#i've talked your ear off long enough

[salsaseth]

After hearing my friend, James bring it up in a call, we started watching Lily Orchard's video about Pokemon to see all the bad takes in it.

When she starts playing the DS games, she uses a mod to smooth out the aliasing and uncap the game's framerate to 60. And gah damn does it look fuckin bad. Even worse is during the 3D games where she uses another mod to smooth out the 3D models and it looks like peeled oranges. Unnaturally smooth. But it does get funny when she talks about the game running like garbage when she's fucked with the game's logic. Like no shit, it's running at a framerate it was never meant for.

Something really funny also begins in the DS games. I don't know why, but she replaces one of the starters with Ralts, cuz she's got some favoritism for Gardevoir. All well and good, but you know, Ralts is weak as shit until it learns confusion and it's still frail. So it gets its ass kicked all the way until it evolves into Gardevoir. But because of how much asskicking it receives, and I swear this is true, she suspects the game is artificially raising the strength of the enemy pokemon, as a way to explain for why's she losing.

Almost as if the game is designed to use a stronger than average pokemon to get you through the early game. ;) ;) ;) ;) ;) Still, I don't fully understand why she refuses to use the regular starters. Especially when you can catch Ralts and Kirlia for most of the games. save for black and white. Speaking of.

One takeaway I've had from listening to it is what she says is more revealing about herself than what is intentional. The most telling thing is when she's going off about the Black and White characters for speaking about their ideals and opinions. I mean, she mashes through that with the A button (VISUAL NOVEL HATER SPOTTED), so it's when she's paying attention. I don't know if she just doesn't know what the game is supposed to be going for, or if she's just purposefully ignorant for the sake of contrarianism, but the game's themes are about truth and ideals. The truth is out there, but the ideals we have shape our perspective of the truth. Even Cheren, who represents the truth, is still shaped his ideal. It's a little more deeper than, 'Characters excited that they all have opinions,' but what do i know?

She rails against these characters, N in particular for having opinions and speaking them out. Meanwhile in X&Y, which its cast and characters are there to mostly stroke the character's dick, she vastly praises and prefers these characters to the ones in B&W. Hmmm. Characters that have opinions and speak them out are hated, while those that don't and heap praise on her are loved. I wonder if this says anything about her?

The video gets pretty boring the longer it goes on. The hot take well starts drying up and it quickly becomes a bad screenshot let's play. "Then I did this, and then I did that!"

That's all I got to report. Besides the shoehorning in of lefty takes. I don't know if it's because she's not funny or if she wields everything with as much subtlety as anvil-nunchuks, but when there's an opportunity to make a joke with a leftist-slant, it's as heavy handed as a Titan's ballsack and as funny as stale bread. I'm a leftist bastard myself, but every time the jokes were shoehorned in, I'm like, "The funny? Where is it?!" Especially when it was about Looker and Nanu. I get not liking the police, but this isn't the time or place for it. Leave the jokes to the professionals. Like my friend Plate. Several unemployment jokes were made at Lily's expense, and each one was funnier than the last.

I'll report back if there's anything worth commenting on. Me and the friends got to the end of Sun and Moon, so we have SwSh and SV left.

And if you had time to read this 'post', Lily, I think you had time to 'post' your resume to get a job ;D ;D ;D

[astridthevalkyrie]

everything you see ab being the oldest daughter is true btw why am i the family therapist AND punching bag smh

long ass depressing rant in the tags srry i got a wee bit emotional

[hiraganasakura]

Mantle evac asker again: thanks for a well-crafted response and apologies if I put you on the spot. TBH I'm not even sure Ironwood *needed* that semblance explanation for his unraveling (or a semblance *period;* a fair number of capable RWBY characters don't have one) with his pre-existing authoritarian tendencies and post-Beacon PTSD in play. Feel free to expand on Robyn if the mood hits, 'cause ye gods could watchers be giving her & the H-Huntresses a fairer shake.

Hi anon! Sry for the late reply, I've been busy

Yeah, true, the Semblance thing works to reinforce what we already understand. Honestly the primary reasons I wish it was talked about in-show is bcus the only reason we even know what his Semblance is is bcus the writers talked about it at some panel, and it could contribute another layer to Ironwood's character

According to the RWBY wiki's article on Mettle (link), apparently they wanted to explicitly state it in V7/V8, and had it in mind while writing Ironwood, but couldn't find a way to work the reveal in without damaging the flow of the show. I learned that just now and found it interesting

I just think it's cool to see negative aspects of Semblances tbh. They're meant to be the manifestation of a person's very soul and while they're usually shown in a positive light seeing the bad side of it is an interesting perspective. Like we see Qrow struggling with self-loathing (and the closely connected depression and alcoholism) due to Misfortune, in After the Fall/Before the Dawn Yatsuhashi fears his own Memory Wiping Semblance, etc. Seeing Ironwood have similar struggles I think would humanize him a bit while still not excusing his actions. It'd make him even more interesting imo. Does that make sense?

But now to the main point, yay, I get to talk about this! I only just had this realization as I was answering your previous ask

Ok so. Some ppl [nobody here] claim that Blake and Yang trusting Robyn with the info on Amity was "dumb" of them bcus they didn't know for certain if she was trustworthy at that point in time. Which, I can get why ppl may think that, but I respectfully disagree. I don't think "dumb" is the right word at all; in fact, I think the fact that Blake and Yang were even willing to try this shows a lot of how their characters have grown

Think about it: these two have rly bad trust issues

I mean, Blake was abused by Adam and faced harsh discrimination as a Faunus. In the early volumes of RWBY, she struggled to even trust her team for a while, hiding her cat ears under her little black bow until the truth came out completely on accident. And when she was finally able to trust them, the Fall of Beacon happened, her trauma with Adam came rearing its ugly head, and, blaming herself for Yang losing her arm, Blake left for Menagerie. (You can see in little details how high alert she is thru a lot of V4 and maybe even V5; off the top of my head, in the first V4 episode we see with her, when the captain of the ship to Menagerie approaches Blake, her immediate instinct is to reach for her weapon.) She didn't even trust herself for a very long time, and due to the horrible stuff she's seen, also had a hard time trusting other ppl

Then there's Yang, and gosh, she's been thru sm too. After she lost not one but two moms, her trust issues seem to manifest more in a fear of abandonment. Near the start of the show she was largely motivated by her search for Raven, hoping to understand why she left—but when she meets Raven in V5, she almost instantly sees thru most of Raven's lies. When Blake left after the Fall of Beacon, Yang had a harder time than the rest with it (see: the whole "Why isn't she here for me?" conversation she had with Weiss in V5), and even had a harder time accepting her return (the awkward air between them for the majority of V6 was palpable)

When Blake and Yang killed Adam and defeated some of their inner demons in the process, not only did they feel able to fully start trusting one another again, but I think it may have helped them to start trusting others, as well

Iirc Blake and Yang were talking about Adam right before they spoke to Robyn about Amity. Now I'm wondering, was that just a coincidence? Or was it a suble acknowledgement of their character development together?

Of course they didn't know whether Robyn could be trusted with that info, but the fact that they were willing to give it a shot demonstrates a lot. And I don't think it's stupidity, or naiveté. I think it is an amazing point in the development of Blake and Yang, a mark of their willingness to trust in the world again

And in hindsight, we can say it was a generally good choice. It was a little rocky at first, with the damage it caused to Ironwood's trust in RWBY. But for a wonderful fleeting moment, it led to James Ironwood and Robyn Hill (of all the ppl who could work together!), once diametrically opposed, standing in unity to help the ppl of Atlas and Mantle...

Well... Until the Black Queen arrived. But we covered that already

Also I totally agree with you that certain corners of the FNDM do the Happy Huntresses dirty. I mean, disagreeing with their methods from a political standpoint is whatever, but like... don't mix them up with the bad guys. They're rly not. They looked at the blantant inequalities between Atlas and Mantle, said "We won't stand for this", and started working for change. I'm pretty sure it was even said that they were all graduates of Atlas Academy that theoretically could have joined the military and done well in it—but they chose not to. Bcus they felt protecting Mantle was more important than upholding the Atlesian status quo. Bcus they too were hurt by the toxic culture of Atlas and decided to make it so that the ppl of the future didn't have the same struggles. (And honestly I think they made the right choice. Look what obeying the status quo did to the Ace Ops. Half of them are dead and the other half are super traumatized now, if they weren't already.) Good for the Happy Huntresses

Also briefly circling back to the Semblance conversation! I love Robyn's Semblance from the whole "manifestation of the soul" outlook bcus I think it fits her as a person so well. I mean, Lie Detection? For someone who is so unbending in her pursuit of the truth? For someone who will always stand up for what she believes in no matter the scorn she may receive? YES, I love it! And it even checks the boxes of having an additional layer of a setback: When empathizing with Qrow in V8, Robyn explains that having a Semblance that could detect lies led to it becoming difficult to make connections in her childhood bcus ppl were scared she would sniff out their secrets. Lie Detection is probably one of my favorite Semblances, despite its simplicity, purely from a storytelling pov

[lovemomhatepolice]

i'll make it fit - rafe cameron

navigation taglist requests

pairing: rafe cameron x fem!reader

warnings: sexual overtones, established relationship, fingering, teasing, unprotected sex (PROTECTED YOURSELF), this damn tiny polo!!, English is my second language!, NO SPOILERS FOR SEASON 4

belonging: NO NUT NOVEMBER!

type: totally smut (this is the first time i've written something like this, which has practically no plot at all, just sex itself. keep my fingers crossed that it didn't turn out badly!!!), small plot but really small

word count: 1,8k

summary: rafe cameron likes things too small for him.

more content: obx masterlist, rafe cameron masterlist

Mornings in Tannyhill were mostly quiet. Since Ward Cameron was dead and his entire family had moved to a house in the Bahamas, it was quiet there. Hearing of Sarah had disappeared - she was probably somewhere with her friends, again putting her life at risk, nothing new. And the only one who lived there was Rafe, who had taken over the company from his father and decided to return to the “old garbage.” Well, and you lived there too, by the side of your beloved. You couldn't have dreamed of a better life.

You were awakened by the bright rays of the sun, which rudely crept through the slightly parted curtains into your shared bedroom. You dragged yourself lightly and glanced at the clock, which was on the bedside table and, as usual, was making that unbearable sound.

After muttered under your breath, you slipped out from under the warm quilt, which, to say the least, wasn't all that necessary - after all, it was summer. But by the fact that you were in just a lace petticoat, it definitely enveloped you with a warmth that was missing.

You didn't know what time it was, but by the fact that Rafe wasn't next to you, you knew it was probably after nine o'clock. You didn't have to look for him for long, because as soon as you stepped out into the hallway from your bedroom, you heard his voice. You looked out the balcony door, which was gently open, and smiled at the sight. Rafe, in a freshly stitched buzzcut, was sitting on the couch talking on the phone. In front of him on the coffee table he had papers spread out and a laptop in which he was busily tapping something. As soon as he noticed you he sent you a slight smile, but he was so engaged in the conversation that he did nothing more. And you couldn't be passive, after all, he was wearing a beautiful blue and damn tight polo that exposed his perfectly shaped biceps. You laughed quietly, seeing him nervously tweak them as they rolled up higher and higher each time, not covering as much of his arm as they should.

Despite his serious tone on the call, his eyes would flicker toward you every few moments, his smile softening just enough to let you know he was glad you were there.

Not one to resist temptation, you decided to have a little fun. You strolled over to him, moving slowly, letting your fingers trail along the back of the couch as you circled around to where he was sitting. Rafe’s eyes darted up, narrowing slightly in a silent warning.

You didn’t make it easy for him. With a mischievous smile, you leaned over and whispered into his ear, "That polo looks a little tight, don’t you think? You might need help taking it off later."

“Uh, yeah… sure,” he said to the person on the other end of the call, clearing his throat as if to regain his composure. “Send it to the office, they'll take care of it,” he muttered, hanging up.

You moved your hands over his shoulders, gently massaging them. Rafe put the phone down on the table, closed the laptop and leaned his head against the back of the couch, looking at you.

“You know what you're doing, huh?” he parroted under his breath.

“Maybe I do,” you whispered, letting your breath tickle his skin. “Just trying to make sure my man relaxes after handling all that business.”

“And what am I supposed to do with you?” he muttered, covering yours with his hands. “Whatever you want,” you muttered, going down with your palms on his chest. “Oh, but this polo is really too small for you.” Rafe laughed under his breath and gracefully helped you past the couch so that you were now standing in front of him, between his legs. You were in just a white lace slip that didn't cover much underneath, so Rafe could immediately see your hardening nipples.

You let out a soft laugh as Rafe’s strong hands gripped your thighs, pulling you effortlessly onto his lap. You straddled him, your knees sinking into the plush cushions of the couch on either side of his hips. The way he looked up at you—like you were the only thing in the world that could hold his attention—sent a warm rush through your veins.

"So needy" He muttered, stroking your hair and putting it behind your ears. “Who would have thought that you would beg for my attentions so much?”

“I'm not begging,” you muttered, swallowing your saliva loudly.

You could have sworn that in that moment Rafe heard your loud heartbeat. And even though you had been together for more than a year, he continued to trigger the same feelings in you. “No?” he asked ironically, his hand touching your pussy, which was covered only by a thong. “I would say something else.”

“Rafe,” you muttered, gently pushing your hips out to meet him as his nimble fingers pressed your clit harder. “So wet,” he mumbled, moving your panties aside and nimbly sliding his ring and middle finger into you.

You brought your face closer to his and grabbed his jaw, bringing your lips together in a sweet kiss. It was still quiet around you, the only things you could hear were the birds and your moans, drowned out by your boyfriend's mouth.

His thumb moved to your clit, the touch was light, teasing, his fingers tracing slow circles that sent tingles up your spine. And his fingers didn't stop moving up and down, each time hitting the exact same spot. Rafe knew what the fuck he was doing, he always knew how to make you in heaven in a moment by his precise movements. He knew your body like no one else, just like you knew his.

“Cum for me, baby,” he said, moving his lips to your naked neck. You felt you were close - Rafe did the same, following the feeling as you pulsed on his fingers. You didn't have to wait long until your body shook with pleasant and familiar reflexes, and you came on his fingers, burying your head in his neck.

Rafe took his fingers out of you and put them in his mouth, sucking on them. Oh this sight and Rafe in his damn tight blue polo, was something too strong for you to go through. You moved against his lap, letting him know that this was not what you wanted. “Still eager, huh?” he laughed throatily, but you didn't have to wait long. Rafe always knew what you needed and you got it right away. "You taste so good, baby"

“Rafe please,” you muttered, clasping your small hand over his large cock, which was getting harder and harder under you. “Anything for you,” he muttered, quickly getting rid of his pants.

Without much warning, he entered you. Slowly at first, because you knew very well that he was big. And even after so many times together, you continued to feel a slight discomfort at first. But Rafe always made it fit. He couldn't resist your tight pussy, which was even screaming for his attention. “Fuck, tight as ever,” he whispered, correcting himself on the couch so that you were more comfortable. “But don't worry, I'll make it fit.”

And as he said, so he did. With agility, he began to move inside you, making both of you nothing but moaning messes.

“Wait, I want,” you said, putting your hand on his chest. On that damn sexy polo. “Oh, a princess wants to take control?” he laughed under his breath, catching you under the thighs, but as if on cue he stopped moving inside you, making you feel again how big he was inside you. You groaned involuntarily, but didn't give in. You moved nimbly on top of him, practically taking him out of your pussy every now and then, and then lowering yourself all the way down again.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” Rafe groaned, his head falling back against the couch, exposing the strong line of his throat. His eyes were hooded, his lips parted as he watched you, completely entranced by the way you were moving, the way you were making him feel.

You could tell he was trying to hold back, trying to let you set the pace, but the way his fingers flexed against your skin told you just how badly he wanted to take control.

“Not yet, Rafey,” you muttered, moving even closer to him. “You deserve the best. Especially, when you're in that slutty polo"

You increased your pace, but Rafe couldn't stand it anymore either, and came against you, entering your pussy from below. At that moment your bodies were merging at the perfect moments and places, so you were already not far from orgasm. And with that, he captured your lips again, his kiss rougher this time, more urgent. There was no more teasing now-just the raw, unfiltered need that always simmered between you both, threatening to spill over the edges.

“I'm so close,” you whispered into his mouth, clamping your pussy against him every so often. “I know, baby, I can feel it,” he muttered into your mouth, gently biting your lip to reach inside again. "Mmm, so good for me"

Rafe grabbed your buttocks and with even more force began to pound his cock into you. Your tongues fought for dominance, and your hands couldn't find room on his body, clamping down on the collars of his shirt.

"Shit" he murmured into your lips, feeling as his cum shot into your pussy, making quite a mess.

Not much later you too reach climax, clenching around his dick. Exhausted, you leaned on his shoulder kissing his neck. Rafe stroked your back, still calming down after the orgasm that hit you surprisingly hard this time. You felt him smiling over your shoulder, so you shared his happiness, smiling too. You moved your head off his shoulder, looking him straight in the eyes now. He was still inside you, so every movement, made quiet sighs come out of your throats.

“What's so funny?” you asked, stroking his jaw and kissing the corner of his mouth gently.

“Maybe I should wear that tight polo more often, just to find yourself in your tight cunt again?” he laughed lightly, returning your kiss.

“Oh shut up, asshole,” you muttered, lowering yourself on top of him once more until he groaned and settled his head on the back of the couch, pulling you against him.

A/N: I know there's a lot of Rafe or Drew here lately, but I swear, when I see this man, I feel so ungodly that oh jesus, i hope you enjoyed this

please do not copy and translate my works! in case of any issues related to this - I invite you to discuss privately :)

[shotmrmiller]

pornstar au

f!reader x simon 'ghost' riley

3.7k words (sorry)

tw: teacher-student relationship but it's just a scene for porn. explicit. horrifyingly so.

You burst into the classroom and stride purposefully towards your professor, who is seated in his leather chair, engrossed in his work. Impatiently tapping your foot, you waited for him to finish marking essays. However, after 5 minutes, your patience with this unbearable man ran out.

"Professor."

He hums, a deep sound coming from the back of his throat yet doesn't look up from what he's doing. A real piece of work, he is. How fucking aggravating.

"Professor Riley," your voice takes an irreverent tone.

The hand that had been writing non-stop comes to a sudden pause, and he finally directs his attention to you. Meeting your gaze, his dark eyes are hooded, his lips set in a firm line. His job is to literally deal with students, yet he dares to look annoyed.

"Are you gonna tell me what's wrong 'r am I gonna have to learn how to read minds?" he states.

Taking in a calming breath, you clench the crumpled essay in your hand. "Can you explain to me why you failed me on this? I did exactly as you asked!"

He must know precisely what you're talking about because he simply turns back to the papers on his desk.

"Tha's your problem. You did exactly as I asked, with no thought behind it. Just wrote the bare minimum, if you can even call it writin'. It's copy-paste," Professor Riley sets the pen down and leans back in the chair.

"I need ya to use tha' head o' yours when in this class. Otherwise, you'll fail the rest o' your classes too."

Fucking hell.

Professor Riley shifts in his seat, seemingly done with the conversation, and finishes, "If tha's all."

Shit. Your pause is too long, and the director calls it. Fuck.

"I'm really sorry, Ghost, I didn't mean-" Your words of apology dissolve into thin air as his strong hand finds its place on your hip— giving it a gentle, but firm squeeze.

"S'all righ', love. Mistakes happen. Matter fact," his eyes drift from you to behind you to beckon someone with two fingers. "C'mere, you."

It's the set assistant, and he's brought the script with him. Ghost swiftly stops him from handing it to you, instead pushing it onto the assistant's chest. "Won't be needin' tha', thanks. Tell the director tha' we'll be ad-libin'. Now sod off."

