#i shit you not the AMOUNT OF TIMES their thoughts are hearing noises or voices is absurd GO TO A DOCTOR PLEASE

[str4ngr]

was it worth it? [ sae itoshi ]

cw: not proofread, angst, foul language, break up, kinda sae focused, regret, desperate ex. notes: i might... key word might, make this a mini series bc i lowkey love this angst. pt. one

paparazzi was so damn annoying. his brows furrowed as more lights flickered across his face, clicking echoing through the night street like an open symphony as he rushed to his car, men in black forcing a path.

the cameras didn't stop even after the loud sound of the door shutting, the engine rolling as his driver took off to his apartment. within moments, the clicks faded into squabbling and shouting, before it became only the turn signal of the car. it was quiet again.

it was always quiet.

when you first left the apartment, the struggle against your sadness evident on your face, it was quiet. for the first time in a long time. there was only one set of shoes at the door. well, it's been like that for about a month now. he wondered if you've been tying your shoes. guilt tripped in his hear as he quickly shook his head, brushing away the softening memory.

when he stepped past the entry way, the quietness was piercing. he missed the noise of someone else in his kitchen, humming a song without a melody. he missed the buzz of the t.v., playing a show he wasn't particularly a fan of though you were.

sae's hands balled into fists at his sides, flat eyes glaring down at the navy couch in his living room. it was an l-shaped couch with plush, soft cushions and plenty of throw pillows. the seat in the corner was a bit less round, dipped and worn. it must've been a comfortable spot.

feeling as though he was acknowledging too much, sae's mind shut off, mechanically moving through his kitchen, dumping the pre-prepped dinner from his fridge into the pan. as heat sizzled through the thawing rice, his mind began to wander again.

"i don't need your luck."

he did. his stomach churned, and suddenly he wasn't hungry anymore, a strange lump in his throat, an unshakeable tremble in his hand, a burning in the waterline of his eyes. his jaw fell open, saliva pooling on his tongue, desperate to utter your name,

"i needed it. i needed your luck."

sae was speaking to no one and he knew it. his voice an echo in the hollow apartment, absent of you. the dip in the couch, too much space on the entry landing, no random recipes to welcome him home. regret swallowed him like a whale, unable to consume him, yet not pushing him far enough away to do anything but get swallowed up again.

a bitter scent filled the air, and sae scrambled to stir the fried rice around in the too-hot pan, huffing in irritation. he tried to play off his symptoms of sadness, though there was no reason anyone would struggle to diagnose him. his brows furrowed as he stared at the rice, mindlessly mixing the grain and finally lowering the heat.

his gaze flattened again, focused on what wasnt there. sae was curious, he hadnt used instagram in a long time. turning off the heat after learning from his previous mistake, his grabs his phone, pressing his finger to the lock and opening up the app he usually allowed his managers to-as their job entails-manage. the first thing he noticed was the absolutely abysmal amount of comments that arrived in the notification tab. he didnt bother opening it. instead, he opened his chats, and didnt find what he was looking for.

it made sae smile that you didnt message him, maybe you remembered how he always said he doesnt use his instagram. sae's expression falls at the next thought: maybe its because you hurt you too badly that night.

he searches through his following, heart sinking to see that he's no longer following you. stupid managers. "shit," he huffs, wanting to snap the brick of metal, instead angrily scrolling through his followers to find, "...still?"

sae scoffed, furious. angry for you, because why did you still follow him? why did you still look at all his posts? like all his posts? did- "what was that fucking doing for you?" sae walked away from what was supposed to be his dinner, huffing again as he sat on the couch. why couldn't you have unfollowed him? now, his finger trembled over your account, fighting with himself on whether he presses it or not.

air balls up into a lump in his throat. he remembered all the times you posted him, stupid little dates or when he won a game. he remembered the post for your first anniversary the most. you were so beautiful, so happy, your cheeks flushed with blood as the two of you sat in the restaurant that was also your first date. he remembered how he fought--and lost--when he tried not to be so boisterous that night, failing to resist your charm as the two of you laughed together on the couch, surrounded by each others warmth. cheesy. he smiled to himself at the word, trying not to acknowledge the way his eyes began to burn again, or how his lungs felt like they were sinking, or how hard it felt to breathe.

slamming his phone on the coffee table, sae keels over, elbows on his knees, head in his hands, palms digging into his eyes. it hurts. oh it fucking hurts. he feels his shoulders shake with each breath, his palms sweating, his eyes burning, his ears ringing, his pulse in his skull. he messed up. he messed up so much.

he needed your luck. he needed you.

notes: pt.3?

[chasing-faith-and-fate]

can we hear about robinfleck?

Robinfleck | 27 | Nervous Paranoid They/Them (Any) | Sapphic

Robin has grown incredibly paranoid after the death of their mother. At the time of disposing of the body, they didn't know what Takers were, and due to the stress of the situation, they actually never thought about how she died.

Dewbat told them what Takers were and how they functioned. Ever since then, they've been suspicious of everyone older in Brindleclan.

They used to have a good relationship with their dad, Milkweedstar, but it has started to deteriorate over the last few moons.

Sadly, they've been getting close to Storm, even considering him a close friend. Robin truly has no idea that Storm is a Taker.

Robinfleck often goes to the Rift and stares into the darkness of it, Dewbat has caught them doing it enough times that he will come by to check every night to make sure Robin is okay.

They genuinely do not know how to kill the Takers, but they have started to... experiment with it. Not that it helps, because they don't know who's a Taker and who's not.

On a lighter note, they've recently developed a crush on a new cat in the clan! A former loner named KD (she/her). KD likes them back, but they have yet to learn that.

[scorpiosbite]

the first time drew saw actress!reader.

𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 ────୨ৎ──── when drew was forced by madelyn to come watch this new show with her and the rest of the cast he didn’t expect to have his heart captured by the mesmerising woman on the screen.

𝜗𝜚 pairing: actress!reader x drew starkey

author’s note: this takes place in 2023 during the filming of obx 4 which is when game of thrones started airing in my timeline also actress!reader is anywhere between 19-22 years old.

drew was sprawled across the couch in his hotel room, aimlessly scrolling. after a long day of filming under the hot and heavy sun of morocco, he had no intention of doing anything that required effort. his plan was to simply scroll until his eyes got heavy and he knocked out, but knowing his insomnia that wouldn’t be until the early hours of the morning.

glancing at the time displayed on his phone ten pm it read, he let out a heavy sigh, though his body ached with exhaustion, his mind would not shut off. but before he could put down his phone and try to force himself to sleep, a knock sounded on the door “yeah?”

“drew! its maddie.”

“maddie?” he spoke softly, what’s she doing up at this time. usually she was asleep the moment she got back to the hotel. “come in, its open.”

she came tumbling through the door, coming to a stop in front of the couch where he laid. drew couldn’t help but chuckle as he watched her. “what’s up?”

“drew! you gotta come watch this new show with us!” her hands were placed on her hips as she looked down at him.

drew sighed, a noise of exhaustion. “i can’t be fucked getting up, cline.” her face scrunched up, ready to dispute him.

“drew you have to! the last episode of season one just came out and i watched the first episode when it aired and it was so good that i stopped watching so that we could binge it all when the season finished!”

recognition sparked on his face. “wait is this game of thrones? i remember you saying how good the first episode was, like two months ago.”

madelyn’s face grew excited at the fact that he remembered. “yeah! please please, you have to come watch it, jd, bailey, chase, laci, rudy and austin are already in my room waiting.”

drew mulled over the idea for a moment. either he could rot in his room until his call time tomorrow or hang out with his friends and possibly watch a good show, if maddie’s high praise was anything to go by.

“yeah, alright let’s go.” he stood up from the couch, stretching his arms and grabbing his phone to follow maddie, who was already halfway out the door, unable to wait any longer.

when they arrived at her room, the first episode was already lined up on the screen, the hbo logo blaring in the dark room. drew greeted everyone and then took a seat on the spare love seat by the window. “you guys get forced too?” he questioned.

“yup.” jd breathed out. “nah i’ve been wanting to watch this, i remember hearing about it when they started filming, it’s supposed to be like super graphic and vulgar.” madison commented. “shit, really? i know nothing about this show, other than the fact that cline can’t shut up about it.” austin added. chuckles sounded across the room, and madelyn yelled from the kitchen where the popcorn she was making turned in the microwave. “y’all are about to thank me!”

drew simply sat in silence, with the amount maddie was praising this show, his skepticism grew, no way this show was that good. someone pressed play as soon as madelyn was seated, he didn’t see who. the intro song of the show blasted through the room and drew settled back into his seat.

“yo, pass me the popcorn?” chase rolled up the bag and chucked it across the room from where he was sat, drew caught it with ease.

he couldn’t lie, the show was good, fifteen minutes in and he was hooked. and just when he thought that it couldn’t get better, you came on the screen.

“holy fuck who is that?” jd’s voice rang out, but drew felt as though his voice came from somewhere far away. he couldn’t tear his eyes away from you. “she’s beautiful right?” madelyn sighed out. mummers of agreement sounded from the people sitting in the room. “her name’s y/n y/l/n.”

“y/n” drew repeated to himself softly, almost as he was testing the feel of your name in his mouth. rolling the syllables on his tongue, in that moment he decided that no other word would ever compare to the way your name felt on his lips.

dressed in a flowing dress with daring cuts exposing your seemingly soft skin, he wondered what would it feel like if he ran his palms along the smooth expansion. your hair sliver, long and loose to play visenya targaryen, the last targaryen, the daughter of rhaegar targaryen and elia martell. drew felt as though no one had ever looked more stunning in the history of the world.

“drew? you all good man?” someone asked, he didn’t know who, he couldn’t hear or think of anything beyond you and the performance you were giving. “i think starkey’s got a crush.” rudy sang out, and the rest laughed. but drew couldn’t care less, too busy watching you.

they watched two more episodes and as the third episode came to an end drew finally broke out of his trance. while the rest occasionally made comments during the show drew could not tear himself away from the screen, afraid that if he looked away he would miss you.

“i gotta hand it to you, cline, i’m hooked. that shit was amazing!” carlacia grinned. “i fucking told you guys!” she retorted back. “but aside from that, starkey? what did you think?” she smirked at him.

“yeah, that was good.” drew’s body tingling “that’s it? just good? you don’t wanna talk about the moon eyes you were making every time visenya came on screen?” drew cheeks tinged pink. “yeah, she’s pretty.” “aye, shot your shot man, she’s so fine.” madison teased.

as drew made his way back to his room he looked at the time, two am, damn he didn’t even realise time had passed that quick. sliding into his bed after taking a quick shower, he couldn’t help himself but run a quick search of you on google. “fuck.” the soft curse slipping from his lips, just when he thought you couldn’t get hotter, he saw pictures of you, not in costume, naturally a brunette, he was so fucked. fuck it, he quickly searched up your name on instagram.

you were laying in bed scrolling through instagram when a notification popped up.

drewstarkey started following you. follow back?

first one, do you like it? if you do i’ll keep writing. reblogs and comments are welcome and appreciated.

[grugruel]

Your daddy know 'bout this?

(Don't be fooled, there's no daddy kink!)

Pairings: dbf!cowboy!bucky x f!reader

MDNI/NSFW

Masterlist

Summary: A few days short of your 21st birthday, you decide to celebrate with your friend at the local bar. Unbeknownst to you, a close friend of your dad's is there.

When he sees you with beer in hand and in the lap of another man, things get heated. Somehow, you end up in his shirt, at his house.

Word count: 5.1k

Warnings: pinv sex, passionate sex, forbidden realationship, violence, blood, underaged drinking, slight angst, cum eating, I love yous', mentions of masturation, tension, arguments, slight jealousy and protectiveness, pet names (girl, woman, ma'am, princess, sweetheart)

AN: not yet proofread, might be rough around the edges! Enjoy girlies🥹🫶

It was his one free night in a long time, and his buds pulled him along for a drink. He had no real objections, for he was in a good mood and it'd get even better once he had a drink in him.

The group of men emerged from the damp, rainy night and dove into the smoke tainted air and usual bustle of the local dive. They ordered their drinks and made their way to the back where the booths were, a jumble of familiar faces greeting them on their way. Until-

Bucky saw a face he ought not to see in a place like this. "Excuse me a moment, fellas. I got somethin' to take care of."

Their group turned to him, confused. "Wha-" and looked in the direction he was already headed. "Well shit, good thing her daddy ain't come with us." The group shared a few nervous glances, then shrugged and chuckled. "Wouldn't want to be one of those boys right now."

-

"Well . . . " a voice chuckled loudly.

She could see the source approaching their table from her peripheral, his form vaguely illuminated by soft lamp light through the gloom. " . . . Aint this a sight?"

She knew that voice, she could hear the telltale grin that shaped it.

Catching onto the change in energy, the giggles and boisterous laughter of their small group died down. Tense glances exchanged between them, all eventually landing on the intruder, all except her own.

Commotion continued sounding around them, their table the only to emit an unusually low amount of noise. "Anyone wanna tell me whats goin' on here?" The voice asked.

Swallowing, she realised she'd been intently staring into a cadleflame. She belived that maybe she'd have a chance at going unnoticed if she sat still enough.

"I asked you a question, doll."

She winced. That was his nickname for her. Fuck. She tore her gaze from the candle, snapping it to her friend across the table and gave her a sidelong glance that meant 'trouble' to which her friend nodded in agreement.

The low light that made the place cosy just moments before now only existed to muddle her thoughts. But, it could work in her favour. She carefully pushed her drink behind her elbow, hoping it wasn't too late to hide, and her friend followed her lead.

She turned toward the man, a cheap grin plaster on her face. "Hey . . . Buck," she spoke slowly, as if it'd somehow make him more agreeable.

"Hey there, princess," he grinned. Hat on his head. "Wanna explain this to me?" Pointing lazily to their gathering.

She shrugged, attempting to act nonchalant. Because admitting your wrong would confirm it's wrong. "Nothin special, we were just leavin', in fact."

A scoff blew past her ear. "The hell we are." The lap she sat on stiffened beneath her, tapping his feet–once, twice–in a show of impatience, and rocking her body in the process. The man then whispered in her ear. "Who is this guy anyway?"

She inclined her head, nervous eyes avoiding the big cowboy that stood imposing at the end of their table, and murmured a quiet reply over her shoulder. "No one. . . in particular." A lie, of course. "Let's just go."

The cowboy chuckled. "You're not leavin' with him, you're leavin' with me." That drawl could make the most steeled stumaches jittery with butterflies. Her friend must've felt it too by they way she squirmed in her seat.

She had to screw her eyes shut in a moment of contemplation. Why'd he have to be here tonight? Why'd they have to go to a bar he frequented?

She looked back at her friend with panic in her eyes. Boy, were they in for it. She could think of nothing else then to simply ask nicely, hoping it'd appeal. "Please, just go."

He smirked, putting a hand on his hips and showing a stern but playful disposition. "Your daddy know 'bout this?" He tipped his hat in their direction.

She pinned him with her eyes, narrowing them with independent annoyance. "Im my own woman, B-"

'What's it to you?' The guy beneath cut her off.

Bucky switched his attention to the guy, and she could feel him shrink a little under Bucky's gaze. "Hell, no need for that tone! I was just sittin' with my buds over there." He pointed to the group of men Buck came with, no doubt to put some pressure on the poor guy. From the looks of it, they'd been listening in on our conversation, and now waved to her, idly laughing at the situation, ready to jump in at any moment.

She shyly waved back, a tight smile on her lips.

"See, I just saw your little group havin' a grand ol' time over here and wanted to join you," Bucky laughed. "And when I noticed that fine woman in your lap, I thought I'd have a chat with her." He disguised it well, but she could hear the anger beneath his humoured exterior.

"You two know each other?" The guy asked, I'll at ease.

"Well enough." Bucky took a moment to look her over, a scan for any harm. But his eyes stuck on the short skirt and thin shirt. If possible, he looked even more bothered. "Wouldn't you say, sweetheart?" He glanced at her, and she could see the danger that lurked in his eyes. It began to dawn on her more and more how knee deep in trouble she was.

She cleared her throat, a nervous blush creeping up her cheeks. "Mhm," she hummed. It felt like he could see through her.

The guy's hand slunk to the bare skin of her thigh, attempting to mark his territory when seamingly he'd decided his dislike of the situation. "Huh, what's with the hat anyway, you some kind of sheriff?" He asked. But cut Bucky off as he was about to answer. "Either way," he waved his hand dismissively. "She's fine where she is. She can make her own decisions." And just like that, he'd successfully stolen the point she'd been trying to make.

