#i’m unsure if this was a one off thing just for me

[burymagdalene]

Crazy Little Thing Cold Love - S. Reid x Reader

Where the fierce cold brought by their holiday with the team to a ski lodge leads reader and Spencer to seek warmth in more ways than one in their room. Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader Genre: Fluff and Smut (18+ pls pls) tags: softdom!Spence, fingersucking, dry humping, lots of messy kissing, fingering, oral (fem receiving), handjob, piv sex, overstimulation (I can’t help it), praise, fluff, of course, they love each other big time! wc: 6.1k. a/n: I genuinely did not think more than 20 people would read my last (first) fic, I was smiling ear to ear and stalked everyone who liked it basically. I hope this isn’t too long. I don’t know what the fic length sweet spot is. Anyway, I was imagining our pretty boy in the Alaska episode 5x21 while writing this. MERRY CHRISTMAS YA FILTHY ANIMAL

Despite not knowing how to ski, when Spencer invited you to join him and his team for a quick holiday to a ski lodge in Colorado, you nearly melted in excitement. 

You’re over at Spencer’s apartment, bag readily in hand, watching him try to find outfits for this occasion. “Well.. I’m not going to be skiing, so I think regular clothes will be fine, hm?”

“Just bring a couple sweaters or something, that’s what I did. And a swimsuit.” You comment as you lay on your stomach on his bed, scrolling through your phone. Spencer takes his head out of his closet to spin and look at you.

“I didn’t even think about that. Of course. Thank you.” He mumbles and walks to his dresser, unsure if he even has swim trunks here. In his bottom drawer he digs through ridiculous ties and socks he’s forgotten about and begrudgingly finds the only swim trunks he had since highschool.

You scoot your body towards the end of his bed, leaning your head over to look at the way-too-short purple swim trunks he’s holding up with an unmistakably gloom look on his face. “Oh… you have to try those on. Right now.” You request through giggles. 

Spencer stands up slowly placing the trunks in front of the trousers on his legs to see how the size difference from a pre-pubescent Spencer contrasts to now. How badly he’s about to be humiliated in front of his coworkers. 

It’s nothing too horrifying, just blatantly un-Spencer in a way that has you both laughing at the ridiculousness of it. Seeing your boyfriend in short shorts has yet to occur! Regardless, Spencer slips off his slacks and pulls the shorts over his legs, jumping to put pants on for the first time in his life.

Spencer does not look bad. The shorts are too high up, he has probably grown about 6 inches since he picked these out. The tag is still on, he’s never even worn them. They sit nicely fitted on his upper thighs and he has his hands covering his face laughing as he shows you. In an over exaggerated manly voice you laugh out a “do a little spin for me hot stuff” at a groaning Spencer.  

“Babe,” Spencer laughs “I cannot be seen in these. In front of my highly respected team as well. In front of… Morgan.” He begins to take them off and throws them into his duffle bag anyway. 

“Noooo you gotta. Plus it’ll probably be just the two of us in the hot tub or whatever at a time. We’re not all going to be sitting in it together. At least I hope not…” You giggle a bit at the image. You have to give Spencer props though, him a few years ago would’ve cancelled his RSVP or purposefully left the swimsuit at home leaving him to a trip of staying in a random log cabin reading. 

It’s not for a case, so the team does not have access to their own plane, making it so that you and Spencer are doomed to wake up at 5am to meet everybody at the airport. You give out multiple sleepy sidehugs, unable to believe how equipped everyone is at waking up at unbearable hours. With this though you are able to sleep through the flight from D.C. to Colorado just fine using Spencer as your pillow. 

The ski lodge made you gasp when you arrived. Snow that was not present in D.C. covered every inch of the area; two levels of wooden panels lead to a huge snow slope behind the lodge. Through many “ooh’s” and “aah’s” it was finally revealed that only Rossi, Hotch, and JJ knew how to ski. Though, Emily and Morgan were equally as interested in learning from the best. This left you, Garcia, and Spencer to inside activities; watching your friends ski, groaning at lack of cell service (Garcia), reading, and the wonderfully heated pool and hottub that rested on the porch overlooking the slope. This, of course, made everyone squeal. 

Rooms were doubled up and you and Spencer unpacked your bags chatting with Morgan who was leaning against the doorway regarding ski tricks.

“If you’re so uncoordinated and haven't touched a slope in your life, why would you care about how skiing can aid astronauts mobility?” Morgan questioned Spencer's rambling about astronauts who have experience with skiing and had an easier time walking on the moon. 

“Well I’m not walking on the moon anytime soon either I just think it’s fascinating that cross country skiing-”

“What is that?” Morgan interrupts Spencer when a sweater covering his trunks in his bag gets put away, revealing the tiny purple fabric. You start giggling as Spencer sighs. Morgan walks into the room and picks them up from his bag. “What does this sweet girl have you wearing for her, Reid?” He teases.

Spencer definitely grabs them from his hands “Nothing! I got them when I was in highschool, I don’t go swimming a lot.” He sighs and looks down at you shaking his head as if to say “what did I say?” without speaking. 

Morgan relents seeing Spencer's face redden a bit. “Ah, pretty boy, well, this look might be good for you, I can’t wait.” He exits laughing after ruffling Spencer's hair. 

Spencer plops down on the bed next to you, scooping you in his arms. “This better be the most heavenly hot tub I’ll ever experience…” he sighs into your neck. You wrap your arms around him too, running your nails softly over his back and whisper back “Oh stop. You deserve a break, it will be.”

Later that day after playing a few rounds of Spades, everyone decides it's time to face the cold, put on gear and ski. Or watch them from the patio. It’s amusing even though you have no concept of how they’re going down with such elegance. It almost looks too easy for them. You have two sweaters on and a ski coat. Apparently, coming out with one sweater and a coat was so offensive to Spencer that he made you tack on another layer. “You’re the coldest person I know, please add another, baby”. Spencer, who was bundled up himself, pleaded as you spun around on your heels to redress yourself without protest because you know he’s right. 

With your chin tucked into your hands, pressed between Penelope and Spencer, you all take on the roles of pseudo-Olympic commentators to pass the time. The horrible butchered transatlantic accent coming from you all worsened by the warmed eggnog held between cold palms. Spencer eagerly grins as he sees Morgan stumble a bit in his boots, “Yikes, not a good start for Morgan, whose first Olympics is this year. Now wait, wait, it is down to the wire but…YES, it looks like Morgan has gone for the gold and succeeded. Such a momentous moment in the young athletes career-”

Penelope slaps Spencer's arm, doubled over laughing at the fake news anchor voice he has adapted for this role he has put on. “Stop, stop, he’s going to get mad at you!” You all wipe the smiles off your faces and put on fake serious ones as Morgan trudges back up the slope, looking more suspicious than if you had just kept laughing. He shakes his head in disappointment towards the three of you.

All sort of tipsy and numb from the cold decide to go back inside. The rigorous ski activities today coupled with the early morning, causes the rest of the team to head to bed early. You and Spencer run towards your room at the same time, pushing past each other in the door frame as you try to stumble into warmth. 

You slide your coat off and plummet to the ground to turn on the space heater with a speed as though it was a bomb you had 3 seconds left to disarm. You put your hands near it to warm them, looking up from the floor to Spencer who is smiling down at you from the bed. He silently motions with his head for you to sit over by him.

Whining and pulling yourself away from the heater, you get up and stand between Spencer's slightly open legs. He places his arms behind him and slouches back on his palms to get a better look at your face from where you’re standing. He tilts his head innocently to the side and squints at you. “Is somebody too cold? I would’ve never guessed that…” 

Scoffing and pulling your arms around yourself to conserve heat you mumble back “Noooo… I mean. Just my hands. Hah, they feel like they’re made out of molasses.” Spencer gives a mocking sort of pitied smile up at you, which you ignore by the good graces in your heart. He shifts his weight back onto one hand and slips one of his chilled palms up the front of your sweater to your waist. You wince at the juxtaposition between your flushed skin under your layers and his icy hand. 

You grab his wrist from under your sweater with an icier hand. “Don’t… torture me.” You beg at him. He furrows his eyes together and pouts, as if the idea of removing his hand from the curve of your waist would drain all the blood from his veins. Spencer hums and takes it off anyway, sitting up straight and taking both of your wrists into his hands, placing them together so he can cover your hands with his, moving back and forth to spark some friction into them.

The heat starts quickly from your fingertips to your wrists and you hum in content. Spencer whispers a “Yeah, you’re okay,” in response. “Your hands are freezing, I’m sorry angel.” Very malleable from the sweet heat you’re finally getting, Spencer continues to move your hands so that your palms are facing his face now. He kisses your fingertips softly, the warmth from his mouth makes you let out an almost silent moan. 

“S’that nice?” He looks up into your eyes, you still standing there like if you moved all the heat you’ve accumulated on this spot of the floor would vanish. You nod breathlessly. Spencer smiles at your response, not wanting to tease you further, preferring the flush in your cheeks his warmth is supplying you over his taunting. He begins to press more soft, slow kisses over your fingertips, moving your hands at his will by your wrists. 

Then there is a progression to open mouth kisses on your palms, he bends your hands down to kiss over each of your knuckles, eyelids open and trained on your face. Spencer rubs his cheek on the back of your hands and moves them again so the sensitive skin of your inner forearms are facing him. Rolling up each sleeve of your sweater, he coos at the goosebumps that raise from the air on your newly exposed skin. The kisses start from your wrists up to the crux of your inner elbow. You get a second round of goosebumps from a different source now.

You let out a rush of air at the sensitivity picking up on your arms from his mouth, from the cold. Spencer places one last kiss on your arm and nips the inside of the sensitive skin there. At this you can only make a pinched face and mutter out a simple, “Spence.”

He can’t help but grin at your placidity, he’s used to your sharp tongue, but this evening you’re nothing but soft sounds and looks. Your goosebumps soon fade as he rubs your arms up and down a few times and slides each of your sleeves back to their rightful places. “Warm?” He questions finally.

Truthfully, the space heater has kicked up enough that you don’t feel like your life's on the line anymore and you on the outside are just as warm and fuzzy as you are feeling on the inside. Still, being doted on is never something you would allow to run short if you have any say in it. “Mmm… my fingers just can’t. Get warm?” You don’t even believe yourself.

Spencer decides to take pity on you anyway through the “woe is me” act you’re executing poorly. “Ahh. Pesky things. Let me try something.” Spencer picks up your right hand again with the delicacy of picking up a butterfly and places your fingers against his lips again. This time though as he’s looking up at you and cupping your hand with both of his, he positions your middle and ring finger down so that they’re the only two pressed against his lips.

Starting off, he kisses them like before, sickly sweet, only with your warmth in mind, then ups his ante a bit. With a small parting of lips, Spencer's tongue tentatively pokes out around the fingers. He’s testing the waters. Easily, you give an eager nod of approval. 

Another hum falls from Spencer's lips as he takes your two fingers, to the second knuckle, deeper into his mouth. Sucking your fingers now and staring up at you, you shuffle yourself closer to him, straddling his legs and resting your other hand against his shoulder for purchase.

Spencer’s hands slip from yours and find a place under your sweater again, and this time you let him with no complaints. You take your hand from his shoulder and cup his jaw gently with it, guiding his head back slowly, allowing him to take in more of your fingers. Spencer sucks them gently and moans around them when your fingers grip his jaw a bit too hard. You drop the hand that’s grabbing him. One has to be careful not to bruise the jaw that’s sucking their fingers. Something like that.

Letting go with a gentle pop, Spencer takes a breath of air and pushes his face up to meet yours in a wet kiss. Your wet fingers cup his face as he takes your bottom lip between his teeth and tugs. 

“Mmpf-” You groan, pain spreading lightly in your mouth now. You briefly think of your first kiss, how feather-light it was that you hardly even felt him there with how tentative he was. After all this time you’ve enabled this boyfriend of yours to use his teeth to nip you like a territorial kitten who is privy to love biting. 

With an open mouth you kiss him hard in a rebuttal that has him smiling against your lips. “Hmm, don’t groan, you’re not going to break,” he wraps his arms around you fully, moving his mouth to your ear now, “helpless little lamb-” his voice gentle despite his mocking candace. 

You don’t feel like baring your teeth, fully satisfied with allowing Spencer to push your buttons until he inevitably notices your novel docility and rewards you for it. You know him like the back of your hand. 

Wrapped in his embrace and legs open over top of him there’s an instinctual need in your brain needing you to grind down on him and a more voluntary decision bred from embarrassment that is saying too soon too soon. In the crossfire of these conflicted thoughts your thighs concoct an awkward shaky squeeze motion and immediately lift up from him. 

“Going somewhere?” Spencer says in a pretend-serious tone before snickering at you once you silently sit back down on him. He understands you just as well as you do him and slips the arms that are under your sweater to brace your hips against his. “Is this what you wanted? You can take whatever you want from me.”

Sitting back down to where you were previously on his lap you card your fingers through his hair. “How chivalrous…” you murmur against his lips before you open your mouth to kiss him again. You have learned how to utilize time being spent while kissing Spencer over the course of your relationship. Rather, you have learned how to kiss each other in a way that signals immediately to the other that you’re needing this to progress past dry humping. The way your lips are slotting together and the way he’s pulling on your lips with his is a blaring sign. 

After you let out a shuddering sigh while pulling away for a breath, Spencer uses this opportunity to usher you so that your back is flat against the bed and he’s resting his arms around your head on top of you. With one of his hands against your cheek and the other caging your head in you easily slip back into the version of yourselves that tremble with need, this desperation not well suited for either of you. Intolerable.

Spencer’s thigh is regrettably too far away for you to grind yourself against and in order to shake the throbbing at your center you wordlessly take his hand by your face and bring it down over your jeans. He takes the hint immediately cupping you so you can grind against his hand through the thick fabric. 

He likes to pull away for this part. Spencer stops kissing you so that while he’s rubbing your clit through your pants he can hear your unoccupied mouth moaning while he kisses along your jaw and neck. He thinks of it as a cheat code really, he gets to keep kissing your skin while simultaneously hearing your progression from moans caught in your throat to small whines and begs.

Surprisingly, Spencer is the first to break and ask for the fabric barriers to be discarded, which makes you proud because you’re the one who’s the most impacted by your (basically) industrial grade jeans prohibiting you from feeling your boyfriend's fingers against you. 

“Baby, these are killing me,” He’s already moving above you to unbutton your jeans and shimmy them down to around and off your ankles. “I promise I’ll keep you warm.” In all honesty you’ve forgotten about the biting wind outside and the slopes of snow toppling over, but you appreciate the sentiment regardless. The idea that being cold will genuinely stop you from having him inside you right now is laughable.

You sit up and take off your sweater and undershirt as Spencer is working on your lower half. Working as in mouthing over your cunt through your panties as you struggle to unhook your bra at the visual.

Your legs are parted, thick white socks still up to your shins, and once Spencer threw your jeans to the ground he laid between your legs to kiss and lick over your panties. You keep fumbling with the clasp whenever he sucks or kisses over your clit. Not the most efficient moment of your life. “J-Jesus, I can’t get this off.” You huff and break him out of his pussy-induced stupor. 

Spencer comes up from between your legs and shuffles over and unclasps your bra with such elegance that you can’t even comment on it because you know he’s boasting over it in his head. Instead you pull over his sweater and shakily unbutton the top half of his button up shirt while he works on the bottom half. Your hands briefly meet over his middle button and he kisses your forehead with a smile as he pops the last one open for you both. 

His own slacks are thrown off alongside yours on the floor and you both grab at each other to take off one anothers underwear in such an eager manner that you have to laugh at each other for a moment before finally sliding them off. 

Spencer guides your head with his hand behind it as you slowly lay down besides him. Knees propped up and together, he places one of his hands on the outside of your thigh, gently running his fingers tips up and down the skin. “Why don’t you go ahead and open up your legs for me?” He asks between petting your leg.

Now, he must notice that it would be too easy for him to open them for you, like he so naturally comes to do. He’s coaxed your thighs open, held them down from the backside of your knees while you squirm from his lips sucking your clit, pushed them together and to the side when you’re squeezing his sides too tight while he’s fucking you. There is something delightfully humiliating about spreading them open yourself. So eager to display for him the shiny wetness that has been coating you for a demeaning amount of time, like gifting him a bashful merit badge for his effortless work.  

You look up at him through your lashes, his eyes are fixed on the softness of your lower belly, waiting for the moment you start to move so he can see your sex being revealed the instant you do it. Pervert. Taking one of your hands away from the bed you trail it slowly from the bottom of your ribcage to the very part of your stomach that has Spencer transfixed. Teasing yourself and Spencer simultaneously, you push your hand between your closed thighs, still hiding yourself slightly, and dragging up some of the wetness you collected with your first two fingers.

This time your fingers go into your own mouth, sucking off the taste of yourself while you watch Spencer mouth breathe and the tip of his dick start to dribble. Poor thing. “I love you.” He whispers into the air, incentivizing you to just do what you’re told. 

Embarrassment flushes your chest as you part your legs for him, putting both of your arms lazily above your head, finally rewarding him with saying “I love you” back once your thighs are on opposite sides from each other and your pussy is on full display. 

He shuffles closer to you on his knees, arm reaching out to softly run his hand on the inside of your thigh. “Look at you… can I touch?” Spencer’s asking like he doesn’t know if he doesn’t you’ll die.

“I’ll die if you don’t.” He should get where you’re coming from. He smiles meekly to himself, proud, or maybe just plain excited, and spreads apart your lips with his fingers. Your toes curl in on themselves as he slides his middle finger through you, spreading your wetness and mulling your ache. It’s almost too much to watch this near-inspection and you turn your flushed cheeks to the side and look at how his dick is a matching shade of red to your face. You love this part. Tangible evidence to how he feels about you, not that you need any more, but seeing right in your face how being with you makes his thighs tense and cock heavy puts a smile on your face.

With two fingers now he’s collecting the sticky soft wetness that never stops collecting in times like these, and rubbing your clit with them in such a gentle way you scoff out a “Please-”

Immediately he gives in, he’s not a professional at avoiding your begs even when it's looking like he’s going to be in charge. Pressing his fingers harder against you he rubs faster circles onto where you’re pleading for it. “Being so bossy. We haven’t even started.” He quips, trying to gain back some of the fervor he has for being in control, not just sit back, be a good listener, and give give give. 

Your clit throbs helplessly against his fingers. Wanting them harder and faster, wanting them inside you, in your mouth, against your throat, you can’t help but whine at the possibilities montaging in your head. Spencer watches a small dribble of white essence leak from you, mutters a “Jesus” to himself and slides his two fingers off your clit to inside of you. You choke on your moan, not expecting to be so full so quickly, it’s perfect. Spencer isn’t teasingly fucking you with his fingers. He knows how to curl them, he does so. He knows to put his forearm into it in the way that makes you stamp your legs shut. He’s fucking you quickly and easily with them as you bring your hands over your face.

“There, Spence.” You mumble against your hands, biting the skin of your palm to be courteous to everyone else in the house right now.

“I know.” He pushes against that spot in you that’s made you cry and rubs with a pressure made with love. You buck your hips and let him get away with whatever he wants to do with you, but the noise coming from his fingers in you makes you want to float out of your body. 

Brows furrowed and head pressing back against the bed your hips start to twist, with a mind of their own, turning over onto Spencer's hand. This part you can’t control. “Mmm, Spencer. Okay, okay, fuck.” You’re bargaining in your own way, for something neither of you know, but Spencer figures out every time. He slips his fingers out and places them on your clit again. Wet and pruned from being inside of you, he can move fastly against it as you gasp.

“I wish you could see what I see right now. So wet. You’re about to ruin these sheets the first night, baby.” He laughs gently at you. 

“Th-then stop touching me.” You bite back. Immediately scared of the idea of him following through. 

Spencer would literally never do that. He rolls his eyes a bit and furrows his brows at you when you make eye contact. He hums and adds a third finger to rub circles against your clit, two not being enough anymore for a precise massage with how wet you are.

Moving slowly back flat against the bed, your pelvis gives up on trying to crush Spencer’s hand underneath them. When his other hand trails down to fuck you while he rubs your clit you look for a way to thank him without bringing humiliation to yourself for years to come. You feebly grip the base of his dick, palm fairly loose around him as he’s currently milking all of the strength from your limbs. 

Spencer plainly laughs at this, it’s so you. He’s making your brain leak from your ears and you can only pump him lightly a few times. The one instance where you two have tried to 69 this story ended a similar way, with his tongue doing unspeakable things while you can just moan around his dick and wetly kiss it. It’s hard to do things while he’s fucking you. 

You huff, wanting his pretty leaking dick to be getting the same amount of attention as you are. Keeping your one hand on his base to keep it from bobbing, you reach over with your other hand to rub his tip, smear himself all over the sensitive top. He’s stopped laughing now.

“Please don’t make me cum right now.” Spencer pleads softly as he starts to quickly rub your clit from side to side now instead of the circles he was doing before. Fuck, talk about a competition. Your back arches up from the bed as your hand falls limply from where it was on his tip.

Wanting to inform Spencer on how you can’t jerk him off while he’s touching you so he should just start fucking you properly is not a sentence in your capabilities right now so you try your best with a “fuck me fuck me fuck me.” Doesn’t leave much for interpretation.

He slows his fingers and pulls them away with a sad “sorry, angel…” after glancing at your sour face from the lack of stimulation you’re getting now. He slips off the bed entirely to grab a condom from his bag, and throws it on your stomach for you to open after his fingers slip trying to tear the wrapper himself from your wetness still on his fingers. 

Fully situated between your legs again now Spencer looks up at the ceiling briefly while you roll the condom on him as if saying a prayer for composure before he’s inside of you. You can’t help but smile at this as you start to rub him between your legs, grabbing his attention back onto the task at hand.

Whenever Spencer first slides into you, you have to make sure to keep your eyes open to watch his face since he nearly always wears the same angelic face that you never get to see elsewhere. His mouth becomes a small “o”, his eyebrows are furrowed together, but not like he’s squeezing them down, they’re pulled up in a blissed out expression as his eyelids flutter closed. Heavenly.

He’s got one of your thighs in his grasp and he’s pushing it up against your ribs as he begins a steady pace with his hips against yours. There’s strings of your slick attached to his upper thighs from your inner legs rubbing against him. Maybe you are making too much of a mess out of these poor clean sheets.

After his initial haze of trying not to come instantly, Spencer brings back down his right hand to continue flicking your clit back and forth with his wet fingers. You bite down on his shoulder to keep from terrorizing your housemates. Your propped up foot, still covered in your warm socks, thuds softly against his back as the other one grips onto the sheets. 

“Feel nice baby?” Spencer asks into your hair as you bite down onto him.

How he could ask you this is beyond you, though you suppose he’s indirectly asking you to feed into his praise kink. “You feel so perfect Spence,” you whine against him. “unhhh…might be a bit too obsessed with your cock” you slur and laugh a bit at the end, not sure what will do it for him. Nevertheless he lets out a choked whimper and loses his rhythm. Bingo. 

His weight is pushing you down so you can’t wiggle away from any of the stimulation he’s giving you. It accumulates quickly and, just laying there and taking it, you don’t get enough time to warn him you’re close. You weren’t close really, it felt good and then you came. Sucking in air through your teeth your thighs squeeze around Spencer, who is murmuring “oh baby…” into your ear. 

You want to kick him for how good he’s making you feel. It feels unfair and you want to throw a tantrum based on how his fingers are still rubbing your twitching clit and how much you love the feeling of drowning in his pleasure. You’d never throw a tantrum though. Right now, Spencer has caught you in a completely willing mood where you’re closer to proposing to him than anything.

It’s dizzying. Your mouth is wide open in shock as you let him touch you into overstimulation and you don’t even realize it till he lets go of the vice he had on your leg and brings his free hand to put his thumb into your mouth. Latching onto it immediately, you use it as a buffer, a gag, to prevent yourself from making too much noise or mouthing off. You bite down a little on the digit and drool rolls down your lips to your chin. Spencer takes his thumb out, collects it, and pushes it back into your mouth.

Spencer reverts back to rubbing your clit back and forth with his middle and ring finger, losing purchase a few times with how wet you are, but finding his way back to your sweet spot just as quickly. You feel the second orgasm building this time around. Your eyes shoot open, you suck softly on his thumb and he looks back down at you, recognizing the pleading look in your eyes.