The assistant follows his command in haste, scurrying off to follow Ghost's instructions.

"Hey," he murmurs. Your eyes meet his, feeling the intensity of it quickens your heartbeat. "Say whatever you like, just remember to follow the storyline, alright?"

Follow the storyline. In porn. The irony isn't lost on you, but you bite the side of your gummy cheek to keep from laughing. "Yes, sir."

He drops his hand from where he held you slowly, seemingly almost reluctant to let go. "Ready?" Ghost's thin lips curl into a smirk when you nod at his question. "Good girl."

Your fingers tightly grip the flimsy material of your uniform skirt at his praise, and warmth pools in your lower belly.

His good girl.

A high-pitched voice cuts through your thoughts, signaling the restart of the shooting. You exhale a long breath, unclenching your hands in the process.

Action.

"If tha' all." Ghost reaches for his pen when you frantically grab onto his Oxford sleeve.

"Wait, Professor, please! I can't," you stammer, "I cannot fail this class! My parents would kill me if I studied abroad only to flunk. The tuition—"

His tone is authoritative as he abruptly cuts off your lengthy excuse. "Enough. Nothing can change the mark I've given you."

Your ears pricked up at his wording, and the corners of your lips pulled up into a roguish smile. "No?" Ghost stills before turning to face you, countenance blank. "Nothing at all, Professor?" With a coy tilt of your head, your wide, doe-like eyes meet his as your fingertips trace an alluring path from his forearm down to his knuckles.

"I really can't convince you in any way to change that grade for me?" You lean on the edge of his wooden desk— skirt so short it doesn't even graze the surface of it— and lightly curl your hand around his pointer finger. "It can be our little secret, Professor Riley," you purr.

Ghost lifts a single brow, and settles back into his seat, arms crossed over his barrel chest as his eyes travel from your feet to your exposed cleavage, fixating on the soft skin peeking out from your uniform top.

"Please?" his hushed voice reverberates inside your skull. "I promise to be a good girl."

That catches his attention, eyes flashing to yours, the fire behind them hot— you hope it burns you.

"'Sat, right? Tha' changes things now, doesn't it?" Ghost rolls his chair back, away from his desk, and spreads his thick legs apart in invitation, arms resting on the rests— the dictionary definition of casual. "Convince me then, pet."

"Yes, sir." Sauntering to stand in between his legs, you swallow thickly— the bulge in his groin was quite frankly, intimidating. You've had large, but this was in a league of its own.

"You gonna do it from up there? I know I'm bigger than average but not tha' big." A huff escapes from your lips. A whole comedian.

Knees pressed into the cold, tile floor, you expertly undo the button of his trousers and with his help, pulled them down along with his pants— just enough for his cock to spring free.

Bloody fucking hell.

His cock is monstrous. It rested against his belly, heavy and thick. The pink tip slightly peeking from under his foreskin. There was a groomed thatch of coarse hair at the base, and his balls were also heavy— one hanging lower than the other.

Ghost leans forward and cradles the underside of your jaw with one large hand, fingers gently caressing the delicate skin of your cheek, while the other pumps his rigid cock in anticipation. "Not scared, are ya?" His grin was wicked. "I promise it don't bite."

Grabbing his wrist, you maneuver his hand so that his thumb now rests on your soft lips. "Might not, but I do, Professor." And catch the tip of his finger between your blunt teeth, the subtle sting of it making him hiss.

"Perfect, pretty girl," he says, almost inaudible. His words of praise are for you alone— not for the scene, nor the camera. You peer up at him through your lashes, mewling softly at the expression on his face.

His brow was set, hooded eyes sultry, a rosy hue across his cheeks and nose, and lips parted as he panted quietly.

Delicious.

Ghost then pushes his thumb further into your slick mouth and hooks it behind your bottom teeth, delicately pulling you closer to him as he tips his head down— taking his thumb out with a pop. His warm breath fans across your face as he moves closer until his lips connect with yours. He slid his tongue into your mouth, tasting of frosty mint and his own unique taste.

Your hands come up, fingers digging into the meat of his thighs when he grasps your wrist and moves it to the focal point of his desire— his breath hitching when you give his cock a firm squeeze. Ghost bites your bottom lip before breaking away, a guttural noise escaping him when you begin to stroke him. "Tighten your hand around—" he breaks off, moaning against your kiss-swollen lips when you comply.

He threads his fingers through your hair that sits at the base of your skull, curling them into a fist and tugging back— craning your neck, hair pulled taut.

"So obedient. Jus' f'me, love?" you hum cheekily, a mischievous grin spreading across your face.

"Would you hold it against me if I said no?" he chuckles under his breath, the grip on your hair tightening marginally.

"I'd say tha' you're lyin'." He sucks in a breath when you press down lightly onto his slit with your thumb. "Cheeky."

He loosens the hold he has on you, feeling your scalp prickle with tender relief, and relaxes back into the chair. "All yours, sweetheart."

That light wasn't getting any greener, so with a grunt, you shifted your weight, ignoring your aching knees, and wrapped your lips around his cock.

Barely.

The salty bite of his arousal and musk spread on your tongue as you took him in deep, stilling once he hit the back of your throat.

"Fuck, look at me."

Slightly tipping your head back, you do as he says, your throat closing around him as he slips in even further.

"Fuckfuckfuck," a hiss, "such a hot little mouth, just swallowin' me righ' up." Your lungs burn with the lack of oxygen, forcing you to pull back to gasp for air. Ghost squeezes himself at the base and taps your cheek with his saliva-coated length.

"A dirty slag like you, jus' takin' me like a professional. Tha' what you are? A professional cock sucker, love?" he taunts. Your pussy clenches when he calls you a slag, pressing your thighs together in the hope of some friction; Something to alleviate the throbbing ache in between your legs.

Ghost with eyes as keen as ever, notices. Damn.

"Oh? Little harlot likes to get degraded, does she? Reminded of her place? How I'd love to teach you exactly where you belong, but tha' wouldn't be you convincin' me to change your bad grade, now would it?"

His cock taps on your swollen lips. "Another time, hm? Now open. Make me see reason."

Ghost's wish is your command. With enthusiasm, you take him in your mouth, slowly bobbing your head, place a hand right under your lips, and twist with every push and pull.

It's sloppy, spit covering your hand, dripping down to his balls. Your jaw aches, a burning pressure a little under your ear, but what gives you the strength to continue is the loud moans coming from Ghost. He holds nothing back, his hand engulfing the crown of your head while he gently pushes you down. A performer down to his very bones.

You were about to pause the recording, the pain in your mandible and knees almost becoming too much when he suddenly pulled you off of him.

"Wha—?" Ghost seizes you by the upper arms, forcibly bringing you to your feet, disregarding your pained whimper, and places you on the sturdy desk.

He's curling his fingers into the waistband of your frilly knickers, slipping them down your legs and pocketing them. There's a quiet popping sound when he bends his knees, going eye level with your bare cunt.

In a hushed tone, you say, "This isn't part of the scene." Ghost drags his eyes from your glistening slit to your face, gaze suffocating, smothering the very air in your lungs.

"Just a taste, love." He curls one hand under your thigh, lifting it to perch it on the edge of the desk, the other he throws over his strong shoulder. The only sound in the room is your soft moans as he expertly slides his warm tongue through your slick folds, sending waves of pleasure through your body.

By god does he eat pussy like it's his job. Peering down at him, you can't stop the sounds that spill from your mouth when his tongue visibly splits your pussy lips open, flicking at your clit, lapping up your arousal like it is honey. You take hold of his short hair, tugging at the strands as each swirl of his talented tongue pushes you closer to your peak.

His eyes cut to yours when he presses a thick finger into you, drinking in your desperate expression as you keen, begging for more, blabbering about it being so good, yet not enough, please god more.

Ghost curls his finger, only taking a second to find your sweet spot, and pushes— bursts of light flashing in your peripheral vision. You begin to rock your hips unconsciously, chasing your ecstasy, and Ghost simply flattens his tongue, letting you grind against it.

You teeter on the edge of bliss, a tightening in your stomach, right under where his finger is. Shaky exhales leave you, the leg that's on the desk visibly trembling from the tension that threatens to snap you in half.

He presses a kiss to your sodden pussy, and croons, "Gonna come f'me?" You jerkily nod.

"Yes fuck yes, I'm gonna come for you, just for you, Professor Riley pleaseee—" your blathering turns into a high-pitched squeal as he lightly sucks on your pearl, hips lifting off the desk as a blinding orgasm crashes into you, pleasure bursting through your very core, cunt pulsating with every wave of ecstasy around Ghost's finger.

He wastes no time in rising to his feet and slotting his mouth over yours, the taste of your slick strong, potent on his tongue. Ghost breaks away, his breath smelling of your desire. "Exquisite, like ambrosia. Addicting."

Ghost's hand cups your sensitive quim and whispers, "Think you can take me? Tha' orgasm took a lot outta ya."

Silly question. "I'm a big girl, Ghost. I can take it."

He licks the front of his teeth and glances down to where his hand rests. "Course you can, love. Turn around f'me."

Your movements are sluggish as you turn over onto your stomach, rising to the tip of your toes as you present yourself to him.

Ghost grabs the sides of your waist, and flips your skirt up, tucking the edge into the waistband of it. His hands palm your cheeks, thumbs digging into the meat of your ass to spread you open, completely exposed to him.

"Fuck me if tha' isn't the prettiest sight I've ever had the pleasure of seein'." He doesn't acknowledge your scoff as he spreads your hands out, placing them flat on the table— enveloping your hand with his own, intertwining his fingers with yours.

His leans over your semi-prone body, cock gently prodding at your entrance, gliding easily through your folds. "Ready?"

Arching your back, his tip slips inside, just barely. That's your answer.

You can hear the smarmy grin that spreads on his face, and wanted to snark back but you're rendered mute when he pushes in. Your eyes cross at the stretch of his cock, a feeling so sublime you know that no one will ever be able to duplicate. Your fingers tighten around his as you mewl when he bottoms out, hips flush against your arse.

Ghost sucks in a breath through his teeth when you shift your weight, and whatever you did has him sliding in deeper— turning his hiss into a guttural groan. "Fuck, you have no fuckin' idea how good you feel."

Probably not, but you have every idea how good he feels.

"You okay, love? Took me so well like you were made jus' f'me. So warm and soft, tight like a vice around my cock. Pretty pussy split wide open, stuffed full of me." He speaks unfettered filth to you, dripping over your ears like molasses, thick and syrupy. Your head feels heavy on your shoulders— dizzy, drunk on his scent, his cock that's got you tearing at the seams.

Then he begins to move, pulling out until an inch remains inside, and pushing in until he's nudging the plug of your womb, feeling a deep pinch under your navel.

This is what it's like to get fucked by Ghost. The one everyone covets after, hoping he drags down the very heavens with his bare hands and lays it at their feet. And here he is, fucking you. A newbie, a fresh face no one knows yet, a name that'll probably never grace the front page.

You doubt his motives are altruistic, but goddamn does it not matter; Not with the way he's carving a space inside of you that only he will ever fit in, or the way he's curling his free hand around your neck, thumb pressed right over your racing pulse.

He lowers himself until his strong chest is to your back, his teeth nipping the tip of your ear. "The moment I saw you gettin' fucked by Johnny, I knew I had t'have ya." Your walls clamp down on him involuntarily, wrenching a pained noise from him. "Fuckin' hell, I knew this pussy would be magical."

Ghost's lips skim over the shell of your ear before pressing a chaste kiss on it. "Lemme hear how good I make ya feel, pet. Don't hold back on me now." He grinds into your arse, going in so deep that it feels like he's trying to push past the entrance of your womb. "S'alrigh'. I'll jus' have t'pull 'em outta ya."

He releases you, placing both hands flat on the desk, on either side of your shoulders. "Take em for myself, make 'em mine." Straightening all the way, he digs his fingers into the soft flesh of your waist.

"What a view. Perfection." He rolls his hips, rhythm languid, loud squelching noises coming from where he fills you. "Drippin' cream all over my cock, pet. Can't tell me this isn't 'cause of me."

How the fuck can he still talk? How is he coherent? Why isn't his brain turned into mush like yours is?

"Fuckin' ya speechless, am I? Oh, sweetheart, but I'm barely gettin' started." Ghost slowly pulls out, and curls his hand around your shoulder, nudging you to turn over. "On your back, now."

You lazily flip over, hair sticking to your sweat-slick skin, and he hooks his arms underneath your legs and drags you to the edge until your arse hangs from it. "I wanna see that pretty face when you come." He wastes no time in sheathing himself back inside your swollen channel, walls fluttering at the invasion.

Ghost hooks one leg over his shoulder to lean forward, pinning you to the desk with his upper body, and maneuvers your other to wrap around his wide waist. "That cock drunk look on your face makes my balls tighten, what a fuckin' expression you've got, christ," he growls. "Knowin' I put it there makes it all the better."

He gives you a chaste kiss on the lips and gives you a smile that is all teeth. "Now let's make you sing."

Grunting, he straightens. plants his feet firmly, stance wide, and begins to fuck you. The videos of the famed Ghost you saw are nothing, nothing, in comparison to real life. His full weight is behind every spine-jarring thrust, it makes your teeth clack, it rattles your brain inside your skull. He does it so perfectly because at no point do you feel any discomfort, not even a twinge. It's all a pleasure that blazes, an all-encompassing heat that threatens to swallow you whole, burn you from the inside out.

His cock punches the breath out of your lungs, wails clawing out of your throat, and it's so good, so fucking good— god, maybe he is god, you don't know, everything is so blurry, hazy—

All senses focus on the sudden touch between your legs, an expert thumb drawing tight circles on your slippery clit and there's no way you're going to survive this—

"There she is, the girl I saw in the video. Tha's an expression I see in myfuckin' sleep. Give me what's mine, pet. Let me feel you, cream all over my cock."

He's relentless in his pursuit of your climax, a wave of pleasure so intense, it just might drag you out to sea, drowning you.

Ghost, the fucking god of sex, stops his ministrations to spit on your pussy. Spit. From his full height, a glob of warm saliva drops to your mons, and he smears it with his fingers over your pussy lips before rubbing your clit. His thrusts slow in pace, turning into a firm snap of his hips, making sure you feel every ridge of his cock, and in less than a minute, your spine arches off the desk.

Your mouth opens into a silent scream, lids snapping shut as you break underneath him, warmth gushing from where he's continuously sinking into you, a steady, slow rhythm that never ends.

"Came all over me, didn't ya? Bet you didn't know you could even do tha'."

You didn't.

"Jus' for tha', I'm gonna give you somethin' in return, yeah? A little reward for bein' so good," he praises.

Your tongue is heavy in your mouth, swollen and thick, and unconsciousness creeps at the very edges of your mind.

All you can do is lie there and take it, his sloppy thrusts, his harsh panting until he moans, "'m close, so fuckin' close," and with whatever remnants of strength you have left, you use to squeeze him tightly— unwilling to let go because his come is yours now, you've earned it.

"Come in me, Ghost," you whimper.

That does it. He slams his hands on either side of your head and borderline roars out his release, cock twitching inside of your used cunt, filling you with his spend.

Cut.

Ghost's breathing is labored, a harsh pant that fans over your overheated skin, damp with sweat.

His brows are furrowed, his eyes squeezed shut, gulping in air and shivering in the aftershock of his climax.

To be fucked by Ghost is to see the Garden of Eden behind your eyelids.

Now you understand. You understand why he has no equal. He is unparalleled.

Jesus Christ, you're fucked. So, so fucked.

He slowly opens his eyes and peers down at you with a wolfish grin.

"Perfection."

--

A week later, your video with Ghost is the most viewed on the entire website. Not one other video even scratches the bottom of where your video sits.

Ghost truly is the king.

Curiously enough, your friend is the one who lets you know that Mr. life-altering cock himself never kisses during work. Not once in any video of his has he ever kissed, apart from a short pressing of lips to skin.

Your heart traitorously flutters at the thought of it meaning something more. Catching feelings when you get fucked for a living is not the move. But there's no stopping it from misbehaving, especially when you receive another script, to make another video with Ghost.

Another. one.

Fuck. Fuck!!

You cannot wait.

@mishaglass

[letsbangts]

mutt || jjk

⤷ summary: when you realize you can’t teach an old dog new tricks

⟶ pairing: jungkook x reader

⟶ word count: 6k+

18+ // mdni

⟶ genre: smut, angst, friends with benefits au

⟶ content: fuckboy!jk, tattooartist!jk, porn with some plot

⟶ warnings: explicit language, jk is kinda toxic, jk being a bit manipulative, explicit sexual content: dirty talk, fingering, praising, teasing, kissing/making out, nipple sucking, spitting, oral (f. receiving), biting, spanking, big dick jk, soft dom jk, rough sex (doggy bcuz duh), pet names, multiple orgasms

↬ a/n: song inspiration 'mutt by leon thomas'. hope you enjoy & let me know what you think! angel xoxo

masterlist

I can't smoke on reggie, so pardon my bluntness I see past pretty faces, so I got trouble trusting

You're sitting on your couch watching TV when you hear your phone vibrating against the coffee table where it lies. Sitting up and leaning over to pick it up and check, you gaze at the name read across the lit-up screen. You hold the phone staring at the call for a few long seconds before finally deciding to answer, releasing a heavy sigh as you do.

Because picking up at all means he has a chance tonight.

Feigning ignorance you ask, “Hey Kook, what's up?”

It's a question you already know the answer to. There is only one reason Jungkook calls you, and his reply confirms just that.

“I wanna see you come over,” he bluntly says into the phone like it's the most obvious thing, and him being right is what frustrates you.

Hearing that, a part of you is happy that he chose to call you and wants to be in your presence while the other part of you, the rational one, isn't as delighted knowing this moment will pass. It always does because that is just what you are to him, a moment.

You hear rustling in the background on his side of the phone, clearly distracted by other things while he talks to you.

“I don't know about tonight,” you hesitate, but make no move to hang up.

New crib, told her, "Come through," it's time to bring it in ... New condo, say your name at the front, you can stay if you want

Jungkook has played this game enough times to know exactly what to say. He’s a veteran player skilled in always finding the right words to switch you from the opposing side to his own.

He sighs, “Don’t be like that.”

“Like what?” You reply.

The rustling in the background stops indicating he's halted his movements and focused on you. You bite your lip sensing Jungkook is about to make his way right through what you thought was your shrinking window of opportunity.

“Don’t act like you don't want to see me too. Don't be distant with me."

“I’m not being distant with you—“

"I've invited you to my new place to visit and you still haven't shown up. It’s not fair for you to withhold that pretty little face from me," he cuts you off persuading with his charm. And you swear you can see his puppy eyes through the phone.

"It's already late, Kook," you try.

"You can stay over if you want," he continues, "I miss you, baby. No one else makes me feel the way you do. You know how much you mean to me, how much I trust you. I had a rough night and it's been a minute since I've seen you. Are you trying to hurt me more like this?”

Your silence on the other end of the line is more than enough to answer his question.

“Just… come over. Let me see you. Please?” Jungkook pleads to sink his claws into you more.

He’s about to pull the phone away from his ear to make sure the call didn’t disconnect when he hears you sigh softly on the other end.

“Okay.”

"I can't wait to see you, baby. Just tell the concierge your name when you get here," he ends with.

And with a quiet parting, you finally hang up and get dressed. Making your way out the front door to your car, headed straight for the man who has you locked in his cage. You try not to ponder on whether he gave the front desk your name because he was hoping you'd come or if it was that he was expecting you to.