She shook her head. Stupid, stupid boy.

Bucky's face hardened, any sign of humour gone from him. "I assure you, I dont need a sheriff's badge to take her home, It's within my right." He braced his hand against the table, leaning closer to them.

Her uterus roiled at that. 'take her home'

"Now, get that hand off of her, boy." He snarled, annoyance and authority resounding in his voice, promising a solution to the mans cocky demeanor. "She ain't yours to touch."

"Why?" The guy asked. "She yours?" His hand slid higher, squeezing her thigh, challenging the much broader man.

She exhaled, releasing a frustrated hum in early defeat, he'd doomed them both.

The cowboys jaw tensed. Silently, but undoubtedly steaming, he rolled up the sleeves of his shirt and pushed them above his elbows. The veins on his forearms pop from strain, knuckles turning white from his fists clenching. "Fella. . ." He began, calming his composure, then pointed two loose fingers at the girl in the mans lap. "Had she been mine, you'd be on the floor already. Now, that girl, ain't of drinkin' age, neither is she to be touched by a slimy bastard like yourself."

Fuck, so he did see the drink. She shook her head again, warning him. "Bucky. . ." A very bad attempt at dissuading him from doing whatever he was about to do. She could almosy feel the guy beneath her sink into the booth they were sitting in. Perhaps he had some sense after all.

Her friend grabbed her arm, loosely yanking on it as her anxious eyes flickered between the men in conflict. She herself sitting in the lap of the guy's friend, who was preparing to step in if necessary. "We should go before this gets ugly," her friend whispered.

"Respectfully, ma'am, she ain't going nowhere without me." The cowboy opposed, directing his attention to her friend.

No, no, no no. . . Dread filled her, he'd drive her straight home to her parents.

Bucky's eyes fell back on the guy, now shrunken and small under his gaze. "So. . . Stand up, 'n leave, boy," he spoke with the authority of a sheriff but stood with the confidence of an outlaw. "There's no need for altercations, I was enjoyin' my night. N' I don't wish that to change-"

"I'll call on the bouncer," the guy shot out, his face probably as pale as his overly white and fragile shirt, pointing to a man behind the cowboy. Her eyes followed the steps down from the seating area, and through the dimly lit dive where a big man stood posted by the door. The guy beneath her then glanced at his friend across from them, both extending curt nods to one another.

She wanted to wretch, he was acting a coward and standing up to Bucky with the threat of enlisting two other men to his side. She sighed loudly, making a point for him to hear as she eyed her friend. "Well, I sure know how to pick em'." And her friend, inspite of the commotion they found themselves in, covered her mouth in snicker.

Bucky narrowed his eyes in a second of silent fury, then answered with a laugh, not missing a beat. "You mean that bouncer?" He asked and turned around, calling a greeting to the bouncer, who in turn tipped his hat with a smile. The type of gesture that indicated a longstanding friendship. "We're well aquainted," Bucky grinned. "But im sure he'd love to sort this situation out."

If they had any sense at all, the two men would leave with what little dignity they had left and realise that they were already outnumbered inspite of being 2 to 2.

"Leave, girls," the guy easily dismissed them.

She gave him a pointed look, flashed her eyebrows, and jerked her head to the side in a 'you had it coming' motion, and then grabbed her friend's hand.

"Asshole," she sighed and steered them out of the booth, taking the cider in her other hand. Silly as she was, she thought she could simply leave, perhaps just slip by Bucky. But no, his strong hand grabbed her bicep as she passed by, and set his blues deep into her own. "Wait by the truck, I'll drive ya' home." He said, looking between the two girls.

"Fine . . . " She sighed.

"N' dont even think of running, cause I'll catch ya'," he warned, and she rolled her eyes inspite of the burning that settled in her core.

She tried to yank herself free, but he didn't let go. "What? You wanna hear a 'yes sir'?" She dared the words, teasing, as nervousity built in her gut.

His eyes searched hers, a slow grin spreading over his lips as he leaned closer, bending down to whisper in hear ear. "Dont get cocky with me, girl." And his hand began sliding downward, making her shiver, leaving goosebumps in the wake of his touch.

She swallowed, that tone, the hat? God. Her uterus purred, and in a sudden surge on confidence, she answered. "No, sir."

He grabbed the glass bottle from her hand and grinned, taking a sip. "Good, girl. Now go." And pointed to the door.

Would it be wrong to say she started salivating? His words, together with his lips making contact with the same surface she had? There was something about it, something that made her . . . Pulse.

Bucky whistled and his friend–the bouncer–came bounding up the steps, him along with the group of dad's and bucky's friends only a few steps behind.

The bouncer tipped his hat to her and her friend in passing, a smirk on his lips. Nice to know there was still some gentlemen in the world.

She smiled, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. He was quite handsome too.

"Dont even think 'bout it," Bucky warned.

She rolled her eyes, and then they were finally on their way out, meeting Bucky's group of friends on the way, all nodding and greeting her. "Tell your daddy we missed him tonight." One said, and they all chuckled.

The girls hurried off, giggling. But anxiety lingered in the depths of her chest. Those men were rogue witnesses in all of this.

As she held the door open, voices raised behind them. She could see the crowd turning to look in Buckys direction, anf she herself followed their gazes. And found them just in time to see Bucky's knuckles collide with the jaw of the guy she'd spent her night on, sending him sprawling.

-

Plunging into the deep night, the cold swept over them. "He's hot, ain't he?"

She didn't want to answer, or simply didn't want to admit it and just gave her friend a look of understanding.

"God, I was ready to pounce on him the second he called me ma'am."

The girl understood that too.

-

After about ten minutes wait, Bucky emerged from the bar. Unscathed, apart form bloody knuckles and dark cloud around his head. Before even saying a thing, he'd already removed his jacket and wrapped it around her shoulders. "I only got one of them. Apologies, ma'am," he told her friend and opened the truck door for them both. "The truck'll warm you up."

"Thats ok, thank you," her friend answered, and the girls shared a knowing look. Their thoughts connecting in fiendish collectivity.

"Alright, get in. We'd better get goin'."

-

The ride was relatively quiet. We knew better than to anger him further. Anxiety was growing within her, though, she didnt wanna know what would happen when her friend was let off.

"Text me ok? I'll se ya' later." Her friend said, eyeing Bucky. She leaned her head through the open window of the truck. "But- let me know how that goes," she whispered. "And good luck." She raised her eyebrows with a smirk on her lips.

The girl rolled her yes. "Sure will." And with one last wave, they were off.

-

When there were only the two of them, they could say whatever they wanted with confidence. But so far, there'd only been a few sighs and breaths of shared irritation. Neither of them were particularly pleased with the situation.

But she wanted to be the first to speak. "I'll be 21 in a few days, Buck."

"Doesn't mean you have good judgement."

She bristled. "I'm not a little girl anymore!"

" 'Course not, I can tell by the way you dress. That what a grown woman look like to you?" He nodded to her body, barely covered apart from his thick jacket over her torso.

She pulled it closer around herself. "Like what exactly? What do I look like to you? A slut, a hooker?" Her face stung from embaressment. She felt like a child again, being berated for something she wasn't able to puzzle together by herself.

He clicked his tongue, jerking his head to the side. His patience was running thin. "Dont twist my words, doll. I'm callin you careless."

"That dont matter comin' from you, you're not my daddy." She knew the comment would get a rise out of him, because she knew he'd ment no ill intent, and she knew he cared for her. But she was mad, and so was he.

"No, n' you should thank fucking god he wasn't there to bust you. I was the better option, I can promise you that."

She exhaled a frustrated breath, turning her attention toward the windshield. Watching droplets of water paving their way over the condensation covered glass. "You weren't the only one to bust me, though, were you?" She spoke lowly, feeling like a coward for even asking. "The boys gonna say something?"

He gripped the steering wheel harder, his roughed up knuckles tearing. "I told em' I'd take care of it." It must've stung, but he took no notice. Other things pestered his mind.

Worry mixed in with all other emotions as her gaze drifted to his hands, and her mind immidetly moved into recovery mode. "So what's that mean, you gonna tattle on me now?"

He looked over at her, brows furrowed right beneath the rim of his hat. He couldnt begin to understand her. "That all you care about?"

"Right now? Well, yeah. I dont want a scolding."

"All grown and still daddy's little girl, worried about his opinions."

"And if I say yes, what then, girl?

"I dunno, m' gonna have to convince you not to."

"Like you convinced that guy to buy you beer, huh? What'd you do, flirt with him? Give him a handjob, suck him off? What did I miss before catching you?"

Her mouth hung open in disbelief. "You fucking asshole!" She shook from anger, she never expected words like that to be thrown at her. Especially not by him. But she'd get him back, there was no reason behind her actions now. "Maybe I would've, I even bet it would've worked if I'd asked you. Right? You would've just loved having your friends pretty daughter gettin' you off, huh!" She half shouted the last sentence, her chest heaving with effort and fury.

"That's enough." His tone was unforgiving, shooting a sense of reality back into her.

"I'll shut up if you answer the god damned question Buck, would it have worked?"

But Bucky didn't answer, his jaw clenched and unclenched, biting back his words. If she thought the silence had been bad before? It was deafening now.

After calming down again, her words hit her like a freight train. She always had a friend in Buck, but now she wasn't sure. The words that'd been thrown back and forth had set them off balance, their entire relationship was on unsteady ground. Something had been rewritten in the rules between them.

There'd always been attraction, but that wasn't something they ever spoke of. They'd always been close, good friends even. But now, something had changed. And it made her feel sick. She'd had an ally in him, but now, she wasn't so certain.

After a long whole of shutting her mouth out of stubbornness, the fate of her father finding out was worse, so she broke. "Please don't bring me home, Buck. Dad'll throw a fit." She tried to smile, to soften her voice. But it felt wrong.

After a moments uncertainty on her part, and strained breathing on his, he spoke. "Im not makin' the detour, you can sleep at mine, that was always the plan anyway." He admitted, sounding utterly tired.

And now she felt extremely guilty, eyes studying him as he gripped the steering wheel harder. Her gaze drifted over his body, his face, his hands. Stopping on the roughed up and bloody knuckles. He'd beaten that guy for her. Out of jealousy, or simply because he was protective?

She turned away, her chest feeling hollow and followed the birches and sprucetress as they flashed by the truck. Their colors and textures blending together as they met the dark consistent sky above them.

Bucky's house was dark, he only lit a few tablelamps when they arrived. It was better that way, she recognized herself here, within the gloom and the safety of his home. It was second to her own.

"I'll get your something more comfortable," he said, his eyes avoiding her clothes, her body as a whole and disappeared into his bedroom.

Was it because he thought they didn't fit her, or the opposite? Had he been mad at himself for being attracted to her?

She nodded slowly, calling out to him, "we should do something about that hand of yours."

"It's fine, I'm fine." He said, re-emerging, meeting her eyes. "Here," he handed here a t-shirt and a pair of shorts, most likely too big for her. "I'll take the couch, n' you can take my bed."

She nodded again, and headed into the bathroom.

Buckys t-shirt was longer on her than the skirt she'd worn, so she opted out of the shorts. Luckily findig a roll of gauze in the bathroom cabinet.

She emerged from the bathroom, a pair of panties and the oversized t-shirt the only things on her body. "You want something to-" Bucky paused as she rounded the corner, and suddenly she herself stopped short–caught off guard.

Bucky stared at her, and whatever he'd been about to say was lost the second he looked up. Bucky cleared his throat, and with the weight of a 15 year long friendship on his shoulders, his eyes stayed glued to hers.

Inwardly, she smiled and hoped the lowly lit livingroom couldn't reveal the blush on her cheeks. "Found some gauze," she held the roll up, indirectly asking for permission to bandage him.

He opened his mouth to decline, she could even see his head begin to shake in dismissal.

But she cut in before he had the chance. "Just let me help, you can be mad and still let me help."

His eyes hardened, but hesitantly, he nodded all the same. "Im fine, doll."

She raised her brows with skepticism and made her way toward him, the fabric of buckys shirt doing its best at showcasing her breats.

Bucky clenched his fist in an attempt to control himself, he winced, the wounds on his knuckles re-opening.

"Yeah," she scoffed. "Sure seems fine to me." And placed herself infront of him. From his position on the couch, he had to look up at her. At that, a flicker of heat blazed in her core. Oh, those eyes. His big, pleading eyes, all sad and hurt. Did he want her gone or want her in some other way?

She kneeled, settling between his thighs and grabbed his hand. "You don't got to be so stubborn all the time. . . Just wanna help you." She wrapped his hand carefully, enjoying every second of his corse skin over hers. Once done, he tried flexing his hand, and winced again. He still hurt, that much was clear, but was too proud to admit it. "Want me to kiss it better?" She joked, hoping it would lighten the mood. But he did that thing again, where he said nothing, and instead clenched his jaw, as if holding back a yes. So she took her chance.

Keeping their eyes locked, she brought his wrapped knuckles to her lips, and kissed them through the bandage once, then moving further up to kiss the softer skin of the back of his hand. Again, his eyes were pleading, and he moved the hand to cup her cheek, stroking her cheekbone with his thumb. She took it as encouragement and kissed his palm, his wrist, his forearm. She stood up on her knees, kissing his bicep and reached for his shirt to pull him closer. She cupped his face and brought him inches from her own, nuzzling her nose against his.

Finally, when her lips reached for his, he pulled away. "Stop, stop," he nudged his forehead against hers. "We can't," he moved his lips away, cheek to cheek, he kissed the soft spot in front of her ear. "We can't."

"Cant, or wont?" She asked dully.

Those pleading eyes were back, begging her not to make him answer that question. She nodded absentmindedly, pulled into her thoughts. She stood up and moved away from him, his hand sliding down her arm and locking around her wrist, stopping her. "Dont leave."

"I'm comin' back."

After a few minutes of bustling in the kitchen, she returned to him. Sidling up next to him on the couch, her curled up legs lulling into his lap as she handed him a whiskey glass, then cradled her own. He whispered a thank you, looking into her eyes, and she whispered a you're welcome, looking into his. Then they sat like that for a while, quiet, unmoving. Bucky's hands finding their home on her legs, glas in one hand and her knee in the other. Somehow, this wasn't crossing a line for them, this was their normal, this was something not even her family questioned, this was them.

"Im sorry, doll." he said finally. "I never meant to imply-"

"It's ok, Buck." He opened his mouth to speak again, but she stopped him. "Really, It's fine. I'd rather not dwell on it."

Another moments silence passed between them, it was uncomfortable, but the unsaid lingered in the air like a thick wall between them, and hung over them with the threat of smothering. "We need to talk about us."

"I didn't like the way he was touchin' you," he said, choosing the topic before she had a chance at it. If he had to approach them, he would do it indirectly. "It didn't look like you were enjoyin' it."

Her eyebrows raised, "You would've punched him even if I were enjoying it." She commented sourley.

He squeezed her knee, gently rubbing circles into the skin beside. "He acted like he owned you," He turned his unscathed hand upside down, brushing his knuckles up and down her sensitive skin.

It all went straight to her head, veins throbbed with heat she didn't know she could feel. All brought out by a single touch of his hand.

But she wouldn't let off. "And what do you 'spouse beating him for it is?"

He stayed silent, his hand turned again, this time to grab her soft flesh, squeezing it with purpose. Much like the guy had done, but this felt different. This felt good, real good.

She swallowed, closing her eyes to focus on the words she needed to say. "What made you think you had the right? If not that I already belonged to–" she stopped, and their eyes met in a quick glance.

He let out a frustrated sigh. "I was only protectin' you." He defended, but it didn't quite sound like he believed the words himself. Nor did she. But if he wasn't ready to see it as it was, she wouldn't pressure him.

Instead, she laid her head on his shoulder. "It shouldn't be this hard."

He shook his head, the words seemingly struck a cord within him. For he sat insilence, pondering, a long while. "I would've said no, you know. And it would've killed me." She looked at him strangely, forgetting what he was referring to for a moment. "I would've said yes, if you hadn't felt forced to it, like it was a last resort to keep your secret."

Oh. . . "Had I wanted it, you'd said yes?" She stared unbelieving into the dark space infront of them.

"Nothin' could stand in my way." He slid his hand further up her thigh, fingers exploring the skin just beneath the hem of his/her shirt.

She sat up straight to look at him properly, she couldn't tell if he was serious. "You want me?"

"More than anything," his voice was breathless, barely a whisper. His index and long finger reaching further up, exploring more than he'd ever dared. "Cant even explain how many times I imagined you gettin' me off after you said it. How much I hated the thought, the sight of you with that guy, his hands all on you."