“Yeah. Y-yeah, angel. S’a good girl-” he gives his sort of permission and you cum so hard you don’t realize he’s finishing right behind you. 

He’s petting your hair with his hand, both wet from either your cum or your spit and you try to shove that complaint out of your head because of how sweetly he’s moaning above you as he finishes. He’s done cumming but he tends to keep sliding into you after, not ready to give up the whole experience yet. This is when you hear his prettiest sounds.

You cup his cheeks and kiss all over his face and he softly smiles and finally pulls out of you, laying on his back and scooping you on top of him. Tracing a finger over his lips softly you whisper how impossibly good he always makes you feel, how he gets you so wet that you didn’t even know you had that much in you till the tips of his ears go red and he pinches your side. 

“Open for me.” He asks one more time after shaking off the blush that has accumulated from your praises. You smile and open, finally sucking off what’s left of yourself from his fingers. He pops them into his mouth after yours without a second thought and you cannot believe this is the man who gets the heebie jeebies when he has to shake hands with someone new he meets. They should be the ones hesitant to shake his hand with where they have been.

Both feeling ridiculously sticky, you shower together, not even bothering to unpack your toiletries, just using the too-lemony-smelling products the lodge has provided you with for free. Spencer washes your hair for you so you don’t even need to complain to him about how he’s dirtied it and you both trot back over to the bed with fuzzy robes on. 

You cover your face with your hands at the unmistakable wet patches all over the sheets and Spencer collects them quickly and pops them into the washer. 

Exhausted, you both lay side by side on the barren bed as you wait for the sheets to be done. Mumbled against your lips a proposition, “I want to see you in that hot tub.” He clearly feels bad for the goosebumps littering your torso that he’s subconsciously been trying to rub away for the last twenty minutes after you left the heat of the shower. 

Blinking blankly at him for a moment in silence you purse your lips, “I was thinking about the hot tub too.” The thought of removing yourself from the room that has cold leaking back into it from the lack of physical activity now is thrilling.

Spencer laughs and sits up next to you on the bed. “Everyone is so exhausted from waking up early and skiing all day that we will be all alone so I thought now would be a good-”

“Yeah,” you nod your head enthusiastically at him. You can’t remember the last time you were in a hot tub and it sounds like a dream right now. “Let me get my suit.” You both wobbly stand up and you retrieve your swimsuit from the drawer, laughing while you toss Spencer's trunks back at him. He’s so blissed out from the sex that he doesn’t even mention the trunks, he just slips them on and heads out. 

You make Spencer step onto the freezing porch first after you demand him to take the cover off the hot tub for you both, this was his idea after all. Watching from the glass door you blow your breath onto the glass to draw a little heart with an “S” inside of it in the fog. Spencer blows you a kiss in return as he skimpers out in his purple trunks and enormous ski coat.

The alternation between walking out in a swimsuit in that ungodly temperature, into the hot jets of the hot tub feels like whiplash, but once you’re fully submerged you giggle happily and sway your hands under the water.

You and Spencer play footsie under the water like two lovesick teenagers at a pool party as you look off the balcony at the snow. You nudge him under the water a bit before talking,

“Thank you so much for bringing me to this, seriously. I feel like we’re on our honeymoon.” you joke.

Spencer hums and takes your hands into his, rubbing the outside of your hand with his thumb. “Mmm, well on our actual honeymoon I’ll probably have to take you somewhere warm to avoid all this teeth chattering.” He teases back at you, but his words have an underlying sincerity that makes you sink yourself down into the water to your chin with a smile.

“You’re gonna marry meeee,” you respond in a sing-song voice, Spencer grins back for a moment then looks at you and nods earnestly. 

“How could I not?”

[batnbreakfast]

First of all, it’s a given that I love my friends.

There are times though, when love is tested.

Imagine this: After a good meal, we all sit down in the living room, to be as comfortable as possible, stuffed as we are.

Gifts are brought out into the open. We start to exchange them one after another, so that everyone can watch the giving, unwrapping, and reacting to each gift.

When it’s our turn, one of my closer friends looks at me and says:

“I’ll need your iPad and Airdrop for my gift.”

I hand her my iPad, she hands it back after a minute.

I look at my iPad and see a book cover with… a wooden chest. And socks. Lots of socks. A German title lets me know, that this has something to do with lost socks.

I swipe right and there’s a dedication to me. I’m confused. Is this one of those “we make you part of the story” books that you can buy and enter a name into?

“I wrote you a story,” the friend beams at me.

I’m getting more confused, because while she’s very artistic, I didn’t know she was actually writing.

“I know you love Discworld,” -

Ahhhhhh, that’s LUGGAGE, I think, still a bit slow from all the food.

“so I wrote you a new Discworld story!!!”

She’s visible proud of herself, so I let go off my confusion for a moment, and ask her since when she was part of the writing side of fandoms, because how cool is that? (And Pratchett nonetheless, something I’d never try to attempt.)

“Oh,” she says, “this is my first story! I found it quite hard to write, especially the last two chapters, but ChatGPT was really helpful all through the process!”

*mental record screech*

Me, trying my best not to let the horrors show on my face:

“Oh, so you wrote me a Discworld story with ChatGPT!”

And then I lied my ass off about how I’m looking forward to read it, because remember that we were being watched by everyone else, and she was really happy and proud, and I didn’t want to be (AI)TA.

But goodness me, I never disliked a present more than this one in my whole life. The only thing that could have been worse would have been a ChatGPT written HP story.

*sighs*

We’re going to have to have a talk about this. (We already had the “stay away from me with HP, better yet let it go completely” talk.)

[st4rpiece]

needing space after an argument pt. 2

SFW

characters: luffy, zoro, usopp, sanji x reader summary: they earn your forgiveness CW: groveling, making up, fluff, and over 600 words each

pt. 1 | pt. 2

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Monkey D. Luffy

Luffy wasn’t himself. It was the first thing everyone noticed after you left the ship. His laughter, usually loud and contagious, was quieter, forced. Mealtimes felt emptier, and the energy on the Sunny had shifted. He tried to act like nothing was wrong, but even the crew could see the shadow of regret lingering in his eyes.  

But now, here he was, standing in front of you in the quiet port town where you’d taken refuge after leaving the crew. His usual confidence was gone, replaced by a desperate determination.  

“I’m sorry,” he said for what must have been the tenth time. His voice was raw, almost breaking. “I didn’t mean it. I shouldn’t have told you to leave. I was stupid.”  

You stood with your arms crossed, your expression guarded. Seeing Luffy like this—so uncharacteristically vulnerable—caught you off guard, but the sting of his words still lingered, fresh and sharp.  

“Luffy, you can’t just say whatever you want when you’re mad and expect everything to go back to normal,” you said, your voice steady but tinged with exhaustion. “You told me to leave. So I did.”  

“I didn’t mean it,” he repeated, stepping closer but stopping just short of touching you. “I was mad and didn’t think. I... I need you on the ship. Not just because I want you there, but because you’re part of the crew. You’re important to us all and i shouldn’t have made you feel otherwise.”  

You searched his face, his big, earnest eyes pleading with you. You could see the regret there, the weight of his mistake hanging heavy on his shoulders. For a moment, your resolve wavered, but you quickly shook your head.  

“I can’t just come back because you say you’re sorry, Luffy. What happens the next time we fight? Are you going to tell me to leave again?”  

“No!” he blurted out, shaking his head vehemently. “No, I swear. I’ll never say anything like that again.”  

You frowned, unsure what to make of his declaration. “Luffy, words aren’t enough.”  

He nodded, his straw hat shadowing his eyes for a moment before he looked up at you with renewed determination. “Then I’ll show you. Whatever it takes.”  

True to his word, Luffy didn’t give up. He didn’t force you to return to the ship, but he didn’t leave the island either. Every day, he showed up—whether it was to bring you a freshly caught fish for dinner, fix something around the small inn you were staying at, or simply sit outside and wait in silence. He didn’t push, didn’t demand, but his presence was constant.  

When the ship needed supplies, he was the first to volunteer, taking on tasks he’d usually leave to someone else. The crew later told you how he’d started taking more responsibility, trying to step up as a better leader.  

Even when you didn’t speak to him, he never faltered. Every action, every small gesture, was his way of showing you how much he regretted his words.  

One evening, you found Luffy sitting on the dock, staring out at the ocean with his straw hat resting in his lap. He looked smaller somehow, as though the weight of his regret had worn him down.  

When he noticed you approaching, he stood up immediately, his expression shifting from surprise to cautious hope.  

“Why do you keep doing this?” you asked, crossing your arms.  

“Because I was wrong,” he said without hesitation. “Because I hurt you, and I have to make it right. Even if you never come back, I’ll keep trying. I don’t care how long it takes.”  

His sincerity stopped you in your tracks. He wasn’t making excuses, wasn’t brushing over your feelings like they didn’t matter. He had made changes—small ones, but noticeable—and for the first time, you truly believed he understood the gravity of what he’d done.  

You sighed, letting the silence linger before speaking. “Luffy... I’ll come back.”  

His eyes lit up with hope, his lips parting as though he couldn’t believe what he’d just heard.  

“But,” you continued, holding up a finger, “this only works if things stay different. I’m not going back just to deal with the same problems again. I need to know you’re taking this seriously.”  

“I swear!” he said immediately, his voice brimming with determination. “I swear that things will be different. A good different. No more reckless fights for selfish reasons or saying things I don’t mean, I promise.”  

You studied him for a long moment, the sincerity and determination in his eyes unmistakable. Finally, you allowed a small smile to tug at the corners of your lips. “Alright, Lu.”  

Relief washed over his face as he heard the familiar nickname, and for the first time in weeks, you saw his grin return, bright and full of life.  

"I missed you so much, baby," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion and certainty, as he wrapped his arms around you.

The comforting warmth of his embrace, felt like home—safe, secure, and exactly where you wanted to be.

Roronoa Zoro

Zoro wasn’t one to grovel. Stubborn and prideful as he was, apologies didn’t come easy for him. But as he sat alone on the Sunny’s deck, replaying his words from the fight, regret gnawed at him like a dull blade.  

The memory of your face—shocked, hurt, and then resigned—kept flashing in his mind. He hadn’t just lashed out; he’d cut deep. You were trying to help, and he’d thrown it back at you, calling you controlling and annoying when you didn’t deserve it.  

He groaned, pressing his palms against his face. He hated how small he felt for failing to show up to the dates you’d so carefully planned, how your suggestion—simple and kind—had poked at an insecurity he didn’t want to face. And now, because of his pride, he’d pushed you away.  

For days, you’d been distant, giving him space, but that only made the guilt worse. He needed to fix this.  

You were sitting on a quiet hillside overlooking the ocean when Zoro found you. The breeze tugged at your clothes, and you looked peaceful—too peaceful, considering how much turmoil you’d left him in.  

“Hey,” he called softly, his voice unusually hesitant.  

You glanced at him, surprised to see the normally stoic swordsman looking... sheepish. He stood awkwardly a few feet away, his hand rubbing the back of his neck.  

“What is it, Zoro?” you asked, your tone calm but distant.  

He swallowed hard, his fingers twitching at his sides before he took a step closer. “I wanted to apologize.”  

That caught your attention. Your brows lifted in mild surprise, but you said nothing, waiting for him to continue.  

“I shouldn’t have snapped at you,” he said, his voice low and gruff, but steady. “You weren’t being controlling or annoying. You were just... trying to help.” He exhaled heavily as if forcing the words out of himself. “And I was an idiot.”  

You blinked, his sincerity throwing you off guard. “Zoro—”  

“Let me finish, please,” he interrupted, his eyes meeting yours for the first time. There was something raw in his gaze—an uncharacteristic vulnerability. “I’ve been thinking about it, and... I hate that I’m always late. I hate knowing you’re waiting for me while I’m stuck wandering around like an idiot who can’t follow a simple route. It’s embarrassing.”  

Your expression softened, but you stayed quiet, letting him speak.  

“When you suggested we go together, I know it wasn’t because you thought I was useless,” he continued, his voice tightening. “But that’s how it made me feel. Like I wasn’t good enough to get it right on my own. And instead of dealing with that, I took it out on you. I shouldn’t have done that.”  

He took a deep breath, his shoulders relaxing slightly. “But I don’t think you’re controlling or annoying. You’re the most patient and understanding person for putting up with me. So you deserve better and I want to be that.”  

The sincerity in his voice was almost overwhelming, and for a moment, you weren’t sure how to respond. He wasn’t just saying the words—he meant them.  

“I know I can’t just say sorry and expect everything to go back to normal,” he added, glancing away briefly before meeting your gaze again. “So, please baby just… give me a chance to make it right.”  

Your lips parted in surprise. Zoro wasn’t the type to take the initiative when it came to things like this, but the determination in his eyes was unmistakable.  

After a long pause, you let out a soft sigh, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “One last chance.”  

He nodded, relief flashing across his face, but there was also a quiet resolve in his expression. This wasn’t just a promise—it was a vow.  

The next time you guys went on a date, Zoro was ready. He showed up early, finally getting the chance to wait on you. He led you to a quiet clearing overlooking the sea, a picnic already set up with food he’d personally asked Sanji to help him prepare.  

The effort was clear in every little detail, from the way he chose the spot (easily accessible, no chance to get lost) to the careful decorations and crafts you mentioned liking/wanting to try. Showing that despite his stoic nature, he was listening to you during previous dates. Even now as you spoke, he would chime in at just the right moments.  

It wasn’t perfect—he stumbled over a few of his words and complained when a seagull tried to swipe the food—but it was Zoro, trying in his own way. And that meant everything.  

By the time the date ended, you leaned back on the blanket, gazing up at the stars, feeling closer to him than ever before. When he reached for your hand, you let him, squeezing it gently.  

Zoro glanced down at your intertwined fingers, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. His gaze softened, and he took a deep breath before speaking. “I know you agreed to give me another chance, but I need to know if you’re still interested in giving me that chance.”

Your heart softened at the rare vulnerability in his voice. You turned to meet his eyes, and they were steady, full of quiet determination.  

A soft smile tugged at your lips, and you leaned into him as the waves crashed gently in the distance. For a man of few words, Zoro was surprisingly good at them.

“Well,” you began, tilting your head with a teasing glint in your eye, “that depends. Are you going to keep being so dramatic about it?” You bit back a laugh as you watched the tips of his ears turn red, his expression shifting into a familiar scowl.

“Tch, not being dramatic,” he grumbled, looking away, but the redness in his ears betrayed him.

You chuckled softly and squeezed his hand, drawing his attention back to you. “I was being serious about giving you that second chance,” you said warmly. His shoulders relaxed slightly, and the tension in his jaw eased.

“But,” you continued, your tone more firm, “next time something like this happens, promise that you’ll communicate it properly. Okay? No more bottling things up.”

Zoro stared at you for a moment, his expression unreadable, before nodding once. “You have my word.” His voice was low but steady, carrying the weight of his promise.

“Good.” You smiled, squeezing his hand again as a soft breeze brushed past, carrying with it the sound of the waves.

God Usopp

The day had been quiet, almost too quiet, and the silence weighed heavy between you and Usopp. Since your argument, things haven’t been the same. You still spoke, but the words felt hollow, and the laughter you once shared now seemed distant and forced. He noticed it all—the way your smile never quite reached your eyes, the strain in your voice when you tried to act like nothing was wrong.  

And it tore him apart.  

Usopp sat on the deck after dinner, absentmindedly fiddling with a half-finished invention. His fingers moved on instinct, but his thoughts were stuck on your last conversation. He hated himself for the way he’d lashed out, for the way he’d let his insecurities push you away.  

As the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sea in shades of orange and pink, he made up his mind. He couldn’t let this fester any longer.  

When you stepped onto the deck for some air, Usopp hesitated, watching you from a distance. Finally, he stood, his hands clenching at his sides as he approached you.  

“Hey,” he called softly.  

You turned, surprised to see him. “Oh, hey.” Your voice was casual, but your guarded expression told him you were bracing for something.  

“Can we talk?” he asked, his tone uncharacteristically serious.  

You nodded, following him to a quieter spot on the ship where the others couldn’t overhear. The soft sound of the waves filled the silence as Usopp struggled to find the right words.  

“I’ve been... thinking,” he began, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “About what I said. About the fight.” He looked down, unable to meet your gaze. Your brows furrowed, but you stayed quiet, giving him the space to explain.

“I know you don’t see me as weak,” he continued, his voice growing tight. “But hearing you scream for him... it made me feel useless.” He exhaled sharply, his hand tightening around the railing. “And I hate feeling like that. I know I’m not like Luffy, Zoro, or Sanji. I’m not the guy who can punch through walls or take down ten enemies at once, but... I at least want to be someone you can count on. Someone you can feel protected with.”

He paused, his words faltering slightly. “But instead of talking to you about it, I projected my insecurities onto you, and made it seem like you were wrong for asking our friends for help. For that, I’m sorry.”

The vulnerability in his words hit you hard, and guilt pooled in your chest. “Baby...” you started, your voice soft. “I’m sorry, too. I never meant to make you feel that way.” You stepped closer, resting a hand on his arm. “But you are someone I can count on. Someone who’s saved my ass more times than I can count. Your strength may not look like theirs, but it’s just as important.”

He finally looked at you, his eyes wide, searching for any trace of doubt. “You... you really mean that?”

“Heck yeah, I do,” you said without hesitation. “I trust you, Usopp. I always have.”

A small, hesitant smile tugged at his lips, and he let out a shaky breath, relief flooding through him. “Thanks... I needed to hear that," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion.

After a moment, he straightened and rubbed the back of his head, suddenly looking sheepish. “Actually, uh, there’s something I’ve been working on. For you. I wanted to make something that could help you in a fight.”  

Your brows lifted in surprise. “Really? What is it?”  

Grinning now, Usopp reached into his bag and pulled out a small, compact gadget. “It’s not finished yet, but it’s kind of like a smoke bomb, but better. It creates a flash of light to blind enemies and a smoke screen to cover your escape. I thought... you know, it might come in handy.”  

You took the gadget from him, turning it over in your hands. “Usopp, this is amazing.”  

“Yeah, well,” he said, scratching his cheek, his grin turning bashful. “I wanted to make sure you had another thing to keep you safe. In case no one else is around.”  

You smiled, warmth blooming in your chest. “Thank you, Usopp. I mean it.”  

He relaxed then, the tension between you finally melting away. “I’ll finish it soon,” he promised, his confidence returning. “And who knows? Maybe I’ll come up with even more stuff for you with full bragging rights.”  

"Thanks, now I can let everyone know just how my amazing boyfriend is," you laughed—genuinely this time—and Usopp’s chest swelled with pride. He knew he still had work to do, but for now, the weight of your fight had lifted, and the bond between you felt stronger than ever.  

Vinesmoke Sanji

Sanji stood alone on the deck, the moonlight casting a silver glow over his slumped figure. He leaned against the railing, a cigarette burning low between his fingers, though he hadn’t taken a drag in minutes. His mind replayed every moment of your relationship—the laughter, the stolen glances, the warmth of your touch. And then, inevitably, it would circle back to the breakup.  

He’d failed you. The person who mattered more to him than anyone else in the world. His actions—so thoughtless, so wrapped in habit—had made you feel second to strangers. The realization haunted him, clawing at his chest.  

Sanji thought of groveling, of falling to his knees and begging you to take him back, but he knew you too well. That would only push you further away. You were someone who needed actions, not words, and he knew his words had already failed you. Still, he couldn’t bring himself to give up. You were his person, his muse, his everything. How could he possibly accept a life without you in it?  

So he did the only thing he could. He began to show you through his actions.  

The change was immediate. The next time the ship docked at an island, Sanji didn’t so much as glance at the women who usually flocked to him. When they batted their lashes and called out for his attention, he brushed them off politely and kept his focus on his task. His compliments, once scattered freely to strangers, were now reserved only for you. Even when you ignored him, his words never wavered—soft, sincere, and meant only for you.  

In battle, Sanji was more relentless than ever. But his priority was always your safety, stepping in before danger could reach you, even if it meant taking a hit himself. When the crew sat down for meals, he made sure your favorite dishes were prepared just the way you liked them, his eyes flicking to your face to see if you’d noticed.  

And when he thought you weren’t looking, he’d linger nearby, silently watching you. There was a sadness in his gaze as he admired the person he’d once had the privilege of holding close. You saw him sometimes, hovering at a distance, and though you tried to ignore it, part of you couldn’t deny the pang in your chest. You still had feelings for him—of course you did. But you couldn’t settle for someone who had once made you doubt your place in their life.  

Weeks passed, and Sanji’s quiet devotion didn’t falter. Even now as he stood near the railing, waiting for you, his hands slightly trembling. He had spent all day preparing for this moment, and now the weight of his plan felt heavier than ever.  

When you finally stepped out onto the deck, he straightened immediately, smoothing his suit jacket with nervous fingers. "Hey," he called softly, his voice careful, like he was afraid of scaring you off.  

"Hey," you replied, your tone hesitant but curious. He’d been walking on eggshells around you for weeks, and now this—an invitation for "something special" without much detail. Against your better judgment, you’d said yes, curiosity getting the better of you.  

He smiled faintly, stepping toward you. "I, uh, thought we could spend the evening together. Just... talk."  

You raised a brow. "Talk?"  

He nodded, motioning for you to follow him. "Come on. I’ve got something to show you."  

Despite the uncertainty in your chest, you followed him across the deck, and your eyes widened when he led you to a corner of the ship bathed in soft, golden light from lanterns he had strung up. A blanket was spread out neatly on the deck, adorned with a small basket, plates of your favorite snacks, and a bottle of your favorite drink.  

"Sanji..." you murmured, taken aback.  

"I know it’s not much," he said quickly, scratching the back of his neck. "But I wanted to do something for you. Something simple. Something that doesn’t involve me screwing it up."  

You blinked, your hesitation softening slightly at his earnestness. "You didn’t have to go through all this trouble."  

"I did," he countered, his voice firm but warm. "I needed to."  

He gestured for you to sit, and after a moment’s pause, you did, settling down on the blanket. Sanji sat across from you, his hands fidgeting in his lap.  

For a moment, neither of you spoke, the quiet hum of the ship filling the space between you. Finally, Sanji took a deep breath and looked at you, his expression more serious than you’d seen in a long time.  

"My love," he began, "I’ve been doing a lot of thinking since... since we broke up. And I just... I need you to know how sorry I am."  

You looked away, unsure how to respond, but he continued.  

"I wasn’t the boyfriend you deserved," he admitted, his voice low. "I made you feel like you had to compete for my attention, and that’s unforgivable. You should’ve never felt like anything less than the most important person in my life. That’s on me."  

His gaze was unwavering as he spoke, and you couldn’t help but feel the sincerity in his words.  

"I still have feelings for you," he said, his voice trembling slightly. "I never stopped. And I don’t expect you to forgive me overnight, or even to trust me again right away. But I need you to know that I’ve changed. I’m changing. And I’ll do anything to prove it to you."  

You stared at him, his words hitting you harder than you expected. Sanji was always smooth with his words, but this was different. There was no charm, no performative flair—just raw honesty.  

"Sanji..." you started, your voice faltering. You swallowed hard, your hands gripping the edge of the blanket. "I... I still have feelings for you too. But..."  

"But you don’t trust me," he finished for you, his tone understanding rather than hurt.  

You nodded. "It’s not that I don’t want to. I just... I’m scared of getting hurt again."  

He reached across the blanket, his hand stopping just short of yours. "I understand," he said softly. "And I don’t blame you. I don’t want you to rush into anything you’re not ready for. If we have to take things slow, then that’s what we’ll do. I’ll show you, not just with words but with actions, that you’re the only one in my heart."  

His hand lingered near yours, and after a moment, you tentatively placed your hand over his. The warmth of his touch sent a shiver through you, and you looked up to meet his gaze.  

"Okay," you said quietly. "We can try. But slow, Sanji. No rushing, no grand gestures to win me over. Just... be honest with me."  

A smile broke across his face, softer and more genuine than any you’d seen in weeks. "Slow it is," he promised.  

For the first time in what felt like forever, the tension between you eased. You still had a long way to go, but as you sat there, sharing a quiet meal under the lantern light, you couldn’t help but feel that maybe, just maybe, things could work out.  

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One Piece Masterlist

hey…I was supposed to post this yesterday but I ended up working a double 😭.