It's been one of those nights, one of those nights I ain't had in a minute ... But it's never the same as the first time we did it First time we did it

It would be a lie to say it didn't feel good to hear Jungkook begging to see you, you'd like to think he wouldn’t do it for anybody else.

While driving to his condo you start reflecting on how you got here. Thinking back to the autumn you met him: the way he smiled brightly at you when you entered the tattoo shop, the reassuring squeeze he gave your side to calm you down after noticing you jerk at the buzzing of the needle, and his light praises as he worked on your skin.

Permanently marking your body and your life.

He truly is a charming guy. His sweetness is what drew you in, the way it seemed he cared for you. Calling to check how your ink was healing only to come over to make sure you were right when you said it was doing fine. The late-night visits when you'd say you had a bad day at work. The random car rides after you'd mention you're bored. It was nice back then, you wonder when that changed.

The past seven months of running to Jungkook when he calls, feeling wanted and getting tangled in his sheets. To then be slapped in the face with the reminder that you're not the only one he has on a leash.

Before you know it, you're standing in front of his door. You raise a fist and knock on it, hearing footsteps approaching on the other side before the sound of it unlocking.

JK POV

Jungkook swings the door open wide and leans one arm on its frame looking down at you as you finally come face to face. It’s been over three weeks since he last saw you, and he knew you were slipping through his fingers. When he got his new place it was the perfect chance to see you so he's been trying to convince you to come over since he moved in.

As he takes you in, standing on his stoop with an expression clear you're unsure if you should be here. The tight white tube top snug on your chest and the low-rise jeans you're wearing allow the tattoo he put on you to peek out. Creating a feeling of possessiveness in him without you knowing what you're doing to him. Fuck, it’s been too long.

As you stand there with Jungkook's alluring appearance: white wifebeater that shows off his sleeve of ink, grey sweat pants hanging low, and hair wet—you feel your resolve crumble.

Fresh out of the shower, his musky clean scent engulfs you from here, as he flashes that smile that got you here in the first place.

“Hey, baby,” he says coolly. It's like he's completely unaware of the inner conflict you're going through.

You smile meekly as you brush past him to walk inside. He doesn't move aside, purposefully taking up most of the doorway so you have to press up against him, and when you do, he closes the door with one hand as the other reaches for you. His fingers hook in the belt loop of your jeans to pull you closer he wraps an arm around your waist pulling you in your chest against his.

“You're still being cold with me, huh?" he lowers his head to meet your gaze, "You're breaking my heart, baby.”

You look up making eye contact with his sparkling orbs, "No, I told you I'm not."

"Then where's my kiss?" he questions.

And that's where your inner conflict ends.

But I'll let my guard down for you Said I'll put my guard down for you

You loop your arms around his neck and tilt your head up, his lips find yours at the same time his hands slide down around your hips, fingers slipping into your back pockets stretched taut over your ass and squeezing. You gasp at the feeling and he takes the opportunity to push his tongue into your mouth.

JK POV

Jungkook knows that you’ve been pulling away from him. But he doesn't see what the problem is and if you were honestly done with him, then you wouldn’t have come here. And you certainly wouldn’t be twirling your tongue together with his.

Jungkook's head lowers to the crook of your neck and starts kissing to make you squirm the way he likes.

“I need to make up for my Y/N withdrawal,” he murmurs against your skin, and you giggle.

“I’m serious,” Jungkook remarks. He pauses to suck a mark into your skin, only stopping when he manages to bring a soft whimper out of you. “Why did you ghost me? You know that if you want to end this all you have to do is tell me.”

His lips make you shiver, "I-I know."

Jungkook’s lips graze over the shell of your ear “Then am I not satisfying you anymore,”

"No, t-that's not it. I've just been busy," you muster out an excuse.

Jungkook clicks his tongue at your answer and nips at your ear, "You lying to me now," he continues,

"We've always been honest with each other."

You stay silent.

You can't disagree with him, Jungkook has always been straight with you. Before you hooked up the first time he made it clear to you he wasn't looking for anything serious, and you told him you were okay with that. This was true at the time. Back then you were going through a dry spell so a man like Jungkook was just what you needed.

But as you two continued to spend time together, your feelings began to get more blurred. Although unsure if he would regard you as one, you considered him a friend. You both got along so great, not just sexually but beyond that. So as time went on your feelings for him only grew.

That should have been when you stopped what you two started but stupidly you didn't. And that's where your honesty fell short.

Jungkook has always been open with you that he was sleeping with other people, and it did hurt you knowing he was seeing other women because you were only sleeping with him. And as much as you could've done the same, you didn't. You were never the type of woman to sleep around with multiple people. It didn't feel right to you, plus you got everything you needed from Jungkook. So it stung more knowing that he didn't get the same from you, that you weren't enough.

But you enjoyed spending time with him, and you figured he must have enjoyed spending time with you just as much since he could have just stopped seeing you. So you supposed it must have been more than just the sex for him because if he only wanted that you knew he was also getting it from others.

Although lately things have felt different for you, your feelings for him remain but you no longer notice a friendship between you two. Maybe it was never really there to begin with but it started to seem like you were just a good fuck for him.

Just another contact in his phone, a quick and easy booty call. And you now realize you are.

As difficult as it was to keep all this to yourself, you knew if you told him that you had to stop sleeping with one another because you developed feelings for him—that would be it. He would have no reason to see or talk to you anymore. And foolishly that was something you weren't sure you were ready for.

So you decided to settle for just avoiding him instead. It kept you far enough from being hurt by his actions yet kept him close enough to seem like he was still around.

JK POV

Truthfully, Jungkook does like you, not enough to settle down but he wouldn't do that with anyone. You are sweet, beautiful and great in bed. It is easy to talk to you and fun to hang out with you—you're a great match for him honestly. But right now he’s young, and he wants to be carefree and have fun.

Jungkook has noticed that you seem to want more than what the two of you initially agreed upon, yet selfishly he doesn’t want to let you go. He likes having you around, he has never kept someone he was seeing around as long as you. Jungkook wouldn't say this out loud but you're special. He sees how different you are from the other women he hangs out with. Not just in the bedroom, and holy shit are you great in bed, but as a person.

He knows that you haven't been with anyone other than him this whole time, and secretly that made him happy. If what was going on between you two was to end, he knew it wouldn't be difficult for you to find someone to replace him. Someone who would likely give you more than Jungkook is. Any guy would jump at the chance to be with you and that makes his blood fucking boil, the idea of you with someone else.

People would probably say he's a asshole for still seeing you but Jungkook has never claimed to be perfect. That's why he takes time to give you extra attention when things feel shaky with you two, securing his hold on you. You’re always so good for him, always coming when he calls.

It’s probably fucked up, but even though he just told you to say the word to end all this, he wouldn't let you go that easily.

Said I'll be vulnerable So you can break my heart if you want to

When your silence continues Jungkook is aware you don't intend on giving him a truthful answer.

“Hmm if you don't want to tell me, that's fine. Maybe you need to be reminded why you started coming to me in the first place,” he barks.

He moves his hands to your hips and pushes you back till the back of your knees hit the couch causing you to fall onto it. Jungkook stands over you looking down like a predator stalking his prey. The sight makes you wet, panties sticking to you.

Your heartbeat picks up as you gaze up at him. With a smirk, he uses one leg to tease your thighs apart. He leans forward his hands bracing on the back of the couch behind you, arm muscles flexing as he cages you in, and captures you in a heated kiss.

“Pants off, baby,” he growls into your mouth, shifting to grip your neck with one hand as he kisses you again. You whine in his mouth as you do as you’re told.

You missed this: the way he smells, how soft his lips are, the way he dominates you.

Once your jeans are off Jungkook lips leave yours and his knees drop to the carpet as he settles between your legs. His gaze sets on the permanent mark on your hip, the one he put there—the one that brought you two together. His eyes find yours as he gives it a peck then hooks his biceps under your thighs and he tugs you to the edge of the couch.

Jungkook draws out a moan from you when he sucks a hickey into the soft skin of your inner thigh. He bites at it before pulling back with a final lick over the mark that sends a shiver down your spine. You open your legs wider for him, leaning back against the cushion.

“Good girl,” Jungkook praises with a smirk.

He takes one hand between your thighs to yank your panties to the side, tattooed fingers spreading your folds apart.

When he leans back he murmurs, "So fucking pretty, I missed this pussy so much."

Making eye contact he dives in and licks a long, slow stripe up the front of the wet material, taking his time, your hips tilt up on their own for more.

“Kook,” you whine, the desperation in your voice only turns him on more.

He works up some saliva in his mouth and lets it dribble down over your slit between his fingers, then follows it with another pass of his tongue.

“Don't worry you know I always take care of you, baby, ” Jungkook purrs, he goes back in sucking your clit.

“Oh my fucking god,” you mewl.

“Shit, baby you're soaking,” he teases along with his touch down to your entrance. He pushes a finger in only to drag it back out, and a thin, glossy string of arousal comes with it.

“Your pussy missed me just as much. That’s why you couldn't stay away,” he winks.

And once again, his being right frustrates you because you could never stay away. Like he knew the moment he called you would end up in the exact position you are now because he knows you can’t say no to him. That fact is evident by how quickly you showed up at his door.

JK POV

Jungkook pulls your panties down your thighs before guiding your legs to hang over his shoulders. Glancing up to meet your eyes, arms locked across your stomach to keep you in place, flashes you a cheeky smile then he starts eating you out like a starved animal. His tongue traces through your folds, lapping at your wet entrance while his thumb circles over your clit to work up more. Jungkook’s brows pinch together and he grunts in appreciation of your familiar taste.

You squeak, and Jungkook just thinks you're so damn cute he can't hold back a smirk as he pleasures you.

He enjoys the way your soft sighs transition into loud moans, hips matching pace to the steady rhythm of his tongue. He likes making you squirm, he can feel the muscles in your thighs twitch in response— always so sensitive.

“Kook,” you moan, “ah, fuck— f-feels so good,” your fingers make their way into his long locks and tug.

Smiling against your folds he hums, and the vibrations make you cry out so he does it some more, lips closing to suck firmly at your clit.

“I'm gonna cum,” you call out as he continues his assault against your clit, tongue returning to flick at the sensitive nub. 

Your hips rise as your orgasm washes over you and he shoves them back down, practically growling as he forces you to stay put and take it. He can feel your legs tremble, your heels dig into his back as he sucks and licks you through your climax. He keeps going until you can't take anymore and push at his head, whimpering from overstimulation.

A final kiss to your pussy and Jungkook pulls back with a cocky grin on his face, chin glistening. He knows no one else will ever pleasure you like him. 

You barely manage to regulate your breathing before he slides your legs off his shoulders. His hands press on your thighs to encourage them to spread further before he slips two fingers knuckles deep into your cunt.

Your walls squeeze so tight around him, the sound of your overflowing juices as he pumps into you so filthy. You reach out to grab onto something and your hands find his bicep your nails digging into his skin.

Jungkook glances up and he can’t help but smile at your fucked out expression. You’re past the point of being able to talk, but that doesn't stop him.

“You missed me too, right baby?”

You can only whimper in response and he halts his movements, fingers deep inside you.

“What was that? Use your words, baby,” he taunts.

You nod desperately until you manage to find your voice.

“Yes.”

You look so innocent and obedient, it makes Jungkook want to fucking ruin you.

“Yes, what?” Jungkook mocks as he curves his fingers to caress over your velvety walls.

"Y-yes I," you take a deep breath, "I missed you," you finally manage to get out.

Jungkook presses his tongue to the inside of his cheek, trying to hide his smug smirk and goes back to his fast pace. This time he doesn't hold you down when you fuck yourself on his hand, clenching around his fingers and trembling all over again. Jungkook watches you in awe with his mouth slightly agape as he works you through your second peak. He loves how your nails dig into him with your tight grip like you need him to ground yourself.

Once you finally start to come down your thighs shut around Jungkook’s wrist to still the motions of his hand. When he hears you whimper from oversensitivity, he finally relents. You open your legs so he can slip his fingers out, he lifts them to his mouth to suck them clean. As he watches your chest heaving with your head tip back and eyes closed, he rises to his feet.

In one swift move, Jungkook leans forward, slipping an arm between your back and the couch and sweeping the other under your knees. He tosses you over his shoulder with zero struggle, delivering a swift slap to your ass with the hand that isn’t wrapped around your hips.

You gasp out a laugh, “What are you doing?!”

You haven't seen this playful side of him in a while. This is the Jungkook know—the Jungkook you let your walls down for.

“We gotta get more comfortable, baby,” Jungkook replies as he carries you across the living room, “I can't fuck my girl properly on the couch.”

His girl. Your heart flutters at the notion but your stomach twists at the lie.

He easily opens his bedroom door with his free hand walks in and sets you down on the bed, making quick work of stripping out of his clothes, hard cock hanging heavy between his legs. Bringing you back in the moment, your lingering thoughts pushed aside.

You remove your top and sit fully naked on his mattress. Staring up at him waiting for his next move.

He crawls over to you, you lay down as his body hovers over yours. You bite your lip as you look into his dark eyes.

"Now, will you finally tell me what's been going on?" His voice is low, his mouth ghosting over yours, his hand brushing some hair out of your face and tucking it behind your ear.

Your foot lightly kicks his muscular thigh, "Nothing's going on," you sigh.

“Why are you pulling away from me?” His nose runs down from the side of your neck to the valley between your breasts, it makes you shiver and your nipples.

“I'm not,” you whisper.

“You are,” Jungkook says softly. “And I don't like it.”

A hand cups one of your breasts, and he ducks down to suck the stiff peak of it into his mouth, enjoying the airy little moan he coaxes out of you and the way you arch up into him. He switches giving the other fleshy mound the same attention.

“It hurt me, baby,” his eyes find yours in time to watch your expression soften.

You remember his words from the call that brought you here so you inquire, shifting the spotlight off you.

You reach up and hold his face in both hands, thumbs stroking his cheeks, and quietly ask, "What about you? You said you had a rough night, what happened?"

Jungkook sighs. His forearms are on either side of you holding his weight as he leans down and presses his forehead against your chest.  

"I don’t want to talk about that. Let's focus on now, hmm?”

You press a kiss into his hair in agreement, and he tilts his head up to kiss your lips. Your arms come to loop around his neck to pull him closer. The two of you make out like teenagers, tongues colliding together.

“Kook, I need you. Please,” you moan, nails dragging down his back as he presses sloppy kisses, mostly tongue and teeth, to your neck.

His mouth finds yours again, and he bites down on your bottom lip with a smile before sitting up. You whine a little and Jungkook’s hands slide to your waist where he gives a teasing pinch.

“Can you get on all fours for me?”

Turning on your stomach, his hands go to your hips to guide you. You barely get on your knees as you feel Jungkook’s arm under you, wrapped around your stomach as he hoists you up, a hand pressing against your back. He dips down and presses a kiss to your temple.

“Comfy?” He murmurs in your ear.

You look up at him over your shoulder with wide, shining eyes, and you nod, Jungkook can't resist ducking down to kiss you before pushing your legs apart. Then his hand and fingers are back on your pussy, rubbing it slowly and spreading more wetness.

“So fucking sexy, you look so fucking beautiful like this, baby,” he groans behind you, causing you to clench embarrassingly as a soft chuckle sounds behind you.

Although you are lost in a haze of lust and pleasure, you still know to take precautions when it comes to Jungkook.

"C-condom, Kook,"

He shakes his amusingly before he reaches towards his nightstand, the sight of a foil package in Jungkook’s hands brings you back to all those times you’ve seen this exact view. He rips it open, pulling out the condom as you watch his every movement, especially those tattoos and veins decorating his muscular arms through the entire process of putting it on and down his thick hardened length.

The arch in your back, when you press your ass up towards him, makes his cock start to leak against his stomach and he gives your ass a firm slap.

The tip of his cock grazes over your pussy, poking your clit and causing you to whimper needily Jungkook’s name. He can’t help but moan as he starts to grind the head of his dick against your folds.

“Oh baby,” he utters huskily.

Gasping, you grip the sheets and hold them tightly in your hands,

“Fuck me, Kook, I wanna feel you.”

Jungkook doesn't waste any more time and lines himself up to your entrance and he pushes his length into you sliding in until he’s pressed to the hilt. You whine into the crook of your elbow, your walls pulsing, filled up and so sensitive.

Jungkook leans forward, hands resting by the pillow under your head on either side of you until his chest is flush with your back and the tip of his cock presses into your g-spot.

“Feels good?” He murmurs in your ear, and you can only whimper and nod.

"This pussy is all mine, right?" Jungkook asks through clenched teeth, nipping at the skin of your shoulder, and he starts to grind his hips against you, rubbing his cock into your g-spot over and over. 

“Yes, all yours,” you whisper, gasping when Jungkook starts thrusting in and out slowly, your mouth falling open right away at the sensual feeling of being stretched.

“Not anyone else's?” he hums like he doesn’t already know.

Even with your mind somewhere else you still feel the sting of what he’s asking you and the irony of it but somehow you manage to nod anyway.

“No,” you choke out.

He pulls out, not fully just enough to let his tip in as he starts sliding back in, this time even deeper than before.

“Good,” he whispers into your ear, straightening as he grabs your hips and starts moving faster. Ramming his hips into you causing his balls to hit your swollen clit which makes your head spin. Fingers digging into your hips so tightly that they might bruise later but the extra added pain adds just the right amount to your already existing pleasure and the tingle between your legs.

JK POV

"Ah, don’t stop, oh god—” you whimper, pushing your ass back to meet his thrusts. Jungkook can’t stop now, not even if he wanted to, not when it feels this good. You’re so fucking precious.

His hands grip you even tighter, hips moving faster when you beg him to, your soft moans and whimpers of Jungkook’s name coax him to move faster and deeper. Jungkook momentarily pauses as he grabs your ass and pulls your asscheeks apart, getting a good view of your pussy swallowing him.

Jungkook hooks his arm across your chest, and his hand gripped tight to your shoulder gives him more leverage to hit deeper.

“God, you're so fucking amazing, baby. Feels so good,” he growls.

Jungkook can feel the way your whole body is starting to shake and can tell by the way you’re gripping around him that you’re already close. He feels his balls tightening and he knows he’s just seconds from cumming too.

“Come with me, baby,” he grunts, “I want to feel you come again on my cock.”

The evident sound of skin-on-skin clapping echoes in your ears and around Jungkook’s bedroom and he takes no mercy on you, chasing his high and you cling to the sheets for dear life.

He feels good, too good to be true and you clench around him even more tightly, almost shrieking that you’re already ready to cum.

“Oh fuck, Kook, fuck, fuck, I’m coming, I—” With a loud cry, you collapse forward, knees nearly buckling as your third orgasm of the night hits you.

“Shit,” Jungkook curses, his breathing harsh and ragged, dick twitching right before a throaty growl makes its way out of his mouth and he’s finally cumming.

His head tilts back and his eyes screw shut as he comes with you. He fills up the condom, thrusts slowing down until they halt. You whimper softly with your head dropped down into your arms, your pussy still shuddering around him.

Jungkook squeezes at the curve of your ass as he pulls out with a hiss of oversensitivity. You cringe at the feeling but miss him inside you right away, the empty feeling making its way to your heart. But as soon as Jungkook’s cock is out of you, your whole body fails you and you fall onto your back, eyes to the ceiling.

He smiles at the way you’re still trembling as he disposes of the condom. He then joins you back on the bed, he lies next to you stretching out an arm for you and you move closer to him your face now buried in his chest.

Your rushed and loud breaths can be heard in the room. Jungkook brings a hand to your lower back to rub gentle circles, “You okay, baby?”

"Mhm," you nod with a small sigh.

“That was the best sex I had in a while,” he chuckles, “You wore me out, baby,” closing his eyes as you both lay there for a moment, bodies still hot and sweaty.

