pleading

"You sure you want the kid?" You ask him

"Your already pregnant anyways, i can't do anything about it"

"This isn't a joke" you retort loudly

"Your the one who said you don't want an abortion!" Thanos also raises his voice

"We can't afford it anyways you idiot!"

"Well damn, it's like i didn't just fucking say that like 5 seconds ago" he thundered which immediately cause you to tear up again

Thanos tilts his head down, pressing his lips into a tight straight line, regretting his actions almost immediately

"Hey" his voice rough and deep as he called out to you "look at me"

He purses his lips when he sees you still refusing to face him, your hands hiding your face

"Hey" he says more softly as he moves your hand away from your face "im sorry okay, cmon just look at me"

Thanos leans his head against yours while he clasps his hand around yours

"I'll figure something out" he raspily breathed out "I'll get a day job, fuck it baby, I'll get 2 day jobs"

You had no strength to talk back, choosing to silently nod

Thanos kisses your forehead while he wipes your tears away

"I said I'll figure something out, so stop your damn crying okay?" He says playfully, in an attempt to stop you from crying

You nodd slowly, causing him to smile tightly

he kneels down, facing your stomach "im sure the baby wouldn't want to hear his mom cry huh?" He announces as if though he was talking to the baby

He looks up to your face to see your face, trying to make you laugh or smile or anything at all

"You better not be a shit ass kid" thanos pokes your stomach softly "cause of you, your mom's hormones are going wild already"

"Asshole" you breathed with a laugh "im crying cause of you, fucking prick"

Thanos grins as he looks up to you, standing up he grabs your hand

"I swear" he picks your hands up, placing a soft kiss "ill figure something out for the three of us"

₊˚｡⋆❆⋆｡˚₊

Finding a job was hard

Especially as a retired rapper who basically got fucking conned by some asshole on the internet

Fucking bitch

Thanos stays up awake, leaning against the wall of the trashy one room so called apartment that you both lived in.

He inhales his cyan blue vape while eyeing the cigarette burn marks that painted the wall

His head thuds against the dirty peeling wallpaper, while you layed asleep on the floor across him, only a thin blanket covering your body

A soft smile graces his features when he notices the slight swell of your stomach

That's his kid right there, that's the mother of his child right there

Thanos couldn't afford to marry your right now, he wishes he could.

Fucking hell, he couldn't even afford a shitty ring let alone a ring that you actually deserved, he'd marry you with a plastic bottle seal if he could but he knew that you deserved more,

Damn, you deserve so much better than him, so much more than what he could give you

The kid in your stomach deserved better too. His kid

Thanos's smile fades away, leaving behind a grimace when he notices that the blanket doesn't fully cover your body, noticing the colour far beyond faded and the material already thinning out

He immediately unzips his jacket, going forward to place it above your body. It was the least that he could do

Suddenly, a piece of paper falls out of the pocket, he notices it as the card from the strange man earlier

Just thinking about it pissed him off, he recieved more slaps than money

Holding the card in his hand, he turns it over, mouthing the number behind the card, he swallows nervously unlike him while contemplating whether it was worth calling

Slowly typing in the digits in his phone he places his device on his ear, holding his breath as the phone rings

Once, twice, the phone continues to ring, thrice, now going four times

Thanos sighs, bringing the phone down, ready to press cancel when suddenly

"In order to sign up to play the game, please submit your name and date of birth"

Thanos breathes sharply, his finger wavering above the cancel button while your sleeping figure which remained unaware of what raced through your boyfriend's head

"Fuck" thanos curses, he glances at you

Thanos's hands trembled as he filled in his details, his pupils dilated, his mouth dried.

He knew what you'd say if you were awake, scolding him for being so naive and believing but you didn't meet that strange man in the grey suit did you?

He bites his lips when he reads the address and time of where he was suppose to go, noticing that the last date of entering the so called games was the current date

"I wont be gone for long" he mutters softly as he stands up, placing a kiss on your cheek before heading towards the door

He puts his old shoes on, the only branded ones he had left from back in his rapper days, the one who had picked for him, the only pair he didn't sell

He slips outside quietly, before sparring you one last glance

"Wait for me, just for a little bit" he whispered with a faint smile though it didnt quite didn't reach his eyes

He glances from your face to your stomach "your dad will be back with shit ton of money, i'll make sure you both live well"

He pauses before closing the door, contemplating for a minute, it felt so wrong to leave just like that,

He didn't want to go, it felt like the wrong thing to do but he steps out of the house anyway

"Take care of your mom when I'm gone"

₊˚｡⋆❆⋆｡˚₊

The next morning, you wake up warmer than you usually do, but you can't ignore the ever so persistent pounding of your heart

Your heart feels heavier than usual too

Noticing your boyfriend's jacket wrapped around you, you slowly wake up, looking for him

You look for him for the entire day,

it soon turns into 2 days and 2 days soon turn into 2 weeks

The bruise you recieved earlier that day after being chased down the street by some debt collectors begun to sting.

They didn't care whether you were pregnant or not, they just wanted the money you had borrowed from them back

And then that's when it hits you

When your standing on top cold floor of, with only your boyfriend's jacket left as a reminder of him,

He left.

He left without saying anything, without leaving even a single trace, he left not even with a single goodbye

He left you.

Your hand trails to your stomach.

He left the both of you

You sink down, legs giving out as your body trembles, you lie on the wilting cot that served as a place of comfort, sobbing, shrieking, crying his name out

Screaming anything that would have send him running towards you,

But no one comes.

Unbeknownst to you, at the very same time you fall on the ground, thanos's cold body is lifted up from the cold bathroom floor and packed into black coloured coffin

His eyes still wide open, his entire body covered in his own blood

When the guards strip his clothes away, they find something in his pocket

A plastic ring

it couldn't have been worth much, maybe from a kids toy, it left the guards puzzled

What would a person like Thanos be doing with a plastic ring in his pocket?

Perhaps you would understand it better

After all, he held you, consoled you. That prick even left you without a single trace