[this is lightly edited]

anyways I saw a couple people asking about a tag list ngl i don’t know shit about that 😭😭 but hopefully this finds you !!

and for the op women/queer smau I will be posting that soon as well but I got a really cute idea from anon yesterday and I want to start on that first.

[delulustateofmind]

Get Ghost'd!

Sum: So you ghosted a guy that like really, really likes you, what could possibly go wrong?

Characters: Gojo, Geto, Choso

TW: Yandere Behaviors (Drugging, Stalking, Obsession, Kidnapping, Trapping, Manipulation) Slight wholesome fluff? Older woman (5-10 years) x Gojo, Noncon smooches (Gojo), The girls are around 7 in this so young cult leader geto (Not as deranged yet but getting there), Choso's is more crack (Todo is mentioned)

WC: 6.1K

A/N: I was just only going to do Geto...but then I thought about all the other JJK characters that would just go so crazy if you just ignored them. No Nanami, because he's a good man and would respect it if you ignored him.

Bold of you to assume you could just ghost the strongest-

Gojo Satoru had left his number for you.

He didn’t usually do that sort of thing—relationships were messy, and he simply didn’t have the time. Not with the weight of his responsibilities and the constant demands on his talent.

But then there was you, Megumi’s sweet next-door neighbor. The one who went out of your way to drop off food for the kids, who somehow managed to fold their laundry just the way they liked it. How could he not leave his number?

After all, he was the brat’s caretaker now, their benefactor. And, well, he could be your benefactor too, if you asked. Not even nicely—he’d do it if you so much as batted those pretty eyelashes at him and gave him one of those soft, shy smiles.

So why hadn’t you texted?

You had the time to make food for the kids. You had the time to do their laundry. But not even a reply for him? Not even a polite “Please don’t contact me”?

He tried to let it slide. Maybe you were nervous, unsure how to handle someone like him. He was Gojo Satoru, after all. But the more he thought about it, the harder it was to ignore the sting of your silence.

He wasn’t unreasonable—he understood the age gap might make you hesitate. He was freshly twenty, probably a few years younger than you. But honestly? That should work in his favor. How often does a hot, young stud go out of his way for someone like you?

You should be relishing in his attention. Cherishing the fact that he’d chosen you. Because let’s face it—you weren’t getting any younger. You should really consider settling for him.

No—scratch that. You should be grateful.

And yet, here you were, acting like he didn’t exist.

The knock on your door came late, almost too late for it to be anything casual. The soft thud echoed through your small apartment, catching you mid-step as you were putting away the last of the laundry.

When you opened the door, you weren’t prepared for the sight of him.

Gojo Satoru stood there, tall and imposing, framed by the dim glow of the hallway light. His white hair caught the faint light, tousled in that effortlessly perfect way. His signature round glasses perched low on his nose, revealing piercing blue eyes that seemed to glow, unblinking, as they locked onto yours.

His hands were stuffed casually into his pockets, his lean frame relaxed, but the faint twitch at the corner of his mouth betrayed his easygoing facade.

“Hey,” he greeted, voice as light as ever, but there was a sharpness in his eyes that made your stomach twist. “You’ve been busy, huh?”

You blinked, thrown off by his sudden appearance. “Gojo? What are you doing here?”

He tilted his head, a teasing grin spreading across his face, his impossibly white teeth gleaming. “Satoru,” he corrected. “I think we’re close enough for that, don’t you?”

You faltered, searching for a polite response, but he didn’t give you the chance.

“Not even a little text?” he continued, stepping just a fraction closer. “I left my number, you know. Thought it was pretty obvious I wanted to hear from you.”

“Oh,” you mumbled, suddenly hyper-aware of how small the doorway felt between you. “I’m sorry—I’ve been really busy with work and helping out with Megumi and—”

He laughed, cutting you off. It was light, almost playful, but there was something unsettling about it. “Oh, I know. You’ve been making food for the kids, doing their laundry, running yourself ragged for them. But for me?” He leaned in slightly, his height forcing you to crane your neck to meet his gaze. “Not even a second of your time?”

Your throat tightened. “I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s fine,” he said, voice soft but dripping with something you couldn’t quite name. “I get it. Maybe you’re nervous. Maybe you think I’m too young, or you’re just not sure what to say to someone like me.” His grin widened, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “But you’re not avoiding me, are you?”

The way he said it made your pulse quicken.

“N-no, of course not,” you stammered, taking an instinctive step back.

“Good,” he said smoothly, taking a step forward as if he belonged inside your space. “Because I’d hate for there to be any misunderstandings between us. I mean, I’m just trying to look out for you.”

His gaze flicked over your shoulder at the neatly folded laundry behind you, a flicker of amusement crossing his face. “All this running around for the kids? It’s sweet, really. But you should be taking better care of yourself, too.”

You swallowed hard, feeling the weight of his presence pressing in on you. “I… I’m fine, really. I just—”

“Just need someone to help you out,” he interrupted, his voice dropping to something softer, almost coaxing. “You do so much for everyone else. Don’t you think you deserve someone to take care of you for a change?”

There was a strange intensity in his gaze now, an undercurrent of something far more dangerous than his usual teasing charm.

“Satoru, I—”

“I could do that, you know,” he murmured, his hand reaching out to brush a strand of hair away from your face. His touch lingered, his long fingers trailing along your jaw just enough to make your skin crawl. “Take care of everything. You wouldn’t have to lift a finger.”

“I don’t think that’s—”

“Actually,” he cut in, his tone suddenly shifting, “I’ve been thinking. This arrangement? You here, me over there with the brats—it doesn’t make sense.”

You blinked, unsure if you’d heard him correctly. “What do you mean?”

He gave you a boyish grin, as if what he was about to say was the most obvious thing in the world. “We should live together.”

Your heart stopped for a moment. “W-what?”

“Think about it,” he said, stepping past you into your apartment without so much as a glance for permission. His long legs carried him casually across the room, but the tension in his movements was unmistakable. His sharp gaze darted over your space, the faint scowl on his face deepening as if your cozy apartment wasn’t quite up to his standards.

“You’re already taking care of Megumi and Tsumiki half the time,” he began, spinning around to face you, his white hair catching the dim light. His bright blue eyes locked onto yours, their intensity almost too much. “And my life? Well, let’s just say it’s dangerous.”

“Satoru, I don’t—”

“You’d be safer with me,” he interrupted, his tone sharper now, the usual playful lilt missing entirely. “And the kids, too. We’d be one big happy family. You wouldn’t have to worry about bills or working yourself to the bone anymore—I’d handle everything.”

He said it like he was doing you a favor. Like it was something you should have already agreed to without hesitation.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” you managed, your voice shaking slightly.

His expression twisted, the easygoing mask slipping entirely as frustration bled into his tone. “Why not? It makes perfect sense!” he snapped, his arms spreading wide in a gesture of exasperation. “You’re already basically living this life anyway, aren’t you? Cooking, cleaning, running yourself ragged for them. But when it comes to me? Nothing. Not a single second of your time!”

His words hit like a slap, the bitterness in his voice leaving you momentarily stunned.

“I didn’t ask for that,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady.

“Well, maybe you should have!” he retorted, his lips pulling into a sharp, mocking grin. “You’re fine on your own, huh? Sure, because that’s working so well for you. You think you’re being independent, but all I see is someone too stubborn to accept help—even when it’s standing right in front of you!”

You swallowed hard, feeling the weight of his anger pressing down on you.

He laughed then, but it was humorless, the sound cutting through the air like broken glass. “You’re too sweet for your own good, you know that? You run around helping everyone else, but you can’t even give me a second of your attention. What’s the matter, huh? Am I not good enough for you?”

“Satoru, that’s not fair—”

“Not fair?” he interrupted, stepping closer, his height towering over you as his blue eyes narrowed dangerously. “You want to talk about fair? I’m offering you everything—safety, security, a life, and you’re standing here acting like I’m some stranger asking for a handout!”

His words stung, his frustration bubbling over into something meaner, something sharper.

“I’m fine on my own,” you insisted again, though your voice was barely more than a whisper.

“No, you’re not,” he spat, his tone venomous now. “You’re delusional if you think you are. You’re just making excuses because you’re too scared to admit you need me.” He shook his head, his grin returning, bitter and condescending. “But that’s okay. I’ll fix that for you.”

Before you could respond, his hands shot up to cup your face, his long fingers curling just enough to hold you in place. His grip was firm, unrelenting, as his piercing blue eyes bore into yours.

“Stop overthinking it,” he murmured, his voice low and coaxing, though his words felt more like a command than reassurance. “You’re wasting time. I know what’s best for you. And it’s me.”

You barely had time to gasp before his lips crashed against yours. The kiss wasn’t tender or affectionate—it was rough, forceful, and far too intense. His teeth scraped against your bottom lip, cutting into the dryness of them causing a ting of blood to pool at the skin, the pressure somewhere between biting and bruising, as if he were marking you rather than kissing you.

Your hands flew up instinctively to push against his chest, but he didn’t budge. His arms slid around your waist, pulling you flush against him, his grip like iron. Every movement was desperate, consuming, and entirely unyielding.

“Satoru, stop,” you tried to mumble against his mouth, but he swallowed the words with another bruising kiss. It felt suffocating, as if he were trying to imprint himself on you—erase any thought of resistance.

When he finally pulled back, your lips felt swollen and raw, your breath coming in shallow gasps. But the worst part wasn’t the kiss itself—it was the look in his eyes.

They were bright, almost gleaming with satisfaction, but there was something beneath the surface.

He licked his lips, his smirk widening as he took in your dazed expression. “See?” he said, his voice a low murmur that sent a chill down your spine. “You’re already mine. You just don’t realize it yet.”

You stared at him, your heart racing as you tried to step back, but his hands were still on your waist, holding you in place.

“You don’t have to say anything,” he continued, his tone almost soothing now, though it carried an eerie finality. “You’ll see. This is what’s best. For you. For the kids. For all of us.”

His grip loosened just enough for you to pull away, but as you stumbled back, his eyes stayed locked on you, sharp and unrelenting.

“And don’t even think about running,” he added, his voice soft but chilling. “You won’t get far. I’ll make sure of it.”

Because Gojo Satoru didn’t lose. And you weren’t going anywhere.

I think I may have just ghosted a cult leader, how fucked am I? 

Geto Suguru sat in his living room, legs tucked beneath the kotatsu table, where the twins lay watching Ponyo for what felt like the hundredth time today. The familiar opera intro played, but he barely noticed it, he had lost count of how many times he'd have to endure it. His sleek, dark hair fell loosely over his shoulders, the ends brushing the fabric of his yukata, and a faint shadow from his sharp cheekbones danced across his face in the flickering light.

The DVD would end up in the highest cabinet soon, stored away with the Sailor Moon box set. Only to pretend later on that he has no idea of where the discs went, that the twins should really take better care of their things.

His tea sat untouched on the table, long gone cold as he stared at his phone. Three days since you’d last messaged him. Four since he’d seen you. His dark eyes, always so calculating and composed, narrowed slightly as he swiped through the unread threads of his polite but unanswered messages. He told himself it was fine, that you were busy, but the creeping unease in his chest said otherwise.

Being ignored was new to him, something he hadn’t experienced in years. Women had always sought him out, drawn by the quiet intensity of his gaze, the sharp elegance of his jawline, and the magnetic calm that seemed to follow him like a shadow. They threw themselves at him, eager for a glance, a touch, a word.

But you? You were different. Sweet, shy, and delicate. A part of him had loved that about you. Now it gnawed at him.

Had you used him?

The thought was intrusive, bitter, but it refused to leave. He’d erased your debt, lifted the curse that had plagued you, welcomed you into his home—and into his life. He’d done it all for you, because your smile had been enough. The way it softened your features and brightened your eyes—he couldn’t forget it. You made the darkness in his world feel lighter.

But maybe it wasn’t enough for you.

Maybe you’d only stayed because you owed him. Maybe, now that you were free, you saw no reason to stay.

His hands tightened into fists, the phone shaking slightly in his grasp.

Staring at his phone, he reread the messages he’d sent you over the past few days:

"Hope you got home safe." "The snow’s falling. The girls have been asking when you’ll come over for hot cocoa." "Good morning. Please eat well." "Did you drink water today?"

What he wanted to send was, "Was the kiss too much?"

But every time he typed it out, his thumb hovered over the send button before deleting it. He’d even tried adding an emoji once, only to groan in frustration. Giving up, he reached for the twins, pulling them into a big hug. Their squeals of delight momentarily distracted him as he tickled their sides before letting them go. They returned to their movie, leaving him on the floor, still staring at his phone.

Why did you look at him with those wide, innocent eyes when he cradled your cheek and kissed you goodbye? Why did you press your warm hands against his chest, trembling as you murmured, “We shouldn’t”?

We definitely should, was all he wanted to say.

He had wanted to kiss you ever since that day you ended up babysitting the girls in his apartment. The kitchen was filled with laughter as Nanako sat on the counter, mixing a bowl of cupcake batter, while Mimiko dozed in your arms. You worked together to bake cookies, the domestic scene so painfully perfect it left an impression he couldn’t shake.

You’d cook for him on nights when he came home late, too busy with cult duties to eat. Sometimes you’d bring a spoon to his lips, letting him taste-test your dishes, though they never needed anything. They were always perfect—just like you.

You should have stayed.

You should have realized how much he needed you, how much the girls needed you.

And yet, deep down, he knew why you might not.

You were a non-sorcerer.

The thought of it, the implications of it, only deepened his frustration. How could you fit into his new world—a world built to eliminate people like you? People who didn’t understand the true horrors of jujutsu, who were blind to the curses lurking in the shadows. His grand plan, his vision for a better, cleaner world, was supposed to make everything simpler. Sorcerers would rule, and the weak would fall away.

But you…

You were the exception.

Suguru hated that about himself, hated that he would allow one tiny thread to unravel the tapestry he’d been weaving. You didn’t belong in the world he was building, yet you were the one piece he couldn’t let go of.

How could he protect you in a world where the strong would reign? Where weakness—your weakness—would be punished?

The memory of your laugh cut through the haze of his thoughts. It had been so genuine, so sweet, so human. You didn’t belong in his plans, and yet you did. You had to.

Because without you, his grand vision felt hollow. Without you, there was only emptiness.

His jaw clenched as the realization solidified. You didn’t understand it yet, but he was doing this for you. For the girls. For all of them. But mostly, for himself.

He would protect you from the world he was creating. No one would touch you. No one would harm you. You’d live in safety, as his. His alone.

The phone screen lit up, mocking him with your silence. He could see when you read his messages. That was the cruelest part. You weren’t gone. You were ignoring him.

He rubbed a hand over his face, the smooth planes of his features momentarily obscured as he exhaled through gritted teeth. Maybe he’d been too soft with you. Maybe you thought you could just walk away now that the curse was gone, now that you didn’t owe him anything.

But you were wrong. You owed him everything.

The girls needed a mother. He needed you. The thought of you living a life without him, smiling for someone else, was unbearable. His lips twisted into a bitter smile as he typed out another message.

"The girls miss you.""I miss you."

Suguru’s thumb hovered over the send button, his jaw tightening as he debated. Then, with a frustrated sigh, he erased the message. Words wouldn’t be enough. Not anymore.

You needed a reminder.

He picked up his phone again, this time dialing. His assistant, Manami, answered on the second ring, her tone eager—too eager, though he ignored it. Manami had always looked at him in a way that suggested she wanted more than her job description entailed. A part of him in the past would humor the affection. Yet, now he has you. .

“I need you to watch the girls,” he said, his voice clipped. “I’ll be out for a while, picking up a... gift for them.”

Manami didn’t question him, though her tone softened, as though she thought he was doing something noble. If only she knew.

As he ended the call, his gaze shifted to the cult’s records, neatly organized and as precise as always. He was thankful for the meticulous documentation; it gave him everything he needed. Not just your number, but your address, your emergency contacts, your employment details—more than enough to find you.

Suguru let his fingers trace the edge of the file, his dark eyes scanning the information. Every detail about you, laid out in front of him. You had no idea how easily you could be found.

You could try to run, try to disappear—but you were his from now on.

Grabbing his coat, Suguru stepped out into the snow, the icy wind stinging his face. Words had failed; now he’d remind you. 

The soft glow from your apartment window illuminated the snow-covered street. He didn’t knock when he reached your door. He didn’t need to. The door yielded easily, and he slipped inside, the faint warmth of your home wrapping around him. The contrast between the cold air outside and the heat within was sharp, almost dizzying, but he welcomed it.

The sound of your soft, uneven breaths reached his ears before he saw you. There you were, standing in the kitchen, a cup of tea clutched in your hands. Your shoulders sagged with exhaustion, and there was a faint sheen of sweat on your forehead despite the winter chill. He noticed the trembling in your hands, the red tinge to your nose, and the way your other hand clutched at your chest when you coughed—a deep, rattling sound that made his brow furrow for a fleeting moment.

You looked pale, worn down, and fragile. For a moment, the sight almost softened him. Almost.

Almost made him forget why he was there. Forget the punishments he had planned. The ways he would teach you to never leave him again.

But that fleeting moment of pity was snuffed out as quickly as it came, replaced by a darker, more resolute purpose.

You had to learn.

You had to understand what it meant to belong to him.

Suguru’s fingers flexed at his sides, his mind racing through the plans he had already set in motion. He would remind you of his power—show you what a real curse user was capable of. That as sweet as he can be, he can also be cruel.

If fear wasn’t enough, he had other methods. He had already prepared the sedatives, carefully measured and tucked into his coat pocket. Once the fight left your eyes—and it would—he would take you home.

Home, where you would learn your role.

You would become the mother the girls needed. His law was absolute in their eyes, and soon it would be the same for you.

And if you resisted? If you dared to reject him, even after all he’d done for you?

Suguru’s lips twitched into a faint smile, one that didn’t reach his eyes. He didn’t want to think about that outcome, but he’d already considered it. Conditioned responses. Physical reminders. Unsavory methods. Honestly, he didn't want to hurt you. However, he needed you. The girls needed you.

No matter what it took, you would learn to stay. To belong.

Then you turned and saw him.

The teacup slipped from your hands, shattering against the floor. The sharp sound echoed in the tense silence that followed, but Suguru didn’t flinch. He tilted his head, his dark eyes locking onto yours, his expression unreadable.

“Ah,” he murmured, his voice soft and lilting, as though he were speaking to a child. “You’re sick.”

He stepped forward, his movements slow, deliberate, and predatory. The sight of your wide, fearful eyes only spurred him on.

“Too sick,” he continued, his tone warm but laced with an edge of mockery, “to even send me a little message?”

You stumbled back, your breath hitching as you pressed yourself against the counter. Your pale skin, the feverish flush to your cheeks, and the way you clutched at your chest as another cough wracked your body only made you seem more breakable.

Suguru stopped just a few steps away, watching as you trembled, your fear and exhaustion painting you as something delicate—something his.

“You’ve been suffering all alone,” he said, his voice dropping into a low, soothing hum. He reached out, his fingers brushing your wrist before curling around it with surprising gentleness.

“But don’t worry,” he murmured, leaning closer until his breath ghosted over your fevered skin. “I’m here now.”

He let his thumb stroke the inside of your wrist, his gaze unrelenting as his other hand moved to your cheek. The touch was soft, reverent even, but his dark eyes betrayed him, gleaming with something that made your stomach churn, something that sent shivers that weren’t from your cold.

“You’ve been making bad decisions, haven’t you?” he asked, his voice soft and sweet, though his words cut like glass. “Running yourself ragged. Avoiding me.”

His fingers tightened slightly around your wrist—not enough to hurt, but enough to make his control clear as you pathetically attempted to pull away.

“But it’s okay,” he whispered, brushing his thumb over your cheek. “I’ll take care of everything now.”

He leaned in, his lips brushing your ear as he murmured, his voice dripping with false kindness, “All you have to do is listen. Obey. I really didn’t want to have to go this route.”

The words hung in the air, heavy and suffocating. His breath was warm against your fevered skin, his tone deceptively soft, as though he were doing you a favor.

You had never thought he was this interested in you. Suguru Geto was composed, almost aloof in how he carried himself—sharp features that seemed carved from stone, softened only by the flowing darkness of his hair. He had always been polite, controlled, and even gentle in his mannerisms, but you’d never felt singled out by his attention. Never thought the kindness in his deep, almond-shaped eyes was anything more than surface-level.

But now, as those same eyes pinned you in place, you realized how mistaken you’d been. His presence felt suffocating, the air between you charged with something you couldn’t name, and every movement he made was deliberate—calculated.

Suguru straightened slowly, his hand slipping from your wrist to his pocket, his movements unhurried and deliberate, as though he had all the time in the world. The room felt unbearably small under his presence, the heat of his gaze making your fevered skin prickle. His dark eyes never left yours, their intensity weighing down on you, as if he could see through the fragile walls of your thoughts.

When his fingers brushed the familiar shape of the syringe tucked into his coat pocket, his smile widened. It was subtle, almost imperceptible—a slight curve of his lips that revealed nothing of the storm swirling beneath his calm exterior. There it was—his failsafe. The assurance that you wouldn’t resist him any longer.

Your gaze flickered between his face and his hand, confusion and fear swimming in your fevered, glassy eyes. You wanted to protest, to push him away, but your body betrayed you. The trembling in your limbs, the bone-deep exhaustion, and the subtle pull of his voice, coaxing and unyielding, made it impossible to act.

Then, instinctively, you leaned into his touch, your trembling body seeking comfort, seeking something you didn’t understand. To him, it was perfect.

His hand, warm and firm, cupped your cheek as though you were fragile porcelain. The juxtaposition of his gentleness and the dark glint in his eyes made your stomach churn. He tilted his head slightly, the smooth cascade of his hair framing his face like a curtain, and his gaze softened, almost tender, as though he were truly savoring the moment.

Like the sweet lamb you were, you stepped willingly into the lion’s den.

“You’re coming home,” he said softly, his tone a mixture of mockery and affection. The weight of his words settled over you, heavy and inescapable, and you barely had time to comprehend them before you felt the sharp prick of the needle pierce your skin.

A startled gasp escaped your lips, but it was fleeting. The sedative coursed through your veins almost immediately, your body surrendering to the pull of unconsciousness.

Suguru caught you effortlessly as you fell, his arms wrapping around your limp form with an ease that betrayed just how much he had anticipated this moment. He cradled you against his chest with a gentleness that felt almost loving, the steady beat of his heart contrasting with the sinister gleam in his eyes.

“There we go,” he whispered, brushing a strand of hair from your face, his touch lingering as though you were something precious. “Let’s get you home, Sweetheart.”

What the hell does ghosting even mean? What does spamming even mean? Poor fella is trying to figure out life. 

Now you had given poor Choso your number. Really, truly a mistake on your part. 

You thought he was hot—mysteriously so, with his brooding gaze and those face tattoos that made your heart skip a beat. It wasn’t a big deal, just a spur-of-the-moment thing when you spotted him at the bookstore while out with friends. You’d caught his eye, flashed him a smile, and casually slipped him your number on a whim.

What you didn’t realize was that poor Choso didn’t really know what to do with it.

For him, it was monumental. You didn’t just hand over your number; you handed over your heart. At least, that’s what Todo told him when Choso, unsure what the gesture meant, hesitantly sought advice. He couldn’t just ask his little brother these things, so he went to the expert about these things! After all, Todo was dating an idol! 

“She must be madly in love with you!” Todo had declared with his usual bombastic enthusiasm, clapping Choso on the shoulder so hard it nearly made him topple. “To give you her number without even talking? That’s destiny, brother! Love at first sight!”

And Choso believed him. Why wouldn’t he? Todo seemed confident, experienced.

So Choso, armed with Todo’s wisdom, started texting you.

And texting.

And texting.

At first, they were awkwardly sweet messages:

Choso: Hey. It’s Choso. From the bookstore. You gave me your number.Choso: Are you free to talk? I want to know more about you.

But then they kept coming.

Choso: Do you like horror books? Or romance? I can read both if you do.Choso: I saw a cat today. It reminded me of you.Choso: Do you like cats? I mean, not that you look like one. But you’re soft. Wait, not that I know if you’re soft. You just seem soft.

And then they started to come faster, his nervous overthinking spilling into endless walls of text.