"I don't even know why I bother with other women," he comments, "I should've just called you first."

The heat in your body vanishes, you feel like your blood has drained from your body, and Jungkook's room now feels cold. You lift your head from his chest tilting your head up and look at him.

You dreadfully ask, "What do you mean?

"The girl I had over here before," he grimaced, "Couldn't hold a candle to you."

Your stomach twists and you feel your heartbeat pick up so much you hear it in your ears.

You clarify, "Before? You mean before you called me?"

He looks at you and nods, "Mhm."

"So, you had sex with someone else before you called me?"

"Yeah," he lets out a breath as he shakes his head, "It was such a disappointment, I had to end the night right."

You think back to the call before you came here:  

"I miss you, baby. No one else makes me feel the way you do. You know how much you mean to me, how much I trust you. I had a rough night and it's been a minute since I've seen you. Are you trying to hurt me more like this?”

Suddenly you feel vulnerable, a disgusted look forms on your face as you come to the realization, and you sit up abruptly.

Jungkook looks at you with confusion as you turn to face him.

You furrow your brows, "Is that what you were talking about when you said you had a rough night?

"Woah. What's wrong, baby?"

His ignorance of your question is all the confirmation you need, your heart cracks. Moments from earlier now make you feel like a fool.

His freshly showered body when you arrived wasn't because he came home from work but because he was cleaning himself from the sex he just had and when you asked him what was wrong before you fucked and he didn't want to talk about it.

You try to swallow down the lump in your throat as you look around for your clothing, and you lean over to retrieve the ones you see. You begin to get dressed still stinking of sex, only reminding you of the mistake that you've made adding to your sensation of disgust.

"Where are you going? I thought you were staying?"

You ignore his and continue getting dressed as your vision starts to blur.

Jungkook reaches out to touch your shoulder but you flinch away. He notices the tears in your eyes.

“Hey, there's no reason to be upset, baby,” Jungkook says softly.

“No, Jungkook,” you snap, his eyes widen and he can tell by the way you’ve dropped the nickname that this is serious, “That's fucking low even for you.”

"You know I sleep with other people, Y/N," he notes calmly.

"Yes, I know you sleep with other people, but I didn't think you'd have me in your bed before your sheets could even dry from your last fuck," you scoff already up and headed for the living room for the remainder of your clothing.

She said, "Take your time, what's the rush?"

Pulling on the rest of your clothes now fully dressed yet you feel more naked than you were mere minutes ago. You sense Jungkook's presence behind you and turn to resume your rant.

"Do you even care about how that makes me feel? How when some random girl can't please you, you call me as your second pick, like I'm just some backup pussy."

JK POV

Jungkook should probably take this more seriously, but he can’t help his instinctive reaction, he smirks, "You would have been my first if you hadn't been ignoring me."

You shoot him a look of disbelief, clearly not amused by this response. You move past him to his front door, but Jungkook quickly steps to block you from leaving.

"Hey, hey, hey wait," he grabs your shoulders to stop you, you shrug them off and his arms fall to his side. His eyes meet your own as he rebuts,

"Come on, you know it's not like that with us. You know what you mean to me. I don't see why it's a big deal. I mean, I wear a condom," he shrugs.

"That's not the point," you exasperate, "I didn't think you would do something so disrespectful, Jungkook. Instead of taking the time to have a break in between your dick appointments, you rush to call me over like I'm your bitch."

"Hold on a sec, I respect you," he tries to defend.

"Having respect for someone and disrespecting them are two very different things," you shake your head and continue, "You didn't even mention having someone here tonight until after you slept with me. And said it as if telling me I was the better lay of the night was a compliment," you laugh humorlessly.

"I don't know what you want me to do, Y/N," he says with a heavy exhale.

"If you don't understand why I'm upset Jungkook there isn't anything to do," your voice defeated.

Jungkook knows this is his chance to fight for you or at least apologise but this is who he is. He’s not going to promise he’ll change, and he knows you’re not going to ask him to. He can’t be anything but what he is, but he can hope you’ll stay anyway.

"What can I say, he says,

"Baby, I'm a dog, I'm a mutt"

They say if you lie down with dogs, you get up with fleas but all you've gotten is heartbreak.

🐾 🐾 🐾 🐾 🐾 🐾 🐾 🐾 🐾 🐾

↬ a/n: okay so i have an idea for a part 2 of this that i'm probably going to work on once i finish a drabble that's currently in progress for a request...so maybe look forward to that :) let me know if that would be something you're interested in! & if you made it this far thank you <3

[hairmetal666]

Eddie owns a record store, gets to talk about music everyday. Life is good. Great, actually.

He's consolidating the Christian rock section on a quiet Wednesday morning when it happens. A man with swoopy dark hair, tight dark blue jeans, and a plum Member's Only jacket walks in, and doesn't take his Ray Bans off even once he's solidly inside.

Eddie is awestruck. This dude is gorgeous. Heart stopping. He watches him browse in quiet astonishment, unable to say anything until he blurts, "Can I help you find something?"

The man smiles--Eddie's heart stops--and he says, "Nah, just browsing. Your sign caught my eye."

And he's still not quite with the program, the rich honey of the man's voice taking him totally by surprise. "Ah, oh, it did?" He manages after a few long beats. "Painted it myself."

"No shit? It's great."

"Thanks, man. I also think it's some of my finest work."

The guy laughs. "How can I know unless I see some of your other pieces?"

Eddie's face heats, but he's never been known for having good impulse control. "Maybe you'll get lucky."

Spots of pink bloom on the man's cheeks and the tips of his ears. "And here I was, thinking I was getting special treatment."

Eddie cocks his head, smiles big. "Well, the day's still young." It's so risky and stupid; no way this guy is queer, but he grins at Eddie, laughs a little too.

"That right? Well, tell me your latest recommendations."

"For you?" Eddie eyes him up and down. "Wham!"

The guy's laugh is warm and rich and Eddie wants to drown in it. "Big of you to say for a someone who's only listened to Enter Sandman for the last four months."

Eddie cackles, points a be-ringed finger. "It's a good song! A great record."

"Hey, I've got no problem with Metallica. I just don't think you should be casting aspersions on Wham!."

"Casting aspersions, do you have a word of the day calendar or some shit?"

"No! It's toilet paper."

Their snickers grow until they're both hysterical, needing to lean against a display to stay upright.

It's like he's living in a dream, hitting it off with a beautiful man who just happened to stumble into his store. They catch their breath and Eddie uses the time to grab a record off a nearby shelf.

"Here," he says. "Try this."

"Joni Mitchell?"

"Don't tell me, Wham! fan, that you're too cool for Joni."

"Nah, she's my best friend's favorite. How much do I owe you?"

"On the house," Eddie shrugs.

"Shit, that's generous. Thanks, man. Now, about your art--" He glances at the shiny watch on his wrist. "Fuck, is it really 3:15? Goddamnit, I gotta get going."

And Eddie wants to call him back, doesn't want this dream encounter to end, but he's dashing to the door--

And just like that, the man is gone, the only evidence it ever happened the lingering chime of the bell over the door.

The bell clatters again, and his head wrenches up hard enough it hurts his neck.

"Was that Steve Harrington?" the customer shrieks.

"No," he scoffs. Except. Except. The hair and the clothes and sunglasses and the face and his lips--

"No!?" He feels the way his eyes have gone wide with panic. He didn't just flirt with Steve Harrington. Of course not. Not ever. He would've recognized--

He runs to the racks of magazines in front of the register, grabbing the latest issue of People. The cover features a glossy, polished photo of the man who just left the store. The one who had the highest grossing movie of the summer alongside his co-star, Julia Roberts. The one who, according to the article within, is in Chicago right now shooting a new movie. The one who Eddie flirted with. The one who flirted back.

He groans and covers his face with his hands. At least he'll never see Steve Harrington again.

---

Harrington comes back.

The second time, he's wearing a jewel blue polo and fitted slacks, Ray Bans nowhere to be seen.

"Got anymore recommendations?" Steve asks.

"What?" Eddie's still trying to accept that Harrington came back.

"I finished Joni. It was good. Recommend something else for me."

Fully with the program, he reaches to the rack behind him, handing the vinyl to Steve without ever taking his eyes off him.

"Seriously?" Steve deadpans.

"Tell me you don't deserve it after last time."

Steve studies the cover of Metallica, a complicated look on his face. "Fine, but you have to listen to the album George Michael released last year."

He mimics getting shot in the heart. "After my magnanimous first suggestion, you dare to punish me with Freedom?"

"Think of it more as an opportunity."

"To regret every decision I've ever made?"

"To expand your musical horizons."

Eddie rolls his eyes. "Fiiiine. It's a deal."

Steve beams. "Good! Ring me up."

And Eddie, he'd comp it again, but Steve gives him this look that tells him not to try it.

As they pass the magazine racks, Eddie points at one featuring Steve on the cover. "That thing you wore to the Vanity Fair party last month was hideous."

Steve snorts, then laughs. "Thanks. My stylist decided to go for something--"

"--terrible?--"

"Avant garde."

"Oh, is that what they're calling it these days?"

Steve pays, throws Eddie one last smile, "next time?"

Eddie nods, already certain this time is the last one.

---

He keeps coming back.

Eddie tries not to read into it.

Steve is straight, famously has a girlfriend. former horror movie child star turned cinema wunderkind, Nancy Wheeler. They're always on the covers of the tabloids, in ever more improbable stories about affairs and secret babies and french countryside weddings.

But he keeps coming back. And eventually, they grab dinner. And that dinner becomes lunches, movies, clubs, concerts. Eddie's in paparazzi photos, and there's no speculation about their relationship. Steve has a girlfriend.

But sometimes. Sometimes Steve will rest his hand on Eddie's nape, his lower back, let it linger. He'll trace a finger down the tattoos on Eddie's forearms or the patches of his battle vest. He'll lean too close when they talk, unafraid to press their bodies together. And he catches Steve's eyes on his mouth more than once, his pupils wide.

Over the next few weeks, Steve's gaze on Eddie's mouth gets hotter, his looks longer, and it's killing him. All he wants to do, all he ever wants to do, is close the distance between them, appease the gnawing beast of desire in his chest.

But Steve has a girlfriend.

They don't talk about her, not even when he knows all about Steve's best friend, Robin, and the gang of kids who adopted him, or Joyce and Hopper, his surrogate parents. Never Nancy.

He tries not to read into it.

---

They're supposed to meet for dinner. Steve scored reservations at a trendy new restaurant, but Eddie's late. Astronomically, horrifically late. It's pouring rain, it takes fifteen minutes to get a cab, traffic is a nightmare.

Out of patience and time, he decides to run the last few blocks to the restaurant. By the time he reaches the building, he's soaked to the bone, spluttering harsh breaths through mouthfuls of rain.

Steve is walking in the opposite direction, hands stuffed into the pockets of his coat.

"Steve?" He calls.

He turns and this is the first time Eddie's seen him angry. "You're late," Steve's eyes rake over him, and his face softens in an instant. He takes Eddie's wrist, leads him into an alley where the buildings are close enough to block some of the rain.

"What happened?"

"Traffic."

Steve's gaze go all soft and gentle, and Eddie's knees buckle a little. "You look like a drowned rat."

"Yeah, well." Eddie scoffs. "We can't all be beautiful movie stars."

"You're more beautiful than I could ever be, even soaking wet."

He shakes his head, ignoring the cascade of butterflies; Steve shouldn't say things like that. His vigorous movement sends wet strands of hair slapping him in the face.

Steve reaches out, softly brushes it back.

Eddie stops breathing.

Steve closes the distance between them.

What a thing, to be kissed by Steve Harrington. What a terrible, glorious thing.

He breaks it fast, face red, can't catch his breath. "Nancy," is all he can say.

"Nancy?"

"You have a girlfriend."

Steve's face scrunches. "She's not my girlfriend."

Eddie's mouth drops. "Yes, she is." They went to the Oscars together.

"Eddie." Steve takes a few steps back. "Eddie. I'm gay."

He laughs, an ugly honking thing. "C'mon. What could she possibly get out of that?"

Steve's eyes widen, eyebrows reaching his hairline, mouth pursed in a bitchy line. It takes Eddie a minute but, "Ohhhhh. So, it's all--?"

"It was the best way."

"But you're--?"

"I thought you clocked me immediately! Wham!???"

"That was because of the jacket!"

"Have you ever met a straight man who dresses like I do and likes George Michael??"

"That describes five dudes I see a day!"

"And you thought they were straight??"

Eddie stares into the middle distance, replaying some of those interactions, and--"Huh. Okay. I get hit on at work waaay more than I realized."

"For fuck's sake, Eddie!" He's shaking his head, but Eddie sees the way the corners of his mouth shake with suppressed laughter.

"I'm sorry! You have a very public straight relationship!"

Steve giggles, pulls Eddie close. "Is this okay?"

"So okay."

"You do like me back?"

"Are you kidding! Thought I was going insane, how much I want you."

"And now?"

"Come back to my place?"

"Thought you'd never ask."

And Eddie, he's seen Steve playing at love dozens of times, but this--right here, in a soggy, smelly alley where they're both soaking wet--it's more perfect than any movie.

[bunny-jpeg]

sibling situation

simon 'ghost' riley

cw: smut & plot, mactavish!reader, size kink/difference, missionary sex, unprotected sex, marriage & babies (at the end), romance, simon's found family

this rabbit runs on reblogs & comments! feed the rabbit!

simon knew that johnny had a sister. you had been brought up in conversation tons of times. after the death of your parents, you and johnny were really all each other had. but johnny left for the military right before turning eighteen and you struggled to put yourself through university. it wasn't the easiest life and simon could understand, he had his own scars of his childhood.

"so, why are you dragging me out here again, johnny?"

"get ya out of that shoe box flat. got a little more leg room where i am."

johnny had driven the car all the way to edinburgh with a promise that a little time away would do wonders for the other man. simon had his ear talked off about how london was just too big, and while edinburgh was a city. it would be a break from the intense metropolitan of london. if need be the two of them and you could go on a getaway to the countryside.

"this better be good, johnny."

"ah, don't worry! i promise, you'll have the time of your life!" johnny reached over and slapped his friend on the back, "plus, you have to meet my sister."

the flat that you shared with johnny was well kept. of course it was, your brother was out most of the year with an automatic deposit for rent and when he was home, it was so ingrained with the military that things were kept tidy. and you on the other hand enjoyed tidiness as well.

even if cleaning the place in his absence felt a bit much sometimes, you still at least picked up your socks off the floor, put the clean dishes in the cupboard and washed out the carafe of the coffee maker. but you had worked over time to make sure everything was perfect, not for your brother (he could clean himself), but rather the mysterious guest that he was bringing.

you didn't want his lieutenant to think you lived like animals!

when the knock on the front door came, you happily welcomed them. your gaze was captured away from your grinning brother and rather the larger man beside him. he wore a black medical face mark, but you could see the tiredness in his eyes. the mop of blond hair and a slight scar over his eyebrow.

"oh, kid, this simon. simon riley, my lt." johnny smiled, patting his fellow solider on the arm.

you shot him a glance, "i'm almost thirty, johnny. i'm far from a kid." you were a bite fiery, simon liked that.

johnny beamed back at you, "but you'll always be my little sister. gotten into trouble while i was gone?"

you let both men in and replied, "well except for yelling at those stupid kids from the secondary school about smoking in front of my window. nothing else really happened."

johnny dropped his bags on the hardwood floor and kicked off his boots. he put them correctly by the door before he stretched his arms over his head, "where's that guy you were seein'. teddy or somethin'?"

simon stood a little straighter. of course you had a boyfriend, look at you!

you waved your hand, "oh, he's long gone. i guess cousin nikki's words are true." you looked at your brother, "never date a man in finance. turns out he had more than one bonnie in his pocket."

johnny dropped his shoulders and remarked, "never liked the guy anyway. seemed a little uptight, would never survive a gathering of the mactavish's." he laughed.

simon felt odd in the space. seeing the siblings interacting. he thought of his own brother for a moment. instead he just followed suit and took off his heavy boots as well.

you looked at simon, "i hope it's okay that you take the couch. this place is only two bedrooms. the couch." you gestured to it, "does pull out so hopefully you'll have enough room. but, if you don't, tomorrow my lovely brother can give up his room."

"my room!" johnny replied loudly, "i've still got sand in my crack for the mission and you're givin' my room!"

you shot your brother a glance which johnny coward from. no words had to be said. johnny knew that it would be the right thing to do. after all, simon was his guest.

the afternoon went by slowly, and you and johnny moved through the small kitchen like a team. johnny was good at dicing and you were good at keeping an eye on the sauteeing vegetables.

"simon." you said which made simon look up from his spot at the small dining table. your eyes met and you pushed some hair out of your face, "two things. one, there should be a headband on the table it's soft and used for make-up. i need to get this hair out of my eyes. secondly, johnny never said that you had any dietary issues. is there anything i should avoid? i just sort of got our normal grocery order."

simon perked a little bit more, "oh i don't have any allergies or anything, ma'am." he gave a small nod, "i could eat anythin'."

you nodded, "okay, excellent!"

the blond found in endearing. it was almost hypnotic watching you put together the vegetables with the hearty pasta sauce. you worked a stove top like no other. the only problem was that your brother kept getting in the way of his sight of you.

been a while since a woman cooked him a meal.

simon got up quickly and gave you the headband. it was soft and pink colour with two sewn on cat ears made of the same material. you put it on and simon's heart skipped a beat. you were just so beautiful.

dinner of pasta, toasted buns and salad were served with a bottle of grocery store wine. the three of you drank, ate and chatted. you and johnny had most of the conversation while simon enjoyed listening.

he figured out that he could listen to you talk forever.

"well, i'm tired." johnny said as he rubbed his eyes. he finished the rest of his wine before he got up. he patted you on the top of the head, "i'll do the dishes in the mornin'. thanks for dinner, kid."

you rolled your eyes, pouring yourself another glass, "i'm not a kid."

johnny chuckled then looked to simon, "she'll get ya comfortable for the evenin'. i'll see ya tomorrow." before his tired steps headed towards the bedroom. soon the door closed and the sound of his body hitting the bed could be softly heard.

you leaned back in the kitchen chair, one leg draped over the other with your arms crossed. you admitted, "it must be hard to date. finding someone who understands your world."

simon stretched out a little more in his chair. he eyed the empty wine glass in front of him, "i try not to think about it so hard."

"i've heard stories about you. the terrifying ghost. there one moment, gone the next." you then reached across the table to drag a finger down the inside of simon's wrist, "i wonder if i had you in my bed tonight, if you'd be gone by morning."

your admission made simon's dark eyes grow a little wider. he said, "well, i have nowhere else to go."

you smiled a little, "must be lonely. i know it's lonely for me. to feel close to someone."

simon asked, "do you want to sleep with me miss mactavish?"

you chuckled lowly, as to not awake your brother in his room. you leaned back a little once more and gazed at him. you were definitely johnny's brother. the look in your eye said it all. you tilted your head a little to the side and asked, "is it that obvious, mister riley?"

the sound of wooden chairs against the floor as the two of you made your way to the bedroom. you took simon by his tattooed wrist and got him into your room. the door was shut a little louder than you hoped. you turned on the light and simon was already working the belt of his jeans.

you were quick to get your t-shirt off and you saw simon's hungry gaze on you as you became free of your clothes. his eyes raked the exposed skin and thought you looked like a dream.