A pang of need shot through her. She put her whiskey down, and braced her hands against his chest. "But why tell me now, whats changed? Whats changed in this last hour?" His fingers rubbed the skin of her hips beneath her panties, sending shivers running over her body, shivers she'd only previously dreamed he'd be the cause of.

"You're right, it shouldn't be this hard. I'm makin' it too hard." His hand slid to her waist, still invisible to him, but no longer untouchable. Magnetically, they were pulled together, faces inching closer and closer to oneanother.

"And what about daddy?" It was becoming hard to focus, she wouldn't stop him for the world. Bow, they were close enough to feel the dampness of their breaths.

His hand continued exploring farthur up, fingertips finally reaching the soft, plush flesh below her breast. "Your daddy ain't here, is he?"

She began shaking her head in disbelief, lips brushing against eachother. "Dont promise something if you can't follow through."

His hand stopped, "I can, please," he begged, waiting for her go-ahead. "I can. . ."

His words vibrated against her skin, electrifying her body. "Fuck," she moaned, he's right there. Right, there, infront of her, for her. "Then do, please do, Buck."

And just like that, both hands were beneath her shirt, pulling her into his lips and squeezing her breasts.

Breathless moans filled the silent air, they tore at eachother greedily. Pulling and pushing eachothers bodies, fighting to get Bucky free of his clothes.

Snaking one arm behind her back, he guided her down onto cushions and placed himself above her. Still clothed by jeans, he rolled his hips against her core, grinding the rough fabric against her barely clothed clit. This, is what she had been craving. The exact static friction, the heat and movement between their bodies producing all the pleasure she needed. She moaned heavily, beacause still, she wanted more. Pulling her legs up and her panties off, she wordlessly signaled for him to do the rest.

With a groan, Bucky dove into her neck, kissing and sucking, all the while he unzipped his jeans and pulled them off together with his boxers. No time was wasted, he lined his member up with her core within a second, prodding and teasing at the opening. "Please, please, please." She sounded desperate, but fuck, she was. And feeling it was worse then sounding it.

"Yes ma'am." He said, and thrusted into her. A gasp escaped them in unisome. With the arm still around her waist, he pulled her into his hips, his body straining as he delved deeper inside her than she thought possible.

"Yes. . ." She whined. "More."

He kissed his way up her throat, their hips freed and collided into eachother with steady, strong thrusts, pushing her deeper into the cushions with every rut. Nothing could compare, he was unparalleled. Bucky, despite what he was already achieving, kissed his way up her neck, unfaltering in his duty.

Her hands found his face, cupping it and bringing him back to her, and their lips met again. "Taste so sweet," he murmured, sinking his tongue into her. The salt of her skin mixing with her saliva. "Want all of you."

She smiled against him. "Harder."

He did as ordered, keeping his pace and adding pressure. "Yeah," he moaned. "Being so good for me, girl." And pulled her deeper onto his member. Her breaths grew rapid and shallow, fingers clawing at his back as she had nowhere to go, all pleasure directed straight into her. "Close, so fucking close," she cried.

"Good," he chuckled breathely against her skin, and that was a she needed. Her back arched in euphoria, and stars stung her eyelids, speckling the darkness. "Good job, sweetheart. Just breathe," he continued thrusting into her, softly, easing her through the orgasm. "Good girl. Well done. . ." He whispered, kissing her jaw. The stars began fading and she regained her senses, tears rolling down her cheeks. "Beautiful, girl." He moaned, still rutting into her, chasing his own high while wiping the tears from her face. Her body began tingling, on the vege of breaking down.

"Dont know how much more I can take, Buck." She kissed his cheek, focusing on the skill of his lips.

"Almost there, almost. . ." he moaned, increasing his pace. The slickness of her core created a sickening sound together with the slapping of their skin. It was heavenly, but she could feel the pressure building within her again.

"Mmmh, m' gonna cum again, please buck, dont stop."

He didn't, he continued, intent on coming together with her. He bit into her lip, causing her to yelp and yield the hold on his face and licked a trail down her chest and breast, then taking it into his mouth. Sucking and slurping in an insane rythm with the slapping. "Yes, yes! Fuck, Bucky." she called out, and Bucky pulled out of her.

Coming only a second after, his seed spilling over her abdomen. "I love you, I love you." He moaned with faltering breaths, bracing himself on his forearms on either side of her, kissing every part of skin that he could reach.

Holy shit? "I love you too." She smiled lazily, drunk off of her two consequent orgasms. Laying her hand on her stumache, she felt his sticky substance coat her fingers.

His eyebrows knit together in guilt. "Sorry 'bout that sweetheart, I'll get a towel-"

She grabbed his bicep and shook her head, locking her eyes onto his as she brought the fingers to her lips and licked them off, popping them in her mouth to suck them clean.

Bucky stared, unable to form words.

"Cat got your tongue, cowboy?" She asked, a coy smile on her glistenting lips.

"Fuck," he awed breathlessly. "I just love you." He whispered, lowering himself onto her once again, this time striking his tongue into her core.

-

[parfaitblogs]

loml ❀ s. reid x reader

in which even six years apart isn’t too much time for spencer to come see you.

pairing: ex!spencer reid x fem!reader genre: angst/comfort sort of tags: that freaky shit (soul crushing angst). a lot of nothing. approximately the time morgan left the bau (it's mentioned). spoilers for 5x9 (‘100’) if you haven't watched it yet... fade to black.  word count: 1.2k a/n: heyyyy… enjoy my the contents of my sad brain lol. this can kinda be a waiting room pt. 2 if you squint. i’m super sick right now so here’s a draft i wasn’t going to post until august (although it’s july 31 so is it technically august?) because i have no energy to write rn. whoops. enjoyy

Your mother once told you she doesn't think you can be just friends with some people. 

They're either there to be in your life forever, souls so deeply woven together that you have to be more than friends. Or they're fleeting, and your lives will line up for a short enough period of time that they'll impact you, and then you'll never see them again. 

You wished Spencer Reid was the latter.

Not at first. No, at first he was the man you were going to marry. You were certain of it. Discussing your wedding with your friends because it was going to happen, and you were picturing him at the altar. You had fantasised what was supposed to be the happiest day of your life so many times, dedicating so many hours to the concept of it, that when you lost it, you mourned the loss of it as much as you mourned the relationship. 

But Spencer Reid was the former. Unfortunately so. Losing so many years to a man you didn't even speak to anymore, because you just can't get over it. Can't get over how you could give someone so much of you, and they will still throw it all away for a narrative they've made up in their mind. Can't get over the narrative he made up of you. 

It was justifiable, you supposed. His boss had just lost his (ex) wife because of the job. It was tough for everyone on the team. You didn't think it was so bad he would freak out as much as he did, though. 

Because in his mind you were next. He was going to lose you as well. And even that stupidly large brain of his couldn't see how ridiculous that sounded. He refused to listen to you when all he could hear was the screaming in his head of you being next, and the statistics of female abductions. Statistics that were no different between the day before the incident, and the day he broke up with you. They were just louder to him.

An achingly long amount of time had passed from the last time you spoke to him. A pathetic meeting you had requested two months after the breakup, because your life was falling apart and maybe seeing him would make it better.

It didn't. 

You wondered if you'd still be shedding tears over him if you hadn't met him that night.

You heard your name, and so your head lifted from your lap. Right, you thought, bitterly. He was here. In your apartment. The same one he used to sleep at, for days on end.

You knew triggers like the back of your hand. They were usually things that made sense. Loud noises, blood, anniversaries. Could you justify your trigger being a whole person? 

You hadn't known he was a trigger until that evening, when he had showed up at your apartment door with a bouquet of flowers that you didn't really want, and an insultingly pretty smile. You had broken down, right there in your doorway, crumpling to the floor in a hyperventilating, miserable heap. 

He had held you, and frustratingly so, it helped. He didn't speak when he had done it, until you were calmer and were muttering apologies to him, embarrassment replacing the upset. 

At which he shushed you. You listened. 

"Why are you here?" you broke the silence that followed his calling of your name, voice shaky.

He exhaled audibly. "I wanted to see you."

"No, Spencer," you sniffled. "You don't get to come over with flowers just because you wanted to see me. Why are you here?"

He fell silent, and you wished you could crawl into his brain to see what he was thinking. You presumed a million things. 

"Morgan left," he said, quietly, and you felt your mouth go dry. 

"Oh."

Then; your eyebrows furrowed. Because did he really have no one to go to? You stared back at him for a few seconds, and for a moment, you let yourself forget about the weight between you two. Staring into his eyes was an easy way to forget that, apparently. It was comforting for you, but perhaps uncomfortable for him. 

Because he cleared his throat, and adjusted his position on the couch. "I didn't know where to go. And you said if I needed anything, you would be there and—"

"—People say that as a courtesy, Spencer," you breathed out.

"I know," he said, quickly. "But I really needed someone, and I genuinely didn't know where else to go."

You couldn't slam the door in his face even if you wanted to. Because now you were registering more than just your own emotions. The red rimming his eyes, the dusting of pink on his nose and above his lips. 

So, you nodded your head. "Okay. Come here," you said, opening your arms, and took him in between them. Albeit hesitantly. On both ends. 

This time he broke down, and you let him. His face pressed into the crook of your neck, your fingers entangled in his curls, scratching at his scalp in the best soothing motion you could. 

He cried until he had dehydrated his body, and your arms had begun to cramp from the position they were in. When he pulled back, your heart cracked a little more at the sight, his face wet with tears that stuck his hair to his cheeks, that you cleaned up. 

"I miss you."

You froze. He did as well, but for an entirely different reason. At the idea that he had said it. Not you. Him. The words decorated the air and hung there for minutes as you fell silent. 

Finally; "You don't mean that."

"Yes I do," his response was quick, as if expecting you to deny him of his own feelings.

"You're upset, and I'm comforting you. You miss Morgan. Not me. Transference," you mumbled, hands dropping from his face. 

"This isn't transference."

"Spencer."

You were right. You knew it in the way his shoulders sagged in defeat, and his lips parted as if to say something, only to clamp shut in mental defiance. 

"Maybe," he finally said, quietly. "But I do still miss you."

"It's been five years," you answered. He nodded his head in agreement. You exhaled. "I miss you too, Spencer."

He lips twitched, but never reached a smile. "You aren't seeing anyone, then?" he asked. 

"You can deduce that, I'm sure."

You were right, he could, and he nodded his head, lips reaching a smile, albeit sadly. "Yeah. Me neither."

"I also figured," you said. "You would've gone to your girlfriend if you had one."

"I would've," he nodded his head, laughing a breathy, awkward laugh. "Instead I went to my ex-girlfriend."

"You did." More uncomfortable silence, before you let out a sigh. Again. "Movie?"

"What?"

"Do you want to watch a movie?" you say the full sentence, a little slower than what was probably necessary. You knew him well enough to know that he hated talking about his feelings, he was an awful communicator. Had been, your brain screams at you. He could've changed. 

It seemed he hadn't, because he nodded his head, a smaller, more genuine smile painted his lips. "Yeah. Okay."

your reblogs and replies are always appreciated dearly ♡

[sh1-n0bu]

𝔫𝔬𝔟𝔲’𝔰 𝔨𝔦𝔫𝔨𝔱𝔬𝔟𝔢𝔯 𝔬𝔣 2023!

day 1: bondage/shibari with blade from hsr!

warnings: shibari/bondage obv, subspace, affirmation of consent, cockstepping, forced self praise, nipple stimulation, masochist blade, slight feminization, praise

notes: oh shit, here we go

being in a relationship with blade comes with many surprises and way too many heart attacks. no, really, the amount of times you almost had a heart attack because of this man is insane.

coming back home injured and on the brink of death. sudden reopening of his wounds and stitches because he was so used to pain. or the fact that he literally fell unconscious on your lap because he forgot to eat anything for the last who knows what long?

or even now, when he holds out a red rope, asking you to tie him up like a helpless prey.

it took a lot of tries and failures. wrapping the pretty red rope around the bare skin of your masochistic lover is quite hard when you have zero experience on full body bondage. if it were just hands and legs, you were a master at it. but not when it comes to shibari.

“color?” your voice comes out soft and gentle, tightening the last part of the red rope behind his back. all you got in response was a quiet shuddered breath.

“bladie, color?” fastening the end of the rope behind his back — not too tight, not too loose — your hand comes up to rest atop his head before slowly stroking his hair. that snapped him out of his current thoughts real fast as his hazy ruby eyes shift up to look at you.

“g-green… green” blade nods, gulping down what saliva was being collected in his mouth.

looking down at your handiwork, the stellaron hunter almost lets out a loud moan at the sight. red rope, one that is the same color of his eyes, fastened around his body so prettily. his chest, breasts you like to call whenever you squeeze them, looked bigger than usual. a part of the red rope going down and around his pecs, digging into his skin just enough to remind him of the current action you two were about to do. and his cock, standing angry red and proud.

he was hard. embarrassingly so.

you haven’t done anything but tie him up to his request and oh gods, he was already so embarrassingly hard.

if you were to see his arousal and the slight pre already on his tip, what would you do? would you scold him? call him mean and degrading names? would you leave him untouched and desperate for hours? would you slap his cock and make him cry and sob in a twisted sense of pleasure and pain?

a hand comes to rest on his chest, momentarily snapping him out of his thoughts. oh, what would you do? what would you do to him? your poor, pathetic, helpless lover.

“my sweet bladie. look at you, staying there all tied up like a little prey” he briefly hears your voice call out, hands starting to fondle and squeeze his pecks. unconsciously, he pushed his chest further into your hand, wanting more of your sweet touches. it felt like his entire body was on fire and only your hand could soothe him. or even make it worse.

“do you like it, dear? does my pretty boy like it when i fondle his tits like that?” he lets out an embarrassingly loud noise at your words. a pathetic sound that’s akin to a mewl that a cat in heat makes. without even noticing, his hips stutter in his position on the rug covered floor as well.

“such a cute and round breasts you have, my love. so full. they fit in my hand so prettily. do you think if i suck on your pretty nipples for long enough, you would start lactating?”

oh. oh no. just that mental image or the thought of having your mouth wrapped around his areola had him whining out loudly. rutting his hips on the material of the soft rug desperately as he tries to make your words a reality. oh, would you help him out if that actually does end up becoming real? would you suck and stimulate his nerves so often and too much to the point that he would actually start lactating just like a woman would? would you suck on his leaking milk?

such vile thoughts that made him squirm on his place on the floor with a long, drawn-out whine. who would have ever thought your stoic looking lover would be such a weak little thing.

not that you minded it. you loved it actually. all the more reasons to circle a thumb around his hardened bud, making him twitch and buck his hips, searching for the tiniest bits of friction to his poor leaking cock.

"ah right. how mean of me. i forgot about your little problem" you let out a soft coo, deciding to try out a new thing as well. no point in backing out now. your sweet boy was already a mess on the floor with just a few touches and caresses. might as well help him out and fulfill his fantasies.

"color?" you ask again, one of your feet lightly resting on his stomach, pressing lightly, just enough pressure to cause blade to gain his words again from wherever his pretty mushy brain is swimming in once he gets to this state.

understanding the implications of your words and what you were asking affirmation for, blade couldn't help but nod his head a little too eagerly. the dirty and vile side of him wanting what exactly it was you were offering. the dark and more twisted part of him just wanted you to do that already. to take what you wanted without asking, make him scream, jolt, sob from the suddenness of it all.

but of course, you would never do that. you were so caring of him. makes him wonder how he even was lucky enough to have you as his own lover.

"my love, i need to hear you use your words" your voice sounded a bit harsher than he remembered. did he made you mad? disappointed? sad? he didn't meant to! poor little blade was just too damn lost in his own little space. all thanks to the rope and the suffocating amount of trust he blindly puts in you.

"green... please? aeons, please just touch me" his response was sluggish. slow. slurred. drunken and lost in the hazy grips of pleasure and anticipation. that was all you needed.

with a comforting headpat, the feet that you had placed on his stomach slowly trailing down before coming to rest over his hard on. just a simple buck of his hips and he can get to feel you step down on his cock. the thought had blade already panting and drooling. but you haven’t even touched him yet. what a perverted boy, he was.

slowly but gently, you pressed down on his arousal before putting just enough pressure to cause him to let out gasps and loud whines. it felt good. you felt good. you were making him feel so good and blade? oh, he could never be happier nor could he ever thank you enough for it.

“t-thank you…! gunhhg thankyou thankyo—oounpp!!! gccck♡︎!” the man blabbers on drunkenly, his hips twitching as he tries to rut up into your feet further to make you just stomp on his pathetic cock. he would love that so much. the disgusting, masochist part of him would love that so fucking much.