Choso: Did I say something wrong? Are you upset with me?Choso: I hope I’m not bothering you. I just… I think we’d be good together.Choso: Please text me back. I can wait.

What Choso didn’t realize was that spamming someone all day wasn’t exactly endearing—it was overwhelming. But in his mind, the silence meant something entirely different.

“Todo,” Choso said one evening, sitting cross-legged on the floor of his apartment, his phone clutched in both hands. His dark brows furrowed as he stared at the unanswered messages. “She hasn’t responded. Do you think… do you think she’s playing hard to get?”

Todo grinned, throwing an arm around Choso’s shoulders. “Absolutely, brother! She’s testing your devotion. This is how women work. They want to see if you’re truly worthy.”

Choso nodded solemnly, his determination renewed. “I’ll show her. I’ll show her I’m serious.”

His solution? Doubling down.

When texting didn’t work, he tried calling. His voice shook the first few times—it felt so intimate, so real.

“Hi,” he murmured into the phone one evening after your voicemail picked up again. “It’s me. Choso. I just wanted to hear your voice. I miss you (the poor guy has only seen you one time). I mean—I know we haven’t talked much, but I miss you anyway (you have only exchanged names by the way). I think about you a lot. Please call me back when you can.”

And when the calls didn’t work, his thoughts began to spiral.

Was something wrong? Were you hurt? He’d seen it on TV—people ghosted because they couldn’t bring themselves to tell someone they were in trouble. Yes, that must be it.

So he started showing up.

First, it was just near the bookstore where he’d met you, hoping to “bump into” you. Then he wandered around the streets, retracing the route he thought you might take home.

Finally, he remembered the faint logo on your shopping bag that day, the one with your number scrawled on the receipt of. He found the shop, waited outside it for hours, hoping for a glimpse of you.

When he didn’t see you, his concern grew.

“Todo,” he said again one night, pacing his living room, his fingers tightening around his phone. “I don’t think she’s okay. She wouldn’t just ignore me like this. Not if she loved me.”

Todo shrugged, flipping through a magazine. “Maybe you need to show her how much you care. Do something big. Romantic.”

Choso froze, considering the advice. Todo was right. He just needed to show you.

And so, as you walked into your apartment the next evening, juggling groceries in both arms, you froze at the sight of a figure standing awkwardly in your living room.

“Choso?” you gasped, your heart leaping into your throat.You were already reaching for your phone. “How did you—”

He turned to you, a hesitant smile on his lips, his hands holding a bouquet of slightly wilted flowers. His dark eyes glimmered with a mixture of nervousness and relief, as if he were genuinely happy to see you.

“I was worried,” he said softly, stepping toward you. “You weren’t answering… so I thought I’d come check on you.” You had never given him your address. You had only given him your family name. 

You stared at him, your mind racing, caught somewhere between shock and fear.

Choso tilted his head, his brows furrowing in genuine confusion. “Did I… do something wrong?”

You stared at Choso, your groceries still in your arms, the door half-open behind you. He didn’t move any closer, but the sight of him standing there, so out of place in your living room, sent a chill down your spine.

“How… how did you get in here?” you managed, your voice trembling.

Choso blinked, tilting his head slightly as if you’d asked him a question he didn’t understand. “Your lock wasn’t very secure,” he said simply, holding up what looked like a slim piece of metal. “I was worried. You haven’t been responding, and I thought something might have happened to you.”

The sincerity in his voice was almost disarming, but the implication of his words made your skin crawl.

“Choso,” you said slowly, setting the groceries down on the counter and keeping the island between you as a buffer, “you can’t just… break into someone’s home.”

His brows furrowed, genuine confusion flickering across his face. “I wasn’t breaking in,” he said softly, almost as if the accusation hurt him. “I just needed to make sure you were okay. You haven’t been answering me, and I thought…” His voice trailed off, and he glanced at the flowers in his hands, his grip tightening slightly around the stems.

“I’ve been busy,” you said, trying to keep your tone steady. “You didn’t need to do this. I’m fine.”

“But you’re not,” he said quietly, his dark eyes meeting yours. There was an intensity in his gaze, like he truly believed every word he was saying. “You’re not fine. If you were, you would’ve answered me. Something must be wrong.”

“No, Choso,” you said firmly, taking a deep breath. “I wasn’t ignoring you because something’s wrong. I’ve just been busy with work and other things. And honestly… you’re sending way too many messages. It’s overwhelming.”

His face fell, the fragile hope in his expression crumbling. “Overwhelming?” he echoed, as if the word were foreign to him. “But I thought… I thought you wanted me to care about you.”

You hesitated, the raw vulnerability in his voice making your stomach twist. “Choso, I gave you my number because I thought you seemed nice. That’s all. I didn’t mean for this to… to go this far.”

He stared at you, unblinking, as if trying to process your words. The silence stretched between you, heavy and suffocating.

Finally, he spoke, his voice trembling slightly. “So… you don’t want me to care about you?”

“That’s not what I’m saying,” you said quickly, trying to keep your tone gentle. “I just think maybe you’ve misunderstood. I didn’t mean for you to think… we were something more.”

His grip on the flowers tightened, the fragile petals crumpling beneath his fingers. For a moment, he didn’t say anything, his eyes distant as if he were lost in thought.

Then, slowly, he nodded. “I understand,” he murmured, though his tone was unsettlingly calm. “You’ve been busy. You’ve been… overwhelmed.”

You exhaled in relief, thinking maybe he’d finally gotten the message. But then he looked up at you again, his eyes bright with a strange, unsettling determination.

“I’ll just come check on you more often,” he said, his voice soft but firm, as if he’d made up his mind.

Your heart sank. “Choso, that’s not—”

“No, it’s okay,” he interrupted, his tone almost cheerful now. “You don’t have to feel bad. I know you’re busy, and sometimes it’s hard to keep up with everything. But I can help. I can make sure you’re okay. You shouldn’t have to do everything on your own.”

The way he said it, so matter-of-factly, made your blood run cold.

“You don’t need to do that,” you said quickly, your voice trembling. “I’m fine, really. You don’t need to check on me.”

“But I want to,” he insisted, his expression softening with something that almost looked like affection. “I care about you. Isn’t that what you want? Someone who cares?”

You stepped back, the counter pressing into your spine as you tried to put more distance between you. “Choso, this isn’t—”

“It’s okay,” he said again, cutting you off with a small, reassuring smile. “I’ll make it work. You don’t have to say anything now. I’ll take care of it.”

Before you could respond, he stepped toward the door, his movements deliberate and unhurried.

“I’ll see you soon,” he said softly, glancing over his shoulder with a faint smile. “Don’t worry. I’ll make sure you’re never too busy again.”

And then he was gone, leaving the faint scent of crushed flowers in the air.

You locked the door behind him, your hands trembling as you slid the deadbolt into place. The faint scent of crushed flowers still lingered in the air, a sickly-sweet reminder of his presence.

For a moment, the silence felt almost deafening. You stared at the door, hoping—praying—that this would be the end of it.

Choso didn’t understand.

He didn’t understand boundaries, didn’t understand what his actions meant to you. To him, this wasn’t wrong—it was pure love. That you must love him too. 

[themuseofaphrodite]

santa doesn’t know you like i do ✧ MV33

summary: it’s christmas eve, and your boyfriend, max verstappen — a notoriously bad gift giver — still has not told you what presents he had bought you. unbeknownst to you, however, he has found the wishlist you jokingly wrote to santa, and is planning a heartwarming surprise for his beloved.

trigger warnings: suggestive & mature content, swearing

word count: 1.1k

note: phrases and sentences in the dutch language are utilized throughout; keep a translator accessible

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

Dear Santa, the letter began, I know that I’m almost twenty-three years old, so writing a letter to you is kind of foolish, but I still believe in the magic of Christmas, even if you aren’t real. This Christmas, I’m not really expecting much. My boyfriend, Max Verstappen, buys me anything I ask for, no matter what time of the year it is. He’s the best partner I could ask for. But the reason why I’m writing this letter is because he is clueless when he has to pick out gifts on his own, without my assistance.

So, before I go off on a tangent talking about how bad his solo gifts have been — do I have to mention the knitted red socks or lavender flavored gumballs? —, these are the things that I’m most looking forward to hopefully seeing under the Christmas tree.

A new set of lipsticks, because mine is really old and running out. I didn’t want to ask Max to buy me one, because I feel bad making him pay for anything.

The new rose gold spade necklace from Chanel. I saw it in a display case at the store in Monaco, and I was itching to purchase it. It’s really beautiful.

And last, but not least, a carton of Ferrero Rocher chocolates, the ones in the golden wrap and the crunchy nuts. My mouth is salivating just from thinking about it.

I know that there’s probably no point to writing this letter since you’re not exactly a living, breathing person, but a part of me hopes that your magic might help figure some of the kinks in Max’s terrible gift-giving skills out.

After writing the letter, you ended up throwing it away in the trash. It was such a waste of time, you thought. What in the world possessed you to do this? You were a busy woman, working for Red Bull as a PR manager. There was never a quiet moment. That was how you and Max had met: you were assigned to aid Liam Lawson in figuring out any media scandals, but as soon as Max had laid eyes on you, he’d immediately ordered Christian Horner to switch you to helping him out.

You were unsure of him, how aggressive and competitive he was. He wouldn’t shy away from direct confrontation, and that terrified you, since the idea of verbally arguing with someone made you nauseous. But so far, eight months into the relationship, you and Max had not had a single fight. He was loving, patient, and kind, willing to hear your side of the story every single time, even if he looked like he was about to flip a table. (This usually happened in PR meetings: you never argued outside of work.)

This would be your first Christmas together, and you were nervous. You knew what to get him: a new Red Bull team shirt and a pair of matching scarves that had colorful cats printed on it. It was purr-fect, and you knew that Max would — hopefully — love it.

Max entered the room, his steps hurried as he typed away on his phone and let out a big huff in frustration. You leaned against the wall, watching him as you sipped your chocolate-flavored boba tea. “Hey, is everything all good, mijn leeuw?” you asked, tacking on the Dutch pet name that fit your boyfriend perfectly. He was a lion, loud and courageous…especially in bed. Your cheeks heated at the thought.

Max looked up from his phone, his mouth a little open in confusion. “No, I’m OK, liefde. Just…fucking delivery people, not being on time.” Your eyebrow quirked, and Max shook his head. “And no, for the seventh time, I will not tell you what I’m getting you for Christmas. I know your birthday might’ve been bad, but I promise this time I’ll be good. Ik hou van je, schat.”

“Ik houd ook van jou,” you responded. “But I think I have every right to be concerned.”

Max rolled his eyes, walking over to where you were and placing one arm above your head, effectively locking you in place. “It will be fine. Don’t worry your pretty head about it, hm?” He grinned, kissing you on the forehead. “And if it does end up wrong, I’ll fuck you really well to make up for it.”

You blushed, averting your gaze away from him. “Max.”

“It’s true.” He released his hand from the wall, moving a dozen inches apart from your face. “Geloof me, lieverd.”

You bit your tongue and didn’t respond.

The next evening, also known as Christmas night, you and Max were preparing to open your presents. Your stomach was like a swarm of butterflies, you were so nervous to see what was in store for you under the tree. Max, however, was the epitome of ice-cold, his face betraying no hint as to what he may have purchased.

“Your turn first, engel.” Max motioned for you to select your first gift, and with shaky hands, you began to unpeel the small, square-shaped package. Finally unveiling it, you realized what it was: the rose gold spade Chanel necklace you’d been wanting for so long.

“Max! Oh my God, jij bent de beste!” you cried out, hugging him tightly and making him crack up in laughter. “How did you know?” you asked as you pulled away, but Max shrugged his shoulders.

“I just know things, liefde.” It was now Max’s turn to select his first gift, and he chose the nondescript package that held the colorful cat scarves in them. You suppressed a smile, watching as he carefully cut through the gift wrapping and sifted through the gift paper. His face broke out in a large smile, his blue eyes gleaming with happiness. “Cat scarves? This is adorable!”

“I hoped you would like it,” you said, beaming back at him. You shifted your position to pick up another gift; this time, it was heavy and rectangular. An inkling of suspicion wormed its way through you as you met Max’s gaze. “If this is what I think this is… Thank you.”

It was, in fact, a new set of lipsticks, just like you had written in your letter to Santa Claus. Somehow, Max must have found the letter and bought everything that you’d put on the list.

“You deserve it,” Max responded, pulling you close to him after you both had finished unwrapping the presents. “You’re the love of my life, Y/N. I owe you the world.”

You kissed his temple. “You’re the most incredible partner I could ever have.”

“Merry Christmas, hart van mij.”

Needless to say, you paid Max back for the thoughtful presents all night long. It was a Christmas you’d never forget, and you sent up a silent thanks to the magic of Santa Claus for having it all work out.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

[dumbification]

PLEASE, GIRL, YOU'RE MY LOVE BELT ft. sunday

( synopsis ) you don’t love him anymore, and he knows that himself. but whatever he could do to make you stay, he’d do it, as he needs you so much–needs you like oxygen. he might just lock you up in a pretty cage, pretty enough to match your face, to keep you safe with him forever. you're his love belt, and you know that yourself.

( tags ) sunday x fem!reader, slight angst, mild nsfw, bondage kink, voyeurism, he cums in his pants, fingering, possessiveness, one sided love, sunday is a weirdo, lots of angsty pining, sad make out session

( wc ) 2.1k

( toni's note ) i had sm fun writing this. but anyway.. wooooosh.. i'm on a roll, aren't i? enjoy this 5 month late gift I made for @nvuy :3 LOVE YA LOTS, MISAAAA !!

with the tall, stained glass window left open, a calm breeze enters your room. the soft moonlight brightens the place, and bounces off of your skin. this is it, you’re staring at yourself in the mirror, in your white nightdress, unsure of what you’re even doing. it’s weird, isn’t it? you were so infatuated with sunday, harping on about him to everyone you came across, anyone who even mentioned his name. but now, here you are–preparing yourself and your belongings, to flee this mansion of his, and the grasp of someone who was once your lover–at heart, at least. you’re startled at the sudden but gentle knock at your door. the very door creaks open to reveal a groggy sunday peeping through the cracks. fuck, he shouldn’t even be awake right now. “my dove, where have your things gone?” he croaks, rubbing one of his eyes with the back of his palm.

“ah. i’m just.. rearranging my room.” it hurts, it’s your first time lying to him, ever. you hope he was tired enough to have whatever you said slip his mind, but he saw right through you and your words–and you’re pretty sure you know that yourself. he frowns. “then, may you explain to me why all of your things have disappeared, even outside of your room?” he crosses his arms, and that’s when you both knew that you fucked up. maybe, just maybe, you could save yourself right now. “about that,” you kick away the suitcase which laid beside your feet. “i’d just like everything that belongs to me, y’know, inside my room–” “don’t lie to me, love.” he looks away to focus on the unholy amount of luggages and cases behind you. welp, as he takes a few steps towards you, your legs start to quiver in fear. the silence that follows pierces your ears, leaving you practically deaf.

and before you know it, he’s inches away from your face. “you know what i can do, right?” you hesitatingly nod your head, knowing what he’s capable of, and knowing that he can get anything out of you. “then why should i have to get it out of you, before you tell me yourself?” there’s genuine hurt in his eyes, and it hurts you even more. “i—i don’t know.” you choke out a pathetic response, throat already closing up and eyes swelling with tears threatening to fall down. “please.” he’s about to be on his knees. you made up your mind, and with a heavy heart, it was all or nothing. “sunday,” your voice falters. he focuses entirely on you now, wiping the tears building up at the corners of your eyes. “i don’t love you anymore.” his stare widens. “say that again, dear?” he sounds distraught, unable to believe what you said just now. your lips purse, unable to let those five words slip out again. “i don’t love you anymore, sunday.” his own throat closes up, speechless. he felt as though the world was caving in on him, his life crumbling apart. he never thought he’d hear that from you, little ol’ you, who loved him so dearly, and promised to do so until death. 

he chuckles a little, dryly, denying the bitter truth that just came out of your mouth. “you’re kidding. right?” his lips curl into a smile full of hope, hope in the fact that you’re lying to him again. but it pains him to know that you’re not lying, and it’s very much true, at the back of his mind, he could tell that you’ve fallen out of love lately. every romantic gesture or sign of affection he’d show every other while, would elicit nothing from you back. did he make you mad? or have you felt pity for his love for you this entire time? no, that couldn’t be. sunday can pull the truth out of anyone, but he’s never had to do it with you. you’re an honest person, and you both know that. it’s not like you to lie, so why would you? “right?” this time, his voice has a threatening tone to it, chilling you down to the bone. he cups your face to look you deep in the eye, looking for a yes, somewhere inside there.

“i’m not kidding.” you gently push him away, telling him for the nth time, that you really don’t love him at all anymore. “then what’s next?” sunday reaches out to hold your hand, now caressing it with his thumb. “i’m leaving in the morning, with everything else.” your eyes avert his gaze, which you’re sure now hold a grudge on you. but he’s not like that–to hold a grudge on someone who once loved him, right? “no,” he smiles, a breathy chuckle leaving through his teeth. “no, no, no, no..” sunday brings his hands to his head. you feel a rush of fear down your spine. “you’re not going anywhere. you should know this.” at that moment, a sudden feeling of drowsiness hit you. feeling like collapsing, the world around you spins, and in a state of total relaxation, you fall to the ground–but before you reach the floor, sunday catches you as you faint.

—-

after a while, you stir awake–and wake up to be inside a large, golden cage, adorned in jewels and gemstones. it’s magnificent–the moonlight shines on each singular gem, reflecting the colors onto your face. you try to feel your face, and around the cage–but your hands stay in place. you find yourself to be in a kneeling position and tightly tied up in rope–with your hands bonded together above your head–and ankles separated, tied to the bars of the cage you kneel in. it’s an uncomfortable feeling, even your waist is tied back to the cage. you struggle and panic in place, unable to slip the rope off. “it’s no use,” sunday mutters, walking towards your helpless figure. “even if you found a way to untie yourself, you wouldn’t budge an inch, anyway.” you grunt and whine, doing your best to even move a muscle, but to no avail. 

“let me go.” you pleaded on your knees, quite literally. but he denied each and every one of your empty promises, promises to stay. “i know what you’re thinking–again, don’t lie to me.” “get out of my mind.” you hiss, tears threatening to break and fall down your face. he can’t promise that, as you can’t promise to stay no longer anyway. “please. stay here with me.” he sounds mad, furious, even–but he treats you so gently–each time he touches your face or hand, he does it with such care, like you’re glass. it pains your heart, knowing the anger and sorrow he holds deep inside him, but he still handles you so carefully like you’re the most delicate of porcelain dolls.

his eyes flicker at your neck, covered in marks he believes he’s never left. an empty feeling fills his gut, he feels sick to his stomach–knowing that someone else has touched you. practically crawling to you, he proceeds to leave trails of gentle kisses along the crook of your neck. you silently plead for him to go on by craning your head to the side, giving sunday more access. “why..” his voice rasps, shaking uncontrollably. you let it go, and start to sob out of sympathy for the man. “i’m sorry.” “no you’re not.” but you know that he knows, that you’re telling the truth. you truly feel sorry for him, and you show it through your heavy tears, rolling down your cheeks. 

“don’t cry, my dove.” he says so softly, with no sign of anger this time. his thumb reaches up to wipe away the tears which stain your face, while he continues to leave small bruises and bites on your neck. “can you tell me why you don’t love me anymore?” “no.” even through knowing your mind and thoughts, he couldn’t find out why you would fall out of love, either. “do you even know?” his want to know about this was genuine. “..no.” you sniffle and hiccup.

“how do i make you love me again?” 

“i don’t know.”

 “can i..” his words trail off, but you know what he’s talking about. “please.” he unbuttons your nightdress, slipping it down to your hips. you can see it in his eyes that he’s disappointed. “how do you not love me,” your waist spasms as he traces circles right above your cunt. “when you’re this wet?” you couldn’t help but arch your back and whine as his other hand traced your spine, sending tingling sensations down it. he purposefully avoids your wet cunt, even your breasts, as he carefully feels around your body, barely brushing his fingers across your skin. it’s so sweet–it’s sweet how delicately he handles you, how he softly speaks to you, but it feels like torture–it felt torturous how forgiving his touch was, or how he was telling you your own thoughts, nitpicking at your own lies to him, to yourself. “c-can’t help it..” your breath shakes and falters as you weakly smile.

he unbuckles his pants to pull it down and push it aside, to reveal the very visible bulge in his underwear. “you wouldn’t mind?” he shifts his head to give you a pleading look. and as weird as it feels and looks, you let him. he groans, rubbing his palm against his clothed cock, circling his thumb at the tip. “i love you.” he repeats, on and on. you wish you could help him out, but all you could do was watch and grind your hips against the floor in desperation as he pleasures himself. this was also torturous. “c-close. i’m close.” in minutes, he cums in his boxers, shooting his load inside not you, but nothing, this time. his dick twitches and quivers, softening up.

“you don’t know how much i love you,” he brings his hand to handle the bars of the cage behind you, and his mouth to your ear. “and how much this hurts me.” he lets go of you, and for the first time in a while, you see a few tears roll out of his eyes. the swelling of your heart worsens at seeing him cry, the pounding reaching your throat. “do you believe me?” “i always have.” you sniffle. you know that he believes you deserve a more harsh punishment, but he could never bring himself to it–just the thought of that makes you want to cry even more, because you know he loves you far more than you love him.

“you deserve worse.”

“i know.” you weep.

with ease, sunday slips off his gloves in mere seconds, then lining his fingers up at your entrance, teasing your wet folds. your hips buck towards him, trying to get more friction in between your thighs–and he pushes them in. his fingers pump in and out, deep inside, buried inside your pussy. you moan and whine, still loving how good he makes you feel. “do you only love me for this?” “i–i don’t love you at all.” you cry. well, now you’re just lying to yourself. sunday brings himself closer to your face as he continues to pleasure you, seeing every part of your face twitch in satisfaction.

his eyes flutter down to your lips, and lightly pecks them–those small pecks turning into long, passionate kisses. with a furrowed brow from all the pleasure, you give in and kiss him back. your tongues tie and twist around each other, eliciting moans from one another. tears continue to drip down your face like a continuous babbling creek, dribbling down your cheeks, all the way to drop from your chin. he kept on thrusting his fingers up your cunt, until you came all over them. waves and jolts crash and strike through you as you ride out your orgasm on his digits. he pulls away, both his fingers and lips, to see how pretty the view was—and how beautiful the moonlight looked on your face. “you’re beautiful.” you look down, averting his eyes full of sorrow. “stop.” you might as well close your eyes shut—as he could just make you look up. but he could also just make you open your eyes, there’s no winning here.

you’re forced to look back up at him, chin pinched between his index and thumb. the prolonged eye contact was nerve-wracking. “i’ll let you go.” “what? no—i’ll stay.” sunday rushes in to embrace you, it was uncalled for. even after what you just did together, it seemed weird to you to be this close after everything you had told him. “i don’t think you mean that.” he’s persistent on this, whether you’re telling the truth or not, he’d ignore it. “i really do.” your words seem truthful, laced with falseness. still caught in his embrace, you nudge him away the best you can—but he won’t let go, he needs you so badly, needs you wrapping him up from head to toe.

“oh god, i love you.” you blurt out randomly. it was then when he let go. he almost collapses after hearing what he was longing for from you, even if it were fake. you pant and sigh in between kisses, unable to catch your breath. “you mean it?” “..yeah.” maybe he could ignore the truth behind your lies for now, and bask in the bliss of your false affection, if it means you’ll stay with him forever.

@ dumbification . do not plagiarize or modify my work.

[cece693]

Let Me Draw You (Ken x Male Reader)

Just saw the Barbie movie and tell me why I felt so bad for Ken. Like all he wanted was to feel appreciated and seen by Barbie :( So, I plan to change the movie slightly to include Ken finding happiness for himself.

Summary: While Barbie was off exploring the real world, Ken was left to his own devices. Roaming the streets, he stumbles upon a coffee shop where you decide he is your next muse.

tags: Barbie movie, reader is a man from the real world, Ken is a confused puppy, he finds someone who thinks he's enough

Ken wandered through the streets of the real world, his wide eyes brimming with curiosity. Everything around him seemed larger, louder, and busier than anything in Barbie Land. People hustled past him, some throwing strange glances his way, probably because he was still dressed head to toe in his *new* favorite cowboy outfit. But Ken didn’t mind.