"like what you see, simon?"

he nodded, "more beautiful than the photos, ma'am."

you covered your mouth while you giggled, "no need for the formalities. if my brother is underranked by you, then i'm sure as hell as a civilian."

simon got a hold of your waist, "you deserve a little more respect than your brother." then pulled you in for a soft kiss. even with his scars that you had seen over dinner. you thought he was beautiful.

it made you warm all over as you pulled the dark t-shirt on his shoulders. he helped you get out of it. and your hands pressed against his chest. you admired the scars, the tattoos, the overall beauty of him.

"i wish my brother had said his lt was hot prior. i would've tried to get with you sooner."

simon picked you up by the waist, your legs wrapped around his waist as he brought you to the bed and sat you down. he then started to work at the button of your jeans. once they were off, he cupped the bulge in his pants.

you slipped out of your simple purple panties and the white bra you wore. you then laid out on your bed with your hands behind your head and you giggled softly.

simon was absolutely smitten by you. he had come to the conclusion that when they were talking about the beauties in scotland. they meant you. and only you. once you were both naked, he got onto the bed.

the bed was a bit smaller than he had hoped, but you two could fit into it thankfully. he was worried that his large, bulkier frame would inch you off of the mattress. but it was a lot easier when he got between your legs. his achy erection, bright red at the tip, begged for attention.

you swallowed a little, "i wonder if it'll fit."

"then you tell me if it does. got it? you mactavish's have a habit of not showing pain." simon gave you a pointed gaze.

you covered your face for a minute, "okay. talk about my brother ends here. i don't want to hear about him while you're balls deep inside of me."

simon chuckled lightly and leaned in for another kiss. he said softly, close to your lips, "if it's anything, love. you're much more a looker than he is."

you held onto his blond locks and pulled him in for a hot kiss. you made a small noise when he shifted your hips up against him. to get a better angle of his cock inside of you.

"simon."

he said softly, his voice still gravely, "beautiful, beautiful girl. i don't know what that last boyfriend of yours was thinkin'. why want another when he could have you. but, i guess that means more for me."

your cheeks grew hot and simon pressed his cock up against you wet slit. you felt your heartbeat race at the anticipation of what was to come. you tensed up at the feeling of his cock being pushed into it.

"i got ya, i got ya. you feel so good there, love."

you nodded, "it's been a while. sorry if i'm too.. tight."

simon loomed over you like a comforting shadow. he gazed down at you, but there was a softness to his tired eyes. you didn't realize how pretty his eyes were. a deep dark brown, that lured you in while in the soft lighting of your bedroom.

he started to move against you and you let out a small moan. the bed squeaked a little bit. thankfully the frame didn't hit the wall. you two had to be somewhat quiet. even if your brother could be heard snoring in the room next to yours.

the sex between you two was quick, but not rough. the idea of bruising such a beauty made simon feel disgusted. you were meant to be cherished. he wanted to know everything about you.

"you are quite handsome, simon."

"thank you, love." he said softly as he held onto your thighs and moved against you. even in missionary you looked beautiful. the slight bounce of your breasts in time with his movements. he wanted to kiss all your soft parts throughout his visit in your sweet home.

he could get used to a warm meal and a warm cunt to bury himself into every night. maybe johnny was right, staying with you was better than being in london.

maybe he could get used to scotland.

he knew he could fit easily into the chaos of the mactavish family. if he could handle johnny, then he could handle you. at least he could fuck one of you quiet.

you felt your heart hammering at the feeling of it all. your noises were so sweet that it made simon need to bury himself deeper inside of you. he needed to feel all you could offer.

call him a sick puppy, but his brain was now wired to need you. you were a hit of a feeling that simon was so painfully unfamiliar with that it almost scared him. but as he admired the sight of you under him.

those soft lips partially opened, your eyes closed. you looked like an angel, and he swore he found heaven.

"beautiful." he said softly, his rugged voice made you feel like honey. gooey and warm, filling.

you came with your hands in his shaggy blond hair. your back arched as you felt the heat through you. you moaned a little louder than you hoped for as he continued to thrust up into you.

panting breaths between heavy thrusts as you laid spread out on the bed, letting simon move quicken his pace to reach his climax. he could feel it on the tip of his tongue. and with a few more heavy thrusts, he finished inside of you. his cheeks flushed and his mouth hung open in a heavy pant.

"fuck, simon."

"beautiful." he said absently. not able to think of much else besides your beauty. you were the kind of woman that simon was into.

he pulled out of you and rested down beside you on bed. you chuckled softly, your head still a little full of post orgasmic bliss. you got the covers on top of you and cuddled him naked.

clothed would be a worry in the morning.

when morning came, simon tried to slink back to the couch before johnny woke up. but when he exited your room and entered the main living space. he found johnny sitting there at the kitchen table. he was leaned back into his seat. simon caught sight of the pistol on the worn wooden table.

"so, si." johnny said, looking away from his paper to look at his fellow solider, "what are yer intentions with my sister?"

it had been a very long time since simon felt the stone of dread in his stomach. he tried not to show it across his scarred face. simon could instantly recall every military statistic that johnny had. there could be a million and one ways that the scottish solider could kill simon. and it wasn't like simon could do anything, he couldn't kill your brother.

there was a brief moment of silence between the two of them. neither made a motion or noise. simon wondered what was to come next. no amount of training could've prepared him for this.

but johnny broke the silence with laughter, "i'm just messin' with ya! the gun's not even loaded. just wanted to scare ya." he leaned forward in his seat. he looked at simon, "i don't care how my sister sees, but i have to be a little bit intimidating, don't ya think so, si?"

simon chuckled nervously.

johnny's suddenly expression dropped and he put down his paper in favour of the unloaded pistol. he pointed the front of it to simon, one eye closed as if he was going to shoot the blond in front of him. he said, "but if you break her heart there, simon. i won't be so forgiving."

the doorway to your bedroom opened with a loud creak and your voice rang through the apartment the three of you were in, "I swear to god! john michael mactavish! you better not be intimidating him!"

-

"you're seriously crying?" you asked your brother as you watched him gently take a hold of your newborn. your brother was a military man for christ's sake. he was weeping like a baby.

simon loomed over his colleague, protective over his newborn. his stern brown gaze read simply, "don't fuck it up, soap." he was ready to jump in if johnny fucked it up.

you were resting back in the hospital room, you just had your child with simon. you two had been married for a little over three years. it became habit for simon to come with johnny post-missions. the drive up to the city and you waiting for them.

a hug for your brother, a kiss for your lover.

now you were watching your brother cry at the sight of his nephew. the chubby little boy bundled up in a blanket. unaware of his weepy uncle. you looked at him with a slightyl stunned expression.

you probably cried less when you finally pushed him out. you didn't want to tell him the news because you thought he was going to cry more. while your son's first name was oliver, his middle name was john. after the crying mactavish in the hospital room.

"he really takes after us." john remarked when his cries died down.

you chuckled, "he sure does, johnny. now hand him over before you drop him." <3

[pathologicalreid]

litmus test | s.r.

in which Spencer needs your expertise to help solve a murder, but crime fighting is most decidedly not for you

find more chemist!reader here!

who? spencer reid x chemist!reader category: flangst (like. the end is a little angsty and it has case details) content warnings: typical cm violence, science talk, fem!reader, reader is not built for crime, morgan being an older brother, some fun banter!! death by firework is crazy lmao word count: 1.68k a/n: this is one of my favorite fluff pieces i've written in agessss i missed chemist!reader so much i learn so many things when i'm writing her. this was a request! i hope you like it as much as i do!!

“Do you have a second?” Spencer asks, his voice slightly choppy over the phone. Between his ancient phone and being inside concrete police precincts, some disconnect was bound to happen.

Saving your document to your computer, you rest the lab phone between your shoulder and ear, “If you’re asking me if I have any corrosive chemicals in my hands, the answer is no.”

He chuckles lightly, “I never know with you.”

You roll your eyes in response, even if he can’t see you, “It was one time and I needed a new phone case anyway.”

“You fused the plastic of your phone case to the material of your phone,” he retorts far too quickly for your liking.

“Yes,” you acquiesce, “but I know the exact chemical reaction that caused that phenomenon.” You cross your legs one over the other, maintaining your balance on your lab stool as you speak to Spencer over the phone.

He gave a light hum in response, “Speaking of chemical reactions – I need your help.”

Your eyebrows shot up in surprise, “You’re asking me for help in chemistry?” There really was a first time for everything, you suppose.

Spencer was more than capable of navigating a lab on his own, even so, he admits, “You have more applied practice than I do.”

Pursing your lips, you nod to yourself, “Fair enough. What’s stumping you, Dr. Reid?” Your inquiry, while innocent enough, garners a wolf whistle from your graduate assistant.

“There’s something burning a hole in these bones, and I’m not sure what would be causing it to happen this fast,” he explains, giving you minor background information on how long the bones were out and if the medical examiner had treated them with something.

You clear your throat, frowning at the notes you had scrawled down in front of you, “Burning or corroding?” What was seemingly a meaningless distinction would actually allow you to filter through approximately half of the possibilities.

“Corroding,” he corrects himself, “My mistake.”

Crossing off some of your notes, you purse your lips at the new possibilities, “No worries. Did you try flushing it out with water?”

You hear papers flipping on his end of the call before you get a response, “That would destroy evidence.”

“Well,” you raise your eyebrows, “It sounds like your evidence is destroying itself.”

“Baby,” Spencer says in a no-nonsense tone reserved for when he was deep in a case. You could’ve sworn you heard Morgan in the background of the call mocking him for the pet name.

Turning back to your notes, you sigh, “Yeah, yeah, all work and no play. Was the body buried?”

“Partially,” his reply intrigues you, “I can have Garcia send you the crime scene photos if you think it’ll help.”

Wrinkling your nose at the thought, you made an unsure sound, “Right, because nothing says lunchtime like getting up close and personal with a homicide victim.”

“What lunchtime? It’s three pm in D.C. right now,” he caught you, a slight chiding tone in his words.

Ignoring his questions, you ask more of your own, “Was the body near water? Did they test the pH of the soil and water?”

There were more papers flipping, likely someone presenting the results of those tests to him, “Yeah, the soil was a five-point two and the water was a seven-point eight,” he listed off for you.

While your knowledge of the pH of the soil in Iowa was limited, you did know that those levels were pretty on par for the northern Mississippi River. “O-kay,” you say, extending your vowels, “and they didn’t find anything else on the scene that points to corrosive materials. Hydrofluoric acid?” You posit, “No, you know what – maybe you should send me those files. My work email is encrypted, you can give it to Penelope.”

He speaks to someone else in the room with him and you resist the urge to ask him if he’s enjoying Iowa, “It’s sent,” he confirms with you.

Pulling up your email only takes a moment, and once you get over the initial shock of seeing a dead body on your computer screen, you lift your lab glasses to the top of your head in order to get a better look. “I mean,” you think for a moment, “those look like alkali burns to me. I’ve never seen them on bones before, but you should do a litmus test to check either way.”

“So, we rinse it with water?” He asks, seeking instruction from you in a way that makes you feel oddly powerful.

Your eyes widen, “No, no, no. If it’s a metal compound then it’ll be covered in a mineral oil, so rinsing it with water would actually make the burn worse.”

Pausing for a moment, you consider the possibility that Spencer didn’t have the luxury of time – he was trying to solve a murder, not do experiments in a lab.

“Alkali burns can be serious, it all depends on what caused them, and most are helped by rinsing with water. So, unless you have the time to test for metal compounds, I’d go ahead and rinse it. You might want to brush the damage to the bones with a dry brush first. If there’s lime on the bones it’ll foam, which not only will corrode the bones even further but it might release a toxic gas,” you have no idea how the corrosion would interact with bone marrow, but something tell you that you don’t want to know

“Wait a minute,” Derek interjects, being included in the conversation now that Spencer put the call on speaker, “I thought things like alkaline water were good for you.”

You scoff instinctively, “Oh, there’s no definitive evidence that shows alkaline water as having any real health benefits. Especially not the benefits that the internet says it has.” Straightening up in your stool, you continue, “In fact, there is evidence from the NIH that says drinking alkaline water could cause kidney damage. There’s a particular-“

“My bad,” he interjects, effectively stopping your rambling before it really took off, “I forgot whose girlfriend I was talking to.”

Groaning at your new vexation, you huff, “Oh, fuck off, Derek. Go kick down a door.”

Spencer quickly switches the phone back, “Thank you, angel.”

Squinting at the photos that were still on your laptop screen, a crude, disturbing thought came to mind, “You know, sparklers can cause alkali burns. It might be something to consider because of the diameter of the burns.”

Your boyfriend was silent on his end of the call for so long that you had to check and make sure the call hadn't dropped. “Did you say sparklers?”

“Yep,” you confirm, “like the ones you can get everywhere this time of year.”

He says something to Morgan, placing his hand over the receiver so you can’t hear, “There’s only one spot in this town, though. I’ve gotta go, see you soon.”

“Stay safe, please! I prefer your bones unburned,” you rattle off into the phone before it clicks, placing the phone back on the stand and deleting the crime scene photos from your inbox.

The front door to the apartment opens and shuts quietly, with Spencer under the assumption that you already went to bed, he was surprised to find you on the couch, nursing a cup of tea. “Hey, baby,” he chirps, unusually peppy for this time of night.

“Hey,” you say half-heartedly, threading your fingers through the handle of the mug.

Your somber tone gets Spencer’s attention, “What’s wrong?”

The slight panic in his voice causes your eyes to snap up to his, “Nothing,” you murmur. “It’s just… the woman who was in those pictures. There- the burns on her bones, they were signs of torture, weren’t they?”

You’d been thinking about the burns ever since Spencer showed them to you, “Yes,” he answers with a reciprocating softness, sitting down next to you on the couch. “The medical examiner concluded that she was burned antemortem.”

That woman had been burned alive by fireworks, sparklers had seared their way through skin and muscle until it finally met her bones. You blink a few tears from your eyes at the thought, “I like my lab, Spence.”

The confusion on his face was palpable, “I know you do.”

“I like my minimal human interaction and my chemicals, and I like knowing why certain things cause certain reactions. I like it when things make sense.” You take a deep, shaky breath, “Killing someone. Torturing someone with fireworks. That just doesn’t make sense to me.”

You had no interest in hearing the excuses that the killer had provided. You had no interest in hearing the psychological breakdown of that woman’s killer. Spencer knows that, “The photos got to you?”

Taking a sip from your mug, you nod solemnly, “I can’t stop thinking about the way it must have felt. Oh, the smell must have been horrible. That poor woman.” In theory, it was a ridiculous notion, killing someone with fireworks seemed neither probable nor possible. Yet here you are.

“But we got the person who killed her,” Spencer reassures you, resting his hand gently on your knee. “We couldn’t have done it without you,” he adds.

Your face warms at his compliment, “I wish I could have helped before she was killed.” You were grateful that Spencer hadn’t passed on any personal information about the woman, it was easier for you if you kept things in separate storage files in your mind.

Spencer hums, reaching out and sweeping a strand of hair behind your ear, “There’s always going to be another one. I’m sorry about the photos, I should’ve made sure Garcia only sent the necessary ones.”

Nodding absentmindedly, you look at him thoughtfully, “This will pass, but for tonight I just feel bad for the victim.”

“I can have Penelope share some of her favorite baby animal videos, if you’d like,” he offers softly, resting his head on your shoulder.

In return, you give him a small smile, “Well, I suppose it really can’t hurt.”

[entitled-fangirl]

Heterochromia.

Cregan Stark x wife!reader

SMUT 18+ PLEASE

Summary: the reader finally notices Cregan's eyes are two different colors. It enthralls her.

Warnings: sex, p in v, riding, kissing, talks of sex, the works, idk I didn't proofread so my b

A/n: this was based on an ask!

Masterlist

NSFW UNDER THE CUT

..............................................

Cregan held her to him as they both came down from their highs.

Sweat covered both of their foreheads, their hair greased with it. Cregan ran a hand across her forehead, gathering her hair and moving it behind her ear.

Cregan held himself up with one arm, the other caressing her face gently. His voice was soft. "You alright?"

She nodded, her eyes still glazed over and her breathing erratic.

His eyes studied her momentarily before deciding that was enough for him. 

The two sat in a brief silence as they tried to gain their bearings, the only sound being their panting and the occasional kiss between them. 

Finally, she broke the silence.

"Your eyes are beautiful."

It was so soft, he barely heard it. His brows furrowed as he looked down at her, the sheer blinds on the window doing nothing to keep out the light from outside, "Hmm?"

"Your eyes, Cregan." Her hand came up to his cheek. "They're quite lovely."

His hand on her face reached out and grabs her wrist, pulling her hand down to his lips where he kisses her palm. "You're far lovelier."

A sweet smile dons her face as Cregan continues to lay soft kisses against her palm.

"Perhaps a bath is in order?" She asked.

He pulls away from her hand finally, looking back down at her. "I do believe so."

She moves to sit up, hissing slightly at the burn inside her.

Cregan grabs her hips, keeping her down on the bed "What do you think you're doing?" He asks lowly.

"Getting… getting the servants?" She asked in confusion.

His eyes study her face before he shakes his head, "My lady wife will do no such thing."

"Cregan-"

A heavy kiss is laid on her lips, but before she has time to react, Cregan is already pushing himself off of the bed to stand. 

He dresses his lower half, taking the occasional glance to her, who is watching him just as much.

He walks to the door, poking his head out for just a moment before returning to her with a damp cloth.

He pauses at the foot of the bed, his eyes staring at her frame lovingly, "You're the most beautiful creature I've laid eyes on."

She smiles, pushing herself up but Cregan quickly sits at the end of the bed and pushes her shoulder down.

"Let me take care of you."

She's quick to give in, never one to fight the man. 

He pushes her thighs apart, a feeling she was not unfamiliar with, but a soft gasp left her lips when the cold cloth was brushed across the inside of her thighs. 

Cregan's quick to apologize, "'m sorry, my love. Didn't think it was too cold."

But it doesn't stop him from cleaning her up. With every wipe of the cold cloth, he bent down and placed a warm kiss in its wake. When the cloth began to clean further up, she let out a soft groan, "Careful, Cregan, or we'll never get to that bath."

He grinned, sitting up and looking over at her, "That wouldn't be so terrible, would it?"

She let out a breathy laugh, "You're a wonder, Stark."

"I only aim to please you, my lady."

With her cleaned up, Cregan threw the cloth aside. He reached down to the floor, picking up his tunic. "I had the bath drawn in your chambers. I… I didn't want the servants to see you until you felt ready to be seen."

He moved to the side of the bed, reaching an arm under her back to help her sit up. "I do hope that was alright."

She nodded, placing a soft kiss on his lips, "Thank you."

He threw the tunic over his wife's head, the long fabric puddling around her waist. 

He looked around, grabbing his cloak and pulling it over her shoulders.

She giggled, "What are you doing?"

Cregan then stretched both arms under her, picking her up off of the bed with ease. 

One of her hands wrapped around his neck, the other pulling the cloak around her half naked form as she shrieked in surprise.

"I'm taking my beautiful wife to bathe. Is that alright?"

She grinned, "I suppose."

…

Though insistent that she shouldn't strain her legs, Cregan couldn't tell her no when she straddled him in the tub.

At least in the water, he could support her hips. 

"They really are," she insisted.

He threw his head back with a light laugh, "I doubt your words, my love."

Both of her hands cupped his face, "They are truly the most spectacular colors I've ever seen."

"My eyes are not. They are not even the same color," he argued.

"And you believe that to be a defect?" She scoffed.

He rolled his eyes playfully, "No. Only… unusual."

"There is much beauty in the unusual, you know." She said in a insistent tone.

Only then did the words truly hit him. Cregan had once been insecure of his eyes as a young boy. In the North, it was easy to hide things. Eyes were never one of them.

His fingers dug into her hips lightly, "You truly think so?"