“you’re my pretty boy, right? my sweet toy. my cute prey. my darling blade, right? you’re still my good bladie, right?” he could briefly hear you hum so sweetly. voice like a honey on his fried brain. in response, all blade could do was nod and nod eagerly like a pup. hands straining against the pretty red ropes that you tied around him.

“words, blade” the hand that was still playing and squeezing at him breast — god he completely forgot about your hand there — squeezes at his hardened nipple before pulling on it slightly. that was a warning for him to use his words. to repeat back what you said to him like a broken record. or else, you would probably deny touching him all-together and your sweet boy would hate that.

“guuh— i am! i am i am! ‘m your good boy. y-your sweet boy! ‘m still your cute bladie nyaah♥︎!” that last part slipped out unconsciously. he could barely even form any words now. just pathetically humping the rug and your feet that’s pressed down on his leaking cock, face pressed against the side of your thigh as his noises become more loud and debouched.

all he knew was to keep repeating the words you said. there was no need for him to think. why would he have the need to think when you were right there in front of him, helping him and being so cruel yet so sweet to him? blade didn’t needed to use his head when with you.

so, he just simply kept parroting your words through jumbled heap of mess. how he was your toy. your cute prey. your good boy. your love, blade. yours, yours, yours, yours—!

“uuunghh! mmpf-fuck! fuckfuckfuck! n-nnyaaghh♡︎♡︎!” twitching violently on his place on the floor, the immortal tries to break free from the ropes keeping his hands tied tightly to his sides. blade had always been a touchy guy, wanting to scratch your back, sides, hips, wherever his hands could reach. and yet he couldn’t. not this time and it’s all because of what he said and his own wishes.

so, he simply settles on mewling embarrassingly loud as his hips stutter in place, cock cumming untouched as he tries to hide his drooling face into the soft flesh of your thighs, soiling your feet with his own cum.

“g-gcckk.. m-more… unngh need you t-to fill me up” blade mumbles, voice muffled as he rubs his cock against your feet. he was already hard again and the skin on skin contact stung whenever he slowly humped your leg. oh but he loved it.

the red ropes matched his flushed cheeks and bleary eyes perfectly. so, who are you to stop now and deny your sweet boy?

[brabblesblog]

In time.

When you and Astarion finally begin sharing one tent, there is one little problem: you needing some me time. Mostly fluff with like some smut?

Aka Astarion catches you during some fun solo time, and it becomes the start of his and your path to sleeping together again.

Read on AO3.

Masterlist.

You've started a habit of attempting to sneak away.

The transition from having your own space, to this, was mostly easy. You did have a fair amount of stuff, and so moving in was a whole day of arguing about where to put your books and whether your various items collected from your adventure was worth keeping or not.

Finally fed up, Astarion had rooted through your pack, finding a pot, a cutting board, and a pair of old shoes, which he had attempted to dispose of. That in itself had resulted in a small argument, in which you tried to say you were keeping these items to sell to Blurg. In the end, you had won, and those items remained nice and safe at the bottom of your pack.

As the days passed, however, cohabiting in one tent became mostly bearable. Mostly.

It only really sucked when you got horny. And being this close to him all the time made it inevitable.

Hence your new habit.

Usually, sneaking off to get your own privacy in a little patch of nowhere was relatively easy. You'd wait for him to go into meditation or sleep (depending on whichever he chose that day), his small soft snores to fill the air, and then you'd slip away to rub out your urges. It never took long. Fifteen minutes and you'd be back, snuggling against him for the rest of the night.

From tonight on, however, was going to be a different matter. As the group traveled closer and closer to Moonrise, Halsin had decided to tighten security around camp, and had decided to assign shifts for everyone to keep guard. Your shift, and Astarion's, wouldn't be until dawn.

You lay in your bedroll, frustrated. You can hear Lae'zel outside, pacing as she stood guard. There was no way you were going to be able to sneak off without her asking, and you would rather die than tell her what you were heading out for.

Astarion lay beside you, eyes closed and breathing softly, his arm draped over you. Shooting his sleeping form an exasperated look, you sigh and give up on the attempt to head out.

However, if you just stayed silent... hm.

You slowly slide a hand down your own torso, down past your hips and between your legs, down to your aching cunt.

You close your eyes and let out a sigh of relief. Much better. Your fingers find your clit, already swollen and begging for release. With two fingers you gently touch yourself, biting back any noise you could potentially make.

Being this close to him while doing this made it all the better. Feeling his arm around your waist, his soft breaths against your nape, the weight of him against your back - it was all so amazing.

With your eyes squeezed shut and your entire being focused between your legs, you don't notice his eyes open in the dark.

"Didn't think you'd be so daring as to do it in here, darling."

His voice snaps you out of your thoughts, and your eyes fly open.

"Shit," you mutter. "Look. I just - I didn't want you to-"

He laughs, and you realize that there isn't anything to worry about. He's just amused, and you realize he's known every single time you've snuck out.

"I know," comes the reply. "Feel free to continue. Far be it from me to come between you and your hunger."

He leans in, and then whispers, "besides. I do like knowing I make you feel like this."

You think about this for a quick moment.

“I don’t want to hurt you, or trigger anything-“

“You won’t,” comes the reply, fast and without hesitation. Instead, the arm on your waist tugs you closer, and he lays his head on your chest.

“Keep going,” he murmurs. “I’ll just be here to keep you company.”

You hesitate for a moment more, and then finally give in and resume touching yourself. As you do, he wraps himself more tightly around you, slowly moving his head upwards to bury his nose against the base of your throat.

He lets out a soft, sleepy sigh, and the sensation of his lips and breath against your skin is a very welcome feeling.

Just his mere presence helps. Your fingers work faster, and you bite back a moan as you feel yourself getting closer. Astarion notices it too; he lifts his head up to watch you, utterly fascinated.

You part your lips, a silent moan on them. You’re right at the edge. Your eyes open, and meet his gaze.

He smiles, a soft, genuine thing, and whispers.

“Come for me, darling.”

And so you do. You whimper involuntarily, and the noise you make is immediately lost as his lips cover yours and he kisses you through your orgasm.

When you finally come down from the high, you open your eyes to see him smirking at you.

“You knew, didn’t you?”

��Every single time, darling. I loved knowing exactly just how I made you feel,” he purrs.

“Twat.” You swat at his hand.

“Since we’ve already established that I do know and am comfortable with this.. current arrangement, do feel free to continue to do so at any time,” Astarion pecks your cheek.

“Besides. I’m sure in time I can join in on the festivities.”

The subtle shift his hips make as he says this tells you all you need to know. But of course you do not push.

In time could mean now, or never, but you don’t really care.

You had everything you’d ever need the moment he agreed to be yours.

Taglist: @elora-the-slutty-songstress @tragedybunny @spacebarbarianweird

[munson-blurbs]

Argyle x Fem!Reader smut

Summary: Your plans tonight only involve ordering a pizza, but a conversation with the pizza boy has you craving something very different.

Warnings: smut (18+ only, minors DNI), phone sex, masturbation (m! and f!), voice kink, Argyle is a simp as per usual

WC: 1.7k

A/N: This was inspired by me and @word-wytch ordering pizza at Steel City Con where the pizza boy did not want to get off of the phone. Nothing spicy happened, but it made us think...what if it had?

Also, big shout out to @munsonmuses for helping me with the ending. Love you, Addie!

--

“Surfer Boy Pizza, this is Argyle speaking. Can I interest you in a delicious pie? Perhaps the Argyle Special?”

You stare at the shiny brochure in your lap, breath catching in your throat when you hear his voice. You were expecting someone brusque, rushing you off of the line so they can collect the next order, but the man speaking to you might as well be laying on a white sand beach. 

“Um, h-hi,” you wince at the way you stammer, tempted to hang up and save yourself further embarrassment, but you keep the receiver pressed to your ear. Lenora Hills is a fresh start, a place where no one knows you, and you’re determined to spread your wings and become more than the ‘shy, awkward girl.’ So, even though you were going to order a small cheese pie, you push yourself to ask, “what’s the Argyle Special?”

Soft laughter trills from the speaker; it’s warm and welcoming without a hint of malice. “Oh, the Argyle Special? She’s kinda my baby.” Good lord, the way he says baby has your thighs clenching involuntarily. You hear him shuffling a bit, adjusting positions to get more comfortable. “So, we start out with your classic thin crust.” Argyle lowers his voice and adds, “You might think you can toss it in the air a coupla times and call it a day, but you’d be wrong. You gotta knead it, get all the kinks out, right?”

“Mhm.” Your free hand begins to dip below the waistband of your denim shorts before you pull back. What are you doing? Touching yourself to a stranger explaining how to make pizza? “I, uh, I gotta—”

“Next comes the sauce,” he continues, not noticing your interjection. “Now, less is definitely more here, y’know what I’m saying? A little goes a long way.”

You nod, too caught up in the moment to remember that he can’t see you. “A-And then what?”

“Cheese. Enough to achieve that perfect amount of gooey goodness, but not so much that it weighs down the slice.” Another peal of laughter, just as kind as the one earlier. “Some people ask for extra cheese, but in my humble opinion, it takes away from the rest of the toppings, y’know?”

There’s a quiet swishing sound coming from his end, and it draws your attention. “What’re you doing that’s making that noise?”

“Huh? Oh, uh, yo-yo.” Your question has clearly caught him off-guard; instead of further explaining his baby, he asks, “what’re you doing?”

Immediately, your thoughts flit to the way your fingers yearn to be inside you, the way your clit aches to be rubbed each time he talks. But he can’t know that. “N-Nothing. Um, yeah, nothing.”

You can practically hear his brows raise in disbelief. “Doesn’t sound like nothing,” Argyle teases gently. “In fact, it sounds like you’re doing something important.” He pauses for a second. “Lemme guess: top secret CIA mission?”

“No.”

“FBI?”

You giggle despite the embarrassment washing over you. “Not quite.”

There’s silence; his audible breathing is the only way you know he’s still on the line. “You got a really cute laugh.” 

Is he flirting? This is flirting; it has to be. But he doesn’t even know what you look like. 

You don’t know what he looks like, either, and you were about to masturbate to him, you remind yourself wryly. Anything’s possible. 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah. Sweet but also sexy. A rare combo, if you ask me.” 

You summon all of your courage; the ball is in your court. “I, um, I like your voice.” Heat pools in your cheeks as you say the words. 

“My voice? Shit, I always thought it was kinda goofy. My friend Jonathan says I sound like Cheech and Chong. Well, not, like, both of them, but just…one.” A rustling noise; he’s shaking his head. “Sorry, I’m not good with getting compliments and stuff.”

“S’okay. Me either.” You laugh again, finding the ability to be honest refreshing. “Keep telling me about your special. Your baby,” you amend. 

He exhales a cloud of lust. “Fuck, say ‘baby’ again.” Ah, so it had the same effect on him that it did on you. 

This time, you don’t chastise yourself for the way your fingertips graze your cotton panties. You and Argyle are clearly on the same page. Why fight it? “Tell me more about the Argyle Special, baby.”

“I gotta know first if you’re doing what I’m about to do,” he says breathily. 

“I am,” you affirm, finding your clit easily and applying the lightest pressure. 

A sharp inhale, then, just above a whisper, “Good. So, so good.” He unzips his fly and groans as his hand wraps around his cock. “I’m just gonna talk, and you keep touching yourself for me, okay?”

“Mhm. Just…keep going.”

“Shit, yeah, I got you.” Another moan as he strokes himself, his sentences getting choppier. “The toppings…I like to combine sweet and—mmf—savory.”

You tug your panties aside, slipping your middle finger into your waiting pussy. “Keep going,” you urge, desperate for his silky voice. 

“Some diced g-green pepper…sliced jalapeños…and…” Argyle’s focus is split between listing ingredients and jerking off, and one is evidently winning. 

“And what, baby?” There’s a slight edge to your tone—dare you say, a sultriness—as your ring finger joins your middle, fucking yourself with both of them. 

You’re not the only one who picks up on your newfound confidence. “And pineapple,” he manages. “Comes from a can…fuck, I can hear how wet you are.”

You whimper, forcing air into your lungs. Breathing has never been a manual task until right now. “It’s because of you.” Your fingers move faster; you curl them slightly to maximize your pleasure. “You and your voice.”

“I’d talk all goddamn day for you.” His voice is thick with desire. “I’d do anything you asked me to—oh, fuck,” he grunts. “What would you want me to do if I was with you right now?”

What wouldn’t you want him to do is an easier question, but you try to quickly formulate a response. “I-I’d want you to touch me.”

“More specific, honey,” he tuts. “Where do you want me touching you?”

Everywhere. Anywhere. You think about where your own hand would be if you weren’t holding the phone. “My clit,” you say urgently, “or my…my tits.”

“Mmm, I could put my mouth on one and my fingers on the—”

“No,” you insist, cutting him off mid-sentence. “Fingers only. Need to keep your mouth free so you can talk.”

A chuckle, then, “fair enough. Guess I’ll rub that pretty little clit of yours, huh? Make sure you’re ready f’me.” There’s a soft puh as he spits on his cock to lubricate it. “Wish I was inside of you. Bet you’re so wet…and warm…and—ohh, yeah— so tight…”

“I’m so close,” you whine, absolutely desperate for this orgasm. You tuck the phone between your ear and your shoulder, bring your newly-freed middle finger to your clitoris, now swollen with need. “Please, Argyle, tell me how you’d fuck me.”

“Oh, baby,” he rasps, the schlick of his fist stroking his erection becomes louder, faster. “I want you screaming my name. That sweet little pussy st-stuffed with my cock. And I’ll go deeper…and deeper…and deeper…until you can’t—fucking—take it!” He growls out the last four words. 

It’s enough to drive you to the edge. You don’t tell him you’re cumming, but he knows just from the choked moans that you’re there. Your fingers are shiny with the proof of your arousal as you finish all over them, wishing they belonged to Argyle. Wishing you belonged to Argyle. 

“I’m cumming, fucking shit, h-oh, my God.” He’s in another galaxy now, stars swirling around him as his release spurts from his aching tip and coats his hand in his sticky seed. “Holy fuckin’…whoa.” There’s a brief pause. “Gimme one sec, okay?”

Argyle’s racing across the kitchen, phone dangling from the cord, before you can even respond. “Sorry,” he says, panting and laughing when he returns to the receiver, “had to grab some paper towels and clean myself up. Can’t go walking around with jizz on my hands.” 

“Not a good look,” you agree, the warmth from your giggle melting any residual awkwardness. “You definitely need to wash them, like, a hundred times before you make another pizza.”

“Nah, man; I’m actually clocking out now. You were gonna be my last customer, but, uh…” he trails off, and it occurs to you that you never finished placing your order. “We got a little distracted.”

Distracted is putting it mildly, but you’re in no headspace for a semantics debate. “I guess I’ll have to call back the next time you’re working and try again.”

“Y-Yeah, for sure!” Eagerness dominates his tone, and he tries to rein it in. “Or, um, maybe you can come by in person? I’d like to see the girl who made me cum harder than I have since…ever,” he adds cheekily. 

“Mhm. I can do that.” Can you? Yes, you tell yourself, I can. I’m turning over a new leaf, and that apparently involves having phone sex with the pizza guy and then meeting him for the first time at his job. 

You swear you hear a quiet yet triumphant, “yes!” before he says, “You sure? Because I’d totally get it if you wanted to keep this a one-time thing.” His hesitation indicates that he’s no stranger to unrequited pining, like he’s bracing himself for a rejection. “But I gotta be honest with you; I really wanna see you.”

“I wanna see you, too.” You wrap the springy cord around your forefinger. If his voice could make you feel this way, imagine what he could do with his fingers, his tongue, his…

“I work from noon until six tomorrow, if you wanna stop in?” Argyle cuts into your train of thought. “Or if that’s too soon, then we can just—”

“Argyle?”

“Yeah?”

You smile widely even though there’s no way for him to know that. “See you at six tomorrow.”

--

[andrastepls]

A/SMR.

synop: reader lost her hearing after an explosion, simon has an idea to help her ‘hear’ him again

warnings: none i think ? canon typical violence & loss of hearing maybe knda spicy

not proofread we die like men

Adjusting to life without sound had been a trial on its own. It was something no-one really prepared for — silly as it seemed, now. Bombs and guns going off right next to a person for any amount of time was bound to cause damage at one point or another. Or, maybe, she just had shit luck.