As he continued walking, his blue eyes caught sight of something—or rather, someone—staring directly at him from inside a small café. A man sat by the window, his gaze locked onto Ken with an intensity that made Ken freeze in his tracks. For a second, Ken thought he might’ve done something wrong. Did he accidentally break some unspoken real-world rule? Did he have something on his face?

Before Ken could decide whether to bolt or keep walking, the café door flew open, and the man came rushing toward him. His expression was filled with excitement, and he seemed so eager that he nearly tripped over himself. “Hey! You!” the man called out, breathless, as he came to a halt in front of Ken.

Ken blinked, pointing to himself in confusion. “Me?”

"Yeah, you!" The man was practically bouncing on his feet, his eyes scanning Ken up and down as though he couldn’t believe his luck. “I’m sorry to stop you, but I just have to draw you.”

Ken tilted his head, his confusion deepening. “Draw me?” he repeated slowly, trying to make sense of what the man was asking. “Why?”

The man smiled, clearly amused by Ken’s innocent bewilderment. “Because you’re perfect, just stunning. Your features, they’re unreal. You look like a sculpture or like a doll.” His eyes twinkled as he took in Ken’s sharp cheekbones and the way his hair perfectly framed his face.

Ken’s mind was spinning. He’d been called many things in his life—cool, fashionable, maybe even handsome once or twice—but no one had ever stopped him on the street just to draw him. He stood there, helpless and unsure, like a puppy who didn’t quite know what it was supposed to do. His big blue eyes darted from the man to the café, then back to the man again. No Barbie in sight to guide him.

“I…I guess?” Ken finally stammered, still sounding more confused than anything. Before he could say anything else, the man gently grabbed his arm, his touch soft but insistent, and began guiding him toward the café.

Ken allowed himself to be pulled along, stumbling slightly as he tried to keep up with the man’s eager pace. His mind was still trying to catch up to the situation, his heart fluttering in his chest with a strange mix of nerves and excitement. The man’s enthusiasm was contagious, and though Ken didn’t fully understand why he was being dragged into this café, he found himself smiling a little.

Once inside, the man ushered Ken to a small table by the window. “Here, sit down,” he said, his voice warm and inviting. Ken sat down awkwardly, fidgeting with the hem of his vest as he looked around.

“So, um…what do I do?” Ken asked, his voice soft and unsure, as he shifted in his seat. His feet fidgeted under the table, and his hands hovered in the air like he didn’t know what to do with them.

The man smiled, already pulling out a sketchpad and pencil from his bag. “Just be yourself,” he said simply, glancing up at Ken with a soft chuckle. “You don’t have to do anything. Just sit.”

“O-okay,” Ken mumbled, still unsure but trying his best to relax. He watched the man as he began sketching, his pencil moving quickly over the paper. Ken was used to being looked at, but this felt different. The way the man’s eyes flickered back and forth between him and the page made Ken feel…special, like he was worth paying attention to, not just because he was with Barbie, but because he was him.

As the man sketched, Ken found himself staring at him with quiet admiration. There was something calming about the way he worked, how his whole focus seemed to be on capturing Ken on the page. It made Ken’s heart flutter in a way that was new, unfamiliar, and a little overwhelming. Time seemed to slow down, and for once, Ken didn’t feel lost or unsure of himself. He didn’t feel like he needed to be anything other than who he was, and that was kind of nice.

When the man finally finished, he turned the sketchpad around, revealing the drawing to Ken with a proud smile. Ken’s eyes went wide as he stared at it. The drawing wasn’t just accurate—it captured something more. There was a softness in his expression, a vulnerability that Ken hadn’t even realized was there.

“Wow…” Ken whispered, his voice barely audible. He didn’t know what else to say. The sketch was beautiful, and it was him, but somehow, it made him feel more real than he ever had before.

The man smiled at Ken’s reaction, seeming pleased with his work. Then, almost as an afterthought, he tore the page from his sketchpad and handed it to Ken. “Here. You should keep this.”

Ken blinked, staring down at the sketch in his hands as if it were the most precious thing in the world. “Really? I can keep it?”

“Of course,” the man said with a soft chuckle. “I made it for you.”

Ken’s heart swelled with a warm, unfamiliar feeling, something that made his chest feel light and tingly. “Thank you…” he mumbled, still staring at the drawing in awe.

The man stood up, slinging his bag over his shoulder. “I’ve got to run, but…maybe I’ll see you around?” He gave Ken one last smile before turning and walking out of the café.

Ken watched the man go, his gaze lingering on his retreating figure with a quiet sense of longing. There was something about him that made Ken feel safe, like he didn’t have to be anything other than himself. He stared after him, feeling that same flutter in his chest, something warm and hopeful.

As Ken sat there, clutching the sketch, he noticed something scribbled on the back of the paper. He flipped it over, and his eyes widened. There, written in small, messy handwriting, was a phone number. Ken’s heart skipped a beat, his cheeks flushing as he stared at the numbers. He glanced up again, watching the man disappear into the busy street. A soft, shy smile crept onto his face as the realization slowly sank in.

Maybe the real world wasn’t so bad after all.

[1toreyouapart]

The Lies We Tell

***FANFIC THAT INVOLVES REAL PEOPLE. 18+ ONLY. MDNI. DO NOT READ IF YOU DON’T LIKE FANFIC THAT INVOLVES REAL PEOPLE***

Summary that tells you nothing: Sometimes everything you ever wanted has been right there, within reach, all along.

CW/TW: Angst, fluff, swearing, friends to lovers, jealousy, smut, fingering, PinV, pet names, friends with benefits, mental health (past attempt mentioned), oral (f receiving), multiple orgasms, more to come as I actually get things written out.

A/N: 4.2k words. I got a little carried away. Smut below the cut. 🫡

Masterlist

You Smell Like Victory

Silence filled the room while she scrolled through Netflix, the titles of shows and movies a blur. Noah worked silently at his desk, responding to a few emails. Something had changed in the kitchen earlier. Such a quick kiss she thought she had imagined it at first. Then the extra touching. Like he was finding every excuse imaginable to have his hands on her. On the small of her back, his hand on her thigh as they sat together on the couch. How when he had passed her to head up here he had grabbed her hand to get her attention, not letting go until she had followed him all the way into his room. The way his hands lingered longer than normal.

The bed shifted as Noah laid next to her, his own gaze fixed on the ceiling. Cautious she glanced over at home, noting the way his brow furrowed slightly. Something was clearly on his mind. She couldn’t help but wonder if he was thinking of the same things she was.

“Find a movie yet?” He asked, keeping his eyes locked on the ceiling.

“No.” Quinn sighed. She hadn’t been able to focus on any of the titles.

“What about ‘The Nun’? You love that one.”

“You hate it, though.”

“So? You love it. Put it on.”

Quinn arched her brow as she stared down at him. Noah never let her just put on what she wanted without a fight. He was being weird. She wasn’t quite sure how to feel about it.

“Alright. Who are you and what have you done with my Noah?”

Noah laughed, finally tearing his gaze away from the ceiling. His warm eyes traveled over her face, pausing ever so briefly on her lips before meeting her eyes again.

“Is it so impossible to believe that maybe I’m just being nice?” He chuckled, nudging her side with his elbow. “Put your stupid movie on.”

Quinn eyed him warily, unsure whether this was one of his pranks or not. Noah always gave her shit about that movie. Was always teasing her every time she jumped, regardless of how many times she had seen it. With a roll of her eyes she shrugged, turning her attention back to the TV.

“Your loss, I guess.” She pushed play.

“Hardly,” he muttered, getting up.

Frowning she watched him grab a pair of sweatpants and head towards the door. Where the hell did he think he was going? The deal was always that they watched the movie and then he changed after. Something was off with him tonight. Then the light shut off.

“Noah! What the fuck?”

“What? Too scared to be alone for two minutes?” He laughed, walking out the door.

“Asshole!” She called after him, his only response laughter as the bathroom door shut behind him.

Quinn’s eyes went back to the TV, heart in her throat. As she watched the two Sisters she sat up, scooting as far back from the TV as possible, like Valak could reach through the stupid TV and grab her. She loved this movie purely because Valak terrified her. Something Noah clearly didn’t understand.

Right as the Sister sacrificed herself, Noah returned, the click of his bedroom door shutting startling her. Her hand clutched at her chest as she turned toward him, wide eyed.

“Noah! You asshole! You left me alone with Valak.”

Noah chuckled, shaking his head as he deposited his clothes into his hamper. She tried really hard not to notice the way his sweats sat low on his hips. Something he couldn’t really help. It was always hard for him to find clothes that fit his tall frame. But still. After the way he had been towards her all evening, it was hard not to notice it. Almost like it was on purpose. The shirt he usually wore for bed was definitely noticeably absent. Tattoos and the abs he had been working so hard on in the gym on full display.

“You’ve seen this movie a thousand times. I think you’re fine.” He motioned for her to scoot forward. “Scoot. Assume the position.”

Quinn followed his direction, scooting forward. Felt the bed shift as he slid into his usual spot behind her, his legs on either side of hers. His long arms wrapped around her, pulling her back against his chest. They always watched movies like this. Usually far more dressed than this, however. She couldn’t help but notice how bare her legs were as his hand landed on her thigh, resting there.

“Hey. Together we make one whole outfit.” Quinn laughed nervously, the movie completely forgotten at this point.

“Strange that both items are actually mine. Are you ever going to give my shirt back?”

Her eyes stayed focused on the hand on her thigh, watched as he started to trace little patterns on her the inside of it. Such a small, simple thing he had probably done countless times over the years, yet tonight it had a dull ache forming right at the apex of her thighs. Quinn swallowed, trying to keep her breathing even.

“Weird way to say our shirt, but okay.”

“You’re a menace, you know that?”

Noah sounded so normal. So nonchalant. Like he wasn’t currently driving her absolutely insane. His fingers trailed just slightly closer to her center and she had to fight to keep any reaction at bay. This was normal, right? He was just being his usual kind of touchy self. Just normal Noah. She was the one being weird.

“If you say so.�� Her voice was quiet, just barely above a whisper. She didn’t trust it at this point. Didn’t trust that speaking normally wouldn’t give away exactly what was going through her mind.

His hand slid up her thigh just another fraction of an inch and she sucked in a breath, holding it. Noah’s low chuckle behind her brought her attention away from his hand on her thigh. He knew exactly what he was doing.

“Noah?”

“Yes?” he asked, his lips right by her ear.

“What, uh,” his hand inched closer. “What’s up?”

Quinn kicked herself. What’s up? What’s up?! Was she stupid? Jesus Christ.

“See, things have been a little tense like, the entire time I’ve been home. My fault, really. And I think the only way to fix it at this point is to fuck about it.” His hand moved, cupping her through her panties. “Don’t you think we should just fuck it out, Quinn?”

Quinn gasped as he massaged her, using the palm of his hand to apply pressure to her clit. Her hips jerked slightly, a quiet whimper escaping her as liquid heat surged through her body. Helpless she nodded her head, hands gripping the hem of his shirt she wore. Like she had ever had a chance in hell of saying no. Part of her had known the second he led her up here, tossed the shirt she’d worn the night before at her before turning his back so she could change, that this was exactly where things were headed tonight.

“Words, baby. Use your words.” His voice was low, just barely loud enough for only her to hear.

“Y-yes,” she stammered, rocking her hips against his hand.

Noah rewarded her by slipping his hand inside her panties, one long finger rubbing slow, languid circles around her clit. Her back arched, a low groan slipping out of her. Teeth scraped over the side of her throat, his fingers plunging inside of her, curling, stroking, as his palm now pressed against her, massaging her clit as he worked. His free hand slip up her shirt, nails scraping over her belly, tracing a path up to her breast.

Pressure built low in her belly, her heart beating erratically in her chest. She was on the edge, and she wasn’t sure she could stop her impending orgasm even if she tried. Even if she wanted to. He had slowly, systematically worked her up to this point all evening. His fingers captured her nipple, pinching slightly as he tugged, and the pressure in her belly burst, her body tensing as she came, breath hitching as she fought to stay quiet.

“Jesus Christ, Quinn.” He groaned, his fingers still slowly pumping in and out of her as he eased her down from her high. “You’re so fucking sensitive.”

Body trembling she collapsed back against him, trying desperately to catch her breath. She could feel every hard inch of him beneath her, and she couldn’t help the slight hesitation. If what she felt was correct, she was in trouble. Jesus Christ. How the hell did he expect to fit? Did everything on him have to be big?

“And whose fault is that, exactly?” She sighed, running a still trembling hand through her hair. “Teasing me all fucking night. And you call me a menace.”

“Anybody ever tell you that you’re incredibly fucking mouthy?” He laughed, dropping a kiss on top of her head. “You good?”

“Yeah.” She nodded, wincing as he pulled his fingers out of her.

“You sure?”

“Yeah. Like you said, I’m sensitive.”

Quinn sat up fully, lifting her shirt and tossing it off to the side. While she appreciated him taking the time to check in with her, she needed more. Needed to get him inside of her. Even if, by her judgement, it would hurt. She trusted him. Knew he would be gentle with her.

Noah brushed her hair off her shoulder, pressing his lips to her skin. Quinn sighed, letting herself relax against him just slightly.

“How do you want to do this?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean…” He trailed off, his hands going back to her thighs, tracing soothing patterns once more. “What position would be most comfortable for you?”

Quinn thought about it, picturing every position she could think of. She imagined him behind her, and while her favorite position, wasn’t something she was sure she could handle right now. Most of the men she had been with were average sized. He felt much larger. Which meant being in top would be a struggle.

“No one’s ever asked me that before,” she mused. She felt his body tense behind her. “I suppose you on top?”

She didn’t wait for his direction and moved to lay beside him, watching as his head turned to follow her. He made no immediate move to follow her, just watched her as she laid back, holding her hand out to him.

“That’s something we’re going to unpack later.”

Noah moved over her, taking her hand in his. Carefully he pulled her arm up above her head, his eyes raking over her before locking with hers.

“You’re absolutely sure?” He asked, his voice trembling. “You can say stop at anytime and I’ll stop. Like, full stop. You’re the one in control, Quinn.”

“Noah. I’m sure.”

His lips crashed into hers, needing no further encouragement. Her free hand cupped his cheek, hips rocking up against his, desperate to feel him there. Noah’s free arm wrapped around her waist, holding her body against as his lips moved over hers, his own hips rocking against hers, hitting just the right spot.

The two of them moved together, neither in a rush to get to it. His tongue traced her bottom lip and she parted her lips, her soft sigh as his tongue slipped inside her mouth swallowed up by him. While gentle in his exploration of her mouth his hips rocked against hers harder, pressing her down into the mattress. The sensations were at war with each other, nearly driving her over the edge once more. He was everywhere and still not where she needed him.

Noah pulled back, releasing her hand from his. He pulled his hand down to her cheek, running his thumb over her bottom lip, tugging slightly. With a smirk he brushed his lips over her cheek, across her jawline, down her throat. Quinn shivered, breath shaky as he reached her collarbone, the swell of her breast, before pulling her nipple into his mouth, the other one caught between his fingers. Electric waves scorched through her, straight down to her core. She felt his lips curve into a smile as he rocked his hips again before switching sides. With a curse she shifted beneath him, her one free hand tangling in his hair and tugging.

“Noah. Please,” she pleaded, hips lifting against his.

Noah lifted his head, glancing up at her. The sight of him like this, perfectly between her breasts, that lazy grin of his she loved so much on his stupidly perfect face was enough to knock the breath right out of her. He looked like an unsupervised kid in a fucking candy store.

“Do you know how often I’ve tried to picture your tits? Jesus fucking Christ. This is a dream come true. I could die right now and I would die happy. Have you seen these things?!”

Quinn couldn’t help but laugh. She never knew he was this easily pleased. If she had known she might have let him see them a lot sooner. Probably would have saved her a lot of time arguing with him, too.

“Noah. I see them every day. They’re kind of attached to me.”

Noah cleared his throat, still unable to hide the unbridled joy on his face. Boobs. They were just boobs. And he was acting like it was Christmas morning or some shit.

“Right. Back to business. But I have got to play with these more often. Holy shit, dude.”

“NOAH.”

“I’M SORRY!” He laughed, burying his face between them.

Quinn couldn’t help but join in his laughter. It had been just a little too long since she had heard him laugh like this. Months. All over a pair of boobs. He was downright giddy over it. And she loved every second of it. This was her Noah.

Noah pressed his lips in the valley between her breasts, his laughter dying down. She propped herself up on her elbows, watching as he slowly made his way south, stopping to pay extra attention to the spot just under her bellybutton, pressing his lips extra firmly against the scar there. The one her first boyfriend after she had met Noah left. Tears burned her eyes as she watched him drift lower, stopping on her hip, right at the edge of her panties.

“You good, Quinn?” He asked, his voice so gentle she almost forgot what they were doing.

“Yeah.” She nodded her head, forcing the memory away before it could take hold.

Noah slowly hooked his fingers in each side of her panties, his eyes on her, watching her for any signs she wanted to stop, slowly sliding them down her thighs, over her knees. Down around her ankles. And suddenly she was totally naked before him, illuminated only by the light from the movie still playing. The movie she had only watched a couple minutes of so far.

If it had been anyone else watching her so intently she would have been nervous. But it was Noah. The Noah who had seen her at her worst and still stuck around. The one who always took care of her, whether she wanted it or not.

Quinn watched as he stood at the foot of the bed, scrubbing his hand down his face as he looked at her, fully exposed now. Watched as he removed his pants, her eyes going wide when she saw him. There was no way he was going to fit. Oh, fuck.

“Uh, Noah? You could’ve warned me first. I-“ she swallowed. “I don’t think it’s gonna fit.”

Noah chuckled as he knelt between her legs, propping an ankle up on his shoulder. Nerves settled in her stomach, the reality of the situation hitting her. She was about to have sex with her best friend. And while she trusted him whole heartedly, she didn’t quite trust that she would be able to walk afterwards. She was either about to have the most incredible sex of her life, or it wouldn’t work and they would both end up frustrated even more frustrated.

“It’ll fit.” A soft kiss on the inside of her ankle. “Just gotta relax.”

Time slowed to a crawl as he trailed his lips up the inside of her leg, pausing mid thigh. She was about to ask him what he was doing when he attached his mouth to her thigh, sucking a dark mark there. He was marking her. Making sure she didn’t forget this any time soon. Anyone else and she would have been pissed. Instead, for him, her hips lifted in an attempt to urge him closer to where she wanted him.

Noah turned his attention to her other thigh, leaving another mark, this one higher up. Quinn looked down, cheeks flushed when she saw him paused at the apex of her thighs, his own eyes on her as he breathed her in. His impossibly long arms wrapped around her thighs, spreading them further apart than she thought possible, pinning them down. She didn’t think she had ever seen something so beautifully erotic in her life. If this was the only time she got to see him like this, she wanted it etched in her memory forever.

Quinn couldn’t look away, watching as his tongue flicked out, delicately tasting her. Felt his breath on her as he exhaled on a groan. So slowly she was borderline frustrated he traced every part of her with his tongue before completely burying his face in her, slipping his tongue inside of her.

“Fuck,” she gasped, attempting to move her hips against him. “Noah,” she whined, finding herself unable to move.

“Patience, baby. Gotta make sure you’re ready.” He sighed, circling her clit with his tongue. “Just a little taste. I promise.”

Quinn all but leapt off the bed as he pulled her into his mouth, shockwaves of pleasure racing throughout her body. Little taste her ass. He was devouring her, all lips and tongue and teeth as she writhed beneath him, another orgasm racing towards her. Another one she was helpless to stop, her body trembling as it slammed into her, knocking the breath from her lungs, his name leaving her lips on a broken cry.

Noah pulled back, dropping a soft kiss on her. Lips pressed to each of her hips, her bellybutton, as he moved up her body, giving her time to steady herself once more. Shaking she closed her eyes, willing her breathing to slow down. He was set on ruining her. She was sure of it.

“Still good?” He asked, peppering little kisses over her face.

“Absolutely,” she laughed weakly.

“Eyes on me, Quinn.” Slowly she opened her eyes, nodding her head. “You’re absolutely sure you want to do this?”

Noah’s eyes searched hers, his brow furrowed slightly, looking for any hint she wanted to stop. Any sign of hesitation. Her hand reached up, fingertips slowly tracing his features, committing him to memory. Things were about to change forever, and she wanted to remember him as he was now. Just her Noah.

“I’m sure.”

Noah shifted, lining himself up with her entrance, and for the first time she saw just how nervous he was. He knew this was going to change everything just as much as she did. And neither of them knew how.

Slowly, gently, he started to ease himself inside of her, their eyes still locked together. Just as the stretch became a little too much he pulled back slightly, dropping his head to press his lips to her shoulder as he pressed forward again, moaning into her skin. It burned slightly as he filled her a little more, but more than that she needed more. Needed to feel him all the way inside her.

“Noah,” she whimpered as he pulled back again, before thrusting into her, nearly completely filling her this time.

“Breathe, baby.” His shook as he lifted his head to look down at her. “Almost there, okay? Just a little more.”

This time he didn’t pull back, instead opting to slide his arms underneath her, pressing her body to his as he surged forward that little bit more, knocking the breath from her lungs. She had never felt this full before. It was somehow too much, yet not enough. She wanted to slow down for a minute, as she knew she should, give herself time to adjust, but needed him to start moving.

“Fuck. So fucking tight,” he groaned, his grip on her tightening. “Good job, baby. You did so good.”

Noah lowered his lips to hers, muffling her moans as he rocked his hips gently, testing her. Her hands clutched at his back, hips lifting to meet his, silently urging him on. It hurt, but only slightly. He moved again, keeping her pressed against him, holding her in place.

“Noah, please,” she pleaded, driven only by the intense need filling her. She needed him to properly fuck her more than she needed oxygen at this point.

“Just don’t wanna hurt you.” He shuddered as she clenched around him. “You’re okay?”

“Yes. Just, please, Noah,” she begged. “Fuck me.”

Noah withdrew painfully slow, before surging forward again, driving into her. Quinn clung to him, burying her face in his neck as he moved, desperately trying to muffle the ungodly noises she was making with every stroke. Sex had always been fun. Great, even. This was different. The way he angled his hips, hitting that spot inside of her every thrust, the feel of him filling her so completely she could feel every little ridge of his cock. The way he didn’t hold back and moaned and spoke directly into her ear. Telling her over and over how it felt being inside of her. She wasn’t going to last long. And from the sound of him, neither would he.

“Fuck, Quinn.” He cursed, his hips moving faster. “Need you to cum, baby.”

His hand slipped between their bodies, thumb pressing against her clit, rubbing frantically. Her teeth sank into his shoulder as she exploded around him, everything going dark briefly. Unable to hold on any longer, her body totally spent she dropped her head back, limbs falling to her sides. With unfocused eyes she watched him, studied the way his lips parted, how his breath hitched as his movements became sloppy, erratic, before he pulled out at the last second, releasing onto her stomach.

Dazed she laid there as he sat back on his heels, his own unfocused gaze falling on her belly. Slowly his eyes lifted to hers, and holding him there she reached down, swiping a finger through his cum. Noah’s jaw dropped just slightly as he watched her bring that finger up to her lips, popping it in her mouth so she could taste him.

“That. You. Fuck.” He chuckled, shaking his head. “Can’t even speak. Sexiest thing you could have done right now.” He ran a hand through his hair, studying her a moment longer. “You okay?”

“Fucking fantastic, actually.” Quinn nodded her head, soft smile curving her lips. “10 out of 10. Highly recommend.”

Noah laughed, climbing off the bed to pull his pants back on. She watched in fascination as he kept glancing over at her, that boyish smirk back on his face. Almost like he couldn’t believe he had a naked girl in his bed. One currently covered in his cum, and probably looking absolutely wrecked. If his mission had been to ruin her for other men tonight, she was fairly certain he had accomplished that. Nothing would ever compare to what had just happened.

“I’ll be right back. Gonna grab some stuff so we can get you cleaned up.”

Quinn watched him walk out the door, tossing one last glance back at her. Her eyes fell to the TV to find the movie was long over. She propped herself up on her elbows, studying the mess on her stomach. Jesus, that was a lot.