She noticed the softness that had suddenly come into his voice. She tilted her head. "I do. Why else would I say such a thing to you?"

His shoulders shrugged, "Dunno. I guess I've just never believe that about myself."

She kissed his cheek, "Allow me to change that."

…

The next day, the two spent the day in the courtyard. Cregan worked on his sword skills, while she sat nearby with her book. 

When the spar between him and his colleague had finished, he tossed Ice into the dirt and walked to her. 

Only when his shadow ran over the pages in her book did she notice him, prompting her to look up at the towering man. 

"Did you win?"

A breathy chuckle left his lips, "My love, I always win."

He pulled the book from her hands and knelt down in front of her. "I'll be finished in just a bit. Any plans for the rest of the day?"

Sunlight entered the courtyard, an unusual event for the North to receive direct sun. 

Cregan look up at the sky, squinting his eyes and looking back to her.

If he said something after that, she didn't hear it. She was so focused on the way the sun lit his eyes to brighter hues. 

It was breathtaking.

"I do." Was all she said to his question.

…

A few hours later, she was dragging a blindfolded Warden of the North behind her as she pulled him into her room.

She smiled when she saw the sunlight was still there. Though sunset, it lent a single golden beam through her window. 

Perfect.

"Sit." 

Cregan let out a scoff. "Where am I?"

"Sit down, Cregan."

He huffed, pulling his cloak out and sitting down on the cold floor.

The sun shine brightly through the blindfold, and he grimaced lightly.

He grunted when she began to pull at his clothes, stripping him of his cloak, and soon his tunic.

"My love-"

"-Trust me."

He continued to sit there, the sun keeping the cold chill of Winterfell away.

When her hands unbuttoned his trousers, he grabbed her wrist harshly, as if instinct, "Are you sure?"

She grinned, though it was still unseen by his eyes. "Very much so."

He hissed when her fingers began to pump up and down his length. 

"Sit still, Cregan."

He hadn't even noticed his hips moving. 

Soon, he felt her body heat near his.

She straddled him, sitting herself down on his length with a hiss of her own.

"Gods," he groaned.

When she felt adjusted to him, she yanked the blindfold off, the sun overwhelming for his eyes for a moment. 

When they adjusted, he saw where he was, but more accurately, the bright smile that his wife wore. 

"Pretty girl, what is this?"

"I want to see you fall apart for me. Your eyes. I want to see your eyes like this when I pleasure you."

Her hips rolled, making Cregan's hands grip her hips as he groaned. 

When his eyes closed, she lightly tapped his cheek, "Open. I want to see you. All of you."

The brilliant blue and green in his eyes came to life, as did he.

Her breath hitched at the sight, prompting her to roll her hips again.

…

Anytime the sun managed to visit Winterfell after that day, strangely enough, no one would see the Lord and Lady Stark. 

They were busy during those times, it seemed.

………………………………………..

Taglist: @misswynters, @cosmosnkaz, @sithapprentice, @kaniromi, @lovemesomevesey, @its-jackie-bb, @8812-342, @thorins-queen-of-erebor, @kingdomzeldaquest @nyxbranwenn, @callsignwidow, @a1lexh-blog, @alyssa-dayne

[kykyonthemoon]

How to babysit a wounded little Hunter

Injured after a mission, you now indulge yourself in his special tender loving care.

ಇ. Character x Female Reader fanfic,

including Caleb, Rafayel, Xavier and Zayne

ಇ. Tags: fluff, domestic fluff, early stage of established relationship

A little heads up: The writer will not take responsibility for any side effect (such as toothache) that might come after reading the fic.

ಇ. Word count: 4k

ಇ. Requested by Wytchie Pie and x

ಇ. Masterlist ♡ Request a fic ♡

𝑪𝒂𝒍𝒆𝒃

You dimly sensed footsteps in the bedroom, and then one side of the bed sank. The acquainted scent and warmth embraced you. A cool hand rested on your forehead. In an instant, the heat in your body subsided.

So as soon as that hand was gone, you seized it.

"Don't go…"

You mumbled in a daze. There was a quiet laugh close to your ear, and then that palm brushed against your forehead again.

"If you don't let go, how can I take your temperature then, pipsqueak?"

You recognized that voice. It was Caleb's. So you acted even more aggressively. You yanked his hand tighter, so much so that his entire body appeared to collapse into the bed, just a little above yours.

"Huh? Aren't you a little too strong for someone who is sick?" Caleb laughed again. The sort of laughter that made you feel considerably better.

"I'm not sick." You were persistent, still. "Just feeling a little sleepy."

Caleb's hand tried to pull away from you. But perhaps he kept it that way on purpose, since given your current state, he would have no problem withdrawing if he truly wanted you to let go.

Caleb's hand patted you a little tenderly. He managed to grab the thermometer with his free hand. He took your temperature, then exclaimed: 

"Almost forty Celsius!"

You exhaled heavily, almost a moan. Every part of you felt irritated and heated. Despite this, you dismissed it, saying:

"I'm not... sick..."

Caleb used the chance to release his wrist from you. You opened your eyes slightly and gave him a disappointed expression.

"You have such a high fever, yet still saying you're not sick?" Caleb mumbled, but you caught every word. He handed you medicine, but you did not take it.

"Too bitter." You said.

"Quit whining. "Just take it and go to sleep."

"If I take it… you'll have to stay here with me, okay?"

Caleb sighed. "Only until you sleep, pipsqueak."

You smiled faintly and fast to accept the pills from Caleb's hand. You clutched his hand securely as you drifted off to sleep, dreaming of the Wanderers, the escapes, and the secrets in which you were a part of. Then, when you woke up again, you noticed Caleb seated beside the bed.

“You're awake now, pipsqueak?” He smiled at you. He was rather relieved. He put a hand on your forehead again. “Yup. No more fever."

Caleb's presence seemed to chase the nightmares away. You removed his hand from your forehead and held it tightly.

“How long have I been sleeping?”

"Let's see…" Caleb brushed his chin. "When you arrived home last night, you went to bed right away. You got a high temperature around early morning. From the time you took the medicine and fell asleep until now, I've finished a whole movie, cooked a delicious pot of porridge, and measured your temperature three times."

"What nonsense are you talking about?"

Caleb laughed. He squeezed your hand once. "You've just been asleep for a few hours. But it is past noon now. Are you hungry?"

You shook your head.

"Are you sure?" Caleb asked again. "I made a super delicious pork rib porridge for you though."

You opened your eyes wide and looked at him. Pork rib porridge was a dish he would often cook when you were sick and no longer in a mood to eat anything. That dish always helped you feel better, even just hearing about it was enough to make you crave food again.

"Pork rib porridge…"

You could only whisper that much when Caleb pressed the tip of your nose and said:

“I knew right away that you couldn't resist food.”

A minute later, the room was filled with the aroma of a still-hot bowl of porridge. Caleb put it on a little tray over the bed. You lay back against the cushion, staring at the meal in front of you as if it were a rare delicacy, despite the fact that the ingredients were absolutely basic.

You looked over at Caleb. He was observing you. "What's wrong? Still no appetite?"

“It's too hot…” You pouted. “Besides,… both my arms and body are aching…”

It took a quite difficult mission in extreme weather, and a high fever to receive special care at your bedside. How could you not enjoy it?

Caleb read you right away. He said: “What? The Hunter in Linkon wants me to feed her? Weren't you delirious this morning, saying you had to go fight off Wanderers?”

“When did I say that? But it's okay if you don't help me. I don't want to eat anymore.”

“Are you still a three-year-old then?”

Even though he grumbled, Caleb still smiled very gently. He scooped a spoonful of porridge, blew on it to cool down, then held it out to you.

You opened your mouth really wide, making him chuckle. When he saw that you were eating well, Caleb felt relieved. He teased:

"I thought you're a grown-up now and wouldn't need me to take care of you anymore."

You replied, still with a mouthful of pork rib porridge: "When you lose your cooking skills, I won't really need you anymore then."

Caleb laughed aloud. He patted your head and said: "I didn’t expect my vacation to turn into a part-time job for babysitting. If I catch a fever from you, you must take care of me in return.”

You rose up in a sudden and pressed your still-hot face into the crook of Caleb's neck, nearly dropping the porridge spoon.

“Then I’ll cook pork rib porridge for you. Just heads-up though, even if it tastes yucky, you must eat it all!”

𝑹𝒂��𝒂𝒚𝒆𝒍

The door to the hospital room opened. Rafayel's curly purple hair appeared. And immediately, your phone lit up with a text message from Thomas:

[The little devil is coming for you. Sorry, I did my best.]

You exhaled. Clearly, he had not done his best. That was why Rafayel was here, staring at you with such a deep gaze from the entrance.

"Er… "Hello, Rafayel..." You waved your arm, attempting to greet him with a warm smile.

"Rafayel?" He frowned. "Do you still remember that we know each other?"

"Huh? Why did you...?" You left your sentence incomplete as Rafayel surged inside. He placed his hands on his hips, his expression filled with slanderous words as he accused you.

"Who are you? Do I know you? It's been eight hundred years. Jellyfishes are walkin' naked. Sea turtles climb trees. Sharks are eatin' grass for free! And finally, you remembered me?"

You frowned. Why was there something that rang so familiar with this scenario? Yet it was still off.

“Rafayel, I—”

“When are you going to tell me you're hurt?”

Rafayel pointed a finger directly to your shoulder, where the white bandage was visible through the hospital gown. That was the real reason he was precisely distressed.

“Even Thomas knew you were injured. Yet you didn't say a word to me?! You left me waiting alone for three hours at the exhibition. I can't believe you stood me up!”

You lifted your hand, intending to remind Rafayel to keep his voice down because you were both in the hospital. But he gave you no opportunity to speak.

"Do you realize how scared I was? When Thomas told me you couldn't come, I thought about all the things that could happen to you!”

"Rafayel…" You finally found a chance to interrupt him.  “Let's calm down first. I didn't mean to hide it from you, it's just... I haven't told you yet..."

Rafayel crossed his arms. He was still irritated.

“I can't believe it! You deliberately manipulated me with your innocence so that I would let you get away this time!”

You felt dizzy in the head, and your ears were ringing with Rafayel's nagging words and accusations. The injured one was you. Why did you feel as if you had just committed a great sin?

"ARGHHH!" You shouted and clutched your bandaged shoulder. "It hurts!"

Rafayel quickly forgot the rage in his heart. He moved right away to the bed and gently raised your arm. His eyes were full of concern and anxiety.

“Are you hurt? I'll call the doctor here right away!”

You grasped Rafayel's hand, urging him to stay with you.

“See? I'm still very strong. Just a little hurt."

"How much is a little?" Rafayel frowned. You could feel his hot glare on your shoulder, soaking into the bandage and searing your wound.

"… This much." You clasped your thumb and index finger to form a circle, then held it up for Rafayel to see. He grabbed your hand and placed it on his chest.

"I don't believe you anymore." He continued to speak with a condescending tone. "I have to check it out with my own eyes."

"Huh? What do you mean?…” You suddenly blushed. Rafayel looked at you with serious eyes, yet very sincere. He replied:

“Your wound. I want to see it."

The mere notion of Rafayel wanting to look behind your garments made your cheeks flame. You withdrew your hand and refused:

“I told you I'm fine… Don't make such a scene…”

“If I don't see it, how can I be sure you're not lying to me? This isn't the first time you've hidden your injuries..."

That was all Rafayel said. You gazed at him for a second. Aside from being concerned about you, he was also saddened since you had repeatedly hidden your wounds from him. A great deal when you did not want to bother him, he always found out and became much more frustrated.

"Alright then…"

Eventually, you had to give in. You turned your back to Rafayel and carefully slipped the shirt collar down your shoulder, displaying the neatly wrapped bandages around your torso.

You could see your reflection in the front window. Your face turned crimson. And Rafayel stood next to the bed, attentively investigating you, his fingers softly caressing the gauze, causing you to bow slightly in pain as well as anxiousness.

“Yet you said it was just a little wound.” Rafayel muttered. It was his hand that drew your collar back up. And the next thing you knew, you were upgraded to the best room at the hospital.

You weren't used to how wealthy people spent their money. You looked at Rafayel, who had constantly been by your side during your hospital stay. He requested you to remain in the most advanced hospital room, with the greatest level of care. More than that, he refused to leave your side even when you asked to be alone.

"You don't have to do this, Rafayel." You spoke as he was peeling the fruit for you.

"Open your mouth." He handed you a slice of mango. Even if your lips stated it wasn't required, you nevertheless welcomed all of his attention.

"I'm serious…" As soon as you finished swallowing the mango, he gave you another slice. "Really, um... This mango is truly delicious..."

"Do you crave anything else?" Rafayel purposely ignored every time you told him he didn't need to stay there all day and night to care for you. Your wound had improved significantly.

“I think I can be discharged from hospital and get back to work now…” You said. “I don't want to bother you anymore…”

"What's that?" Rafayel pretended not to hear you. “I think I heard the sound of abalone porridge just being delivered to the hospital. Let me go grab it.”

You sighed. Another expensive meal he had prepared for you. But you knew how much you would miss these things when you left the hospital at last and could no longer benefit from his tender loving care.

“Maybe I'll stay here one more day... You're spoiling me too much...” You muttered beneath your breath, but Rafayel overheard everything. He pinched your cheek and responded:

“You're staying because of the delicious food, not because of my devoted service? This is so heartbreaking! Then, after you've recovered, I'll make you repay everything. You have to work overtime as my bodyguard too!"

𝑿𝒂𝒗𝒊𝒆𝒓

You crept along the hospital's vacant rear door. You were just hospitalized in the afternoon due to an injury suffered while on job. Even though the doctor advised you to stay for additional examination, you believed the damage was minor. On top of that, the mission was not yet over. You needed to get back to headquarters.

Unfortunately, your escape did not go well. You ran into a familiar shoulder before you could complete the corridor.

"X-Xavier?" You became pale, but not because of the pain. It was only that you were astonished and a little ashamed when caught red-handed.

His look was incredibly complicated, ranging from apprehensive to serious and somewhat furious.

"Where are you going?" he inquired.

You didn't dare to reveal the truth, so you invented an excuse: "Ah... well... The hospital room is quite boring, so I decided to go for a stroll."

"From the back door?"

"Er… I heard the nurse say this is a quicker shortcut to the garden..."

Xavier gazed at you for some time. You clutched your hand tight, terrified that he would not believe that ridiculous excuse. Yet, Xavier nodded at you: "Then let's go together."

Before you could respond, Xavier grabbed your hand and led you outside. It was night time, the wind blew, sending you a slight chill. Xavier took off his coat and draped it over your shoulders. That incredibly gentle gesture made you feel more guilty than ever for lying to him.

“Lead the way.” He told you shortly. For some reason, you had the impression that he was in extreme anger over you.

During the stroll, you didn't dare to speak, and Xavier did the same. He strolled close to you, as if keeping watch rather than walking together. You wandered about for a long time, but there was no trace of the hospital's garden anywhere. Xavier continued to follow your every step in such silence. Him being like that evoked even more guilt in your heart.

At last, you couldn't take it any longer and had to confess: "Xavier... Actually... The truth is, I don't know where the garden is..."

At that point, he spoke up and asked: "So why did you leave your hospital room?"

You didn't dare look into his eyes, so you just stammered an explanation: "Ah... My injury is nothing to be concerned about... That's why I... planned to return to headquarters..."

You noticed Xavier's hands clenching into fists. Fearing he'd be upset, you added: "The doctor also said my injury wasn't too serious— Ah!"

Xavier abruptly pulled your wrist, causing the wound on your arm to hurt. He read through your face which was miserable but still faking a smile. His voice turned sharp:

“If I hadn't caught you, would you really have sneaked away from the hospital?”

Your body convulsed in pain, but you were more concerned about Xavier's rage. You said, "I'm sorry... I was wrong... I'll return to the hospital room right now..."

"Good." Xavier responded curtly. Then he quickly leaned down and held you up in the attitude of a princess being carried.

"W-What are you doing, Xavier?"

"Let's take you back to the hospital room." His expression remained frigid, making you both terrified and embarrassed to be carried by him in such a manner.

Xavier did not return to the same path you had taken. Instead, he took you into the front entrance, where many people, including patients and hospital staff, could see you.

"Xavier? You... put me down! "They are looking at us!"

"I want them to see, so they know you intend to escape the hospital and will monitor you more closely."

Your cheeks became scarlet with humiliation. You swore you saw a kid pointing at you and chuckling, "Mom! I want to be carried like that princess, too!"

And you swore you saw Xavier smirking at that.

After an embarrassing journey, you finally arrived at your room. Xavier set you down on the bed. He chose to remain silent with you as punishment for your unsuccessful escape. You saw him sitting in the corner of the room, peeling a red apple for you.

“Xavier?”

You called out, but he didn't look at you and just replied curtly:

“Rest.”

“Are you angry with me?…”

Xavier's silence revealed the answer. You groaned and pulled the warm cover up high, as if to conceal yourself away from Xavier's rage, but he remained as quiet as a cloudless sky.

When he finished with the apple, he brought it over and gave you a slice. "Eat."

You did not enjoy this cold and distant demeanor of Xavier. If he was upset with you, he should have expressed it directly. You knew it was your fault, and he was so concerned about you that he got mad when you lied to him like that.

"Xavier, I'm sorry…" Your hands seized Xavier's wrist, which was clutching the apple slice. Your eyes widened as much as possible, even giving the impression that you were going to cry.

In the end, the ploy worked. His gaze had softened completely. He placed the plate of apples on the bed and used his other hand to elevate your chin a little. He said: "If you know your fault, then obediently eat all of these and rest."

His hand softly separated your lips, and his other hand inserted a slice of apple for you to eat. You were back in the sunshine, coaxing him to sit on the bed next to you.

"I'll give you three days to recover." Xavier spoke, his voice still agitated, but you could feel his boundless care and love.

"Then I shall bother you to watch over me for a few more days!"

𝒁𝒂𝒚𝒏𝒆

You had just returned to your private cabin at the icy mountain base when you heard a tap at the door. You answered the door, wondering who was seeking for you at this hour, and there was Doctor Zayne, holding a first-aid kit while standing outside.

“Zayne?” Your eyes caught the blood on his face and neck. Snow adhered to his dark hair. You took a step back and allowed him inside. "Why are you here?"

Your team had accepted the mission of rescuing people caught in an avalanche created by a group of Wanderers on the mountain. You had learnt that a team of physicians from Akso Hospital was also on their way. But you did not expect to see Zayne here.

Zayne set the first aid pack on the table and then turned to you. He went on to say: "I'm here to do my duty as a doctor."

You widened your eyes and inquired him again, "Your duty as a doctor?"

Zayne pointed to your abdomen, which was soaked from your own blood oozing through the gauze you had recklessly covered earlier.

"Oh dear…" You cried out. You were so engaged in battles that you didn't have time to look at your wound. Your head began spinning as a result of excessive blood loss.

Zayne's powerful arms directed and assisted you to the table. He put you to the wooden table and took a chair to sit in front of you.

"Doctor Zayne, what are you going to do?"

You noted this when you found his hand on the hem of your shirt. He seemed to want to lift it up.

"Treating you."

You knew that. But you were still extremely nervous when thinking that he was about to lift up your shirt. So your hand was still securely grasping his, preventing him from moving any further.

“I've already bandaged it. A nurse also helped me stitch up the wound earlier..."

During the turmoil, you recalled being stabbed in the abdomen. A nurse assisted you in stitching it up, but because there were so many others with more serious injuries, you let her tend to them while you put bandages over yourself and returned to the battlefield. Perhaps your clumsiness caused the wound to bleed a great deal more.