The blast had come and gone so quickly, she had no time to react. No one did. It missed anything vital, but it had sent her rocketing into a wall; promptly breaking her arm, a few ribs, and rupturing her eardrums all in one fell swoop. If nothing else, recovery went relatively smoothly. As smoothly as it could have, at any rate, what with Soap and Gaz being absolutely glued to the chairs in the infirmary. Even getting kicked out a few times — luckily, Price and the Lt. were a little less chaotic. Be it because the medic on-site had a soft spot, or because Simon had intimidated the poor guy, he had been allowed to spend the first two nights in the infirm with her.

Being tucked away in his arms did wonders for her anxiety, but the cot was a bit small for him alone, let alone the pair of them. Blessedly, she had been given the okay to return to her own quarters after that.

A few months later, and her bones were good and well healed, but her ears were another story. The specialist kind. The off-duty kind. The waitlist was long, and going home, alone, in the quiet, sounded like her own personal hell. So, she stayed on base to wait it out.

The silence was her enemy, deafening in its lack of any and everything. She swore she could forget the music the world made in a moment without it. It was cold, void and lonely. Missing out on jokes, not ever hearing the booming shouts and laughter of the boys. Sounds she never thought she’d miss.

It didn’t go unnoticed. For all his grumbling and brooding, Ghost was terribly good at being good company. She was thankful for him, at least. Perhaps now more than ever. He was . . . oddly tentative of her. Making a point to brush a hand against her when he was near, what was previously a hovering palm near her back was now an open-handed reminder someone was there.

He made learning to sign feel so much easier. Subbing out some signs for military signals. A natural transition, when the other person knew how to speak it — even when he didn’t need to.

It was a kindness done solely for her benefit; a fact in which he would never admit, but she knew it to be true nevertheless.

• • •

She felt out of practice. Clumsy and uncertain of herself when he touched her, nothing like herself, and he noticed. He pulls back from her, hands curving through the space between their chests to say, “You okay?”

She swallows, looking away. Embarrassment flushes her cheeks a shade of maroon, the heat of it crawling up her neck.

“It’s not you.” she signs back after a beat, eyes finding his with nothing short of pleading in her irises, “I miss you. But the sound - ”

Lithe hands flop into her lap. She feels . . . inadequate. Incomplete. Hateful, to herself, knowing that she can’t be who he loved first anymore, “I miss hearing you.” it was a cruel thing for the universe to do to her; give her a man to fall in love with, a voice that lulled her to sleep, filled her heart, tightened her legs — and then take it away from her. Leaving her in this muffled prison.

He makes a face at that - not one of ill intent or anything of the sort - rather, one of confusion. She missed hearing him?

He never thought his voice to be something worth missing; though, he quickly understands when his mind wonders what never hearing her again would be like. His girl is quieter now, to be sure. But he can still hear her - the little noises she makes, when she hums to herself without noticing . . . among other noises . . .

There’s a moment where he stays still, only his eyes moving between the two. She’s about to lift her hands so say something else, but he promptly cuts her off by taking one of her wrists between his fingers. Encouraging her to open her hand and bringing her palm up to rest around his throat.

She pauses, wide eyes blinking between their hands and his face — that frustrating little smirk of his curling his lips upward at the corners. She can’t make sense of what he’s doing at first, canting her head to the side like a confused dog, and then, he hums. The sound vibrating against her fingers. Her jaws drops open slightly in shock, eyes locked between her hand and his mouth, wanting to say ‘again’.

Alas, he was a step ahead of her, and mumbles out her name in a breath. Feeling her name in his throat before reading it on his lips.

Hm.

A/N: i dont know its 1am !!

[lovelaurs]

may i request a mcd Laurance or Travis (or both??) x reader fic where reader is on their period and having like super bad cramps and overheating and Laur and/or Trav are just trying their absolute best to help??

also just wanna say i adore your fics!! i absolutely loved the last one you wrote from my request (he/him lesbian laur x aroace aph), its was literal perfection <3

LOOKING AFTER YOU

pairing : mystreet travis, laurance x gn reader synopsis : your boyfriend takes care of you while you're on your period! tags : periods, cramps, comfort, cuddling, support word count : 1.2k | around 550 words for each one! a/n : as someone who ends up reading comfort fics of my favorite characters comforting me on my period while cramping, i thought this was a really fun request to right! hopefully this can bring some comfort to someone while they're in pain! - just going to clarify that this is still gender neutral! the only thing that is physically canon within this is having a period, but that does not define the gender of the reader!

MASTERLIST

Like clockwork, your time of the month had come.

I mean, it wasn’t like you were that shocked, as your calendar predicted it would come any day now. But… did it have to be today? Really? The day that you and your boyfriend were planning on going on a date?

I mean, come on!

You hadn’t even gone to the bathroom to check the bloody mess you probably caused, knowing you’d have to move around to clean it.

And your bones just ached.

You found yourself lying in bed, groaning, as a familiar voice knocked at your door.

Shit.

TRAVIS

“Hey, babe? You okay?” Travis called from behind the door.

A particular strong cramp hit you just as you were about to respond, causing your voice to waver and sound almost cracked.

“Y-Yep! Just peachy…”

There was a bit of silence as Travis processed how you sounded.

After a few seconds passed, he asked. “Can I come in?” He slowly turned the handle, ready to open the door but pausing to hear your response.

“Fine…” The word was drawn out, mumbled as you turned to your other side, squeezing your pillow.

As he opened the door, he saw you curled up on your bed, your hair frizzy after the amount of tossing and turning you’ve done ever since you woke up.

He quickly rushed over to the side of the bed, kneeling down. “What’s wrong?” He worriedly put a hand to your forehead, looking for a temperature. “Do you feel overheated?”

“No need, Travis. I’m not sick.” You made what sounded to be an inhuman noise as you turned over onto your other side to face him. “I’m just on my period. These cramps are killing me.”

He blinked twice before running to the bathroom, opening up the bottom cabinet and frantically looking for any menstruation products he could find.

He came back with boxes of tampons and pads stacked in his hands, laying them down on your dresser. He began lifting each up, reading the labels to find ones for heavy flow for your first day.

“Let’s see… thin, overnight, swimming…” He kept looking over the boxes, picking up several ones that seemed good for first day flows. “Do you want pads or tampons?”

You groaned out your answer and he nodded, grabbing the box and placing it next to you on the nightstand.

You grabbed his arm and pulled him in, wanting a sense of pressure (his arms) around you. 

Travis got the message almost instantly and crawled across the bed, curling in next to you.

He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close and putting pressure on the exact spot you needed it most.

As he put his head into the crook of your neck, he snuggled against you. “You know, you’re going to have to get up eventually.”

You frowned at the thought. “But I don’t want to walk to the bathroom…” You groaned, stuffing your face into the pillow. 

“Well then.” He released you from his arms and got off the bed. “How about I just carry you there?” “What-”

Before you could answer, the man already picked you up, passing you the box you chose earlier, and walked towards the bathroom.

“T-Travis! What are you doing?”

He smiled at you as he placed you down on the lidded toilet seat. “You said you didn’t want to walk over here, right? Well, problem solved.” He then turned the shower on, making sure it was just the right temperature before he headed to the door. “I’ll go make your bed so we can cuddle when you’re out. And if you need anything else, don’t be afraid to ask, okay?”

“But what about our date-”

“Don’t worry, we can always reschedule.” He reached for the door handle, winking at you. “Besides, I prefer to spend the rest of the day cuddling with you instead!”

LAURANCE

“Laurance…” You groaned his name from your bed.

He slowly opened the door at your call, worriedly peaking in before pushing the door open.

As he looked at you curled up in a ball, he sat on the side of the bed, petting your head. “Cramps, huh?”

You nodded, inhaling sharply as your insides felt like they were twisting.

“I’m going to get you some Advil and heat up your heating pad, alright?” He wasted no time and quickly made his way out of the room, heading for the kitchen.

He hurriedly put the heating pad in the microwave and fetched you the bottle of Advil from the cabinet. He tapped his foot as he hummed a tune, waiting for the heating pad to finish heating up in the microwave.

On his way back, he made sure to grab a water bottle too. He didn’t want you to get dehydrated now, did he?

It wasn’t long before he came back to your room with both hands full of the items, smiling warmly.

It felt like Irene truly blessed you by giving you such a caring man.

He helped you sit up, opening the bottle cap for you and passing you the water as you took the medicine, before finally placing the heating pad on your abdomen. You couldn’t help but sigh as you leaned back against your pillow.

This man would hold the world up for you if it meant you were comfortable, huh?

You scooched in, patting the space next to you, welcoming Laurance into your bed.

He giggled at the sight before laying down next to you, pulling the covers over himself. Laurance quickly wrapped his hands around your waist, holding you tightly. The pressure against you felt almost heaven sent.

“You know, I think this is better than going out on a date.” He nuzzled his face into your hair. “Just the two of us cuddling in bed for who knows how long… I prefer it like this.”

You hummed onto the sheets, before turning yourself around so you could shove your face into his neck. “Mhm… I’m sorry for ruining our date, though.”

Laurance snickered. “How is this your fault in the first place? What, did you manually turn a bleeding switch on or something?”

“No… it’s just that we had everything planned out, with reservations and-”

“Well, we can have just as much fun at home compared to going out to eat.” Laurance grinned, pulling out his phone and opening YouTube. “We can have our own make-shift date right now! Do you want to watch something to help distract you from your cramps?”

You snuggled closer to your boyfriend, humming in agreement as you begin to watch a bunch of funny cat videos.

By the time the videos finished, your Advil had kicked in and you were feeling way better.

You turned to tell Laurance but found him fast asleep, head against your shoulder, breathing softly.

He looked downright adorable.

It wouldn’t be so bad if you took a picture of him like this… right?

You reached over him, trying to get your phone from the nightstand, when all of the sudden you hear him stir, mumbling your name.

With his arms still around you, you were pulled down against the bed as he pulled you to his chest. 

The way his arms slid around your back just felt too good to be true.

He makes your cramps just a little bit better.

@lovelaurs, 2024. do not repost this work in any way!

[risuola]

RUTHLESS LOVER — F. READER x FUSHIGURO TOJI

Karma is a bitch. That's what they say and yours will be spectacular for the stunt you pulled off. Was it wise to get in the way of the most dangerous contract killer there is? No. Will Toji get his revenge on you? Most likely.

cw: smut, age gap (Toji is about 30 years old, reader is in her twenties), both reader and Toji are contract killers, tiny bit angsty if you squint, violence and blood mentioned, physical abuse on the reader is described briefly (Toji’s angry, okay?), death threats, lovers to enemies and back to lovers kinda situation, unprotected sex, oral (f. receiving), pet names, reader discretion is advised — 4k words

PROMPTS: 59. Karma is a bitch. 66. I hate trying to put my desire into words when my body knows exactly what to say. Let’s go home. 71. Drop the attitude.

a/n: this piece was requested; I had so much fun writing it! it's long, as usual, because I just love to have some plot in here, hope you don't mind it. enjoy! : D

Being a part of a world of contract killers is something you inherited from your clan. You were given no choice, but to train your strength and skill, build endurance and get rid of most of the human emotions only to become effective as paid murderer. At first, the thought terrified you, even though you were exposed to blood and death from the age as young as five, but seeing it and being responsible for it are two different things. Taking someone’s life was something you couldn’t imagine yourself doing, but you had to – with shaking hands, you shot a man in the head, missing with the first bullet and wasting another one. You were only fourteen, but your hands already were stained red.

Almost a decade later, death doesn’t phase you anymore. Pushing through the trauma, you became one of the very best in the area, almost hundred percent effective, quick and efficient, and what comes with that, very highly demanded and paid. When you turned eighteen, you left your clan and not knowing what to do with your life further, you sticked to one thing you were good at – killing, and you worked on your own from that time on.

"Shit," you mutter under your breath, pressing your back against the cold, rough wall. Your fingers grip the gun tightly and you quickly try to think of a way out. This was supposed to be one of those missions that you were most likely going to fail, and you didn't care as long as you got out alive.

"You were so brave back then and now you're hiding?" male voice bounces off the empty corners of the mansion, echoing in such a way that you're not sure where it's coming from. You can't hear his footsteps, but you know he's on the move. "That's disappointing, are you that frightened?"

"Why would I be frightened, huh?" you ask, checking the nearest hallway and making your way through it, slowly and quietly, careful not to make any unnecessary noise.

Situations like this are usually a complication – when two assassins are assigned the same target by two unrelated parties, it often makes things more difficult, but you're used to dealing with that. You're just faster, better at your job, and you can easily take down a grown man in a hand-to-hand encounter, but not this man. Toji Fushiguro is not a man you can take down, no matter how much force you put into it. He's definitely the most wanted criminal of the present time, infamous with high demands and no limits. He's perfect for the job – ridiculously strong, with a body hard and muscular, but insanely fast at the same time. He's bulletproof, he's unbeatable. The definition of a one-man army, he's said to have succeeded in all but one of his missions. A few years ago, it was the biggest assassination of the century in the history of Japan, a group of important politicians made as the target. With an idiotic amount of money thrown into the job, Toji was easily the most logical choice when it came to who to hire. The spectacular failure had almost cost him his reputation and his job, he was absent from the scene for over a year and it was over a year and it was you who was responsible for the unfortunate ending for him.

You were young at the time, in need to make a living after escaping your clan's clutches, and you took small jobs here and there, trying to make a name for yourself in a world full of respectable assassins. Unknown at the time, you wrapped few people around your finger and found out about the ordered assassination of the politicians. This was it; this was your chance not only to earn some real money, but also to secure your position. The job was long-term, it required a lot of research and observation, but you were well aware of Fushiguro, who was chosen to do it in the first place, so instead of racing with him and risking your life by getting in his way, you stripped yourself of all hitman traits and deliberately crossed paths with him. You became lovers. You made him drop his guard, used your charms to get your name off his list of suspects, which cleared the way for you to learn his work plan and everything he had researched. For a few months you've been with him, spending endless nights beneath his powerful body, and when everything was ready, you just ate the cherry off the top of the cake. You made a few crucial alterations to his notes, as subtle as changing the time by a few minutes, but those few minutes gave you an open door to complete his mission. You killed those politicians with clear, long-range shots to the head, took the money for it and planned to leave after that, but Toji had seen you.

"I don't know, you tell me," his deep voice reaches your ears again and you look back nervously, seeing nothing but empty spaces. You hate the echo in this place and you hate how easily Toji's appearance makes you lose your calm. It doesn't happen often, you're usually very composed, you're a cold thinker and emotions never get the better of you, but you're smart. You know when to act with confidence and when to back off, and this situation is definitely the one to back off from. In a close confrontation, you're no match for Fushiguro. "Oh, you must be scared to death as you're tippy-toeing through these corridors, clutching your little gun like it's going to save you."

"Aren't you a little cocky?" you try to keep your voice steady, but the accuracy with which he described you makes you feel uneasy. You look around once more, pushing your senses to their limits to catch anything in the surroundings that might indicate the direction from which his voice came.

"Oh, hardly. I'm just having fun. I've waited so long to finally meet you again. I must admit, the stunt you pulled on me was quite impressive, I did not see it coming," you can hear the amused tone in his voice, it sounds almost sadistic and you can easily imagine his lips curling into a smirk.

When Toji realized that his little girl, the one he thought would one day become his wife, was the person behind his failure, his blood boiled. He allowed himself to be a pawn in your hands and you took almost everything from him, so he promised revenge and researched you for months. The more he learned, the more it made sense, but it also impressed him in a way. Remembering how easy it is to snap and bend your body to his liking, he couldn't help but be in awe of the fact that you were capable of taking down a gang all by yourself or pull off dangerous missions completely alone. His attraction to you grew the more he got to know about you, and if it weren't for the mistake you made when planning your little mischief, he'd probably propose right away.

"I could have dropped a building on your head and you wouldn't have noticed," you snapped with a little too much courage even for your own liking, and the laughter that followed your little statement only reassured you of how screwed you were.

"A lil' mouthy, aren't we?" He laughs, and once again you turn around at the faint rustle behind you.

"Would you prefer me to shut up?"

"Oh no, speak while you still can," his voice rumbles against the walls again and you are sick of the game. Your own senses betray you and you move forward, almost running, while clutching the weapon he has already pointed out to be useless against him.

"Is the threat to crush my throat on the table, or do you mean my death in general?"

"There are so many delightfully horrible things I could do to you, I am not sure which one to choose."

God, how much you hate this. Pictures of many terrifying, spine-chilling punishments run through your mind, and at this point you give up the job completely.

"To be perfectly honest, I thought you had retired from the field," you tell him, calculating the possibility of outrunning him. "After the most spectacular failure in the history of failures, I assumed you wouldn't be showing up again."