The door clicked shut again and a warm rag dropped onto her stomach, another pressed between her thighs. Noah gently wiped her clean, tutting at her when she winced, flinching.

“Don’t even,” she grumbled. “You would be tender, too, if you’d just had your body split in half like that.”

“I wanted to be gentle.” Noah chuckled as he tossed the rag he had used between her thighs at his hamper, quickly cleaning up the mess in her stomach.

“Somehow I feel like that wouldn’t have mattered.”

“Hungry? Thirsty?”

Quinn shook her head, flopping back on his bed. All she really wanted right now was sleep. A soft blanket and sleep. She was spent. Exhausted. No energy left.

“Sleep. Just sleep.”

Noah shifted, moving her body around as he pulled the blanket back, laying beside her before pulling the blanket up over them. His arm slid under her, pulling her into his chest, one hand stroking her hair as her eyes closed. His lips pressed against the top of her head as she wrapped an arm and a leg around him, settling into her favorite position to cuddle him in. Whatever the consequences of what they did could be addressed in the morning. For now, she was happy and content.

Tags: @collisionofyourkissmakesitsohard @mrscevans @supersquirrel1996 @alwaysfightforwhoyouare

[cal-daisies-and-briars]

Hi!

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Hi!

51 for 🐓

---

“Okay, well, why?” Eddie asks. 

“Why?” She raises an eyebrow. “Because Mom and Dad have to make everything perfect, and it’s a fucking performance, and they criticize everything I do, and-”

“Yeah, okay. I get the picture.” Eddie says, body tightening in on itself.

Adriana nods, looking him over with her inebriated expression.

“So your life kinda sucks right now, huh?”

It’s not meant unkindly. Adriana has always been blunt. There’s a real sympathy there, though. She’s the first to call someone an idiot, and the first to cry on someone else’s behalf. 

“Yeah,” Eddie sighs. “It does.”

“That’s another reason,” she says emphatically. “That I don’t want to spend too much time with them right now.”

“What is?”

“They told us he was just visiting for the summer,” Adriana sighs, walking over to his couch and flopping down, spinning her backpack onto her lap. “Took them months to explain why he wasn’t leaving. That you needed help… And then, I should’ve… I was embarrassed I didn’t… I’m sorry, Eddie.”

Eddie walks over to sit beside her. “I’m okay. It’s not your problem, Adri.”

“Yeah, but… I should have… I don’t know. I didn’t know what to do,” she shrugs. 

“Neither did I,” Eddie whispers. 

“Do you ever get high?” Adriana asks him.

“No,” he shakes his head. “Do you do this a lot?”

“No,” she says. “Almost never, actually. Something about coming home from college…”

“Hmm,” Eddie replies, unsure what to say. 

“I brought gummies,” Adriana says. “You want one?”

Eddie’s immediate reaction is to say no. He can’t have drugs in his system and work. Except… He’s not working again for over a week. So…

“Yeah,” Eddie says. “Yeah, I do.”

---

51 for 🌲

---

He remembers, suddenly, that he’s dealing with someone who’s been alone in the woods for over a year. Not someone who was trying to hurt Eddie. 

“Hey,” Buck says gently. “Hey, I’d never hurt him, okay? I-I love him. I’m in love with him. I won’t hurt him or you, okay? I know you’re not monsters.”

Adriana is shaking. 

“I promise, okay?” Buck says again. “I promise.”

She takes a deep breath. 

“Okay,” she says. “Okay, I won’t… I won’t… I’ll make sure you’re safe.”

“Uh, o-okay?” Buck frowns. “What does that mean?”

Adriana takes a sudden step close to him and speaks directly into his ear. 

“Come with me. I’ll keep you safe for my brother.”

And Buck’s whole body goes sort of slack. It’s different from when Eddie’s hypnosis works on him. It’s completely different. There’s no desire. No heat. All there is is the blind directive to listen to her. She must be right, after all. She must be sensible. 

“Okay,” Buck exhales. 

“Why didn’t this work on you before?” She asks. 

“My hearing aids,” Buck says. “I took them out.”

“Go put them back on,” she says. 

“Okay,” he agrees, and goes and does just that. 

🍂

Eddie lays on his back, panting, for a solid minute or two after he makes it to shore. He’s been avoiding any and all physical activity for weeks, and he can feel it. Also? Swimming with a fox tail? Awkward as hell, as it turns out. His whole body feels off. 

And there was the fact that he was panicking the whole swim. Plus, still panicking now. He’s not Jello. He’s just panic.

If Buck dies and it’s Eddie’s fault, Eddie will never recover. It will be the end of him. 

---

51 for ⚡️

---

Work is weird.

Buck doesn’t know why, at first, that work is weird. But it’s weird. And it’s mostly weird because of Eddie.

Admittedly, Buck knew the day would be different. But different in, like, yay the whole gang is back together! What fun! Except for the people getting hurt in various emergencies thing. But no! Eddie is decidedly not having fun. 

First of all, he’s on his phone so much Buck worries Bobby is going to call it out. It’s all with Maddie. Maddie, who had the day off, and offered to take Brooke for the duration of the shift. They could send her to the childcare center, but Buck is pretty sure Eddie wouldn’t have survived the transition cold turkey. He’s like… Worried. Really worried. Even though it’s Maddie, Brooke’s aunt. It’ll be fine. Buck knows it’ll be fine. 

The thing is, it’s not abnormal for Eddie to be needlessly anxious about his kid. He has always had moments where he sort of projects his own stuff onto one of them. Historically Chris. Nice to see traditions are being carried forward with their daughter. But he’s just not sure why Eddie is so anxious about it, this time.

“Did Brooke learn to text?” Chim asks Eddie over lunch, while he’s obviously texting Maddie. 

“No,” Buck shakes his head. “That was last week. This week she’s working on composing sonnets.”

“Ah,” Chim nods. “You sure she’s not behind? At that age, Jee was onto short stories.”

Buck laughs.

Eddie looks up at them, unamused.   

“Yes, haha. Very funny, I’m worried about my four-month-old's first day with no parents.”

“You do make that sound like she’s an orphan.” Ravi says from across the table. 

Eddie glares at him.

“I’m sure she’s fine, Eddie,” Chimney says. 

“What’s Maddie saying?” Buck asks.

Eddie sighs. “That she’s sleeping and has been happy all day.”

“Well, that’s good!” Buck says. “She send any pictures?”

Eddie smiles crookedly. “Yeah. Wanna see?”

“Duh,” Buck rolls his eyes. Then spends the next few minutes distracted from worrying about Eddie by his daughter’s adorable face. 

---

51 for ⚖️

---

It’s Chris she doesn’t want hearing. Obviously.

Helena steps out onto the porch and ushers her husband out behind her. They shut the door. Ramon’s aura is a similar color to his wife’s. Funny, same as Chim and Maddie.  

“Edmundo, son,” Ramon says. “We weren’t expecting you and…”

“Buck,” Buck says loudly.

Maybe Christopher will hear that. 

“Right,” Ramon says. “Buck.”

“Can you please go get my son?” Eddie asks. “I just need five minutes. That’s… If he doesn’t want to talk more, I just need five minutes.”

“Helena,” Ramon says to his wife. “There is no harm telling Christopher. He can say no if he wants.”

“I need to speak with him,” Eddie repeats. 

Helena throws up her hands in defeat. “Fine. But you do stuff like this, and you wonder why he doesn’t want to come home. Really, Eddie, when will you learn?”

Eddie flinches. Buck clenches his fists. He sees Helena’s aura flicker darker. Like he can see the instincts that lead to her being a worse and worse person grab at her. Take control. Buck wants to give her whatever it is she deserves. Dispense the real justice in this situation. He keeps his mouth shut. 

Helena disappears back into the house. Doesn’t even welcome Eddie or Buck inside. Which, whatever. Buck doesn’t care. He doesn’t feel slighted. But on Eddie’s behalf? He wants to fume. This was Eddie’s home once, too. 

“How have you been, son?” Ramon asks awkwardly. 

“I’ve been better,” Eddie replies flatly. 

Ramon nods shallowly. “Yes, I… I can see how this would have been a tough summer.”

“Summer ended two months ago,” Eddie replies. “But yeah.” 

Buck is proud of him. Good. Talk back. Fuck their comfort. 

---

And then the other two are complete! Thank you!

[legendary-69420]

Chapter 0 : A New Normal

(Racing Hearts : VOLUME 3) EVERYONE SHUT UP IT'S FINALLY HAPPENING!!!

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Charles sat at the café, the steady hum of quiet conversations around him doing little to settle his nerves. His fingers traced the rim of his cup, mind wandering to the events of the previous night. The message from Mark, asking to talk, echoed in his mind. “Hey! About what happened… Can we talk soon? Just us?” It had left him tangled in questions, wondering what Mark meant by it—was this about setting boundaries? Or perhaps something more?

A soft chime at the door pulled Charles from his thoughts. Mark walked in, his familiar presence immediately settling the buzzing anticipation in Charles’s chest. He spotted Charles with a small smile, making his way over. Mark’s casual sweater and jeans were a contrast to the racing suits and helmets they were usually known for, yet Charles felt no less captivated. He slid into the chair across from him.

“Hey,” Mark said, his voice steady, but Charles could see the nervous energy in his eyes.

“Hey,” Charles replied, managing a small smile though there was an edge of tension in the air between them. They shared some awkward pleasantries, neither quite knowing how to begin. Finally, Mark broke the silence.

“So, about… about yesterday,” Mark started, his voice unsure.

Charles nodded, his gaze never leaving Mark. “Yeah. I wasn’t sure how to bring it up either, but I’m glad we’re talking.”

Mark let out a quiet laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, me too. I just… didn’t want things to be weird, you know? We’re teammates first, and a… kiss shouldn’t mess that up.”

The words lingered in the air, and Charles felt a pang in his chest. The kiss had felt like more than just a fluke, more than just a momentary lapse in judgment. But he couldn’t say that—not yet, anyway.

“Yeah,” Charles agreed, his voice steady but tight. “It was unexpected. But we were both just caught up in the moment, right?” He forced a chuckle, hoping it would sound lighthearted, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “Nothing to worry about.”

Mark seemed to study him for a second, his eyes searching Charles’s face as if he could read something unspoken there. He leaned back, seemingly relieved, but Charles could see the hesitation in his smile.

“Exactly,” Mark agreed quickly. “It was just an accident. A funny story for later, right?”

Charles let out a soft laugh, though it felt more forced than before. “Yeah, just one of those things.”

They both fell silent, neither entirely convinced by the words they’d just exchanged. Then, unexpectedly, Mark’s gaze softened, and his voice dropped, barely above a whisper.

“Honestly, though… it wasn’t a bad thing. I didn’t expect it to… feel like that.”

Charles’s breath caught in his throat at the admission. Mark’s vulnerability was rare, and it hit him harder than he’d anticipated. He looked down, trying to steady himself, but before he could gather his thoughts, Mark cleared his throat.

“Not that it means anything,” Mark added hastily, “I mean, we agreed, right? Just a one-time thing.”

“Of course,” Charles replied, his voice sounding rougher than he’d meant it to. “Just an accident.”

But before either of them could say more, Mark closed the gap between them, his lips finding Charles’s in a tentative, slow kiss. This time, there was no rush, no panic. It was soft, but the depth of it hit harder than the first. It wasn’t a mistake. It was something more—something that neither of them could explain away.

When they finally pulled apart, both of them were breathless. Charles’s cheeks were flushed, his mind racing. Mark’s lips were still slightly parted, his eyes wide with surprise, but there was a soft acknowledgment in his gaze.

“So…” Mark started, his voice trailing off as the kiss lingered in the air between them.

Charles didn’t know how to respond. The world felt quieter now, the café’s hum fading into a distant murmur. He didn’t want to break the moment, but neither did he know how to move past it.

Mark pulled back first, looking down at his hands, his gaze unable to meet Charles’s. The smile that had played on his lips was gone, replaced by a subtle unease. Neither of them spoke, the silence stretching uncomfortably between them.

Charles shifted in his seat, his heart still racing from the kiss. He wanted to say something—anything—but nothing felt right. So he stayed silent, his mind swirling with what had just happened and what it meant. Neither of them had said it aloud, but they both knew that what had just occurred wasn’t a one-off. It couldn’t be. The kiss, though brief, had felt too real, too undeniable to ignore.

Mark broke the silence after a long pause, his voice quieter than before. “Well… guess that was… unexpected.” He cleared his throat, the words awkward, but there was something in his eyes that told Charles he wasn’t talking about it being an accident anymore.

“Yeah,” Charles muttered, his own gaze dropping to his coffee cup. “Definitely unexpected.”

For a moment, they just sat there, both trying to act like nothing had changed, but everything had. They weren’t sure what was next, but neither of them doubted that this wouldn’t be the last time their lips met.

With a final, hesitant glance at each other, they both stood up, paying for their drinks in silence. They walked out of the café side by side, the weight of the unspoken words hanging between them, but the comfort of each other’s presence undeniable.

Neither of them said anything more on the walk back, but Charles could feel the electricity in the air—the knowledge that whatever this was, it wasn’t over. And though they hadn’t put it into words, there was an understanding that this awkwardness wouldn’t last forever.

--- (I'm so sorry I had to make some final edits and It took some minutes)

[pavedinashes-if]

WINNER SNIPPET

The Winner of this XMas' Snippet Raffle is here. Our lucky one wished the following content: MC: Mollie (aka Mols, F) RO: Felix, relationship stage, pre-breakup Setting: Xmas / Winter Setting - FLUFF vibes Thanks for allowing me to post it here. 🫶

Felix steps out of the car, his breath immediately condensing in the sharp, wintry air. The season is at its peak, the world around him covered under a blanket of snow. At least the snowfall has eased for now—though the wind still bites sharply at any exposed skin. Tugging the collar of his jacket closer to his neck, a faint shiver courses through him before he turns to the car trunk. He pops the trunk open and pulls out two bags, slinging them over his shoulders before walking toward the passenger seat. His boots crunch softly in the snow as he circles the vehicle. Felix approaches the door cautiously, opening it slowly. His gaze flickers briefly toward you inside. 

(more below the cut)

You sit still, hands resting lightly in your lap, your posture tense yet composed beneath the blindfold still secured over your eyes. His expression flickers with excitement at the sight of you, but there's also a subtle trace of insecurity, unsure whether he’s doing the right thing.

Positioning himself by the door, he rests his hand lightly on the door frame, ensuring you won’t bump into it. “May I?”

You nod silently, lifting a hand toward the direction of his voice. His fingers close around yours softly, still warm despite the chill in the air. Felix keeps his grip careful, afraid to press too firmly, but even more reluctant to let go. Slowly, he guides you from the seat, his gaze flickering anxiously over your every movement. His free hand hovers near your head, in case you waver. Each subtle shift makes his mind race: Are you cold? Comfortable? Uneven on the icy surface? "One sec," Felix says softly as he closes the door behind you.

When he stops in front of you again, he glances down at his hands, turning them slightly before exhaling softly to warm them. He carefully lifts his fingers, hesitating just at the edge of your blindfold. Slowly, he slips his fingers beneath the fabric, removing it gently. When the blindfold comes away, his lips curve into a smile almost instantly. The moment your eyes meet his, something in him jolts. It happens every time—a pull so deep it leaves his chest tight. His gaze softens as he watches your eyes blink, adjusting to the pale brightness of the winter landscape.

The moment your eyes adjust to your surroundings, your expression turns puzzled. “Where are we?” you ask, your tone unsure but curious. He glances toward the hut in the distance, then back at you. As he tucks the blindfold into his jacket pocket his fingers brush something cool and smooth—the small surprise he has hidden there. The feel of it steadies him, though the gesture is unconscious.

“I just thought…” He hesitates, his words faltering, the sentence dangling unfinished. “With how fucked up things have been at home lately, I…” His voice trails off, his gaze dipping for a brief moment before meeting yours again.

“That you’ve brought me to a murder house in the middle of nowhere to solve my problems?” you continue with a raised brow.

Felix freezes, the words hitting him like a blow. His face falls completely, panic flickering in his eyes. “W-what? I…” he stammers, his gaze darting from the hut to you, his stomach suddenly heavy with dread. “No, I… I’m sorry. Was it a stupid idea? It was a stupid idea. How could I… We can just—”

“No, no, it was just a joke,” you interrupt him, your tone a bit more light this time, more reassuring.

Relief washes over him, though his expression remains skeptical. He searches your face, still unsure if you are truly okay, but then you smile—that smile, the one he knew so well and had come to adore. It’s enough to melt his doubts. He exhales shakily, then extends a hand toward you. “Shall we?” he asks softly.

You nod, slipping your hand into his. The two of you walk together toward the hut, snow crunching underfoot as it clings stubbornly to the soles of your shoes. The wooden steps creak faintly, the sound muted at first by the snow before becoming clearer. Felix reaches into his pocket, his fingers quickly finding the key. He unlocks the door, pushing it open with a loud click.

Stepping inside, he walks to the armchair near the window, setting your bags down carefully. Turning back, he catches sight of you moving through the small cabin, your eyes taking everything in. A smile spreads across Felix’ face once more as he watches you curiously inspecting the cabin, your eyes roving over every detail. There is a warmth to your presence that seems to ease every space, filling it with a subtle but undeniable life.

Just as you begin to shrug off your jacket, he moves quickly toward you. “Let me,” his voice gentle but carrying a touch of eagerness. You nod, your hands occupied with the scarf around your neck. Felix’ hands brush lightly against your shoulders as he reaches for your coat, and as you finally free your scarf, he leans in. His lips press softly to the back of your neck, the kiss brief but lingering enough for the warmth of your skin to register against his mouth.

He notices you stiffen ever so slightly, caught by the surprise, and he feels the faintest shiver ripple through you. Felix can’t help the smile that follows. He has caught you off guard in the way he always enjoys—not in jest, but with affection.

He slides the jacket off your shoulders and carries it to the coat hook by the door, hanging it carefully alongside your scarf. Then he turns back to you. “Why don’t you sit for a moment? I’ll get us a couple of mugs.” Without waiting for a reply, he moves toward the kitchen area. The cupboards are small and painted with slightly peeling white lacquer. As he opens one of them, he instantly finds two ceramic mugs with faded blue patterns.

Felix returns to you, carrying the mugs and placing them gently on the small wooden table in front of you. You are settled on the sofa opposite, sinking into its cushions. He straightens, offering a quick smile before turning back toward his bag. From the depths of it he retrieves a thermos and a small box. Unfastening the lid of the thermos, the rich, thick aroma of hot chocolate wafts into the room. He pours the steaming drink into the two mugs. A curl of steam rises from each cup as he slides your mug carefully toward you. Then, he opens the small box, its contents hidden from your view for now.

“What’s that?” you ask, your curiosity piqued.

Felix smirks, a touch of pride dancing in his expression. “I brought us something extra,” he says lightly.

You look at it with a mix of suspicion and amusement, watching as he opens the lid with a small flourish. Inside are cookies—partly golden, partly darker brown and slightly uneven in a way that hints they aren’t store-bought. “You brought cookies?” you ask, laughter slipping into your voice as you eye them.

“Not just any cookies,” he replies, his tone suddenly playful. “I baked these myself.”

“You baked them?” Your incredulity is almost comical, and you stare at him as if he’d claimed to have invented the wheel.

“Hey, don’t be unfair,” Felix protests, though he grins at your reaction. “I can learn new things, you know. There was this video on social media—foolproof.” With that, he reaches into the box confidently, plucking out one of the biscuits. He examines it briefly, then takes a bite with an exaggerated air of self-assurance. The sharp crack echoes in the room, and Felix’ face immediately twists with pain. It slices through his jaw and shoots up into his skull, leaving him frozen for a moment.

“Oh my God, are you okay?” Your voice is panicked as you quickly scoot closer to him, your hands reaching out instinctively, unsure where to touch.

With a wince, Felix only manages a low “Mmm” in response, his face still contorting in pain. A moment of tense silence follows. “Shit, I think I’ve chipped a tooth.” His voice is strained, his attempt to downplay the situation failing miserably.

You immediately lean forward, concern flashing in your eyes. “I’ll check where the nearest dentist is,” you say, already pulling out your phone to search for one.

“No, no, it’s not necessary…” He raises a hand, halting you mid-movement.

Hesitation audible in your voice. “Are you sure? Not that you...”

“Really, it’s fine...” he mutters, trying to reassure you despite the still-growing discomfort in his face. He’s planned this whole thing for so long—he doesn’t want something as silly as this to ruin the weekend. The last thing he wants is for his own clumsiness to change everything now.

You sigh, then you gently take the cookie from his hand. “Then no more cookies,” you say with a light chuckle, shaking your head.

Felix tries to recover with a feigned seriousness, though his smile still tugs at the corners of his lips. “Well, at least we won’t be unarmed if a killer shows up,” he says while his eyes flicker briefly toward you, hoping for a laugh, but unsure if the joke will land.

You, however, don’t respond with laughter. Instead, you meet his gaze with something more—a genuine, warm smile. It wasn’t one of those quick, polite gestures, but something deeper, more comforting that makes his stomach flutter and his cheeks flush.

“Oh, wait, I’ve got something else,” he says suddenly. He almost forgot and springs to his feet, making his way quickly to the coat hanging by the door.

“Should I get the first aid kit?” you ask, half teasing but still worried, the concern lingering in your voice.

Felix’ hand closes around something cool and smooth. For a moment, he freezes and his gaze softens as he considers the weight of the moment, his thoughts clouded with the effort to lighten the mood once more. He turns toward you slowly, his eyes meeting yours for the briefest of moments before he lowers himself to the floor across from you. When he looks up again, he offers his closed hand in your direction.

“What comes next?” you ask, your voice now marked with clear skepticism. There’s no masking the wariness in your tone after all the surprises, the sudden shifts that seem to find their way into your afternoon.

He slowly opens his hand while his eyes never leave yours. The small object in his hand, tucked carefully into his palm, finally becomes clear as your eyes fall upon it. It’s a glass heart, deep green and smooth, catching the light in a way that makes it almost glow. He notices your breath catching slightly at the unexpected sight, and Felix’ smile spreads wider, something warm, tender, and entirely unguarded on his lips. He can’t hide the pride that flickers there—no matter how small the gesture seems, it feels significant. Seeing your eyes so warm and tender, to him, it’s as if the room disappears, leaving only the intensity of your gaze. “I found it yesterday on the beach in Nice,” he says softly, his voice a little tighter now, as if the memory of the moment has a more personal weight than he realised. His heart races, the feeling he had just the day before when he'd discovered the shard of glass, shaped like a heart, half-buried among the stones and pebbles along the shore. He remembers how he carefully picked it up, hardly believing his luck to find something so unique. The memory brings a rush of warmth. He exhales softly, still holding the glass heart carefully between his fingers, and glances back at you, his smile steady but just the slightest bit nervous now.

“It’s beautiful,” you say as you pick it up from his palm to take a closer look, your voice soft as you gaze at the delicate glass heart.

“You’re beautiful.” The words slip out without thinking, his voice barely more than a whisper. “I love you, Mols,” he adds.

[gekkosgirl]

fantasy | gekko.

summary: gekko, after reading a particular book of yours, makes your fantasies come to life

pairing: gekko (mateo) x fem!reader

cw: dom!gekko, sub!reader, dumbification, slapping, hickeys, choking, lots of things i may have missed. read at your own discretion, (also neon makes fun of them, as she definitely would)

notes: i have so much gekko brainrot its not funny, anyways i listened to closer by nine inch nails while writing. ALSO REQUESTS ARE OPEN!

word count: 3.6k

You were so focused on your paperwork for recounting the last mission that you barely noticed Gekko sneak into your room. Seated on the chair at your desk you typed, keys making slight clicks, full attention on finishing the task at hand. Gekko, who was oh so quiet, took his place on your bed, silently picking up one of your strewn books, not knowing its contents.

Only from the shuffling of your covers did you realize he was there, and you smiled without looking away from your paperwork. "Hey, baby." You said, still typing away.

He hummed softly, and you figured he was trying to take a nap. Much to your dismay, he had flipped to a particular page of your book by 'accident', a smirk forming on his face.

Every now and then, you could feel his eyes watching you. Typing up the final report, you forwarded it off to Brimstone, pushing away from your desk with a sigh. Finally, peace.