Zayne used his other hand to remove yours before pulling your shirt up. The gauze surrounding your abdomen was drenched in blood. He slowly withdrew it as you writhed in pain and embarrassment.

"Try to sit still for a bit, will you?"

Zayne's soothing voice burst out, calming you down a lot. You sat on the table, your hands lifting your body up while you looked down at the doctor who was treating your wound. The fact that you had to display your skin beneath his gaze made you uneasy and desire to cover your face. But Zayne was quite professional. He remained silent and entirely concentrated on his work. He cleansed the wound and applied a new layer of gauze. His warm breath occasionally wafted against your skin, causing you to tremble slightly. Even when his frigid fingers touched you, it seemed like you were being scorched.

"It's done."

Zayne said after fixing the new layer of gauze. You were a little discontent when his fingers left you. You were ready to pull your top back down when Zayne lightly rubbed his fingers against your abdomen.

“Ouch!” Even though the place he touched was not wounded, you were still startled and embarrassed.

“Just checking it again.” Zayne elaborated. He had you sitting on the table, your bandaged abdomen at his eye level. You could feel his stare through the gauze, pausing a bit too long in areas that were not covered by anything.

“Doctor Zayne… Are you done now?”

You attempted to keep your speech cool, but your crimson cheeks could have given you away. Zayne appeared to flash a little smile. You felt the icy sensation of his fingertip on your skin again as he slid it beneath the hem of your shirt, then pulled it back down.

"I am now." He answered while returning the supplies to the first aid kit. "Don't be so reckless next time. You have to care for yourself first before you can save others.”

"Hold on." You stopped him. You altered your position and stared into his eyes. "You always say so, but can you actually do what you say?"

Zayne tilted his head to look at you. You took advantage of the moment and raised his chin to have a better look. He had a minor cut on his forehead, and the blood on his body was most likely someone else's.

"You rushed here to take care of me, while you, yourself, are in this condition."

You spoke. His hand found your wrist.

"I barely got a few scrapes. Not as concerning as someone who rushed into the battlefield with a bleeding stomach."

"Whether the wound is big or small, it can be critical." You stated precisely what Dr. Zayne told you whenever he saw you injured, even if it was only a little cut.

Realizing that he had just tasted his own medicine, Zayne let out a small laugh. Then he tugged your hand, causing you to almost lean towards him. He gazed into your eyes for quite a while.

"So, my doctor, will you treat me?"

You blushed again. Zayne relinquished his hand, allowing you to properly wipe the blood off his face. You had to confess that you were a little awkward, owing to your unexpected closeness to Zayne in such a private and calm setting. He probably could hear your heart racing. He supported your hand which was holding a sterilized cotton pad and said:

"If you want to become a skilled doctor, in situations like this you must be even calmer."

"I'm not as professional as Dr. Zayne." You answered with a little caustic tone. "You were able to treat my wound so calmly just now."

Zayne gazed at you for an instant. His face remained calm, but his eyes were not.

"I'm a skilled doctor. Yet, it doesn’t imply that I wouldn't feel anything while treating the girl I like in such a... condition."

[alygator77]

idk, i've been thinkin about long distance satoru :') just a little something i wrote while experiencing a bit of writers block. it's inspired on a military relationship but it can really be just any long distance!

warnings: nsfw, mdni 18+, smut and fluff

long-distance! satoru whose heart aches when you have to say goodbye, holding you closer just a little bit longer than usual as he tries to memorize every detail—the warmth of your body, the scent of your hair, the way your arms fit perfectly around him. he knows that the absence of your touch will leave him feeling empty again, a void only you can fill.

long-distance! satoru who texts you every morning and night, because you are the first and last thing on his mind.

long-distance! satoru who calls you late one night after a long mission. exhausted but unable to sleep, he finds comfort in the sound of your voice.

“mmm… ‘toru?” the innocent sound of your sleepy voice immediately melts him, his tension easing from your soothing whisper.

“heya sleepy head…you got a minute?”

you stay on the phone with him all night, talking about everything and nothing, until you fall asleep.

long-distance! satoru who listens to your soft, rhythmic breathing through the phone, and quietly confesses how much he misses you, how the sound of your voice and the warmth of your embrace are the only things that keep him grounded in a world that feels increasingly cold without you.

long-distance! satoru who loves when you send him a compilation of short videos to watch, just knowing that you thought of him, carefully selecting each clip to bring a smile to his face. he replays them over and over, allowing himself to feel closer to you, as if each clip is a tiny piece of you that he can hold onto.

long-distance! satoru who dreams of your future together, when the distance will no longer separate you. he envisions the day when he can finally hold you close and never let go. he dreams of lazy mornings spent tangled in the sheets with you, of quiet evenings where you can simply be together without the constant ache of longing. these dreams are what keep him going, a promise of a future where he can finally be by your side, where this long-distance heartache will be nothing but a memory.

long-distance! satoru whose breath hitches when you surprise him when a naughty photo while he’s working.

“fucking hell woman…what are you doing to me?”

long-distance! satoru whose cock strains against his uniform as he sits at his desk, the tantalizing image of you searing itself into his mind, leaving him desperate to touch himself, to feel some semblance of the closeness he craves.

long-distance! satoru who grips his weeping cock as he strokes himself in the privacy of his room, his thoughts consumed by you. the distance between you fades away in his fantasies, replaced by the heat of your body, the taste of your skin, the sound of your voice in his ear.

“fuck princess… I miss you so fucking much,” he whimpers nearing his edge, body trembling as hot spurts of cum paint him pretty, your name falling from his lips as he coats himself with the evidence of his need, his need to fuck you senseless.

long-distance! satoru who lies there afterward, breathless and spent, staring at the ceiling as the reality of your absence settles back in. there’s a bittersweet ache, because he knows it’s not enough—it’ll never be enough until he has you back in his arms, for real.

long-distance! satoru who surprises you with an unexpected visit, appearing at your doorstep after months of being apart. his duty bag slides off his shoulder in the doorframe and his arms open wide, inviting you for the embrace you’ve been yearning for.

“miss me, princess?” his boyish grin is blurred from the happy tears in your eyes, and you immediately throw yourself into his welcoming arms.

long-distance! satoru who wraps around you tightly, lifting you off your feet as he spins you around, laughter filling the air. the warmth of his body against yours is almost overwhelming, and you cling to him, burying your face in the crook of his neck as you inhale the familiar scent of him.

long-distance! satoru who doesn’t even make it past the doorway before his lips find yours, all teeth and tongue as he kicks the door shut with his foot. his hands roam your body with a hunger that borders on feral.

“let me make up for lost time,” he groans against your lips, a promise and a plea as he presses you against the nearest wall, hips grinding against yours, and you feel just how hard, how desperate, he has been for you.

long-distance! satoru who finally, after months of longing and aching, finds himself buried deep inside you, your bodies moving in perfect sync as if no time has passed at all. the sound of your moans, the way you cling to him—it’s everything he’s been dreaming of, and more.

long-distance! satoru who pours everything he’s been holding back into this moment, into you. he groans your name, voice strained with the effort to hold on just a little longer, to make this last, because honestly, he could have cum moments after entering you—your cunt is just too fucking delicious.

long-distance! satoru who knows exactly how to bring you to your own edge, who’s learned your body, knows what makes you gasp, what makes you moan, what makes you arch against him in that delicious way that drives him to the brink.

“cum for me, princess” he commands. and when you do, when your body clenches around him, pulling him deeper, it’s his undoing.

long-distance! satoru who finally lets go with a shuddering gasp, his release crashing over him like a tidal wave.

“fuck, I love you,” he groans, hands gripping your hips as he buries his face in your neck, his needy moans muffled against your skin as he spills his seed inside you, body trembling with the explosive force of it.

long-distance! satoru, who holds you close afterward, your bodies tangled together as you come down from the high. he presses soft kisses to your temple, your shoulder, your lips, whispering sweet nothings as you both drift off to sleep, content in the knowledge that, at least for now, the distance is no more.

[oreo-creampie]

𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐧𝐮𝐝𝐞𝐬 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞…

𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲 @bernkastel11 How do you think Toji's dick pics would look like?

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: sending nudes, asking for nudes, a nsfw link for a visual for the head canons, Satoru fucks his fist, toji is big with a big cock, mention of a toy

oreo: im so sorry that i've been letting this rot for so long. i've been thinking about satoru a lot so i added him onto this one! Since I think these two would send the most nudes, with gojo sending more goofy pictures than nudes but he still sends a shit ton

𝐓𝐨𝐣𝐢

💭 first if you have his phone number you’re locked in, regardless if he had asked you out or not. due to being a hit man he won't give his number out lightly. when it comes to you he couldn't help himself wants to be able to ask for those booty/titty pictures

💭 very generous about sending videos and pictures for you to save when he’s gone. Toji takes pride knowing he’s getting you off with being there, so next to Satoru he sends the most pictures. He does send more lewd pictures than Satoru does.

💭 likes to take those normal stills of his cock hanging, but he always includes something like his hand grabbing onto something. He will get cozy in bed, get his cock wet with lube, make sure he is dripping pre-cum. his cock hanging over his fat balls between his muscular thighs. he knows you’re a wreck he's a big man and he will fuck with your size kink

💭 he’s worked on getting the lighting better, man is calculating down to even the nudes he sends. wants you dripping before you get anywhere close to home. better yet wants you to sneak off to send him some nudes in the bathroom, if you bring a toy prepared for his antics he will cum so fast, rewards you with a shot of cum on his cock, fingers and abs sometimes chest when he shoots high enough

💭 sometimes he gets higher angles of his face, biting into his bottom lip looking so unbelievably horny and cocky. He has his hand around his cock and once again those beautiful abs on display but this time his pecs are in full view too

💭 the angles this man gets, he knows his body well and knows what you like, as the relationship gets better he learns what you like more and changes his style of taking nudes to fit that, occasionally he will get lazy with it and send his cock hanging with a message "Gonna make you cry with this fat cock"

link (he hangs and he bangs)

𝐒𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐮

💭 mostly sends you goofy ass pictures explaining his day and giving you various thoughts. randomly sends a dick pic followed by a video of him shirtless blushing, moaning in the bathroom jerking himself off with your underwear. or of one grabbing his cock through his pants asking for some nudes

💭 has he been walking around with it all day? yes he has and will continue to do so especially if he fucked ya before heading to work. He loves calling these nudes artsy in account of “Look how the color brings out the pink of my cock head and how good the lace looks wrapped around underneath. You can not tell me you aren’t thinking about throwing it back on my pretty dick.”

💭 sometimes you get a random audios of satoru moaning, you can hear the slick sounds of him jerking himself off. satoru wants you to ask for pictures so he can tease you about wanting to see him

💭 might have set you a picture of him in some white cat ears, a snagged tooth, oversized shirt with his cock peeking out holding the fabric up because he stands in attention for that pussy. It was an ‘accident’

💭 prefers videos to photos, he loves to talk about how he is thinking about fucking you. sometime he puts the phone under his cock and fucks his fist letting you see his balls occasionally come into frame

💭 all the cum shots with his face always included so you can see the pleasure on his face. especially after glow photos with just his blushing face, will tell you want thoughts of you or what picture(s) or outfit he was picturing you in got him hard

link (will still be fucking his fist waiting for you to text back)

oreo creampie's m.list

[pseudowho]

It was in the corridors of Jujutsu High, that Nanami Kento first learned that one of the First Years had gone missing.

Whispers of varying voice rose and fell along the wood-panelled walls as Kento walked with a growing unease. Rumours rose on both sides around him, as if in some uncanny valley.

"...off the rails..."

"...not answering calls apparently..."

"...unauthorised? Gojo's not here..."

"...gone rogue. Sukuna's vessel?"

Kento paused, outwardly unreadable as his blood ran cold, with his hand upon the doorknob. Balanced on a knife edge, he moved again, slow and considered, stepping out before closing the door behind him. His feet paddled madly beneath still water, and Kento pulled out his phone, typing fast.

His phone to his ear. A pause.

"Hi, Fushiguro-kun? Do you know where Itadori-kun is?" A pause. A single flat command. "Tell me, immediately."

Another pause; a nod, a pen and paper not required.

Kento waited until he was completely out of the line of sight, to begin running beneath Jujutsu High's tree-lined torii gates.

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

Scum.

Yuuji's red boots skid, bloodslick, and he stumbled around a corridor with his breath loud in his ears.

--execute him already--

He wasn't experienced enough for this; but he knew that when he came, hoping to earn his own goodness as proof, to those who determined his worth based on the monster he contained.

--better off dead--

And maybe I am, Yuuji thought, slammed by flailing bestial limbs into concrete, that crumpled like wet paper beneath his body. Slumping down against the wall, Yuuji accepted that the only dignity he could afford himself, would be to choose a good death for himself, as the boy he was, fighting to save lives, instead of the beast within, fighting to take them.

"Itadori-kun. Move behind me. I'll take it from here."

Yuuji looked up from the floor, slow and stunned. Kento stood before him, stony-faced as he bound his spotted tie around his fist, alight with swathes of blue fire.

"...Nanamin...I--"

"I'll scold you after. Behind me."

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

Yuuji's eyes were downcast, and chunks of rubble shook from his hair to his thighs, when Kento slammed his car door. As Kento stepped into his own seat, Yuuji caught the tail end of a conversation.

"...coming home to ours. Gojo knows. He's got it handled with the school. Yes. Alright. We won't be long."

The car rumbled to life. Yuuji's fists clenched in his lap, his face twisted with pain, guilt, the crushing weight of failure and embarrassment. Kento allowed him this, for a few minutes, driving seamlessly through the Tokyo evening traffic.

"Are you going to explain what you were doing, Itadori-kun?"

Yuuji was silent, gagged by the sheer volumes he could speak, all fighting for precedence. He heard the faintest sigh from Kento.

"Yuuji?"

Still, nothing. Kento's hands gripped the wheel a little tighter.

"I see. We shall talk after dinner."

"...you can just drop me back to the school--"

"We shall talk after dinner."

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

Your hands worried the baggy sleeves of your cardigan before you heard the front door unlock. You stopped, plastering on a smile, and walking over to greet Yuuji as the door clicked open, Kento guiding Yuuji in and shutting the door behind him.

Yuuji's eyes never left the floor to accept your smile. He was thoroughly reduced, hidden behind cloud. Your eyes flicked to Kento, sensing his fixed cool anger, and you redoubled your efforts for Yuuji.

"Busy day, huh? You hungry? I've made lots...come on."

You sat together, tense in silence. Kento ate, robotic and clipped. Yuuji pushed the food around his plate, utterly silent. Kento pressed a napkin to his mouth, lowering it and clearing his throat. He repeated himself.

'Yuuji. Are you going to explain what you were doing?"

Silence. You placed your knife and fork down, your throat thickening with impending confrontation. Yuuji squirmed in his seat as frost formed beneath Kento.

"...I just...just wanted to be useful."

"Useful?"

"...just...wanted to be better than they say I am."

"They?"

You felt Yuuji's stress climbing, racking exponentially with Kento's insistent dig for clarity. You opened your mouth to try to soften Kento's blows before Yuuji blurted.

"Anyone who matters at Jujutsu High thinks I'm scum. Thinks I'm--I'm-- no better than--than him." Yuuji snapped, gesturing to the slits of Sukuna's other eyes on his face, and shoving his plate away with a clatter. Kento bristled, the frost thickening.

"Control your temper, Yuuji--"

"Oh yeah? And why should I? I could have died a good death there-- trying to help people, if you hadn't--"

Kento slapped his napkin down on the table, moving to stand, and you felt yourself shut down beneath the gravity of his rage, knowing it was all concern, but terrifying nonetheless, and you felt the escalation as Yuuji stood, too, facing Kento with combatant teenage fury--

"And who, exactly, were you helping, Yuuji? Were you helping the sorcerers who would have come to rescue you, if I hadn't? You call that a good death, giving the higher ups exactly what they want--"

"--well they can fucking have what they want, then, can't they, nobody gives a shit about me anyway--"

"--language, Yuuji--"

"--nobody fucking cares--"

"I care."

Yuuji's face crumpled, his anger burning out hot and fast. Transitioning from man to boy again, his sleeves rubbed the rage tumbling out as tears.

Kento's chest heaved with the fever-pitch of battle. He turned on the spot, one hand on his hip and the other running through his hair, as he stared up at the ceiling, calming himself. He turned to Yuuji again.

"I care. And I need you safe. And while I cannot fathom the stress you are under, I am so disappointed with you, that you view yourself with the same ill-regard as those with such pithy, ignorant understanding."

Yuuji's hands hung limp at his sides, now, the tears falling freely. Kento rubbed one hand down over his own face, appraising Yuuji with ruffled impassivity.

"...finish your dinner."

"I'm not hungry."

A sigh, weary. "Then go and get cleaned up, and go to your room."

"I...dont have a room, here."

"You do. Third door on the left."

A heavy pause. Slow footsteps carried Yuuji away. Your head rested on steepled fingertips, your dinner churning in your stomach as you bit back nausea.

You thought of all of the words you could say to Kento, but dismissed them as soon as they came into your head; all too visceral, none of them helpful, and maturity held your tongue.

"...you get cleaned up, too. I'll tidy away dinner."

"No, no. You cooked. I'll tidy--"

"Nanami Kento. Do as you are told."

Kento was silent, stewing. Eventually, he stood, walking away down the corridor. You heard two showers, running. You left spare pyjamas in Yuuji's bedroom.

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

A gentle three knock-knock-knocks sounded at Yuuji's bedroom door, and he sat up fast in his borrowed pyjamas, wide eyes tired in a tearstained face. He sniffled.

"Y-yeah, uh...come in."

You peeked your head around the door, smiling. Yuuji offered a watery smile in return.

"Alright, kiddo?"

Yuuji swallowed thickly, nodding, resting his chin on drawn-up knees. You sat at the end of his bed, pressing a mug of hot chocolate into his hands, and he felt it balm his soul before he had even drunk it; the act of receiving it, so much more significant than its imbibement. You let him warm in the gesture for a moment.

"...he cares about you, Yuuji. A lot. You know that, right?"

Yuuji's mouth puckered, and he shrugged his rejection, churlish. You raised one eyebrow at him, a gentle, chastising challenge, and Yuuji blushed.

"...yeah, I guess. I mean...I...I know."

"You know?"

"Yeah, yeah, I do."

You smirked, eyes twinkling. "What gave it away? Was it the running to save you in battle? Or the bringing you home for dinner?"

Yuuji's mouth was obscured, buried in his knees. He paused. You didn't manage to hear the words muffled by his legs, and you tilted your head to one side.

"...sorry?"

"It was--...was when he said he was...disappointed with me."

[shotmrmiller]

sugar daddy!simon would go so hard cuz he'd need no sugar but lets his hand linger on the small of your back when standing at the register with his wallet out or grab your foot to massage beneath the table at the upper scale restaurant yall are dining at.

he doesn't push (surprisingly but hey it works for you!) you give him whatever you want, be it just your hand to hold or a chaste kiss on the cheek in thanks after carrying all the stuff he bought to your room. he spoils you rotten regardless but then the issue comes when you actually want him to touch you.

simon doesn't touch. not when you model the little slips of clothing he so generously gifted you from that one overpriced shop at the mall. not when you wear his favorite skirt, the one that got him to talk to you in the first place on the sugar daddy website. not when you invite him in for a nightcap, letting your bare legs rest on top of his while watching a movie.

he. doesn't. touch.

simon doesn't touch you even when you want him to.

keeps his right hand curled around the glass he's nursing and the other laying on the backrest of the couch when you tell him if he wants to peel off the undergarments he'd just bought you today. (a shot you don't shoot is a shot missed anyway.)