"I wouldn't worry about that, sweetheart. If I were you, I would worry about myself."

"You're just a talker, Fushiguro. I'm not afraid of an old fart like you."

"Drop the attitude."

The split second you had before receiving the hardest blow to the stomach you'd ever experienced was nowhere near enough to react. It sent you flying many meters away, and the impact ripped a hole in the thin wall you hit with your back. Your vision goes blurry as you land on the marble floor, surrounded by luxuriously wallpapered debris, and for a moment you think this is it. Everything hurts, you feel as if all your insides were broken by that one blow. The metallic taste of blood fills your mouth and you cough, turning your body to the side, you feel like throwing up, but only red comes out of your throat.

"Did it hurt?" the man steps through the hole and it's the first time you've seen him since the day you took his job years ago. He looks even taller than you remember, the black short-sleeved shirt clinging to his bulging muscles as he makes his way towards you, and as if your limbs were unconsciously moving, you try to slide away from him. "Poor little thing, not so brave now, are you?" he taunts and you remain silent, aware of how every word can be used against you. "Cat got your tongue?"

You move away, but he grabs your ankle and pulls you in. His long fingers claw at your cheeks as he reaches up and looks at you with amusement, pulling your face in front of his own. "See, sweetheart, karma is a bitch, and yours will be just as spectacular as the stunt you pulled on me."

Helplessly, you grip his thick forearm, hoping to force the dead grip on your face to loosen, but to no avail. His strength is unparalleled and you are damned. You put everything you've got into the kick that lands cleanly on his chest and he lets go of you, unimpressed by the attack. He doesn't even flinch, but with the freedom you've earned, you just run away, desperately trying to put as much distance between you and him as humanly possible. Maybe if you could somehow get to the airport and fly to the other side of the world, you'd be safe for a while?

"Do you really think I'm going to let you run away again?" he grows in front of you out of nowhere and you barely manage to stop yourself before running straight into his chest. With how ripped he is, that alone would probably break a nose. "No, there's no way out for you, princess," his lips are curled into a grin so cold it could freeze the blood in your veins, and before you can turn around, his big hand is wrapped around your neck. He pushes you against the wall, this time it's concrete, but it still cracks from the force he's used. It's getting harder to breathe, you feel like your throat is going to be crushed any second. "You should just say you're sorry and I might consider not strangling you to death."

"I'm sorry," you choke out almost too fast, too desperate, and he laughs out loud.

"You'd do anything I told you to save yourself, wouldn't you?" he mocks, but the hold on your neck loosens just enough to allow the slightest flow of air through your windpipe. "If I told you to suck my dick, would you get down on your knees?"

You don't reply, you don't even know how to reply. The answer is obvious, you would definitely give him a head if it would convince him to spare your life, but you know it wouldn't be a deal breaker. It would just be a power move before he threatens you some more and you don't want to give him the satisfaction of using you if his plan is to torture you further.

"No," you finally mutter, digging your nails into his forearm, but instead of letting go, he tightens his grip around your neck, making you whimper and squint. "T-toji-"

"Look what you've done, that's going to leave a bruise for sure," he chuckles, throwing you to the side like a rag doll. Your weight is nothing to him, but you feel it when it hits the ground.

"Fuck..." you exhale and pull yourself up as fast as you can, both ashamed and angry at how helpless you are against him. Two decades of training, hundreds of men you've taken down with nothing but your bare hands, and now you can't do a goddamn thing. Pathetic.

Fed up with your own behavior, you decide to try and fight. If there's no way he's going to let you out alive, you might as well cause him some trouble. Any trouble. And so, you engage him in hand-to-hand combat, making sure to dodge each of his blows and land yours cleanly. Your fists and kicks hit his body but do no damage. It's as if he's allowing your punches to connect with his form, as if he's having so much fun and it's getting on your nerves. You use everything in your path – dishes fly, doors slam, glass shatters and chairs are thrown, but when the wooden stool breaks, easily stopped by Toji's forearm, you're lost.

Once again you find yourself against the wall, only this time his body is pressed against yours without any additional hurt being inflicted. He keeps you pinned down and you can hear his heartbeat, feel the bulging erection resting on your stomach and you look up to see his face. His black hair hangs loosely over his dark green eyes, his gaze jumping from your eyes to your parted lips as you pant shallowly.

"To be honest, I don't give a fuck about what you did," he finally admits, lowering his head enough to plant a kiss on the corner of your lips. "I want you back. Is that something you'd want, too?"

"Does my life depend on how I answer?" you ask quietly, your hands landing on his sides. You feel the hard muscle that seems to surround his entire body, it's almost too impressive to be real.

"No. I'm not going to kill you. I've already taught you a lesson, you won't mess with me again."

"I won't," you agree, feeling your body deflate. The tension that kept you stiff and afraid almost painfully, leaves your form and you lean into him. "Then I want you back, too."

"Great." Toji's lips fall upon yours and you give in instantly, a soft moan rumbling in your chest as his skilled mouth molds to yours, as if he was created to kiss you. One of your hands cups his face while the other runs through his raven locks, soft as silk, and you grab a handful of them, pulling him away before you get too lost in the feeling. He groans in discontent, looking down at you with the expression of a child whose toy has been taken away. With your thumb, you wipe away the red residue of your blood that remains on his lower lip.

"We should get out of here," you tell him, and he rolls his eyes, but agrees. "And then you'll tell me how much you've missed me."

"I hate trying to put my desire into words when my body knows exactly what to say," he chuckles, scooping you up in his arms as if you're nothing but air. "Let's go home."

The ride home is quick, too quick in fact, not giving you enough time for the pain in your stomach to subside, but you can't focus on that too much when he's all over you as soon as the doors to his apartment close. Toji's hands push your clothes away, pulling and tugging at the many layers of fabric you have on, and you can hear loose buttons bouncing off the wooden floor as he leads you toward the bedroom. You know the place, it's the same one you spent many long months in before you ran away from him.

"Toji," you whisper as he slides his hand down your unbuttoned pants, right into your underwear, and the sudden pressure he deftly applies over your clit makes your body shudder from the unexpected wave of euphoric impulses. He knows your buttons, he knows how to push them to rid you of any composure, and he uses that knowledge to the fullest.

"Yes, sweetheart?" he responds to his name, his lips brushing your ear as you cling to his enormous bicep for dear life. "Talk to me, does it feel good?"

"Oh yes," you mutter, determined not to be the only one stuttering, so you lower your hand, your fingers slipping easily under the waistband of his gray pants and through the fabric of his boxers you feel the shape of his cock. It's rock hard, struggling to find enough room in the trap of his underwear, and as you stroke it with your warm palm, a low growl escapes his mouth. Taking it a step further, you push the cotton down and your breath hitches at the sight of his erection springing free, the sheer heaviness of the girth making it impossible for him to fully stand up.

"Like what you see?" he teases, sliding one of his long fingers through your folds and into your hole, curling it so perfectly that you moan against his muscular chest. With ease, Toji lays you down on the dark sheets on his bed, not stopping his handy work for a split second before hovering over you, his lips glued to the soft skin above your neck. Quickly it's clear that the marks will last for days, but that is the last thing you can worry about when his fingers are stretching you so lovely.

You push your pants down, desperate to give him more space, and he gets the hint, pulling them along with your panties off with a sharp tug of his free hand. Pleased with how eagerly you spread your legs for him, he hums against the dip of your shoulder, a grin painting his expression in amusement as he adds two more fingers. They slip right in, your slick covering them right away, and you whimper, digging your fingernails into his strong arms. All your mind can focus on is the irresistible want to have his dick inside you, you need it and everything that comes with it – the burning pain, the roughness, the bites and bruises. Toji Fushiguro is a ruthless lover, he's able to set all your nerves ablaze, to make your mind blank, make you forget your own name.

The warmth piles up in your stomach, you slowly fall into a trance as he abuses the sweet spot inside you and you don't even notice how he moves down your body. The realization hits you when his tongue flicks against your clit and your whole body shudders at the new layer of pleasure. The satisfied smile never leaves his face as he looks up at your worn-out self while he's working on the nerve bud. His fingers move and twist inside you as he sucks, licks and kisses simultaneously, taking away your breath and any last shred of composure. He's savoring the sweetness, the taste driving him wild and he knows how close you are, the muscles of your insides squeezing his fingers in waves, your thighs trembling against his broad shoulders and your fingers clawing at the sheets with crashing force.

His name rolls off your tongue in a breathy way and he hums against your clit, the vibration sending you over and pulling you under the ocean of endorphins. You come onto his mouth, his fingers covered in white and all you can see is stars. Short pants and broken breaths leave your parted mouth as he presses his own against them in a sloppy, messy kiss. Toji kicks off his own pants and gives himself a few pumps before sliding the head of his cock along your folds.

You whimper into the kiss, slipping your hands under the black t-shirt, desperate to feel his body. With a brief pause, he breaks the connection between your mouths to remove the rest of clothes and you give in, taking the moment to catch your breath.

"Fuck," you cry out, your back arching, your head falling back at the feeling of burning stretch as he pushes his size into you. It hurts, but the pain is delicious, it makes you want more and he gives you just that. He grunts low and gravelly as he collapses onto one of his elbows, overwhelmed by the tight squeeze of your warm hole and as he bottoms out, he takes a second to collect himself. It would be unacceptable if you milk him so quickly, just with the mind-blowing sensation of your cunt.

"So tight," he purrs against your neck, pulling one of your thighs over his hip. Your lips collide again and he rolls his hips for the first time, teasingly pulling all the way out only to push back in one swift motion. He does this several times before finally setting a pace that has you holding onto his shoulders just to steady yourself. With the strength of his body, his thrusts are ruthless, almost violent, but it's the roughness that makes him such a great lover. The intensity of his fat cock almost tearing you in half is what gives you the highest highs and he knows exactly how to use his girth to fuck you stupid.

You're whimpering into his lips, your body shaking beneath him as he rolls his pelvis, angling his hips so he can kiss every sensitive spot inside you with every thrust. The power of his pistons increases. Drinking in your reactions, he feels himself growing, his cock twitching and flexing in your warm embrace, a white coating forming at the base of his cock and he feels lightheaded.

Grabbing both your knees, Toji presses them almost to your ears, your calves hook over his shoulders and as he rams his length into you, you feel like you're going to pass out from the sheer amount of stimulation. With each stroke, his body bounces off your clit, the sound of skin slapping fills the bedroom and you feel yourself squirming as your legs tremble and your breath stutters. You're close and he knows it, the smirk on his lips giving it away as he takes in the sight of you losing every last bit of connection to the real world.

It only takes a few more unforgivable, deep slams of his cock against your sweet spot to have you shaking violently. It's too much, the feeling of him stretching you to the very brink and the heat surges through your veins, setting your body alight as pleasure erupts. The overwhelming wave of euphoria makes drown in the blissful haze as you feel the orgasm unfolding and he thrusts his hips through it, chasing his own release.

As Toji cums inside you, pumping his warm load into you, you come once more, much weaker, but for your overstimulated body it feels like an explosion all over again. A mixture of broken pants fills the room as the wet, sex sounds fade away. Toji pulls out and flips you both over so that you can lie on top of his body instead of him collapsing upon yours, possibly crushing you with his weight.

His demeanor changes completely, with aftercare he's gentle, his hands soft on your skin as he caresses you. “I missed you,” he whispers against your hair, planting soft kisses on the top of your head and you smile.

“I missed you too, Toji.”

[restinslices]

Stay

Bi-Han x Reader (no gender specified)

Word count: 1499

Summary: Just some sad angst about Bi-Han’s significant other leaving him from his POV. Inspired by that scene of Kaz telling Inej to stay and Inej saying she'll have him without his armor. You don't gotta know the scene to know what I'm talking about. Just follow the plot.

Bi-Han had a thousand thoughts spinning in his head and none of them wanted to quiet down.

He couldn't even focus on one. There were multiple voices in his head screaming at him, all of them wanting to be the loudest but all of them failing. It'd been like this ever since you made it clear that you were leaving.

Maybe some of this was his fault. No. Not maybe. This was his fault. He had become neglectful, and the edges he had became sharper and sharper. It seemed like he hurt you every time you got close.

Bi-Han being foolish and prideful thought it'd all go away. There was no need for deep talks, or breathers, or whatever else you managed to think of. He convinced himself it would all smooth over eventually. This was just a rough patch and it didn't seem to actually danger his relationship.

How wrong he was.

Time passed. Neglect built. Finally you two got into a huge argument and it seemed like this tipped the scales against him. You would be leaving.

He stood nearby but refused to look at you. Didn't matter though. His brain punished him anyway, making him relive the moment you slipped your ring off. It slipped off effortlessly, like it was always meant to come off. Like you two were always meant to fail.

Your stuff was gone, so he didn't understand why you were still here, but he didn't complain. You said something about grabbing a necklace, but he never saw you grab it and the last time he looked at you, you weren't wearing one.

Bi-Han had another problem besides his inability to look at you for an extended amount of time. His hands felt empty. He tried to pass time and fill that void by cleaning his mask with a hot rag, but it didn't work. It's not just that his hands were empty, it's that you weren't in them. It was weirdly funny when he thought about it. Bi-Han wasn't big on physical touch and whispering sweet nothings. He was capable of all the cutesy shit that was typical in relationships, he just didn't care for it.

But now? All he wanted to do was wrap his arms around you and force you to stay. He wanted to whisper every sweet thought he had about you in your ear. He wanted to praise everything about you, and he didn't mean just your looks. He wanted to praise you about the stupidest things; your walk, how you pronounce certain words, your laugh, how you look when the sun hits you, everything. Anything to make you stay. But he didn't. He stayed silent and he assumed that silence bothered you based on your sigh.

“I guess this is it then” you spoke, and it made his heart clench in his chest as he realized this would probably be one of the last things he heard you say.

He made a small noise of acknowledgement in response.

“Am I to take your grunting as words?”.

“Goodbye” he forced himself to say, but the words came out through gritted teeth. He could hear your footsteps get closer until you were in front of him. Your soft hands touched his, only to slide his mask out his hands and onto the table. He couldn't help but look at you then, taking in and memorizing every feature you had. There were plenty of things you didn't like about yourself. You were only human after all. Bi-Han disagreed about all of it though. If there was one thing he was forced to look at until his final days, he'd choose you everytime. He was just really bad at showing it and he hated himself for it.

“Is… is there nothing else you want to say? Just 'goodbye’?”

“What else should I say?”. You nodded then and a small “ok” left your lips. His fingers started to itch the second you looked away, that emptiness making itself known again. He didn't have his mask in his hands anymore, so his fingers tapped against each other, wanting desperately to grab you.

You had only taken one step.

“Stay”.

He didn't mean to say it. He didn't even notice he said it until you turned to look at him.

“What?”

“Stay” he said more firmly. His hand grabbed your wrist as if that would trap you with him forever. The tapping stopped, finally content now that you were touching. “I want you to stay”.

“And if I don't want to?”

“I need you to stay”.

It went silent then and he wished he could read your mind. Your face gave nothing away but sorrow and as tough as he tried to act, he knew his face looked the same. “I want you…”. He meant to add something else, but what was there to add? He couldn't pinpoint what about you he wanted. He just wanted you. All of you. Good, bad, ugly. He wanted it.

“And how do you want me to be?” You said after a second. “Obedient? Obeying your will? Being at your side when it's convenient and behind you when it's not?”. He looked away, not able to take how your brows furrowed when speaking and his hand slipped from your wrist.

He felt your hand touch his cheek and move his face to look at you. He couldn't help but close his eyes and lean into your touch, finding comfort in how familiar your hand felt against him. The world was incredibly cruel. It gave him the power to freeze everything but time.

“Do you want me to stay silent? To take what you give me and ask for nothing more? To never speak up? To just accept life for what it is?”.

His eyes scrunched together. Each word felt like a dagger being twisted inside him. Your voice narrated his memories and all he could see was how many times he took you for granted. If he could, he'd beat himself over the head and yell at himself to keep you close instead of doing what was natural and pushing you away.

“I want you Bi-Han”.

His eyes opened then, hoping maybe you changed your mind.

“But I want something different. And you… I'm not sure you're capable of change”. Your hand slipped from his face and he immediately grabbed your hand. He was delusional. He hoped the physical contact could somehow reignite the spark. Stupid and wishful thinking, but he hoped the Elder Gods were listening and would answer his prayers.

“I can change” he managed to get out. It was a lot quieter than his previous words, even if he meant for it to come out powerful and assertive. Something had to change your mind and convince you to stay. He'd bring all your stuff back by himself if he has to. He just didn't want you to start moving again.