"Ay, chica?" Gekko's voice asked and you hummed in question, not looking behind you, just basking in the relief that you were done. "Wanna explain to me what a certain Derek and Lyra are doing in this book?"

The tips of your ears immediately tinged pink, your entire body whipping around in the swivel chair as your eyes fell upon the book in his hands. He was laid back casually, head leaning against your pillows, one leg down and the other propped up. A dumb grin was plastered on his face and you couldn't seem to form words.

"Gonna answer me or should I get back to reading?" Gekko asked slyly, you could practically hear the teasing lilt in his voice. Your face flushed deeper as you scrambled for the right words.

“Mateo,” you started, voice higher than usual as you shot up from your chair. “That’s... that’s private!”

He chuckled, fiddling with the pages of the book as you approached, his eyes glinting mischievously. “Private, huh? Didn’t know you were into reading stuff like this, chica. Kinda spicy.”

You groaned, covering your face with your hands. “I’m going to kill you.”

“Oh, come on, it’s cute,” he said, sitting up now but still keeping the book just out of your grasp. “Derek and Lyra, huh? Guessing Derek’s the broody hero type and Lyra’s... a little like you?”

You froze for a moment, his words catching you off guard. The truth was, he wasn’t entirely wrong, but admitting it would only add fuel to his fire. Instead, you huffed, crossing your arms, not responding.

Gekko tilted his head, studying you with that familiar playful grin. “I mean, come on, I know you better than that,” he teased, leaning back on your bed, tossing the book up in the air before catching it again. “You and your little stories, always with the tension and the, what d'ya call it, smut? Kinda obvious if you ask me.”

Your face went beet red, reaching out to grab the book from his hands. He snapped it closed before holding it over his head, "You're gonna haf'ta get on the bed if you wanna get it."

Taking it as a challenge, you leaned forward, one knee on the edge of the bed, reaching out for the book. With a cheeky grin, he tossed the book to the bottom of the bed, grabbing your hips with both hands now free, pulling you between his legs. Your heart was hammering in your chest, but you couldn’t bring yourself to pull away. Instead, you found yourself frozen in place, unsure whether to laugh or be mortified.

“Mateo!” you exclaimed, voice coming out softer than you intended as your hands instinctively landed on his shoulders for balance.

"Yeah..." He trailed, a mischievous glint in his eyes, "Say my name again." Your mind instantly flew back to the book he was just reading, knowing exactly which scene he had been reading based off that quote he'd just stolen.

Your face went crimson at the realization, and you immediately tried to pull back, scrambling to put some space between you. You attempted to shove him off, but he wrapped his leg around yours, digging his nails into your hips, making it impossible to move.

“What's the matter, chica?” Gekko teased, his grin widening as he leaned in just a little closer, his voice low and deliberate. "Getting shy now? I thought you were all about that stuff." His mocking tone made your stomach flip, and despite yourself, you could feel the heat in your cheeks deepen.

"How many of my books have you read?" You breathed out, his hinting making you suspicious.

"While you were asleep or away on missions?" He asked smoothly, the edge of his voice dripping with mischief. He lifted his hands, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers lightly grazing your skin, making it harder to ignore the sudden thrum in your chest.

"You're sick." You accused, not realizing the words could fall back right on you.

"You bought them." He replied, "Why don't we reenact, hmm?"

You immediately froze at his suggestion, heart racing as his words hit you harder than you expected. You could feel the heat crawling up your neck, your mind instantly flashing to the scenes you had read in those books, the ones you’d tried so hard to keep hidden. But now, here he was, throwing your own words back at you with that playful, infuriating grin.

At the lack of response, Gekko only leaned in closer, the smirk never leaving his face. "I mean, you read it for a reason, didn’t you?" His voice was low and teasing, and it sent an undeniable shiver down your spine. "A little fantasy… who’s to say it wouldn’t be better in real life?"

You stuttered, no words coming out, sentences a foreign concept to your embarrassment-fogged brain. Gekko's eyes flitted down to your lips, "We can start slow, mi amor..." His hand raising to brush a fallen strand behind your ear, "Work our way up to the filthy things you read."

Your breath hitched in your throat. It wasn't like you guys never had sex before, in fact, it'd almost become a tradition after missions.

"What do you mean?" You found yourself asking before you could stop it, caving into his suggestion.

Gekko smiled, hand falling back to your hip, rubbing softly against your skin. "Well," He began, feigning a pensive look, "We can start with a kiss, work our way to taking our clothes off, maybe I'll eat you eat, and then, hmm," Your eyes widened at the dirty words that came from his mouth, he'd never talked to you like this before, "I can fuck the life out of you."

"Mateo..." You breathed out, not knowing what to say as he said the words so casually.

His head tilted to the side, pretend confusion etching his brows. "What?" He asked innocently, an undeniable lull to his voice that made your head spin. "I’m just giving you exactly what you want, what you’ve read. You know, it’s funny—when you read about it, it’s all fantasy. But now that it’s here, in front of you? Suddenly you’re not so sure."

"Stop messing with me," you muttered, trying to regain some semblance of control, but the words felt hollow. You couldn’t focus. Not with him so close, his presence so overwhelming, his teasing words wrapping around you like a chain.

He smirked, a knowing glint in his eyes. "Why would I stop? You like it." His voice was smooth, dripping with confidence, and it made you want to argue, to push him away, but at the same time, there was something about it that made you hesitate. "You know you want it..." His eyes flickered to your lips once again, contemplating smashing his against yours so suddenly. "So," He began, "What do you say?"

You held your breath, debating whether or not to continue the banter, but your debate was cut short. Gekko had made his decision.

His lips crashed against yours, his hands pulling your hips forward, bodies finally flushed against one another. You let out a content moan against his mouth, feeling his lips curl into a devious grin.

He pulled back, your lips already turning red, "Why don't we flip over, hmm?" Without an answer, he playfully rolled his eyes, hands tightening on your hips before you whipped the two of you around with his strong arms.

Your back hit the mattress hard, almost getting whiplash from the movement. You let out a soft yelp, soon muffled by his lips one more crashing against yours. He wasn't much of a talker during sex outside of the occasional pet names, so this was a full 180 from your normal encounters. It was almost as if he'd been studying.

Your lips moved in perfect sync with each other, hands in tandem as yours fell around the back of his neck.

He pushed your hips harder in the mattress, all his weight focused on pushing you down. Breaking away from the kiss, his head fell forward, hissing as he grinded downwards onto you ever so slowly. Your hands pulled at the short green strands of his hair, trying desperately to get his lips on yours once more.

He stopped the movement of his hips, one hand detaching from them to reach up, digging a ball of your hair down into the pillow, casting your head back. "Patience." He almost growled, and you sank into his touch. You'd never seen this side of him, something akin to primal.

His movements were still so slow, leaning downwards to attach his lips to your neck. Oh, you were going to get in trouble. Deep purple marks began encasing your skin, and you knew no amount of makeup would dare cover it. But you couldn't bring yourself to complain.

Again, his hips found themselves digging into yours, a guttural moan leaving your lips. You could feel him through his pants, almost bursting at the seams.

You couldn't move your hips as his one hand dug into the skin, leaving yourself at his complete and utter disposal. His grinding grew slightly faster as he pulled away from your neck, sitting up and letting go of your hips and hair.

You sat up too, conflicted as the loss of friction. You lips were now swollen, neck bruised and battered.

"Lay back down." He commanded, puling his shirt off his head, revealing his toned chest and abs.

You laid back, watching as the scenes you'd read over and over were brought to life. He reached forward, tugging at the waistband of your sweats, them coming off easily.

You were left in nothing but your underwear and sweatshirt, that you now fortunately realized you weren't wearing anything under.

He climbed back onto the bed in nothing but his boxers, his arms reaching under your thighs to encase them around his head as he kissed gently atop the fabric covering your clit. You moaned softly, grinding upwards into his mouth, his hot breath adding a tingling sensation.

His nails dug into your plush thighs, warning you not to do that again, but you simply couldn't help it. You grinded up once more, the wetness between your legs growing by the second. His nails dug in even harder, leaving crescent shaped markings in your skin. He licked your panties, leaving you whimpering.

"Mateo, please." You begged, not even quite understanding what you were asking for.

He pulled back, leaving you squirming. "Tell me, corazón," He purred, "What is it you want?"

"Hnng—" You swiveled your hips upward, never being talked to like this before, you weren't sure how exactly to answer.

"Use your words." He said smugly, placing his lips back over your clothed clit. Using his skilled tongue, he looped it under the hemline, moving it to side, licking a long strip up your slit.

"Please..." You said again, a hand falling down to push down on his head.

Gekko cleared his throat, looking up at you warningly. The shift in his demeanor was subtle but undeniable, his teasing grin replaced by something sharper, more intense. Gekko tilted his head slightly, his eyes meeting yours with a look that made your breath hitch.

You let go of his hair, letting your hand fall above your head, shifting under his gaze.

As if getting back to business, Gekko leaned his head back down, sucking hungrily on your clit. Flames burst in your stomach, the sensation so sudden it caught you off guard. "Mateo, baby..."

He hummed against your heat, sending tingles up throughout your body. You hand fisted the pillow behind your head, this time unable to squirm against his newly hardened grasp on your thighs.

You held your lip tightly between your teeth, trying to not let a moan slip out. His tongue pushed within you, and all thoughts vanished from your mind. You let go of you lip, letting out a loud gasp.

"There we go." He murmured against your core before getting back to work, licking faster against you. "Let me hear you."

He brought his thumb from your thighs to circle your clit, the combined feeling driving your mind haywire leaving your body jolting as you struggled to control your breathing. You shuddered as his took in a breath before getting back at it, the cool feeling leaving your hips grinding upwards.

Your stomach began to tighten as he worked, signaling you were getting closer and closer to the edge. He noticed your abs flex, smirking against your core as he pulled back. "Mateo!" You whined, irritated he denied you.

He unclasped his arms from your thighs, moving completely off the bed, standing and looking at you expectantly. "Go on, you know what to do."

Remembering the scene he'd been playing out thus far, your eyes glinted. Finally, you weren't so intimidated, because at least this part you were used too.

You scoot to the edge of the bed, pulling his boxers down with practiced ease. His cock sprang free, and you could never, even after a year of your relationship, get used to his size.

He fully stepped out from his boxers, leaving them tossed on the floor haphazardly. His hand wrapped around the back of your head, entwined with your hair in a ball. He pulled you forward, your lips colliding with his dick, knees hitting the floor.

He groaned as you licked up the bottom, not breaking eye contact with the beautiful man before you. You took in the tip, sucking gently as you always did. But he wasn't satisfied, not this time.

Putting both hands behind your hand, he pulls your neck forward roughly, his dick hitting the back of your throat.

You almost choked, putting your hands on his hips, trying to push him away. He growled, refusing to let you pull away. "C'mon chica, be a good girl."

His praise was unexpected, and you almost couldn't believe your ears. You moaned around his cock, him throwing his head back at the sensation before thrusting into your throat repeatedly.

A slew of moans and groans left his throat, you'd never heard him be this vocal. "So close..." He trailed, and you tried pulling off, trying to give him the same treatment he did to you. "Not a chance, hermosa."

With a few final thrusts, fucking your mouth almost violently, he came down your throat. He finally let you pull off, coughing as spit drooled down your chin.

He didn't even give you time to catch his breath before his hand smacked against your cheek, him heaving. Your hand flew up to cradle your face, and you looked up at him shocked.

His hardened expression turned to concern, before he noticed that your eyes were dark with lust. "Fuck me." You said lowly.

"Beg for it." He replied without missing a beat, pushing you back harshly onto the bed, legs spread open just for him.

You looked ip at him, gulping. Again, you'd never seen him so, dominant.

Gekko laughed, almost menacingly after your refusal to answer, "What'd I say, chica?" Your breath was knocked from your chest as his hand flew to your neck, squeezing tightly. "Do I need to remind you?"

"M-Mateo, please." You whined, "I need you, I need you to touch me, be inside me, anything! I'll take anything and everything you give me, just please. Please..."

"Say the words, princessa." Gekko grinned, "Get filthy."

"Fill me up—" You looked at him, squirming at the edge of the bed, aching for him inside you. You could tell he felt the same, as his cock twitched before your core. "With your cum."

He quirked a brow, challenging you to continue.

"Breed me." You finally said, all dignity out of the window but this point.

"Attagirl." He said, leaning down to kiss you, one hand still around your throat as the other grabbed his own cock, rubbing it against your slick, pulsing folds.

You threw your head back, already feeling full as he edged himself halfway in. Your mouth then fell open as he rammed fully into you, stretching you out deliciously.

He wasn't gentle. Not this time.

"Such a pretty girl," He huffed as he thrusted into you to no end, "Hugging my cock so well— ugh." Gekko groaned as your pussy tightened around him, your abs flexing once more.

He smiled, sweat falling from his forehead onto your chest. Your eyes rolled back as he leaned forward, all the while pounding hard, as his tongue trailed its way around your breasts.

"You belong to me." Gekko declared, grabbing your legs and forcing them over his shoulders. His hands found themselves wrapped on the front of your thighs, pulling your body into his as he fucked you.

Lewd sounds left your mouth, harmonizing with the grunts falling from Gekko's. "Mateo, Mateo, Mateo..." You chanted, words blurring together from your cock drunkenness, the only thing you could fully understand was the man railing you.

"Yes, hermosa?" He huffed out, somehow getting even faster.

"Gonna... gonna..." You couldn't think straight as his hips smacked roughly against yours.

"Go on, tell me how you feel." Gekko demanded, his word slightly breathless as he angled his hips, hitting your g-spot repeatedly, intensifying the pleasure he'd been giving you.

"Gonna cum." You forced the words past your lips as your eyes screwed shut.

"Good girl..." He trailed, huffing and puffing as he came close to his own close. "Such— a— good— girl—" Each word was punctuated by a thrust, your abs flexing tightly, squeezing your walls against him.

Electrified burning flames erupted in your stomach, eyes rolling so far back into your head as your squirted over his cock and lower stomach. It began dripping down, following the lines of his abs.

With a final grunt, he felt himself shooting ropes of white liquid within you, slowly fucking into you as he finished. A few more strokes and he collapsed atop you, a sheen of sweat covering his whole body. His hand reached up to cup your face, thumb stroking your face. "How do you feel, mi amor?"

Your body shuddered, "S'good." You panted, "So, so, good."

Gekko pushed himself off of you, you whining as you missed the heat from his body. "Don't worry. Just running a bath and getting you some water."

You hummed as you felt fabric drag along your nether regions, cleaning you up. Your body twitched slightly as a blanket was tucked over you, eyes opening slightly to see your beautiful boyfriend cleaning up himself.

"I love you, Teo." You murmured.

"I love you too, hermosa." Gekko paused, looking at you sweetly. Your boy was back. "Was that okay?"

"More than."

✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩

You walked into the cafeteria, Gekko's arm falling over your shoulder.

"AHAHA!" Your eyes snapped over to see Neon, doubled over in laughter. She tried stifling it with a hand over her mouth, but it couldn't cover the loud laughter.

Your brows furrowed as you glanced between Neon and Gekko, who was clearly amused by the situation. "What’s so funny?" you asked, though you had a sinking feeling you weren’t going to like the answer.

Neon straightened up slightly, still chuckling as she pointed toward the two of you. "You! And him!” She barely got the words out before dissolving into another fit of laughter, tears forming in the corners of her eyes.

“What about us?” you asked, your voice laced with suspicion, glancing up at Gekko, who just shrugged, feigning ignorance but couldn't hide the smirk.

Neon clutched her sides, barely able to contain herself. "You two didn’t even try to hide it!" she gasped between bursts of laughter, her finger pointing directly at your neck.

Your hand flew up instinctively, brushing over your skin, and you froze when you realized what she was referring to. You'd totally forgotten. Heat flooded your face as your eyes darted to Gekko, who was sporting the smuggest grin imaginable. "Mateo..." you hissed, your voice low and threatening.

He had the audacity to look innocent, though his mischievous eyes betrayed him. "What? Don’t look at me like that, chica. You didn’t say I had to be careful."

Neon practically fell over, laughing even harder. "Careful?! Oh my god, Gekko, you left a trail! It’s like you wanted everyone to know!"

You glared at him, your face burning hotter by the second. "I am going to kill you," you muttered through gritted teeth, smacking his arm.

Gekko just chuckled, raising his hands in mock surrender. "Hey, it’s not my fault you’re irresistible," he said smoothly, leaning in slightly.

Neon finally managed to catch her breath, wiping a tear from her eye. "Oh, this is so going in the group chat. Everyone’s gonna lose it!"

"Neon, don’t you dare!" you exclaimed, reaching for her phone as she cackled and took off sprinting. You huffed as you knew there was no chance you'd catch her, and now the fear of facing Brimstone kicked in.

[oflietoprotect]

Jay came for Mouse or so he convinced himself of. He also didn’t step foot into this bar the place that haunted his nightmares as means of starting up another fight a repetitive fight might he had. His stance hadn’t changed, he just felt guilty for how awful he treated Gia on her own merit she did only want to protect him, and he knew he sounded ungrateful now. With his angry he was; but it was only because of his deeply he cared for her. And even now listening, he felt his stomach drop. He felt angry with her because Gia knew how dangerous her move going into the line of fire for him. And didn’t regret it and Jay was processing the words, the actions spoken. And he was nearly speechless, unsure on what to do or say here. 

A sigh clear exhaling through his lips. “ I know the right thing to say is thank you, and I’m not trying to be unappreciative for your actions. But I hate that you were impulsive that night. I hate that you put yourself in danger for me Gia. And I’ve tried to forgive it, and I want to. And I hear you when you say you never act that way. And maybe I’m supposed to sit here and be touched. But I’m not. I’m the cop, I was supposed to protect you that night Gia.” Pride, protective nature give or take. And Jay subconsciously had forgiven her; he didn’t want to hand grudges, she made a choice one Jay had to accept. And being in this bar; each ding of the door, it made him squirm in his seat, his free hand out of instinct moved to his backpocket where his off duty gun laid as a means of precaution. He was worried, afraid that night for Gia. A feeling that never shook him. And his blood boiled at the thought of anything happening to her. And he turned his gaze down upon the brunette now. “ I know you don’t understand why I’m so mad still, it’s because of how much I care about you Gia, and I shouldn’t but I do.” Pausing as he debated how much to reveal to her now. “ It’s a hard job, I love protecting people, I love the feeling of nailing a guy for the crimes, the rush, the adrenaline that courses through me when I wrap through cuffs around the wrist, even the chase downs, it’s a feeling of knowing what I’m good at.” A fresh of air huffed through his lips. 

“ But I hate putting people I care about in danger. I hate pushing people I like away to protect them, and being angry with you is me doing it, and I don’t want the pity, but I can see how affected you are from that night, each time the bell chimes you tense up. And I’m here if you need someone..” To talk to lean on, Jay understood as his fingers with ease curled around her fingers as a sense of comfort for her.

Continued

@singswhendrunk

Let your guard down; for one night Jay wanted to escape the long cases he’s been working. The workload was heavy. He’d been in day and night attached to his desk working on each lead, working on signing off on each document we needed to more ahead. But tonight I was told to go home; to rest. And instead of being safely in my bed; I was here at the bar across town. Not because I needed a drink or perhaps two to get the edge off. But because I wanted to see Gia. I wanted to see her smile; hear her sense of humor. We helped each other, but it did develop into more. 

I had feelings and I made my shot; all jokes aside, I had found the balls to make my move; even going as far to stand up on a stage and sing with her. I was terrified but not as terrified when I heard those familiar shots; bullets flying. I wasn’t wearing a vest, I wasn’t wearing protective gear because why should I? I was off the clock, I assumed our case was closed. But Gia she got stuck in the crossfire because of me. Jay felt the guilt rolling off him; he knew she was hurt; the rapid way her breathing was coming, the lost of blood now pooling on the stage floor. 

I was scared for her. I felt at fault; if only I had gone home perhaps the suspect wouldn’t of tracked me down to the bar. Gia was fighting for her life because of me. I didn’t have time to think over the what ifs, or the guilt that was reeling off of me. My main concern was her; I had my hand pressed to her wound. Until the second Brett and Violet had arrived, the gurney in play; as they helped me lift her onto the gurney. Shaking palms bloody; not mine. I barely felt like I was able to walk on my own. Her calling my name before she went unconscious; that’s why I forced myself to be okay. In shock wobbly legs walked from the stage to the entrance doors.. Once a happy place full of music and now I felt like the laughs were wasted. I just wanted to make sure Gia fought this fight and woke up. But given her lack of blood; I had the gut wrecking feeling in the pit of my stomach. 

Upon reaching the ambulance; I knew Voight would have questions; ones I was prepared to answer at a later time. Hands shaking as I lowered myself down onto the spot besides the gurney where Brett had put an oxygen mask over her face to help with the shallowed breathing, she also was attempting to stop the bleeding, she had injected her to palm the brunette down a bit. Swallowing the lump that formed in my throat; the male had leaned closer, pressing a hand to her pale hand; thumb tugged under to fingers.  “ I’ll be here when you wake up okay.” A promise to myself and her. I just hoped Violet picked it up. 

Sirens rang through the streets; no one could blame Violet was rushing; eyes were glued to the stats on the machine; it wasn’t great, but her pulse was still running strong. A sign of relief as I heard Violet call back. “ Prepare to be ready, doctors are outside ready for us.” Ready for us; prepared; I hoped Will was on board; as the doors opened I had noticed Maggie, and the other members of the ED as they started to roll her inside. I stepped outside feeling the brush of the breeze hit my back; I stood there; releasing my hand from hers; she was rushed inside. 

What if I had spoken sooner? Or was it just the wrong place at the wrong time..

[shireduchess]

;; ☁️

[jackdawsfavorite]

I just fucked up a road paving project because I thought the workers yelling at me not to were unrelated people fucking with me and I can’t even explain myself because that sounds insane.

[tonycries]

Cause, I Love Freaks!

Synopsis. The question isn’t whether he can make you squírt - it’s how and where.

Pairings. [SEPARATE] Gojo x Reader, Sukuna x Reader, Choso x Reader, Geto x Reader, Nanami x Reader, Toji x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, established relationship, squírting, unprotected, creampíe, exhíbitionism (Sukuna’s and Choso’s), bréeding, Shiu cameo, messy, oral (fem receiving), fíngering, Sukuna’s thigh tattoos, thigh ríding chokíng, overstím, finger suckíng, pet names, swearing.

Word count. 5.1k

A/N. I think I’m in some early ovulation week because…

♡ TOJI FUSHIGURO - Prove it.

Now, does Toji know he’s the best you’ve ever had in bed? Of course.

Is he proud of how he’s done everything and anything - had you folded in half underneath him, stuffed from all ends, and cumming harder than any other loser before him did? Hell yeah. 

Does it bother him when Shiu makes some off-hand comment about how he’s able to make someone squirt? Well, it was hard not to when the man just laughs right in Toji’s dumbfounded face, saying something about how your pretty pussy is “missing out” and to come to Shiu if you want to have a good time.

Surely, that stupid conversation doesn’t bother him, right? Right?

Wrong. 

He was going to prove that bastard Shiu wrong. 

“Damn. Not that one either.”

If you could, you’d probably let out a sob - but right now, you’re too cockdrunk to even think let alone cry. Unsure if you’re even breathing as Toji wrestles your limp body - still twitching and sensitive from your nth high - upright on his lap. Whispering a ragged, “Guess we just hafta try again. Right, doll?”

“Please!” you let out a strangled yelp as Toji’s big hands snake down to steady your hips, all stuttering and messily sucking up his aching cock. Again. “I-I don’t think I can- ah-”

Whatever plea on the tip of your tongue is shut up by Toji pulling your teary face towards his, kissing your swollen lips so softly. Reverent, even. 

The complete opposite of his hips down below, not even bothering to move anymore, hands on your ass just dragging your sloppy pussy up and down his swollen dick. Up and down up and down up and-

“Toji–”

“Aww, c’mon, pretty.” Toji groans, eyes rolling to the back of his head as he spreads your puffy folds further, bullying his cock so impossibly deep. “G-gotta prove it to that f-fucker that I’m the best, right?”

Ah, there it was - if you were in any better state of mind you’d have cursed out Shiu already. Taunting your boyfriend into this stupid little challenge that had him storming into your apartment and ripping off your poor panties. And you split apart on his cock and cumming over and over again like he wouldn’t - couldn’t - stop until you squirted. Like it killed him to make you miss out on this little thing. 