"'s not necessary," he says. "got 'em for you to wear." he hasn't taken his eyes off the screen once.

that'd sting more if you hadn't caught him discreetly palming himself outside his trousers while you'd modeled these too.

"might not be necessary but it's what i want." that gets his attention, an arrogant curl on his lip making your heart flutter in your chest.

he gives your knee a squeeze. "i've always given you everythin' you've ever wanted but this is the one thing you're gonna 'ave to work for."

work for? simon doesn't wait for you to ask what he means.

"only way i'm touchin' ya is if ya beg," he rumbles.

should've known it was too good to be true. but you've got an ache between your legs that won't go away no matter how many times you've used the rose (also another gift.) guess you'll just have to "beg".

/

your definition of begging and his are not even in the same dimension. he had shot you down when you'd said please. when you'd batted your pretty eyes at him while saying please. when you'd gotten on your knees between his legs and said please with your hands flat on the carpet.-

simon had only tapped you on the nose and said, "'s good, but not good enough."

what had been good enough was you riding his thigh until sweat slicked your skin, until your lip trembled with need, until his trousers looked like he'd spilled his drink on it while you mewled out your please's.

only then had wiped the corner of your eyes with his thumb and whispered tiny words of praise into your ear, his breath warm against it.

"wasn't so hard, was it, pet?" you'd been beyond reason at that point, core burning almost painfully hot with desire, so you'd jerkily shaken your head. anything to finally get him to touch you like how you need.

his long fingers splayed out across the back of your head, palm almost engulfing your entire head. "now tell me where you want me to touch."

he touches with clever fingers, his warm tongue, even uses his crooked nose to rub at your pearl while his thumb, spit slick, presses into the girl of your arse. having him fuck you is a whole different beast you have to tackle. if you plead for something, anything, he'll rut his cock between your thighs and come over your sticky pussy :)

[reignpage]

Vice President!Sukuna

Satan: the end and the beginning

Word count: 3.7k Contents: cursing, mature themes, including allusions to drug use, morally dubious characters, angst, with comfort, I was gonna save this for next week, after I've done the updates for the other jjk guys, but I think people need this so here you guys go.

Sukuna’s brought you back to your dorm room with his jacket wrapped tightly around you and using the blanket of the night to avoid flashing anyone, though there wasn't really anyone hanging around by the time you two finished. It’s late and, without exchanging words, he strips down into his boxers and gets inside the covers with you. 

It’s a tight fit and you have to lay partially on top of him, but he cradles you so securely you have no doubts he won’t let you fall. There’s still a lot to be said and you aren’t sure when the right time is but maybe you'll talk in the morning, because right now, your bones are creaking, and your muscles are sore. Not to mention the ache between your legs. 

“You hurting anywhere, prez?” His mouth is pressed to your ear as he mutters the words to you, a hand rubbing your bare back soothingly. 

Shaking your head, you let it rest on his chest, listening to his heartbeat as if it could tell you the secrets of the world. With a satisfied smile, you answer, “No. I'm feeling pretty good, thanks.”

He huffs and then brushes a hair from your forehead, pressing a kiss there. Soft and gentle are two words you’d never thought you’d use for Sukuna and yet they’re the only words that circle the space between and around you. He was soft when he held you as you recounted the past, he was gentle when he carried you to his car and when he buckled your belt, and he’s both as he mutters apologies against your head when he thinks you've fallen asleep.

You’ve never been apologised more times in one night. 

But you don’t need his apologies, not really. You need something more, something only he can give you, and there’s nothing you wouldn’t do to get it. 

For now, you just let him hold you as you drift off to slumber.

When you wake up, he’s out of bed already. You don’t know when he had gotten changed into clean jeans, shirt and a new varsity jacket, but when your eyes fall on the breakfast spread on your desk, you’re quick to surmise that he must have gotten an assistant, or something of the sort, to drop things off. 

Sukuna leans against your desk, occupied with something on his phone as he taps rapidly and when he spots your movements, he glances at you and gives you a quirk of his mouth. It’s not a smile but it’s close enough to one to warm your chest. 

“Morning,” you yawn, covers slipping off your naked body. He grunts back a greeting. 

You push off the bed and head into the bathroom, door open as you brush your teeth and do your morning routine. When you come out, you ask him what’s going on. 

“Family problems,” he rolls his eyes. “My idiot cousin got into trouble and now I gotta bail him out.”

Finding an outfit in your closet, you settle for a plain sweater and leggings, just something to keep you covered whilst you ready yourself for a much-needed conversation. Steeling your spine, you turn and face him. 

“Choso?”

His gaze slowly reaches you, still typing, and with a cock of his head you know he’s questioning how you knew immediately. You shrug, entering his space so you can hold him. With no hesitation, his arms wrap around you, chin resting on your head. Smelling clean and fresh, you realise he must have showered; you hadn’t heard. You must have been completely knocked out after last night, both emotionally and physically. 

“It must have something to do with him being Cursed Womb, no?" Sukuna tenses, and then his grip on you tightens almost imperceptibly. “Of course, I knew. I hang around late on campus practically every night — you didn’t think I’d notice him creeping around with a duffel bag of clinking paint cans?”

“How long have you known?”

You kiss his chest, right over his heart and then look up at him with as innocent of a smile as you can muster. “Are we dating?”

His gaze narrows and you hear him put his phone down on the desk, focus solely on you now. Perhaps you’re coming on too strong, perhaps you hadn’t calculated right, but it’s too late now — you can’t wait any longer to see things unravel, to see him on his knees. 

“We are what we are.”

“I want us to be dating.”

Without missing a beat, he snaps his teeth at you playfully and growls, “Then we’re dating.”

“Perfect!” You peck his lips and then push off from him, choosing to sit on your bed, and when he makes a move to follow you hold out a hand to stop him. “You’re going to the Dean to fix things, yes?”

The narrowing of his eyes again is all the answer you need. 

“Good. And whilst you’re there with your cousin, you’re going to ask for my title back, yes?” He doesn’t nod, but he doesn’t shake his head. “Things will return to the way they were…except, this time, even better.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

He had held you tightly last night, when you told him, and all he could do was kiss your neck and rub your stomach. You knew you had driven him speechless, that he doesn’t recall anything that happened, and when his eyes searched yours, you also knew he couldn’t fathom ever having hurt you. But he did. And you were. And no matter how good of a fuck he is, those things will never change. 

“Sukuna, listen closely, okay?” You cross your legs. “I got your cousin caught. Express my apologies to him, please. But I needed the whole of the Ryomen family’s backing to intimidate the Dean; you alone wouldn’t have been enough. I'm sure your family's fed up with your bullshit, but the two of you? Well, they'd have to get involved then. Sure, with your threats he would have given me my position back easily. But that’s not nearly enough. I need his unquestioning, undying support.”

“You brought my cousin into this?” His voice is dangerously low, and you can see him eyeing the space, eyeing you, as his brain tries to catch up. 

With no shame, you nod. “I told you; I needed to. Did it not occur to you that your well-experienced vandal of a cousin should have known better than to get caught? That he should know the guard’s schedule and rotation by now? And of course he did. He was careful. Good for him. But he was arrogant. Like all men tend to be. He didn’t think anyone would know and he didn’t think anyone would use that against him. I waited for the right time to utilise my knowledge, waited even when the trustees were on my ass for letting him get away with his disorder and rebellion and whatever else those dinosaurs thought. And I suppose I was hoping to bank it in much later but then the Dean pulled his shit, and well, here we are.”

He’s tasting your words, can see him mulling everything you’ve said. Despite the rising insult at your audacity to wield his family as a trump card, you know he’s impressed. But not enough to hold him back from picking up his phone, already bored with the conversation. So, you continue. 

“Make sure to tell the Dean that I want his full support. The other faculty heads need to know I can’t be bullied or undermined again. If I want a charity event, I no longer need to write a ten-page document detailing its benefits. And if I want a student suspended, it’ll happen, no questions asked, yes?”

Sukuna scoffs. “Anything else, prez?”

He’s mocking you but you ignore it. “Yeah, actually. I want you to never sabotage me again.”

“I wasn’t going to,” he bites back but you cut him off. 

Waving your hand dismissively, you counter, “Oh, but I need your word, Sukuna. I need to know that if we ever have a ‘lover’s spat’, you won’t devolve into your petty self and sabotage me. Because, let me make myself clear, if you ever do that again, even just once, even just something as minor as a single misplaced comma on a presentation or a speech, you will never talk to me again. You will never touch me again, and so help me God, you might just never see me again.”

He throws his phone back on the desk with too much force and you know you’ve struck a nerve. His body is even more tense than before and when he stalks over to you, chest rising and falling with every barely restrained breath of anger, you know you can’t back out now. 

“I fuck you once and suddenly you think I’m, what, pussy-whipped?”

Standing over you, casting a shadow across your face, you’re forced to look up at him, his damp pink hair falling slightly over his forehead. You don’t answer him, not with words, anyways. Instead, you leave a faint trail with your fingers against his stomach, his abs tensing with your touch. 

Then, with a glint in your eyes, you’re sure, you smile. 

“Aren’t you?” You cup his hardening length and squeeze. His hand flies to your head. “Because you sure do feel like it.”

Sukuna doesn’t like that look in your eyes, the smug look of someone who thinks they’ve won. He pulls your head back with a sharp tug your hair, ensuring your eyes are on him when he snaps, “I own you.”

“No. You don’t.” Your eyes flutter shut at the next rough pull. Then they fly open and you’re cutting him down with a stone-cold glare. “I own you. I have from the very beginning, since you fucked me over.”

He releases you, hands clenching like he’s been burned. It's clear he's conflicted -- offended by the arrogance in your demeanour, but oddly turned on by that newfound confidence. “You’re never going to forgive me, are you?”

“No, Sukuna," you say slowly. "I never have and I likely never will. Not even every time we fuck, or we kiss or even when we hold hands and skip along to the sunset. Because you haven’t apologised. Not the way I want you to, anyway. No, the kind of apology I want lasts a lifetime, maybe not even then. Maybe even in hell, I’ll want you to repent. Maybe in every new life, I’ll want you to find me and beg for forgiveness.”

“So confident I will?”

You stand now, and you’re actually surprised he lets you place a hand on his chest and shove him back to the desk where you pull up a chair and he sits in it without needing instruction. When you whisper in his ear, his jaw ticks.

“You will. Because you owe me. Because I deserve it,” you feel the weight of every word sink in, to both of you, and then with a slight tremble in your voice, you add, “Because you love me.”

It was a gamble to throw that back in his face, a small ball of anxiety deep in your stomach growing as you prepared to use that card in case he had a better one. But he doesn't. Rounding him, you place your hands on his shoulders, standing behind, keeping him still before you press a kiss to the crown of his head. He doesn’t deny any of your words, doesn’t even open his mouth to argue back, and you know, God, you know, you’ve done it.

“Open the left drawer and take out the book inside,” you order. He does and he clutches the bright pink, fluffy book with the shiny gold lettering like it was the most repulsive thing in the world. He’s pieced that part together without you even needing to say anything more. But still, you need the satisfaction. “Recognise it, baby? I’m sure you do. That book is my diary.”

He waves it in the air with a scoff. “If the golden capital letters weren’t enough to scream that, I don’t know what would be. It’s tacky as shit, by the way.”

You laugh and wrap an arm around his chest, he holds your hand against his heart, thumb stroking your knuckles absentmindedly.

“I had to make sure it’d catch your eye, and it sure did, didn’t it?”

Sukuna throws it back on the desk, leaning his head back to rest between your breasts, eyes closed as he inhales deeply. One would think he’s bored again, that he’s catching up on sleep, completely indifferent. But you know him better by now. You can tell by the tapping of his fingers against the armchair, the squeezing of your hand to remind him you’re real, and the clenching of his jaw, that he’s pissed. That he knows exactly what’s happened. What you've done.

“You saw it when you tucked me in bed last time, right? The night of Gojo’s stupid party? I knew you wouldn’t be able to help yourself. You’d want a peek inside my brain — no, my soul.”

“So, you knew I’d read the ripped off, crumped up paper ‘hastily’ shoved at the back?” There’s finality there. He’s so smart. You kiss his head again and when you pull away, he wraps a big hand around the back of your neck and pulls you in to kiss him on his lips. He bites and draws blood which he just sucks on before he releases you, eyes closing again. “You knew I’d read and internalise that fucking entry about ‘your deepest, darkest desire which you absolutely cannot ever tell a single soul about’.”

You nod. “Aw, you memorised it, baby? You’re such a good boy.”

He scoffs. The tips of his ears are red. 

“You thought you were doing me a favour? By giving me the opportunity to live out my fantasy in the woods? No, Sukuna. I gave you the opportunity to give me the opportunity. What? Did you think you were a genius for figuring out that I would be in the Lawn, gardening right at the forest’s edge on a Thursday afternoon? Sweetheart, I literally told you I joined the Green Thumb Society, which is a stupid society, by the way. They use up so much paper to advertise their events you’d think they’re singlehandedly killing all the trees.”

“We’ll force them to disband,” is all he says, thumb still brushing over your knuckles, feeling the scratches from the rough night. 

You hum. “And you were so sweet, Kuna. You gave me so many opportunities to stop. You tried to pull me to the car park, but I insisted we didn’t, remember? I directed you to the forest. And I thought you’d take me against a tree as soon as we were out of view, but you didn’t. You actually wanted to talk. You actually wanted to know what happened. Because you care, you sweet thing.”

A muscle in his jaw ticks. 

“And even when I was screaming at you, hitting and punching, you didn’t shut me up with your dick in my mouth. No, ‘cause you’re such a gentleman.” You giggle. “So, you made me slap you. Yes, that was entirely your fault, you stubborn man.”

“Shit didn’t hurt, by the way. I’ll need to teach you how to lay a solid punch,” he lifts your hand to bite it, and you slap his shoulder with a laugh. “You’re gonna need to fight me off better next time, yeah?”

Sure, you didn’t expect him to be pissed, but he’s being so well-behaved. He’s taking this all in so much better than you expect, maybe you can actually reveal everything. It might be good to start off your relationship on a clean slate, or as clean of a slate as one can manage with your history. With a fresh resolve, you come round to sit on his lap sideways, and he accepts your weight, hands on your thighs and hip to keep you steady. You lay your head on his shoulder, face tucked into his neck.

“You’re not mad at me?”

Sukuna rubs your leg through your leggings and then picks up a strawberry from the fruit salad on your desk. He pops it into your mouth, sucking the juice from his thumb before throwing the leaf back onto the plate. 

With a shrug, he replies, “Dunno yet. Why don’t you tell me the full story and I’ll decide.”

Always so perceptive. But never perceptive enough. 

Conspiratorially, you whisper against his skin, “I rigged the election.”

“I know.”

You sit up. “You knew?”

He fixes you a deadpan look like it should be obvious to you. “I’m Sukuna fucking Ryomen. One of the richest, most popular guys on campus. Who the hell would vote for a nobody over me? No offence, babe.”

Laughing, you lean back on him, tracing some patterns on his chest again. You accept another strawberry from him. Mouth still full, you garble out, “I needed to win, so I fixed the ballots. I’m not gonna say sorry.”

“Don’t. I’ll live. Plus, you did me a favour. Being president was exhausting as shit. Everyone complains like you’re the root of all their problems. Ungrateful fuckers.”

You nod. “They are very ungrateful, aren’t they? But we’ll take care of them, won’t we?”

Sukuna kisses your forehead and reassures you, “Don’t gotta worry about them no more.”

There’s something burning in your chest, an urge to scream being quietened. It’s a deep satisfaction coursing through your veins, pumped by your heart, and you can only hum a tune again, letting him feed you and sitting in silence. Alien and odd, you never would have thought this would be happening, that you’d be in his lap being hand-fed and soothed with pecks and warm hands, but it feels right. 

You’re sat on your throne, his lips as your crown and his hands as your swords. Emanating from him is all you’ve ever wanted since that fateful night and all that you couldn’t get on your own, but you feel it crackling at your fingertips. The potential for order and destruction, the possibility for greater influence, and the ability to smooth out the path ahead. Everything you could ever need and everything you've ever deserved is right there, willing his boner to calm down.

“There’s one more thing I want,” you whisper, voice devoid of emotion. 

His words are firm and unrelenting when he says, “Anything.”

“I want revenge, Sukuna. I want to make her pay.”

The words are shameful, you know it. They're words of a petty, vindictive, shameless woman who never forgave, never moved on, never grew up. But you don't care. You had spent years following her around, hanging on every word and doing whatever she pleased because you thought that was what friends did. You defended her against bullies who called her a 'whore' or a 'slut', and you let her cry in your arms when her mother remarried, and you even let her use your library card to straighten out white powder on your desk at 17.

All those times you waited outside her window so she could sneak one, those times you wrote her essays for her so she wouldn't get marked up again, lied to her mother about where she was, and let her steal every guy you could have begun to like. Even the one you did.

But humiliating you, looking down on you? When she was one who never earned a single thing in her life?

That's just not fair.

“What’s that beautiful brain cooking up?”

Pulling away so you can open another drawer, you fish out a USB flash drive. It’s been sitting there, gathering dust for years now. And it’s finally seeing the light of day. This won’t go to waste. You can’t let it. With careful words, you explain, “In here is a bunch of pictures and videos I’ve taken over the last couple years of my friendship with her. It’s pictures of her underage drinking, snorting cocaine like it’s air and lying to older men about her age. She’s a thrill junkie and a literal one, which you knew very well, didn’t you?”

He opens his mouth to say something, but you don’t let him. You just peck his cheek. 

“Don’t worry about it. She can be very persuasive when she wants to be. I figured that’s why you didn’t remember me, why you forgot that night. But I have to be very clear, Sukuna. You are not to touch that filth again. Not if you want to be with me, okay?’

Sukuna smashes his mouth against you, sucking your bottom lip and groaning at the sweet taste of strawberries before he shoves his tongue inside, searching for your taste and you meet him in the middle, offering whatever he wants. It’s more tender than the one you shared with him last night but it’s just as disastrous. The flash drive falls onto the desk as you cling onto him, holding him close. When he pulls away to lick the wetness trailing down your cheeks, you realise you’ve been crying. 

The things you haven't been able to say, not even to yourself, come out in hiccups.

“I-I couldn’t release it on my own, not w-when her family would find out it’s me. Somehow, they’ll know. They’ll take away my scholarship o-or blacklist me from every law firm in the country. And I can’t fight them, not by myself. I need you, Sukuna. I need you to do it for me. They can’t do anything against you, against your name.”

There’s no hesitation in his voice as he dries your face with his thumbs, swallows your sobs with his mouth and says, “I’ll do it. Whatever you want, I’ll do it.”

“For how long, Sukuna? For how long can I use you? How long will you let me?” You whisper against his lips, a real tremor to your hands as you press it against his chest, desperate to feel his heartbeat and know it matches yours. Though he never said it, he loves you. Or whatever closest thing to it. And truthfully, you don’t care. You just need his attention and his loyalty and that’s enough. Because that’s just as much as you can give him anyways. 

That's as much are you're capable of now.

“I don’t know,” he answers honestly, still tasting the salt on his lips. “I can’t say what'll happen in the future, but I have a lot to make up for, and if it takes my entire lifetime, then so be it. In fact, I have a gift for you. Consider it an expression of trust or whatever.”

He shows you his phone and some coding and files and files of audio and you're very confused. Your tears stop streaming and you're just staring at him like he's lost his mind. But then you see the file name and a grin is pulling at your lips, matching his.

This is enough. For now.

So, when he lifts you up to seat you on your desk and pulls down your leggings to bury his face between your legs, you don’t say anything else. You just let the pressure take you over and you lose yourself in all the power he gives you, the power he wills into your core. 

This is all you've ever wanted.

And you've never been happier.