You sighed and shook your head, “you don't change. This is just who you are and I can't take that from you”.

“Stay with me. Don't go”.

“I thought the Grandmaster would never beg or plead”.

“I do”.

Bi-Han was taught from a very early age that Grandmasters didn't negotiate. They never begged or pleaded or showed any signs of weakness. They ruled over their clan with perfection and always stood tall. Unmoving. There was no such thing as weakness.

But he was so incredibly weak when it came to you. Grandmasters didn't beg or plead but Bi-Han did, and he'd beg over and over for you to stay if it'd work.

That's the thing though. It wasn't working and he knew it.

He was far too late.

“I hope you know I loved you Bi-Han”

“Loved?”

“I love you”

“Then stay”

You smiled then. A smile that had absolutely no joy in it. Only mourning. Your hand slipped out of his and you reached up to wipe away the tears he didn't even know had fell. He wondered why you weren't crying. Whenever you fought recently, you always seemed to cry. Sometimes it'd be a few tears, other times you'd storm away and he'd hear you sob. Did he exhaust you this much? You had no more tears to spill? Did he really push you that far past your limits?

“I hope in our next life we're different. I hope we spend forever together”. Bi-Han wanted to argue with you. He wanted to shout at you and tell you that all of that could happen in this life, but he didn't. You made up your mind. It was clear. He didn't know what to say anymore. You loved him and he loved you so how did he mess it up this bad?

Your hand lingered until it finally left his face for the last time. You walked away, and this time he didn't stop you.

He watched you as you went, replaying your life together in his head and what he should've done differently.

I tried to pick the least threatening gif I saw and that was actually difficult. Where is your kindness sir? Also why is the indented shit spaced out so ugly in the beginning? Summary and word count not having one long line is gonna haunt me.

[pedroshotwifey]

To the Flame chapter 16

Series masterlist

Pairing: Dark!Javier Peña x afab!reader

Chapter w/c: 3k

Chapter warnings: mentions of physical abuse, talk of suicide, manipulation, mental abuse, description of injury, controlling behavior, comfort, crying, javi being a dick, javi being "nice", reader being ✨delulu✨, idek how to tag this shit anymore, i think i might be gaslighting myself 💀

Chapter Summary: You get a glimpse of the man you used to know while you try to sort out your feelings in the hospital. You're faced with a tough decision---did you make the right one?

A/N: Don't know what to say about this one. Yes, we all want to scream at reader, yes, we all want to scream at Javi. Scream at me if you'd like and I'll happily scream back 😭 Love you babes!

******

You’re not dead, but you really wish you were. Your body aches more heavily than it ever has. Every breath you take is a massive effort and every twitch of your fingers sends a twinge through your entire body like a shock of electricity. You don’t know what’s easier—breathing deeply or taking in shallow breaths. Deeper means that your chest has to rise and fall painfully with the movement, but shallower makes you feel like you're not getting an efficient amount of air. You don’t want to decide, so you just lay on the kitchen floor and let your body do it for you. 

You don’t think Javi’s here with you, but you honestly could care less if he is or not. All you have to do is turn your head and look around, but you don’t think that’s possible for you right now. You can feel the way your throat has swollen and would pull tight if you tried. You just want to lay with your pain for a while and let it consume you so you don’t have to think. Though your head pounds painfully, it’s the clearest it’s been for weeks. You know you’ll have to get up at some point, but that point is not now. 

You can feel every organ individually, the way they struggle to work with every second that passes. Your lungs heave and sputter as you try to suck breath into them, and you’re suddenly curious to how they’re working at all. There’s no way for you to tell how long you were out or how much water you consumed, but you can only assume it was close to your limit. You thought you were going to die, you really did. 

You have no idea how long you lay there, staring up at the ceiling, before you hear the click of the door opening, then several sets of footsteps making their way inside. Their voices are muffled by the staticy noise in your head, and you frankly don’t care enough to try to figure out what’s going on. 

Javi’s blurry figure comes first, leaning over you as more people crowd in. 

“Sweetheart?” 

His dampened voice sounds panicked. You couldn’t give less of a fuck. You know that you’re probably going to be fine at this point, but you almost wish that you weren’t just to spite him. Suddenly, the light comes on, and your head starts to pound even harder. You close your eyes. 

***** When you open them again, you’re in a bed. Not yours, though, you can tell immediately. There’s daylight in the unfamiliar room coming from the window on the other side. So you know you’ve been out for a while. 

It takes a moment for you to remember what happened—why you’re probably here. And it’s with that realization that the pain returns. It’s more dull this time, immediately making you thankful for whatever meds they have you on. Just the underlying tightness throughout your body is enough for that. 

You blink and look around a bit, trying to scan your surroundings without moving too much. But when you spot the chair in the corner closest to you—who’s sitting in it—your adrenaline spikes. Javi sits up out of the chair as soon as he sees your eyes open and on him. He moves to the side of your bed and your body jerks away from him on instinct. 

“Get away from me,” you bite, though your voice is so strained it’s nearly incomprehensible. 

You can see hurt flash in his eyes for a split second, but it’s quickly replaced by anger. You don’t have time to dwell on that short moment of vulnerability before he has his hands on you, trying to hold you steady as you thrash and try to yell for help. He knows you won’t be able to muster up enough noise to be heard. 

“Fuckin’ stop and listen to me,” he spits, and you do, letting your body go limp before it gets any worse. You lay there and look him in the eye as silent tears sting your cheeks. 

“You’re going to tell them you tried to kill yourself,” he says calmly. You don’t realize you started shaking your head until he grabs your chin and stills you. “You’re going to say you couldn’t handle the stress of the move and you tried to drown yourself in the sink when I got home and found you.” 

You say nothing, because you know there’s no point. Why waste your breath and hurt your throat even more? 

“You tied a scarf around your neck, attached it to a weight, and threw it into the sink.” 

Oh, God. It makes you want to throw up, how elaborate his lie is. That would explain the bruising on your neck. He thought of everything, covered every track. You know you must be looking at him with pure disgust, but you don’t dare change your expression. You want him to see you, what he’s done to you, how he’s made you feel. 

There’s suddenly a knock at the door, and Javi’s expression changes to something almost tender. The hand tightly gripping your face moves to cup your cheek, the other to pet your hair. You feel panic and frustration crawling under your skin, consuming your body until you think you might scream. This is your chance to get away from him, but you know you won’t.  

All you have to do is tell the doctor you want to speak alone, tell them what’s happening, and you’ll never have to go back. But what if he didn’t believe you and you only make it worse for yourself? Or worse than that, what if he does, and you’re taken away from Javi. Exactly what you want, but also the last thing you can ever imagine happening. He’s still there, you can’t leave him. He’s still there. 

So, even as it crushes your soul and makes your heart jump wildly in your chest, you say nothing as Javi calls for the doctor to come in, and a man in a white coat steps inside with a clipboard. He smiles at you, his eyes full of so much pity that it makes you swallow. 

“Glad to see you up, honey. We were real worried for a second there.” 

You say nothing, just watch the doctor as Javi continues to stroke your hair, then places a kiss on your head and backs away for the man to check on you. He comes to your bedside, opposite of your husband, and places his hand on your forehead. 

“Still no fever,” he mumbles to himself, jotting something down on his clipboard. He brings a hand to your neck next, lightly pressing on the skin there with three fingers. He grimaces slightly. “Throat’s still very bruised and swollen. How bad does it hurt when I touch it here?” 

He moves his hand up and places his fingers on a spot right under your jaw and to the left, putting a small amount of pressure there. You try not to flinch. It’s not a lot of weight at all, but it hurts like hell. You can only guess that’s where most of the bruising ended up. 

“Hurts,” you rasp. The doctor puts his lips into a thin line and brings his hand back away. He writes something down and then sets the clipboard on the nightstand. 

“How long have I been here?” you question, voice barely a whisper. 

“You’ve been in and out for about forty-eight hours now,” the doctor tells you, glancing at his watch. “I’m not surprised you don’t remember it, you weren’t very cognizant.” 

You nod, resisting the urge to look at Javi. Instead, you let your head lay back on the pillow and inspect the water-stained ceiling tile above your bed. 

“When will she be cleared to come home?” Javi asks from where he’s sat in the chair. 

The man sighs contemplatively. “If all her vitals stay about the same as they are now for the next few hours, hopefully tonight. We would like to have somebody come talk to her to see where she’s at mentally first, since you’ve said that you work and she stays home. We don’t need her trying something like this again while she’s alone.” 

“I can take time off,” comes Javi’s quick reply, making something twist in your stomach. If you weren’t so mentally exhausted, you might be surprised about that. He had told you before that it was hard for him to just take days off. Though you suppose it would make sense for him to be able to request time for a family emergency. 

“I think that would be best, but we’re still going to have someone in to talk. We need to assess her cognitive functions as much as we need to make sure she’s not planning anything drastic.” 

Even though you’re not looking at him, you know Javi’s jaw is clenched. You know he’s smart enough to hold his tongue to not give himself away, even though he wants to protest more. He doesn’t trust what you might say while you’re alone, and frankly, you don’t either. 

“Can he stay in the room with me?” you croak. 

There’s a beat of silence as you look back to the doctor. He looks at you, then to Javi, then back to you. “Are you sure you don’t want to talk alone? The social worker we have on staff is very—”

“I’m sure,” you cut him off. “I want him here.” 

There’s a sickening sense of betrayal coming from yourself as you decide your fate. You don’t know why you’re doing this, but you do. It hurts your head to try to decode what you’re thinking half the time these days.

The man watches you for a few seconds, obviously trying to gauge how much of a mistake it would be to let you make this decision. “If that’s what makes you comfortable, we can do that.” 

There’s a wave of relief as Javi leans forward slightly to cover your hand with his. 

“I’m here, sweetheart,” he comforts. You visibly relax, letting your body slumping down into the mattress. You let yourself zone out for a bit while Javi and the doctor talk for a minute more, just savoring the warmth of Javi’s hand touching you so gently, so caring. You know you have his approval right now, and it feels so good to bask in it. 

You close your eyes and pretend to be asleep when the doctor leaves, trying to have Javi like this for as long as you can. You’re transported back to one of the first dates you went on with him, leaning up to him in his truck, his free hand over yours as it is now. The smiles you exchanged, the kisses, the laughs. It hurts so fucking bad. To think you’ll never have that again. 

Tears trickle from your shut eyes, a quiet sob leaving your lips even as you try to contain it. 

“Oh, sweetheart,” Javi consoles, genuine sympathy in his voice. It makes you want to cry more. You open your eyes and Javi gets up from the chair, coming to the bed as you begin to sob. You don’t know how to explain to him the grief you’re feeling over him when he’s right there, but you don’t have to. You sit up the best you can and he cups your chin again, watching you tenderly with furrowed brows. 

“I know, honey, I know,” he coos before tucking your head to his chest. “I’ve got you. Get it all out.” 

And you do, you wrap your arms around him and cry into his chest until you can feel his shirt soaking your cheek. You shake and heave and clench the fabric until your tears go thin and start to burn your skin. 

He’s patient with you, holding you the entire time, whispering reassurances and rubbing your back, holding your head to him. It feels like your Javi. Yours. But it only makes you miss him more because you don’t know if it’s true. Don’t know if he’s snapped out of this awful trance that’s consumed him, or if he’s only here momentarily when you need him most. Either way, you let his care overwhelm you, let yourself drown in the affection. 

****

It’s only when you open your swollen eyes a few hours later that you realize you’d cried yourself to sleep in his lap. You’re laying down now, Javi in the same spot he was the first time you woke up. There’s a woman in the room talking to him, but you’re too groggy to think about what they’re saying. More nonsense about your mental state, you’re sure. 

And just like that, the love that had consumed you a few hours ago starts to fade. Your mental state. The carefully constructed lies you’re about to tell this woman. She turns to you when she sees you try to sit up, rushing to your side with a gentle smile. 

“Careful, don’t want you straining anything,” she says, placing her hands on your arms to help you. You nod at her, still trying to wake back up. Your eyes hurt from crying and your head is throbbing again. You really don’t want to talk right now, but you know you have to if you want to get out of here. 

“You know why I’m here?” the woman asks gently. Her name tag reads Chloe. She looks a bit older than you and has the most beautiful green eyes you’ve ever seen. You decide you like her. 

You nod, then realize it’s probably better to be verbal. “Yes,” you tell her. 

She nods understandingly, rubbing your upper arm in a comforting motion. “I’ve been told you’d like your husband to stay in the room while we talk?”

You confirm again, glancing at Javi, who seems to still be in whatever state he was earlier. 

“Alright, I’m just going to ask you a few questions, and then we’ll get you out of here. Sound good?” 

You nod, swallowing the thickness in your throat. “You mind if I sit?” Chloe asks, gesturing to the side of your bed. You shake your head no and she makes herself comfortable, clipboard in her lap. She doesn’t even look at Javi, which relaxes you a bit. Her sole focus is you.

“I know it’s not going to be easy, but I promise to be patient. You can take all the time you need. Are you ready?” 

“I’m ready,” you reply before you change your mind about doing this with Javi. 

“Okay. Can you tell me how you tried to take your life last Friday? In as much detail as you’re comfortable with.” 

You take a deep breath, force yourself to not look at your husband, and pray you don’t mess this up. 

“I tried to drown myself,” you lie quietly. “I tied a scarf around my neck and attached it to a weight. Then I filled the sink with water—.” You have to pause, emotion hitting you hard all of a sudden. You blink and swallow the lump in your throat. “I filled the sink with water and threw the weight in.” 

Chloe nods somberly, watching you with the same pitying look the doctor had earlier. “It’s okay to cry, honey. It’s a hard thing to talk about. You’re very brave for doing so.”

You listen to her, bowing your head and letting your tears overflow. They’re slower than the ones you’d cried with Javi. More quiet. They feel more like defeat than grief. Chloe writes something down and looks back at you. 

“And why did you feel like that was the best way to achieve what you were trying to do?” 

You bite your lip, contemplating for a second. “Because I knew it would work over everything else. I thought it would.”

She jots something down.  

“There are no firearms in your house?” 

“Only mine, and it stays on me all day,” Javi provides before you can say anything. Chloe whips her head around to him. 

“Did I ask for your input?” 

“No,” you say, before whatever just happened could escalate. The last thing you need right now is Javi getting angry. “Just his.” 

She turns back to you, gentleness returning to her face. She again scribbles something down. 

“Two more,” she tells you. “We’re almost done. You’re doing really well.” 

You nod at her, giving her a small smile. 

“Do you wish you had succeeded? Why or why not?” 

You answer quickly, maybe a little too quickly. You hate the way you still feel like you’re lying when you tell her no. “I was just overwhelmed that night. I was lucky that Javi came home when he did.” 

She nods, writes something down, and asks you the last one. 

“You’re not going to try to take your life again?” 

“I’m not. I don’t want to die.” It almost hurts to have to say it. You don’t even know if that’s true. You put on a brave face though, needing her to believe it even if you don’t. 

She writes the last thing down and smiles at you. “Okay, I’m going to go talk to some staff and get you ready to go home. It was very nice to meet you. I hope things go well in your future.” She holds her hand out for you to shake, and you do. 

“Thank you, it was nice to meet you, too,” you tell her honestly. 

You wait to hear the click of the door before you look at Javi. He doesn’t look angry exactly, but you can tell he didn’t like Chloe at all. But he still nods approvingly at you, taking your hand again. 

“You did good, sweetheart,” he says. 

***** A couple of nurses come in about an hour later to take you out to Javi’s truck. They watch as he helps you in, waves his thanks, and gets in the driver’s side. You cuddle up next to him like you used to, and a calm feeling starts to ebb its way into you. He holds you tight the entire way back to the apartment, and after cooking you dinner, holds you tight as you fall asleep.  This. This is why you stay.

*****

What are we thinkin'? 👀

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[suguruluver]

“you can take it”

warnings - f!reader, nsfw, 18+, angry sex?, praising, etc. lmk if i missed anything. please try to ignore any errors ❦ !!

summary - gojo catches you pleasing yourself and isn’t too happy abt it.. AHHHHHH.

wc - 765

you’ve never been this needy in a while. but your boyfriend satoru is working late tonight, again, so he won’t be home for a while now.

he hates when you leave him out, he hates being left out. satoru will find any chance to fill your desires. it has been a while since you guys did anything so maybe he won’t be so mad.

you reach into the special drawer next to the bed and take out your favorite vibrator. you were already soaked just by the thought of gojo fucking you. you turn the toy up to the max and place it on your puffy clit.

the vibrator sent chills up your spine sending signals to the ball of nerves in your clit. you get a little carried away and push two fingers in your cunt curling them continuously.

you hear the doors unlock. you were in trouble. you quickly turn on the tv and pull the covers over your exposed body.