“Now now, doll.” you jolt as he gives your sopping pussy a little smack! Grinning at your nails digging into his thick shoulders, “Focus. Hah- we gotta have her squirtin’ all over me now, right?”

You really can’t help the way you’re giving him a delirious little nod. Hips bouncing back pathetically in an attempt to meet the way Toji was bouncing you so sinfully on his cock like his favorite toy. And it’s so cute that Toji’s murmuring a low, “Use your words, doll.”

“I- ngh-”

Not like he was giving you a chance to, rolling your ravaged clit between his fingers, teeth ghosting over your racing pulse. “Louder.”

“Gonna- gonna squirt for you, Toji…”

If he was any lesser man (Shiu) Toji thinks he might’ve just cum in your snug pussy right then and there. Filled you up till you’re bloated and forgetting any promise of squirting - but no, that’s for later. 

Right now, he’s flattening his feet on the mattress, falling onto his back - two big arms pulling your overstimulated body to rest against his muscles. Not even wasting a second before fucking up into your tight cunt like such an animal.

Sloppy - so, so desperate. 

Just rough, jagged movements of his hips because shit if Toji doesn’t make you squirt this time then he’s gonna lose his sanity. Might’ve already lost it, actually, with each adorable ah! ah! ah! falling from your kiss-bitten lips each time he hits that one spot so easily. 

“Bit- bit more-” he grits out, feeling that familiar way your plushy walls were trying to squeeze him dry. Your cunt too heavenly. The stimulation too much. “Jus’ a bit more, pretty.”

“Oh my god- Toji- ah- Toji Toji Toji-” It’s all you can do to whine, writhing as he holds your hips still, rocking harder into you. Clawing at the soaked sheets, his shoulders, his hair - anything to try and hold onto whatever semblance of control you had left. “M’so- close-”

“Yeah?” And Toji sounds so utterly wrecked already, looking up at you with glassy, half-lidded eyes. Voice strained, awe-struck like he couldn’t even believe it. His pretty girl - cumming for him again. “Squirt f’me, doll.”

You don’t even realize it when you are at first - just that something snaps and suddenly you’re soaking Toji’s cock in all your sweet sweet juices. Until it was dripping down the side, onto the mattress. 

So messy and sinful - gummy walls squeezing his dick so fucking tight it almost hurt, covering his abs till they were glistening. Toji can’t bring himself to do anything but watch, for once in his life actually grateful that Shiu goaded him into doing something. Jaw-dropped at the way you’re gushing all around him - like you couldn’t stop. Again and again and-

“S-see? Fuck- What- oh shit, doll. All f’me? Good girl.” Eyeing that phone propped up by the bedside, Shiu’s face watching over the obscene mess on the bed. “What did I tell ya?”

“Heh, well whatever. Can ya make her do it twice?”

♡ NANAMI KENTO - Love is blind

Now, it’s not often that Nanami Kento took off his glasses. Rarely when he cuddled, not usually when he was kissing you - his pretty lil’ wife. And never when it was your lips down below that he was making out with.

“So messy.” Nanami mutters, muffled around your puffy folds. Each word making you arch against the soft mattress. “Are you this messy just f’me? M’so lucky, my love.”

It’s all you can do to yelp as Nanami slides his tongue warningly between your folds, flicking at your swollen clit just enough to have you gripping so tightly at his blond strands. Pulling Nanami’s face up from between your thighs with a strained groan.

And oh you assumed he was exaggerating, but it was so fucking difficult to look at Nanami, too. Glasses slightly foggy, cheeks flushed. Your sweet juices glossing his lips so prettily, dripping all the way down his jaw. Head tilting back ever-so-slightly to let it slide down his throat.

Making your head spin as he reaches over to press a chaste, wet peck to your lips. “Jus’ let me take care of it.”

And take care of it he does. Immediately taking his favorite place in-between your legs, stuffing his face nose-deep into your dripping cunt. Hot tongue giving one, long lick up your folds, just barely dipping between them. The slow torture was delicious. 

“Kento-.” you let out a pouty little whine, one that goes straight to Nanami’s aching cock. Ankles hooking around his broad shoulders to pull him impossibly closer, “D-don’t tease.”

He’s letting out such a dark chuckle, hot against your sloppy hole. Awe-struck at the way you’re glistening and clenching around nothing - so much so that Nanami almost considers taking off those tinted glasses to see this heavenly view better. 

But no, instead, he’s breathing out a little, “Fine.” Interrupting your soft sigh of relief to continue, “But you better not get my hah- glasses dirty, darling.”

Nanami doesn’t wait for your response - he doesn’t have to. Already knowing that you’ll be giving him a delirious little nod in agreement. So he’s digging his neat fingernails into your hips, pulling you closer to spread your lips with his tongue. Lapping so obscenely at the slick beading at your cunt over and over and-

It wasn’t enough.

“Shit. Fuck-” you flinch - maybe from those depraved little profanities hissed into your cunt. Maybe from the cold metal of his glasses hitting your heated core. Probably from the way Nanami was bullying his soft tongue into your tight pussy.

Pushing past that feeble resistance, one hand reaching behind to arch your deeper into his mouth. The other toying with your sensitive clit. Rolling the nub between two long fingers while he dips in and out of your hole at such a ruthless pace. In and out in and out in and-

“Oh- fuck fuck fuck, Kento-” you’re grabbing at the expensive sheets so hard you worry they might tear. Thighs shaking and sliding off his shoulders. “S’too much- too deep.”

And ah, for how much Nanami pretends to be annoyed as he wraps your legs back around his head - it sends all the blood in his body rushing straight to his cock at how wrecked his cute wife was.

Moaning around your entrance, “Remember what I mm- said.” Your juices starting to drip down the corners of his mouth now. “Get it dirty and-”

“Kento! Oh my god-” You buck wildly as he starts drawing lewd little circles on your clit. Nanami’s little warnings the last thing on your mind as you feel yourself losing more and more of your sanity with each drip! drip! drip! of your slick down onto the mattress below. 

Glasses completely fogged now, he makes out with your cunt through pure, feral need. Tongue matching in time with each yelp of his name leaving your mouth. 

“F-fuck.” Nanami’s smacking his lips against your own. “You taste so good. So heavenly.” Your gummy walls sucking him up so sinfully that it was almost difficult to move faster, more erratic. “Gonna make a mess f’me now? Gonna hah-” 

And, well, you did always manage to surprise him.

Because Nanami doesn’t even get to finish his sentence, before your slutty pussy is gushing all around him. 

Everywhere. Making such a mess as he tonguefucks you through your high, letting you use and angle his mouth all you wanted. So so sloppy with the way you’re soaking him in all your juices - down his chin, his tongue, all the way up to his sharp cheekbones and even-

“My glasses.” Head so fucked-out already, you almost miss Nanami’s dangerous little mutter. Raising your eyes to meet his and oh. Shit. “You dirtied my glasses.”

As if to prove his point, Nanami them off, running a long finger down his frames. Slowly. Agonizingly. Pooling all your sweet slick on his fingertips, so tauntingly inspecting it in the dim lighting. 

In a split-second, those dripping wet glasses are resting on the bridge of your nose, forcing you to peer over them at a dangerously looming Nanami.

“Told ya not to dirty my glasses, my love.” Smiling so dangerously, “Think this naught cunt of yours should be taught a lesson for that.”

♡ GETO SUGURU - Favorite part

Geto thinks that this might be his favorite part, whispering a ragged little, “God, do you know how pretty you hah- look right now?”

You didn’t - and it’s all you can do to even try and understand what your boyfriend was even cooing from behind. Too caught up in the way your legs were so pathetically trembling with the need to bounce back on his swollen cock. 

“Hngh- f-fuck Sugu- I-”

Sure to leave such lewd little marks for Geto to ogle at tomorrow, his toned pelvis against your ass, heavy balls on your clit, fingers on your hips to steady your fucked-out self. Sloppy - bruising, even. 

So it only made sense that your high was the same - and he can only watch, eyes half-lidded, pupils blown, jaw falling slack in disbelief at the way your cunt was just gushing all around him. Fucking him over and over through your high. 

“Shit- shit shit shit.” you hear him breathe, fingers toying with your pretty clit desperately. “Jus’ like that. Good girl.”

Your sweet sweet juices soaking his painfully hard cock, dripping down, down, down his heavy balls, glistening against his thighs. Squirting so obscenely around his twitching cock and shit- he just can’t help but go over the edge as well. 

“Oh- oh god.” Geto throws his head back, giving you one, harsh thrust before he’s spilling all into your quivering cunt. Coating your walls such an obscene white, “This pussy is ngh- magic, gorgeous. Fucking love her.”

Loved how you were squeezing him so tight. 

Loved how you were so messy. 

Loved how it made him think that you could squirt all over his dick again. 

And he can’t stop - couldn’t, even if he wanted to. Hips still moving in quick, ragged jabs to your poor cervix, eyeing the way your poor, abused pussy was still drooling all around him. A lewd little mess of slick and cum, forming a pool on the sheets below. 

And Geto can’t even think to bring himself to be disgusted - why would he? After all, this was his favorite part, right? 

“You can mm- gimme another one, right?” You shiver as he flattens his feet on the damp mattress, kissing up your arched spine. Keening at the change in angle as his cock bullies impossibly deeper. Stars behind your eyes at how unfairly easily he finds that one spot. “Your slutty pussy’s gonna s-squirt all over me again?” Fat head hitting it over and over and-

“Suguru!” you squeal, and Geto raises his brows. Knowing you were absolutely fucking wrecked already - you never called him by his full name until you were fucked so dumb you couldn’t remember his nickname. “S’too- much. M’too ngh- sensitive.”

Your hands reach out to grab for the headboard - nails digging into the wood. Geto’s throbbing cock massaging your gummy walls so agonizingly that you almost miss him mutter a quiet, “Now, that won’t do.”

And before you know it, his big hands are prying yours off the bed, intertwining them so gently with his. Romantic - but you knew better, Geto just didn’t want his pretty girl to run away. 

Not when he knew you were so close - could tell by that breathy little ah! ah! ah! leaving your lips. 

“Please-”

Huffing in amusement, “Please what?”

And you don’t even know what you’re begging for - maybe for mercy? For Geto to let you fucking breathe? His cock too bruising against your cunt, drawing out incoherent whines with each drag of his tip down all the right spots. Trying so desperately to fuck that second orgasm out of you. 

“Heh, can’t even fuck- talk.” And it’s so dizzing how he’s puncturing each word with such a rough ram of his cock. So mean with the way he dips a hand lower to graze a long finger down your sensitive cunt - so messy and sensitive. Chuckling at your cute lil’ whines - at the way they’re suddenly cut short when Geto shoves his dripping wet fingers between your lips. “Ngh- well, if you don’t wanna talk…”

Close. Too close. 

You mewl at the way he was pressing right at the back of your tongue, feeling the lewd little taste of him and you and him. ���Mmmpf- what are you-” 

“At least don’t try to escape, gorgeous.” he leans in close - so close. Long inky hair tickling your spine, breath hot against your ear, lips grazing yours. You think you could just pass out right then and there as his soft tongue darts out to lick at the mess he’s smeared across your glossy lips. 

Grinning at the taste, at that look in your eyes that told him your cute cunt was about to give him another show, “Cuz this is my favorite part.”

♡ CHOSO KAMO - Hair tie

If anyone found out why Choso Kamo was never seen without that black hair tie around his wrist, they’d laugh in your face and tell you what a great joke that was. 

That inconspicuous little thing he’d take around everywhere, whether he had his hair up or not. It’s not like he exactly needed it, and most just assumed it was a fashion statement. 

Only you knew what it meant to have Choso thumbing that little red imprint in public. Hooking a finger underneath, pulling back ever-so-slightly to let it snap! against his skin. Looking you right in the eyes as he does. Something dangerous. Subtle. Something that has you pressing your thighs together. 

Something that has him pulling you to the nearest changing room in this crowded shopping mall, one hand covering your mouth, muffling your sweet sweet moans. The other, knuckle-deep in your dripping cunt.  

“Sorry, baby.” he gasps, kissing your forehead so mockingly gently. “You just looked so fuckin’ pretty in that skirt. Needed you so- hah- bad.”

The skirt that was currently bunched at your waist, crumpling at Choso pushes you harder against the cool wall. 

But Choso couldn’t give a fuck about that right now, not as he shoves a knee between your trembling legs. He couldn’t have his girl falling now, right? Long fingertips so desperately massaging your plushy walls, searching for that one-

“Mmpfh! Hngh-”

Found it.

Without another word, he’s reeling two fingers back - all the way until they were barely kissing your sloppy hole. Plunging back in, hitting that spot over and over like he was addicted to the way your cunt was trying to suck him up so good. High off of every cute lil’ whine that escapes through his palm. 

“Shit, so fuckin’ gorgeous.” Breath hot against your ear, “Look.” 

You barely even realize it before you are, gasping at the obscene sight below. Your drenched panties pulled so lazily to the side. Sloppy. 

“Can’t get enough. Shit-” Pulling back to show off your slick glistening on his fingers, dripping down, down, down to that sinful hair tie. “Fuuuck, baby. Need you to cum on my fingers. Please. Please-” Puffy folds milking Choso’s fingers so hard that you wonder whether it didn’t hurt - whether his wrist wasn’t cramping up now, fingers sore. 

And if they were, then, Choso didn’t show it. Instead, he’s bullying a third finger inside your poor cunt, the stretch too much that you can’t help but squeal. So fucking loud. 

Knock! Knock! Knock! 

“Is everything alright in there, ma’am?”

Oh if the way your heavenly cunt was clenching around him was anything to go by, then Choso wished he did this sooner. 

So entranced that he almost missed the concerned, “Ma’am?” from outside. 

“Wh-what’s the matter, baby?” he whispers lowly, biting down teasingly at your earlobe. Fingers still relentless, speeding up, even. And you could only pray the employee outside couldn’t hear the lewd squelches as he did. “Shy? Answer the hah- question.”

And shit, you could cry as he wrenches his hand away from your mouth. Grinning as you let out a broken little, “Y-yeah.” Cringing at how unconvincing you sound, “I’m jus-”

Whatever stupid excuse that was to come out of your mouth dies in your throat as Choso runs his thumb over your throbbing clit. 

“I-I’m al-right.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

And it’s as if he takes that up as a challenge to prove you’re so utterly not. 

Not when Choso’s drawing tight little circles in time with the way he’s hitting that one spot, arching you like such a slut into his touch. Ignoring the concerned remarks from outside as he speeds up his pace, not even bothering to cover your mouth this time because he wanted to hear all your pretty moans. 

So much so that you’re mentally preparing to get caught - maybe even arrested. 

But still you’re so close. 

Halfway through imagining how Choso would snap his hair tie during the trial when that voice speaks up again. “Well…please let us know if you need any help.”

Those footsteps from outside barely even heading away before he’s sighing, “She’s gone now.” he bites down on your lower lip. “Y’can hah- cum f’me, y’know? Make a mess?” Grinding down his rock-hard erection on your thigh, already so damp through his pants. “Fucking cover me in it.”

And then you are - all over Choso’s hand. Kissing him hard, to stop yourself from screaming as he quirks his fingers just right. Fucking you through your high as you drench him in all your juices, soaking his hair tie, trailing onto the floor in a lewd drip! drip! drip! 

Obscene. Exactly the way he wanted it. 

So fucking pretty with the way you’re squirting all over his hand, thighs trembling, lips wobbling. That new skirt of yours so filthy now that Choso can’t help but eye the pile of clothes right next to you. Gritting out a ragged, “We got so many more clothes to try on.”

♡ RYOMEN SUKUNA - X marks the spot

“You’re going to cum f’me just like this, okay, brat?”

Maybe it’s the way you’re sat so prettily on Sukuna’s muscular thigh, squirming ever-so-slightly as he starts bouncing his leg to the beat of the thumping music. Maybe it’s the way you can’t do anything but let out a stifled gasp, desperately trying not to attract any attention towards the two of you in the dimly-lit VIP area of this overcrowded club.

But Sukuna just can’t help but tease you. 

Can’t help but trail a finger along your thigh, goosebumps rising so deliciously at the scrape of his nail. Up, up, up to confirm his suspicious and oh- 

He was right. No panties.

“Heh, such a naughty little minx, aren’t ya?” he can’t help the surprise that bleeds into his voice, pulling your back flush against his chest. Cradling your neck into his pecs, “Acting all innocent but you’re just begging to be used like such a slut, huh?”

The clink of a belt, and suddenly you’re feeling a sliver of skin - warm. Soft, sat right above where you knew he had that sinful little tattoo. 

“B-but Kuna-” you flinch as the cold air hits you before you know it. Looking over your shoulder to catch that fucking smug smirk as Sukuna flips your flimsy skirt to rest your dripping cunt on his bare thigh. And to anyone else, it would probably just look like you’re just seated on his lap. But you gasp, “Here?”

“Why not?”

If anyone heard your broken whine, then you didn’t have the courage to raise your head and look. Hazy eyes locked with Sukuna’s as he starts rocking you on his thigh. Fingers digging into your hips, dragging your sloppy pussy. Grip tight, bruising almost - like he was trying to hold himself back from doing anything more. 

“Aww, my messy girl.” And fuck if it wasn’t difficult to not just fuck you right then and there with the way your puffy folds were spread on his thigh. Drooling all the way down to the gaudy couch below. “Who’re you this wet for?”

But Sukuna’s skin against your was so hot. Your brain too foggy. His words too mean. And you can’t help but let out some incoherent babble.

One that has him wrapping a hand around your neck, nails positioned right above your racing pulse, forcing you to blink tearily up at him. “Sorry, pretty. Can’t hear you above this fuckin’ music.” Biting down on your earlobe - just a little punishment, “What were you sayin’?”

“Ngh- f-fuck-” you moan, clit catching on the curves and dips of his muscles, rippling as he bounces you faster in time with your slutty lil’ movements. “Only for ngh- you.”

Voice such a low purr in your ear now, “Who?”

“Y-you, Kuna-”

“Yeahhhh, fuck.” he grunts, angling his head just right to better take in the fucking heavenly view. Back arching, swollen folds spread so shamefully as you hump him like some bitch in heat. Making such a mess all over his thigh tattoo in a way that makes Sukuna so fucking glad he got it. “S’exactly what I like to hear.”

And God, he didn’t even have to tell you for you to realize. Because you could feel the way his rock-hard cock jumps against his boxers - so rock-hard and pressing up against your ass in a damp patch. 

One hand tightening around your throat, the other dipping below to draw urgent, messy little circles on your clit. Over and over. 

You dare to crack an eye open and look at the room around you, hips still grinding down so pathetically on his thigh. Clenching down so hard on nothing as you wonder how someone - anyone - could see the two of you and-

“Oi, look at me, brat.” he’s tugging your head up to his again. Hands getting more erratic - like he wanted to distract you from anything but him him him. “Focus on me. On how fucking good this pretty pussy is feeling.”

As if you could do anything but.

Bucking softly into his angry erection, causing Sukuna to let out a low, drawn-out hiss. “Evil lil’ thing.” he drags his lips down your sensitive neck. Pulling your hips harder against that tattoo. “Guess it ngh- makes sense though because…” you blink up tearily at him as he trails off. Barely noticing the trembling in his fingers, both your rhythms getting so sloppy. Untimed. As rough as the look in Sukuna’s eyes as he whispers, “-because you’re mine.”

And then he spits - right into yout waiting mouth. Once. Twice. 

Loud enough that it definitely makes a few stray onlookers glance, faces immediately burning at the sight of Sukuna kissing you. Just a messy clash of lips and teeth and tears.

Tears as you cum with a strangled gasp, drunk up so greedily by Sukuna as you squirt all over his thigh. So fucking messy. Seeping into his pants, all the way down to the couch below, but especially his tattoo. That ring of ink soaked in your juices - right where Sukuna wanted.

And if you were in any better state of mind you’d have been embarrassed - shy, even.

Instead, you’re glancing down at the way his thigh was glistening in the dim light, delicate strings of slick snapping as you lean back closer. 

“Don’t you have- hah- the same tattoo on your cock, too, Kuna?”

♡ GOJO SATORU - Sweeter this way

“Such a filthy cunt on my sweet, sweet girl.” Gojo has the audacity to throw his head back and laugh - laugh - at how breathless and fucked out you were on top of him already. “C’mon, what ngh- happened to taking control?”

Ah, right - you bat your lashes lazily, blinking away the tears in your eyes to be met with that fucking smug smirk on your boyfriend’s face. So much for taking control tonight.

“Y-you’re a ngh- cheater, Toru.” you hiss, but you can’t stop your hips from grinding down so pathetically to meet with his rough pace. Jolting every time his leaking tip hit that one spot. “It was s’pposed to be hah- m-my turn to take charge.”

And oh how you had the strongest whining underneath you, two big arms looping around your waist to pull you against his toned chest. 

“But, sweetheart~” Craning his neck to graze his lips against your bruised ones - so fleeting, gentle. Exactly what his hips weren’t. “Isn’t it s-so much sweeter this way?”

You don’t know what it is about it - maybe at the dangerous little tone dripping from Gojo’s words. Maybe at the way each one was punctured by a messy, harsh thrust into your tight pussy. But it has shivers running down your spine - all the way to your bulging cunt, so stuffed and ravaged by his cock. 

Words a bit more breathless than you’d have liked as you mutter, “W-what do you oh fuck- Toru. What do you mean ‘sweet’?”

The only response you get is one hand pushing the hair out of his eyes, the other just bruising on your hips. Pulling you up, up, up on Gojo’s swollen cock like you were weightless, the arms in his biceps rippling when Gojo slams you down. Hard. 

Toned pelvis hitting your ass as he rams his cock into you. Again. And again. And again and again and-

“M’gonna show ya.” he grins, free hand roling your poor clit between two fingers. “Gonna show ya how much sweeter fuck-” Gojo’s eyes fly open as you clench so hard around him. On purpose - a warning. “Hah, feisty. But just you wait. M’gonna show ya.”

Having you feeling more and more like some curse he’s out to vanquish with the way he’s fucking you so merciless.

“Merciless?” Gojo cocks his head in a way that almost makes you forget to realize that oh, shit you said that out loud. “Mhm, sure did.” he hums, in a tone that was way too proud of himself. “N’ you h-haven’t even seen the ngh- best of it.”

You were getting impatient now - and so was Gojo. 

For all his talk, letting you grind your hips down to meet his rough cadence. So difficult with the way the man was getting impossibly faster. Sloppier. 

The look in his eyes is so feral. His hands so unforgiving, pushing your knees further apart. So erratic on your clit, drawing quick, messy little patterns in a way that has you wondering whether this is more for you or himself. 

He’s whispering, like a mantra now. “Gonna show ya- gonna show hah- fuck- m’gonna.” Running only on this and the way you were sucking him up so obscenely. Clit throbbing so fast under his thumb in a way he knew that it was about to be- “Now.”

As if on command, you cum. And not just any orgasm - no, when Gojo Satoru is out to prove a point, he will prove it five times over. Which is why he has you squirting like such a slut all over his rock-hard cock. 

“Oh- f-oh my god. Toru!”

Gojo’s own orgasm just a quick, sharp spike of pleasure, coating your puffy walls an obscene white before he’s pushing your limp body further back to get a better view and shit- 

That only has you gushing around him harder. So animalistically. Dick twitching wildly at the slick glistening all over Gojo’s abs, dribbling down, down, down to those tufts of white at his base. Some reaching his parted lips, and fuck if Gojo can stop himself from running his tongue along them.

Running a finger at the lewd pool on his abs before bringing them up to his mouth, “Oh, baby.” Eyes half-lidded, miles away yet still boring right into yours as he licks up his dripping wet index with a lewd groan. Pooling your sinful juices on his tongue. Heady. Addictive. “See? Sweeter this way.”

Your jaw drops into a soft oh! as Gojo pulls away with a lewd pop! looking like it fucking killed him to do so. 

Strings of slick connecting to those pretty pink lips, snapping ever so slightly as he murmurs a dark, “Wonder if it’ll be twice as sweet if I cum twice in your pretty pussy, hm?”

A/N. Hope y’all have a good day.

Plagiarism not authorized.