“hi baby, im home!”

“ohh hey satoru, you’re home early.. i missed you!” you say with a shakey voice

“yup! i missed you too baby. it was an easy day, so my boss sent everyone home. but what have you been doing?” he says talking off his work clothes.

“o-oh nothing.. just watching some tv, heh.”

“why do you have the covers on? it’s at least 80 degrees in here” he says confused

“i just got cold. i ate the last bit of the ice so yeah” you lie

“what is that noise?? is it the tv?”

shit, the vibrator is still on vibrating against the bed. you move your hands underneath the covers quickly turning it off.

“y/n were you just playing with yourself? you know i don’t like being left out”

“u-uh no baby..”

gojo comes closer to you pulling the covers off.

“fuck y/n”

“why did you just lie to me?”

“because i thought you would get mad”

“oh im definitely mad” he says looking at your naked body tremble

you look down at gojos pants and see a large bulge growing. he’s turned on.

he starts to unbuckle his pants with urgency. his dick is so hard it’s hurting him. he needs a good fuck just like you do.

“open your legs y/n” he says sternly

you hesitate. but you want this so bad. why are you hesitant?

“open your fucking legs” looking deep into your eyes

he was so beautiful. those bright blue eyes. his skin was so perfect. it glowed. not a blemish in sight. his soft white hair shined effortlessly.

you listen and without any hesitation he’s pushes himself into you.

“fuckkk satoruu wait..— please” you beg

“hell no, this is what you wanted, right?”

he was so right.. you did want this

“answer me y/n.” “you did want this.”

“yes— fuck, i wanted this satoru.”

“that’s what i thought” he says thrusting into you harder. both of his hands reach for your waist keeping you from trying to run away.

“you’re so tight, squeezing me so good baby”

you’re speechless. his dick is so deep in you that you can’t even form simple words.

your eyes are closed shut. tears running down your face. gojo kissed you letting you know that you’ll be alright.

“its okay baby. you can take it.”

you hear a buzzing sound and before you can even open your eyes, he places the vibrator you were using on your clit.

“shittttt, fuck satoruu—“ you cry out from the amount of pleasure it just gave you

“mhm— i know baby let it out”

you can feel the knot in your stomach become tighter. you know that gojo is close too because of how much harder he was thrusting into you.

“damn y/n, im about to cum in this pretty pussy.” he says breathing heavily

“im coming satoru, fuckkk—”

with that, gojo lifts your waist up hitting your spot even more.

“come for me baby, please”

you start to spasm on his cock. your legs were shaking uncontrollably

your mouth is left in an “O” shape as you both release at the same time.

you both are breathing heavier and heavier.

“do you feel better love?” he says kissing your body

“mhm. a lot better, but are you still mad at me”

he shakes his head almost immediately “of course not baby, i just know how much you liked to get fucked when im mad” he explains

“let’s go freshen up” as he says that, he lifts you up carrying you to the bathroom

“just don’t do it again.” gojos says laughing

© suguruluver 2023

[munsons-melody]

sick day

summary: eddie cuts class to come help you get over your cold

pairing: eddie munson x female!reader

cw: none + established relationship

word count: 1.5 k

a/n: i thought this was a v cute concept

masterslist

i do not consent to having any of my works republished, translated, or posted to any other site except here. if you see my works anywhere but tumblr, it has been republished without my knowledge, consent, or permission.

—

you were undeniably, undoubtedly sick.

what started out as a sniffle from the day before turned into a full-blown-out nasty cold. you could only blame the weather for the illness.

it was a gloomy tuesday morning, and upon hearing your groggy voice and horrific cough in the morning, your mother sent you straight back to bed and called the school to tell them you weren't coming in.

you ended up falling back asleep for a handful of hours, trying to avoid the torture of being awake with a headache, a sore throat, and uncontrollable coughing. however you were soon woken up by your phone ringing.

"hello?" you sleepily croaked out, your voice hoarse from the amount of coughing you had succumbed to

"hey y/n, why aren't you in class?" you heard eddie ask, the sounds of people talking behind him. he was using the school phone to call you.

"i'm dying," you told him, sniffling a little bit. "what?" he asked in confusion

"i got the worst cold ever and i'm dying" you said again, feeling a cough coming on

"oh shit, how are you feeling?" he asked and you rolled your eyes

"actually I'm doing great thanks," you responded sarcastically

"sorry, that was a stupid question" he said. you heard the bell ring in the background and some shuffling noises

"i gotta go babe but i love you, feel better" he told you, making you smile. "i love you too" you said as you heard a click and the dial tone ring out.

you coughed a couple more times, causing your throat to burn with pain. you groggily pushed yourself up from your laying position and sat on the edge of your bed

you caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror and your looks had mirrored how you felt; like shit

your nose was bright pink from the countless times you had to blow your nose, cheeks were flushed, hair was in the messiest braid ever, your dark circles engulfed your eyes from the lack of sleep you got the previous night. you were wearing a giant shirt with garfield on it, some baggy pj pants, and you knew if anyone were to see how you did now, they would be disgusted

you went and used the bathroom, then went to the kitchen to search for something to eat that wouldn't make you more nauseous but failed to do so 

the house was quiet, the only thing you could really hear was the birds chirping and cars passing outside. you stood there, enjoying the silence, sipping on your water

you headed back to your room in attempts to fall asleep again, but after tossing and turning for a good 10 minutes, you sat up with a huff

just as you resigned yourself to the rest of the day filled with solitude and sniffles, a knock echoed through the house. startled, you slowly made your way to the front door, your stuffy nose adding an extra layer of annoyance to your condition.

you looked through the peephole to see eddie standing there with a large brown bag in hand. he looked so good wearing his black sabbath t shirt and ripped black jeans, his white reeboks giving a pop of white.

you slowly opened the door, only leaving a little bit of it open to avoid him from fully seeing you. it’s not like you always wore tons of makeup, just enough to boost your confidence, and eddie had seen you completely without makeup only a handful of times, but you didn’t want him to see the horrific sight which was you with the worst cold

"eddie, what are you doing here?" you asked with a raspy voice

eddie flashed his trademark grin, holding up the bag in his hand. "since you're sick, i thought i could be of some assistance. i brought you some homemade chicken soup. wayne swears on it" he said sweetly

"thank you baby that's so sweet," you said with a smile, before furrowing your brows

“wait where did you get homemade chicken soup?” you asked and he blinked

“oh well technically it’s campbells… but it works just the same, i swear, scouts honor” he smiled, lifting three fingers

he started to walk in but you shut the door more

"i don't want to get you sick" you told him and he shook his head 

"i have the immune system of an ostrich!" he declared and you let out a giggle which turned into a nasty cough 

"oh baby," he said sympathetically, standing up the next stair to the doorway 

"c'mon let me take care of you please, just until your parents get home?" he asked with the sweetest tone

"eds i have to be honest, i look absolutely disgusting right now, i don't want you seeing me like this" your voice faded into a whisper

"y/n, i can promise you that nothing you do or have will make me less attracted to you, i love you in every conceivable way now can i please just come in and heat your soup up for you?” he begged, giving you puppy dog eyes

you slowly opened the door, revealing your sick state to eddie and he smiled, walking in to your house and immediately giving you a kiss on the forehead

“jesus you’re burning up” he said taken aback and you rolled your eyes

“no shit sherlock” you huffed as he walked into your kitchen

“well i guess the first symptom of this cold is hate” he joked with a smile and you shook your head at him, shutting the door

“so how come you were able to come here in the middle of the school day?” you questioned, leaning against the kitchen counter as he poured your soup from the can into a pot

“i just went to the nurses and told them i was feeling sick and apparently there’s something going around the school so they believed me and sent me home” eddie shrugged, turning up the heat on the stove

“so that’s what i got” you said, crossing your arms

“maybe” eddie said, eyes staying on the soup to make sure it didn’t boil over

“wait what did you mean you have the immune system of an ostrich?” you asked, realizing what he said earlier

“yeah they have one of the best immune systems, it’s a fact” he said nonchalantly and you laughed

“and how do you know what?” you asked as he turned off the stove

“well when i was growing up, wayne had the day shift and after school i’d go to the library to read before he’d come and pick me up, i learned it from some nature book” eddie smiled, and handed you the steaming hot bowl of soup

“thank you” you said, your stomach suddenly making countless noises and rumbling, since you hadn’t ate anything all day

you sat at your kitchen table and ate your soup, and eddie munched on a couple saltines you had from your cupboard

“yeah and luckily i had a test i didn’t study for at all for 7th period so i get more time to study” eddie said and you nodded, not really caring in that moment if you secretly knew you had to help him study because you were so hungry, the soup vanishing in front of you

“mhm” you mutter out, finishing the rest of the soup and chugging some water

“feel better?” eddie asked and you nodded. honestly you did. now that your stomach had shut up and power of chicken noddle soup was finally coming to fruition, you felt the tiredness loom back over you

you yawned and stretched your arms out and eddie could see the sudden drop in the little bit of energy you had earlier

“now back to bed young lady” he said in a not so stern voice and you listened, getting up with your bowl in hand and placing it in the sink

eddie followed you into your room and shut the door. you put some of the tissues that were discarded on the floor and put them in the trash, and then instantly cuddled into your sheets, pulling them around you

eddie took off his jacket and shoes, walking over to the other side of the bed

“ed’s what are you doing? i told you i don’t want you to get sick” you said, and he just smiled, taking off his pants and then crawling into the empty space next to you

“i don’t care sweetheart, all i care about is you feeling better and i know that you’ll sleep better with me here, it’s a fact” he said, pulling you in close

“oh really? did you learn that in your nature book as well?” you asked with a slight laugh and he kissed your head

“no, i just know you that well” he said, letting you lean your head against him

you felt the sleepiness wash over you like a wave on a beach, and you just let your eyes close, feeling eddie’s chest move against your back

you were a little jealous he could breathe through his nose without the annoyance of it being stuffy but you didn’t care because he was right, you do sleep better with him near

fin.

[deadqueerboys]

Mlm incelbur smut please <3

Dinner - Wilbur Soot x Male! Reader

It's a bit confusing, but here it is!!

Guys, I beg you, when you do a request please but informations like: Sub or dom reader, male, gn or female reader and etc.. it's important!!

Anyway, here it is!!!

A sigh. That's the first thing that can be heard from the front door. After this, loud noises from what can only be Wilbur running up and down on the stairs. Wilbur isn't exactly the perfect.. "roommate", he's always simping around, talking about girls and guys in a possessive way and always making sure nobody else was around yo the way he does. But, sometimes, he can be slightly useful, like today..

"WAIT A MINUTE!" He screams from the room, going downstairs and meeting you in the front door. "Hello my handsome!" Will is not the type who gives you time to think, he just do what he wants, not different from it, he kisses your cheek and puts his tie around your head, covering your eyes.

"Ugh! Wilbur, let me go!" Even being useless, you try to fight, but his grip on your shoulders gets even tighter as guides you to the kitchen. He keeps walking, his creepy giggle can be clearly heard in your ears as close as he is.

Suddenly, you both stop. You wonder what kind of weird thing he might have done now. You pray for it to be just one more awkward dinner together.

"Here it is~" Wilbur takes the tie off, putting it around his own neck again, smiling widely at you. It's just the dinner table.. covered with flowers, candles, and a bunch of other romantic stuff. Plus, the amount of money he kept in the month, he knows that's a way of getting your attention for his intoxicating flirt.

You roll your eyes, trying to smile at him in the same harmony, which is impossible. Instead of fighting, you just sit in the chair, letting he act like a dumb gentleman as he puts the food in the table and gives you a huge glass of wine.

The dinner goes, he talks shit about some of your friends and partners but that's just the usual Wilbur, when he becomes more flirtious and pervert is where it can be noticed his nature and the reason why people call him an incel. It gets you tired. The alcohol and the dizzy feeling of talking with him finally hit you like a slap, so without consulting him, you get up and try to walk away.

"Hey, our talk didn't end up yet.." Wilbur smirks, his voice sharp and devilish, an obvious menace for your attempt of getting away from him. He's quick, placing his another hand on your hips and bringing you close. "Didn't you enjoy it? Come on, I made what you like, I gave you money, flowers and those special candles with vanilla smell. Pleasee!" He begs like a child, pouting at you when he comes closer.. closer enough for you to feel his bulge touching your thigh.

"Just a little bit?" Without denying or giving him assure, you ask. It's visible the happiness in his eyes as he nods desperately. Ignoring his aggressive demands, you hold his hand and interlock your fingers with his, walking to the living room and undoing your belt before his hand reach to stop you with a slap. "Hey! What the-"

"That's my function! You know that." He frowns and get on his knees, his cock getting even more hard with the thought of making you feel good. Wilbur has always been like that. He's pathetic. He wants you to feel good, to be a good whore for you just so he can hear you say to all of your friends that you fucked the stupid and silly boy that accepted living with you and pay your bills for free.

The freaking incel undoes your belt slowly, trying everything to see you getting hard under his hands. It's almost insane how much he wants it. You pet his hair and grab it too, remembering everything Wilbur said he likes while you guys fuck or even just make out. You put his face close to the growing length on your boxers, watching he lick it without hesitation.

"Huh, that's.." You stop for a moment, you could degrade him.. you could call him your slut and make him feel even better or just.. maybe just.. "That's it. Good boy." Your grip release and he looks at you more upset and angry than never.

"Are you serious?" He gets up, looking you dead in the eyes. God, he's big. Is always nice to remember that, the imagine of his cock being big even while soft sends a shiver of pleasure through your body. Was it what you wanted this whole time..? Besides degradating him, he could.. he could fuck you. He throws you on the couch, slapping your face. "It's so easy. How can't you do one simple thing?! That's unbelievable.." He keeps complaining, which is.. well, cute.

You spread your legs apart, intertwining them around his waist.

"Will." You giggle. It must be the first time in a long while he doesn't hear it because his reaction was just widen his eyes and pay attention to your voice like a lost dog. "Couldn't we change the roles?" You smile, obviously drunk.

He doesn't even think his next moves. They are fast and sloppy. He takes off his pants and picks you up, griding his length against yours. Wilbur knows he can't give you the doubt benefit, so he has to be quick and make you enjoy it, or else it will never happen again.

"Mhm, fuck we.. fuck you.." Will smirks, moaning when his hands reach to your boxers and he starts to stroke your cock. You lay your head back, panting with pleasure. As much as Wilbur know you, he knows how to be fast and make you cum even faster. His hands work like magic, he slap his hips on yours when your arms are tightly around his neck, bringing him even closer if that is possible. He keeps stroking you, knowing all your damn preferences.

When you show signs of cumming, he puts your boxers down and also his. He lays you down on the couch again, being gentle at this time. He puts himself in the middle of your thighs, making your hole his little prize. A tight prize he has been reaching for a long time, it's disgusting how he gets inside you without lube or protection, burning your body inside as he forces his dick inside you.

Complaining, you slap his face, which only makes him go faster, causing the pain to grow even more. He doesn't want you to keep complaining that much like a little bitch, so he makes sure to pleasure you too, moving his hips together with his hand and coming closer to give you a passionate kiss. Or was it just lust..? It doesn't matter, it felt good.

He feels overwhelmed, leaking his pre-cum inside you. It feels weirdly warm, but at least now he can move properly. Wilbur looks insane at this point, a big mess over you like a predator, and he doesn't even seem to want to get out.

"Babe, do you mind if i-" He gulps, swallowing his saliva with his pathetic moans. "If I cum inside?"

The pleasure reaches you enough, shaking your head in an extensive 'no' so he can keep going. "Please, do anything.. but do not stop.."

Wilbur goes even deeper inside you, with your permission, he cums, surprisingly, it doesn't even seem like it. You just feel a wet and warm thing inside you, but he keeps going like if nothing happened. He moans one more time, now feeling control and power over your dumb fucked figured. He takes his hand out of your cock and grab your neck, choking you with those thick long fingers. Your air goes away, making it hard to breathe as he mischievously giggles.

"What a good slut.." Wilbur moans when he comes closer to your hear, putting a lot of his weight on your body. He slaps your face with his other hand, and with the mix of sensations, you cum. Your cock feels dry and painful, contradicting your tight hole that now is wet and filled with a pleasure that isn't yours. He smirks with the sight of your cum on your own stomach, getting out of you only to look superior and dominant. "Make sure to clean this mess." He throws a towel at you, putting his boxers back on.